#You ought listen to both

[primordialprose]

I have been deeply disquieted by most popular 2020s media yet somehow this character from a childrens' show became so deeply personally meaningful to me, that thinking about how seen she makes me feel has caused me, on numerous occasions, to physically spasm with 'catching the holy spirit'-type euphoria. Embarrassing... but I am free.

[gingermintpepper]

One of my biggest pet peeves is the assumption that something has to be sad for it to be tragic.

I've always been a big believer of the 'Apollo has an awful love life'/'Apollo is plain unlucky with love' line of thinking but it does bother me that the general reasoning for that statement is given to the concept of 'Apollo is somehow undesireable and thus rejected' (Cassandra/Daphne/Marpessa) or 'his lovers die young and thus their love is unfulfilled' (Cyparissus/Hyacinthus/Coronis). I personally think that's a very unfortunate way of looking at things - not only because it neglects the many perfectly cordial entanglements and affairs Apollo has had, both mortal and divine - but because it presents a very shallow interpretation of the concepts of love and loss and how loss affects people.

Apollo can still grieve lovers that have a long, healthy life. The inherent tragedy of an immortal who knows his lovers and children will die and cannot stop it does not stop being tragic simply because those lovers and children live long, fulfilled lives. The inherent tragedy of loss does not stop being tragic simply because someone knows better than to mourn something that was always going to end.

What is tragic is not that Apollo loves and loses but that loss itself follows him. Apollo does not love with the distance of an immortal, he does not have affairs and then leaves never to listen to their prayers again. He does not have offspring and then abandon them to their trials only to appear when it is time to lead them to their destinies. He raises his young, he protects the mothers of his children, he blesses the households that have his favour and multiplies their flocks that they may never go hungry. He educates his sons, he adorns his daughters and even in wrath he is quick to come to his senses and regret the punishments he doles out.

Apollo loves. And like mortals, there will always be some part of him that wishes to protect the objects of his affections. Apollo, however, is also an emissary of Fate. He knows that the fate of all mortal things is death. He knows that to love a mortal is to accept that eventually he will have to bury them. There is no illusion of forever, there is no fantasy where he fights against the nature of living things and shields his beloveds from death. Apollo loves and because of that love, he also accepts.

And that, while beautiful, is also tragic.

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya once jokingly referred to Bennett as 'Bennett Guildson' in lightly scolding him over endangering himself, and Bennett most Definitely considered making that his actual name on his official Adventurer's Guild paperwork, send post-

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: January 2

"It's Not All About You" by Lawrence

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omega verse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, double-pen, gangbang kinda, tag-team

♡ fem reader

It’s been a month since your new owner brought you home, and despite expectations, you’ve yet to be eaten by the predators you share your den with. On the contrary, the six hybrids seem to have accepted you as their seventh pack member despite you being at the very bottom of the food chain.

You’ve come to trust that, despite the look of hunger in their eyes… food isn’t exactly what they have in mind. 

The hyena seems to be the only one your age. But he’s also a bit of a bully. Always goading you with ticklish poking until you stomp your feet and whine at him to stop. 

He never listens to you, though – he just cocks his head, finding it funny how you try giving him orders – only grinning as he pins you instead, chewing some on the lops of your ears while squeezing your cottontail – smirking and giggling at your pouty face getting all frustrated.

Your weak kicking is so cute, and so is how you try clawing at him despite having but blunt nails – he can’t help but laugh at the way it tickles him. 

It’s so painstakingly clear you’re not made to fight back, and it’s so adorable how you don’t even realize you already surrendered the moment you rolled over on your back with your belly up. 

It makes him go absolutely feral when you pull on his ears and mane, begging him to stop as he laves at your slit and clit, delving his long tongue deep within your walls until the tip prods your womb. It’s course against your skin and harsh on your insides and scratches your poor clit until it’s all swollen and throbbing for him – making you sob as his feral smile teases your chubby mound with a bite – only satisfied when you cum in his mouth.

But while the hyena enjoys play-fighting with you, the rest are more prone to fight each other…

The panther and leopard are good friends, whilst the fox and wolf seem to tolerate each other – and you don’t know whether it’s unfortunate or a blessing in disguise that both pairs only want you for themselves and often end up fighting over you.

You’d say the four are the most trigger-happy of the pack – always hissing and barking at each other. But everyone knows that cats and dogs don’t get along.

The canines are a little scarier, you think. They’re rougher with you.

The wolf especially. He’s older than you, a big heap of hulking muscles that bear down over you with the daunting superiority of a seasoned hunter. 

He doesn’t take lightly to you talking back to him – acting as though he’s actually offended when you so much as open your mouth if it’s not to swallow his tongue. Even if all you ask is for him to go a little slower, he’ll just growl at you – threatening your neck with fangs while chewing your collar – and otherwise ignore your cry completely. Calling you his bitch while telling you to quit your whimpering even though he’s been breeding you sore for the past hour, ramming your poor cunt so hard your muscles have all given out and left you to lie on the floor with only his paws keeping your hips upright.

He's always extra rough when you reek of cat – as though it’s your fault. Huffing and puffing as he now has to spend so much effort scenting you again.

It’s a never-ending war between them all. You go from camp to camp, getting marked again and again like territory, only for your owner to clean you up at the end of the day.

But the wolf is the worst. One time he’d gone so far as to piss on you… 

But he was later scolded by the owner – bonking his head with a rolled-up newspaper, telling him he had to learn to share or else he’d have to go sleep out in the doghouse. He’d also been told he had to stop breaking skin when biting you unless he wanted to be muzzled.

It only made him all the more grumpier. Growling in your ear that the one who ought to be muzzled is you and your snitch-mouth always crying wolf like some bitch who never learns her place – that next time you go talking to the owner, he’s going to eat you like the piece of meat you are.

You come to learn that he’s more bark than bite after a while. 

When you get used to him and his stamina, you stop crying and start holding onto him instead. And it’s when you’re burying your face in his neck and begging for his seed that he softens up for you.

He stops biting and starts sucking instead – laying hickeys all over your neck and chest, blushing with closed eyes when suckling your tits like a pup. You learn he’s a sucker for being called good boy and will wag his tail when you sit on his face. 

He’s also the one with the most owner-sickness of the pack, always clinging to you, growling when others get close, and never ever sharing when his turn.

He only begrudgingly allows the fox to eat his scraps afterward. 

You can only mew as he mounts you next. 

His tempo is always a bit of a shock – a bit juvenile, but who can blame him when he’s had to wait for so long? He’s a little younger than you – eager and desperate for it every single time.

Pounding you sharply – hard and fast with howls and heavy panting – even whimpering as you hold you tighter and tighter, squeezing you free of air as he savors the feel of your wet pussy clamping down around him.

He doesn’t growl too much when you whine. Instead, he laughs – elated and frenzied – eyes manic as he sticks his tongue as far down your throat as he can – drooling uncontrollably as he sinks his knot inside you and spills his worth inside your womb.

It’s a relief he doesn’t last as long as his bigger partner.

He’ll suck love-bites on the chubs of your cheeks as he unswells – lick all the sweat from your skin and come down by the sweet taste. Laying sloppy kisses all over your body and lapping over all bruises and soreness in gratitude – looking at you somewhat sheepishly with big puppy-dog eyes as though suddenly embarrassed that he’d been so feral.

The felines are less spastic. 

But they also like to lick you – with sand-textured tongues scraping at your fur and skin until they’ve made sure you’re coated with their scent. They seem to enjoy grooming more than anything, always snuggling with you.

But they get flirty, too… you’ll know when they start kneading your softer parts – blinking at you slow and expectantly until you return the favor.

They’re the same age and have known each other all their life, practically brothers, and do everything together as though they were a pair of Siamese – including when they mate with you. 

They’ll lay you down on one lean chest while the other is poised above you. Purring as they take turns with you – both so gently.

The panther always has a sly smile on his face when looking down at you – his claws retracted while he sticks his slender fingers inside your mouth to play with your tongue. He says it’s one of his favorite things about you – so soft and so silky, so different from theirs when you lick his skin.

It makes the leopard pout behind you, nuzzling you tight, his cheek to your cheek, asking the other if he doesn’t like it when he grooms him. 

The panther only smiles down at both of you, promising that he likes both your tongues until he proceeds to swap between which one of you he kisses.

When the leopard kisses you, he also admits he likes your tongue – whispering all depraved things that come to mind – loves how smooth it feels in his mouth and on his lips and neck and nipples and cock and balls.

Eventually, the heat gets to their heads, and their pointy ears start to droop, looking at you with such dark glossy eyes, opium-blown with pleasure and lust for more – kissing each side of your face, asking whether you won’t allow them both inside you at the same time – their pretty pleas making your head go silly, panting while nodding your head for them, bucking your hips stuck between the two while begging for both of them.

You feel their slim tails coil around each of your thighs as they sink inside your drooling heat together – their breaths deep and shuddering while they feel your tightness squeeze around them. 

They coo at you – telling you how perfect you look trapped between them like that – as their pretty little double-stuffed toy. And you’re too cock-drunk to do anything but agree.

After flooding you with cum, they go back to cuddling – sleeping – the both of them purring with lanky limbs all tangled on top of each other and you in the middle.

The bear is also a lazy fellow – a gentle giant. Something you’re grateful for – you don’t think you’d survive if he ever tried mounting and pounding you like the other boys.

He’s the eldest of the pack. Twice your age. You feel the seniority in his movements – all unhurried, savoring every second with a warm smile.

He’s satisfied with having you on his lap – cock-warmed by your tight bunny-cunt while you hand-feed him berries. You feel a little safer with him knowing you have the same appetite and that he isn’t thinking about eating you. 

He hums, a rusty sound that comes from his gut – telling you he likes seeing you eat – that it’s cute how you take such small bites – and the way your nose scrunches and your cheeks fill.

Sometimes he’ll tell you to hop on his lap – his massive warm paws placed on your haunches with large black claws gently denting the plush flesh found there, encouraging you as you ease up and down the great length that bulges from your belly. 

The size of it makes you pant.

You’re glad he’s happy having you at the end of the day – after you’ve been loosened up by the others. You fear he’d split you in two if otherwise.

The owner collects you before bedtime after everyone’s had their share – clips a leash onto your collar, and leads you to the bathroom – crawling on all four like an actual animal. You’ll often collapse halfway there, but he doesn’t mind scooping you up to carry you instead – always with a few patronizing words leaving him while mollycoddling you, almost speaking baby to you, telling you how proud he is of how domesticated you’ve become.

There’s always a bath waiting for you – a gift for being such a good little pet, he says. 

It reminds you of when you were first brought here, as he washes you with his own hands – rubbing the filth of spit, cum, and sweat from your sore limbs, messaging your flesh into nice limber softness again.

He’s always mumbling about human matters under his breath – money, business, estate – ruffling your hair when you give him a blank stare. Apologizing while saying he won’t trouble your pretty head with such complicated topics.

All you have to worry about is being his stress-relief – something clueless and dumb and dependent on him. You realize that without him needing to say it. It’s communicated through all the other things he says anyway.

He’s always whispering in your ear before bed – sweet nothings about what a good bunny you are – how you’re the cutest, softest, sweetest little thing in the entire world – telling you how much he loves you and how happy he is that you’re finally settling in – how you’ve become the most precious little housebroken pet for him.

It feels different when he touches you. The other hybrids make you feel small, but there’s a familiarity with them – something about being hunted fairly and squarely, like out in the wild. 

With the owner, you’re reminded you’re a pet eating out of his palm – something tame warming his bed at night with your leash tied to the bed frame.

He doesn’t fuck you with the same intent as the others do – there’s no rut behind his cold movements. It’s not mating or breeding. It’s something else you can’t put your finger on. Something human. Something alien to you.

Something in the way he has his hand fisting your leash as he sinks inside your heat – something in how he babies you, calls you cute when you shake and cum around his cock like you can’t control yourself.

It all makes you feel like some mindless animal.

Impulsive and primitive in comparison to him and his calculated thrusts and how he only cums inside you after you’ve all but begged him to breed you.

♡ part 1

Owner: ♡ BNHA - Aizawa, AFO ♡ JJK - Nanami, Kenjaku ♡ HQ - Ukai Hyena: ♡ BNHA- Shigaraki ♡ JJK- Mahito ♡ HQ - Tendou Wolf: ♡ BNHA - Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK- Sukuna, Naoya ♡ HQ - Sakusa Fox: ♡ BNHA - Denki, Kirishima, Deku, Amajiki ♡ JJK- Yuji, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ - Hinata, Nishinoya Leopard & Panther: ♡ BNHA - Denki & Shinso, Dabi & Hawks ♡ JJK - Geto & Gojo ♡ HQ - Miya twins, Oikawa & Kageyama, Kuro & Kenma Bear: ♡ BNHA - Enji, Aizawa, All Might, Mirio ♡ JJK- Toji, Nanami, Higuruma ♡ HQ - Daichi, Ushijima

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[acid-ixx]

brutus: both arms cradle you now (villain au concept)

ft. yandere! harley quinn (brief mentions of the poison ivy and catwoman) x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

"so, you're saying you hate the batman, for personal reasons, cupcake?"

you've never expected to have a therapy session with one of your mentors who took you in.

harley quinn, the girl who took you into her abode right after she found you bloodied and laying in a crimson bath of your own one faithful night; death your only comfort.

she, alongside her other company, are well-known people within gotham's criminal gallery. she's known to be obsessed with her ex back then, chasing after his toxic love despite hers being consistently thrown away, she's been seen fighting, or even sometimes helping your father when he's wearing the cowl just to find the joker, she dons clown makeup and displays athletic talent for combat—

she's not the type you'd expect to be well-versed with a person's mental health, with her playful attitude and bouncy steps, but with the way she notices your uncomfortable body language whenever you stumble upon the bat, or how you simmer in silent rage watching him care for his vigilante partners during times they get injured; you'd have to admit she's more than qualified to ask you sensitive questions nobody ought to ask a violent criminal like you.

you don't know it, but you share far more similarities with the girl than you thought; chasing after love never once reciprocated, she has every right to know what makes you so triggered seeing the vigilante every damn time he's within the vicinity.

she has every right because she's the one who saved you when you thought your life would be all over.

when you believed that that day would be the time your soul would leave your body, you'd suddenly awoke to her gentle coos and her retelling her company on how she stumbled upon you. and another woman's palms are on your heated forehead, an unnatural shade of green, yet she helps swipes away your hair for your head as she listens intently to harley's story; she gazes at you just as softly as the other. she's seated right beside a familiar face, too, with cropped, jet-black hair and cat-eyes. it was her expensive duvet that you lay on.

it was there that they coddled you collectively.

they've been your saviors then, and your mentors ever since. it's what you've never asked for, to be cared for by criminals who fought on the opposite side from your fathers, but you've been craving affection your entire life that you'd never once complain about.

now, in the same apartment, her question lingers in the back of your head, you feel goosebumps rise on the topmost layer of your skin, and your heartbeats hasten against the cage of your chest.

despite that, she merely looks over at you, her eyes held a calculating gaze. it's not exactly nerve-wracking like batman's whenever you had your occasional encounters with him, but you can tell she's psychoanalyzing every aspect of your being.

like a therapist for most, but to you, she does so because you know she cares.

gone was the ditzy smile she likes to wear on her playful lips, or the active, bouncy lilt she has whenever she sits upon the swivel chair to talk to you. she stares at you, with piercing blue eyes and furrowed brows, nitpicking every reaction you conjure.

it seems like now's the time she wants to open up with such a sensitive topics.

especially right after the incident where you cried after watching batman speak to the youngest robin, with the sweetest, most poisonous tone you've ever heard from the man. it makes you want to vomit watching it, makes you wish to shrivel outside-in your costume and burn until you're mere embers.

you ask yourself, 'do i hate him?'

truth is...

god, you wish you do. but you're different now.

you have new people to care for you, now and you'd rather throw away that heart wrenching life you had back in the past. batman is nobody to you now, you wish you could lead yourself to believe that he was just your usual opponent, nothing more, nothing less.

yet you merely shift on your cushioned seat, ignoring the blaring telltale signs in your head to stay silent, and reply to her albeit the unsureness in your tone. your words taste bitter, sour, salty, and no way sweet. every unpleasant flavor swirls in your tongue in a cacophony of emotions; and you wish to cry the longer you speak, tongue-tied and wishing to will away the ache in your chest.

"i don't hate him, harley, at least not anymore... it's different, i don't know what to feel about him. maybe it's rage, maybe i want to exact petty revenge on him because of my past with him. don't know. it's all complicated..."

"if it's not hatred, then it's something else, no? you feel something deep within for him, don'tcha, sweetheart? you can't lie to me, you're hurt, and scarred, because of him and his other vigilante partners, i can tell."

she replies, quicker than you do, with empathy and comfort laced in every syllable of her words, and you're taken aback at the kindness and understanding. your eyes flutter away from her worried ones, and you look down to your clenched palms and feel the callouses from all the harsh training you've conditioned yourself to endure, dismissing the way she stands from her chair to walk over to you.

hurt... that's true. you're hurt, and all the emotional scars that lay within you are still open, bleeding, and it aches deeply. every time you build new memories with these people, the pain of the past overpowers whatever improvement you make in life; as if it's haunting and taunting you.

when she kneels down to the level of your lap, just right beneath your vision so you could see her beyond the layers of hair that cover your watery eyes, you see her soft gaze and find her dainty fingers holding your palms, ones you didn't notice dig nails deep into skin until the rivulets of blood escape.

when she squeezes your hands, you follow along the patterns of inhaling and exhaling through her squeezing, a silent session with her to help you calm down from your foreboding emotions; your hastened breaths and brimming tears. you've been so used to ignoring all your emotions that you forget what panic attacks felt like in so long, not until you discover that you've been having small bouts of it every day; not until you realize how it's always your mentors comforting you through every one of your silent sufferings instead of ridiculing you for it.

"calm down, cupcake... i just wanted to know why, so i, alongside the girls, could help you through your emotions. what type of mentors are we if we can't help you, no? you've been so tense lately, we couldn't even see your cute, little smile these days. so don't forget you're still allowed to cry, sweetie... let all your emotions out, 'kay?"

she speaks, with a gentle timbre in her voice, and you allow her to embrace your form, one you didn't realize was shivering until now. yet you still bury your head further into her body without shame and allow yourself respite for once; allow yourself autonomy to be controlled by repressed pain and sorrow you've tried to bury deep into the marrows of your bones and the cages of your heart.

and now you realize why, why you're all crying all the same like last time, and you simply cry for longer at the realization.

because what contrasts with love, was indifference, and never hatred. you once loved batman, bruce, with all your heart because you're his kid, and your momma taught you to love without any expectations. but he sees you with indifference, with nothingness. no care, no emotions or opinions about you, unlike harley's who holds you in her arms and comforts you throughout your lengthened crying.

he doesn't even look at you. the thought bothers you more than ever.

"it's— you're right," you whisper through your hiccups, burying your head further on her stomach as her right hand plays with the strands of your hair, scratching your scalp in a comfortable pattern. she hums as a reply, and allows you to continue.

"i'm hurt, harley... it's so painful just thinking... thinking about how much i'm in pain because of him... but he's, he's—"

"shh, you don't have to force yourself to open up anymore, sweetheart."

when she releases her hold on you, you let out an embarrassingly loud cry, hands swiftly trying to pull her back to embrace you; too desperate to let go, too paranoid that this is all a dream, you wish to sink into her warmth forever.

but she holds you back, just as quickly with her warm palms at your wet cheeks, and looks at you. like you're her savior, her peace, and her everything.

her next sentences satiate the foreboding hunger in your heart, one too starved, one that craved and wished to take what it never have.

she feeds you with love and affection too sweet that it rids the bitter taste in the back of your throat and the bile that slowly rises every time you reminisce.

"i get'cha, sweetie. you wanted something from him you can never have, and when he didn't give you that, it destroyed you entirely you felt like you can never pick yourself right back. been there, done that—"

"—but look at where we're both at now! living the best of our lives, doing fun, risky heists and making ourselves happy with what we think is good for us, no? you get where i'm getting at, right?"

you don't. you feel like melting into her hands and never leaving. she gives and you take, take, and take everything she offers you.

and she knows you don't understand, so she continues rambling knowing you'd grasp into every word she says, not once breaking eye contact with you. she stares fondly, you gaze back reluctantly, unaccustomed to the affection your mentors shower you with. but you don't pull back, she becomes sad and sulky when you do.

you want her to be happy.

"sweetheart, i'm telling you the past is past! get him away from your mind and throw all the thoughts about him away! if you were nothing to him, then he should be nothing to you, easy as pie."

"you deserve better people in your life, like me, and pam, and selina. i can tell you're rough around the edges but that doesn't mean you should strip yourself away from any privilege to be cared for and loved for by people who love you as much as you love them. he's nothing to you now, alright? it's painful, but you can move on from him. i trust you can— you know why?"

harley questions you, with all the confidence in her tone, taking your head to lay it on her body again, positioning it so you could hear the buzz heartbeat, you bury yourself deeper into her warm body and nuzzle into fabric. your heart hastens, but it wasn't panic, it wasn't even fear or hurt, but a drive and motivation that burns deep inside of you; that this is what you always wanted, and needed to protect, and what she generously provided.

all her words echo through your head like it's the truth, your holy grail.

"you have us now, sweetheart. to love, to guide, and to protect you. we're everything you need now."

and you believe her like she's god.

just this once, you do. you're allowed to hope, to dream, and to finally feel special. to be embraced like the fantasies you had in the past, to be held and comforted through every gut wrenching experience, just as she does, now.

for once, you allow yourself to be loved, even if it means it's by the same hands that stain itself with blood, all shed in the glory of your name.

a/n: happy halloween! i was laying in bed and suddenly had thoughts about this. i don't like this drabble at all ngl erm 😭 this post is related to events prior to the out for blood chapter (idk if i should make it canon to the plot or not) and what i said in this fanart post. despite this not being my favorite piece of work, i like writing about other charactersn too though, especially when they're so soft to the mc. so yeah! if you guys like more of this, please do comment since idk what to feel about this.

[sun-kissy]

Hi, i wanted to request a james potter x reader thingy :))

So the idea is that james and reader broke up during hogwarts/directly after because they had the children talk, james really wants to be a father but reader is terrified of pregnancy so they break up. But over the years the reader keeps yearning for james and eventually they meet again when james and lily are together and have baby harry and its just really angsty 😭😭

Hope all of this makes sense i thought of this while listening to a song lyric

thank you for the request babe i love how your brain works <3 this is quite angsty so hopefully you like it! and now i’m curious to know what song 👀

also here’s some shameless promotion for @astonishment’s series with the same name, it’s deliciously tragic (☹️☹️☹️) and everyone should check it out!!

in another life | j.p.

“Calm down, babe,” Sirius mutters as you walk in step, looping his arm through yours.

You nibble on your bottom lip anxiously, sighing as you glance over at him. “It’s not that easy, Siri. I’m seeing him after what — four years? I can’t just calm down!”

He rolls his eyes, reaching towards you and thumbing at your lip to save it from your torment. “You’re seeing me after four years.”

You turn to Sirius, and he huffs out a laugh at your deadpan expression. “Well, you never asked me to marry you.”

Sirius wiggles his eyebrows, his lips curving up into a grin. “Marry me?”

“Fuck off, Black.”

James and Lily Potter were holding a meet-up of sorts, and had invited most people in your year at Hogwarts. You were hesitant to go, given your history with James, but Sirius insisted you tag along. You knew he, Remus, and Peter had stayed in touch with James. Rightfully, you ought to have too. But neither of you tried to; maybe you both knew it was better that way.

Sirius simpers, coming to a halt in front of the large black gates of the mansion. He reaches forward and begins to twist the lock, and you instinctively reach over and grab his hand to stop him. He turns to you, confusion twisting his features. “What are you — oh. Oh, sweetheart.”

He softens when he sees the expression on your face. You’re biting your cuticles, and the anxiety in your features is palpable. Sirius sighs and firmly pulls your hand away from your mouth, intertwining your fingers together. “It’s gonna be okay. Just be cordial with him. There’s no bad blood, right?”

“Right,” you mutter, albeit uncertainly.

“But, um…” he sighs, dropping your hand to rake his fingers through his hair. “There’s something I should’ve told you before. But I didn’t wanna freak you out.”

“What?”

The apprehension in your tone causes Sirius to wince. “James and Lily, they… they’ve got a baby.”

There’s a beat of loud silence as the fact sinks in, a mount of uncertainty and hurt settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh.”

You’re trying not to show it, but the heartbreak on your face is painfully obvious. Sirius pouts, moving to take your hand again. “Babe, I’m sorry. I should’ve –”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, the gates swinging open to reveal a beaming James Potter.

“Pads,” he grins immediately, eyes locking on Sirius as he moves towards him and swoops him into a quick hug.

You take the moment to look James over. He looked exactly like you remembered — messy curls, toned biceps, that movie-star grin. Yet something felt different, in the way he pulled Sirius into a hug without all the raucous fervour he would’ve at 16, how he held him so gently at arm’s length while talking to him. He’d softened, you realised, from the responsibilities of fatherhood and being a husband.

They pull apart a moment later, and his gaze drifts to you. His smile loses a bit of its sunshine, not softening but not quite dimming either. “Y/n, hey.”

There’s a moment of hesitation as he looks at you, but then he seems to decide upon giving you a hug too.

“Hi,” you mutter as he shortens the distance between you, needling his arms under yours to press them to your back. You embrace him in return, and a sudden pang of hurt shoots through your heart at the familiarity of the action.

Perhaps he was remembering it too, from the way he tightened his grip. Both of you were heavy on physical touch, and it was undeniably the best part of your relationship back in Hogwarts — how he’d always have a hand wrapped around your waist, how you’d wake up to cuddles and hugs every morning. You didn’t exactly have anyone to hug anymore, living alone.

So you convince yourself that the reason you hold on to James for slightly longer than necessary was because you craved human touch, not because of… anything else.

Finally, James pulls away, his arms dropping to his sides as he gives you a small smile. You plaster one onto your face too, for his sake. “So,” he starts as he turns around, beginning to lead you and Sirius into the mansion, “how’ve you been, Y/n?”

You can feel Sirius’ gaze burning holes into the side of your head, but choose to ignore him. “I’ve been great, yeah. You?”

James nods. “That’s cool. Yeah, I’ve been good too. Things have been fun, but kind of busy; you know, with work and Lily and the baby…” He seems to realise what he’s said, and clears his throat awkwardly. Oh, of course. The baby.

Sirius is beside you in an instant, arching his eyebrows and nudging your elbow to respond.

“Oh, um… congrats on the baby, by the way.”

James turns around to face you as you walk, and you give him a grin to prove that you’re being genuine — to show him that it didn’t feel like there was a knife being twisted in your gut every time the word baby was brought up.

His eyes soften, and you know he can tell how you’re feeling. But he gives you a grateful smile, and says no more as the three of you come to a stop in front of the house.

“By the way,” James mutters as he pushes the door open, “you guys are like, an hour early. You’re the only ones here.”

You immediately turn around to glower at Sirius for subjecting you to more torture than necessary by bringing you early. But he all but smirks as he follows you in.

Your eyes coast around the mansion, taking it all in. It’s decorated in a minimalist aesthetic, white couches and brown rugs. It was pretty, that was for sure; but you couldn’t help but think how different it was from James’ place in the dorm — posters and stickers all over the walls, boisterously red curtains and LED lights. It used to be so full of life.

Honestly, you might’ve guessed an old couple lived here, if not for the small signs of their life as a family — the pacifier on the dining table, a cradle at the far end of the living room, and the heart-shaped photo frames lining the walls.

James watches you, a small smile playing on the edges of his lips. “You like it?”

He knows you wouldn’t like it, it’s everything you aren’t. Your dorm had been just like his; trying to fit as many vinyls and posters onto that small space next to your bed as possible. There would be fairy lights in every corner and succulents on the nightstand, a dreamcatcher which he’d gifted you hanging right above your bed. You were messy, as a person, and with your love too. You thought he was messy as well; but apparently he’d gotten his shit together already.

“Yeah, it’s simple. Pretty.”

“Honey —“ Lily bustles out the kitchen, a small gasp escaping her lips as she sees you and Sirius. She’s holding a ladle in one hand, and has her other arm wrapped around a baby perched on her waist.

You don’t register it when she kisses your cheek and hugs you, asks you how you’re doing and leads you to sit on the couch. Your gaze is locked on the baby, every second spent staring at him worsening the nauseous feeling at the back of your throat.

You must’ve asked for his name, because the word, “Harry,” registers in your head. This beautiful baby, with Lily’s deep green eyes and James’ luscious curls, was Harry.

Would you have named your baby Harry? Probably not, it was too generic. But it was too late now, to pick out names and choose a less boring aesthetic for a house together.

You had lost your chance back in seventh year, that night when you were laying on James’ bed, limbs tangled together as he raked his hands through your hair with all the love in the world. You’re gonna be my husband one day, you’d whispered, feeling so much affection for him you thought your heart would burst. Yeah, baby, he’d replied with a soft smile. We’re gonna live in a mansion, with our dogs and children and —

Children?

I don’t… I don’t want children. And that’s where it all started going downhill, that’s the moment James’ smile turned upside down and his hand dropped from your hair. It had turned into an argument, a screaming match — and eventually a reason to break up. James couldn't understand much you feared it, the pain of pregnancy and the exhaustion that came with motherhood. And some part of you knew that you weren’t blameless either — calling him awful things and accusing him of not loving you; though love was all he ever gave till the day you told him it was over.

The feeling of Sirius’ nails digging into your palm brings you back to the present, and you see him nodding absentmindedly as Lily rambles about how much trouble Harry’s been, and oh, she’s picked up a hobby of crocheting, and…

You flit your eyes to look at James sitting opposite you, gazing at you with his brows pinched in concern. Your emotions must’ve been obvious on your face, then. But he immediately looks away when Lily calls out to him, holding up Harry for him to carry.

You watch silently as James squeezes into the chair next to his wife, taking the small, lovely baby between his large, calloused hands. He smiles at Harry, looking at him though he was the most precious thing on earth. James’ fingers bunch Harry’s tiny shirt as he brings him close to his face, gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. Lily’s head lolls onto James’ shoulder as he shifts Harry into a comfortable lying position in his arms.

There you have it. The perfect family, with the gorgeous wife and the adorable baby and the man who could’ve been yours if you wanted.

It’s too much for you to take, and Sirius squeezes your hand as you start to shake. Harry coos, and you melt at how James’ face breaks into a sunny beam. He tilts his head to press a soft peck to his wife’s hair, and there’s so much love in that simple gesture that you feel like you could die.

You feel Sirius’ worried gaze on you, your hands trembling and your knee bobbing up and down. The taste of blood from how hard you’re nibbling on your lip is grounding; it brings you back to yourself, who you are, and not who you could’ve been.

“Hey,” he murmurs softly from beside you, but it doesn’t get lodged into your brain. The only thing you feel is your vision of the perfect family blurring, soft streams of regret rolling down your cheek. Sirius makes a small noise of pity from beside you, and James looks up instantly, eyes widening as they lock on you. Lily is fast asleep, baby Harry staring at you with his thumb stuck into his mouth.

“Y/n, you okay?” James asks gently, but you don’t reply, still looking at him with that distraught look on your face. You open your mouth, but you don’t seem to have the vocabulary to express the heartache you felt right that moment. It felt strangely like grief; like you were mourning for the version of yourself you never got to meet, for the version of James who didn’t have the chance to be yours.

James' mouth twists downwards in a frown as he stands up and steps closer towards you. It’s like an alarm is set off in your head, and you immediately jolt back to the present, sucking in a deep breath.

Your legs act of their own accord as you stand up, Sirius’s hand falling limp on the couch as he looks up at you in surprise. You gulp down the lump in your throat and fiercely brush the tears away, James coming to a halt in front of you. “Y/n, baby —“

“I’m not your baby.”

James slaps a hand to his mouth, eyes as wide as Harry’s now. “Fuck, no, it — it just came out. I didn’t mean to. Shit, you’re crying.”

“I’m okay,” you warble. James opens his mouth to retort but you don’t let him, knowing that the longer you spent here, the more the gaping hole in your chest would grow. You couldn’t bear it anymore, watching James with his wife and wishing it was you instead. The worst part was that it was all your fault, your stupidity and your rejection.

“I’m fine, really. I…I’m gonna go now, it was nice meeting you. Convey my love to Remus, Peter and the girls.” You pick up your bag, moving to the front door with a befuddled James tracking your movements.

“Y/n —“

“Bye, James,” you call out halfheartedly as you slip into your shoes. He comes to stand at the door, rocking Harry from side to side. He looks almost disappointed as you make to leave.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up, surprised. “It’s not your fault.”

James’ lips pursed together with guilt, seeming like he wants to say something as he opens and closes his mouth. He finally sighs, “It’s not your fault either.

It was startling, how he still knew just the right thing to say — he always had. The regret that had been clogging up your heart for years was drained out upon hearing that one sentence. James didn’t hold the utter failure of your relationship against you, and that was enough. If you couldn’t have his love, at least you had his forgiveness.

You give him a half smile and nod, turning around to leave. You’d go back to yours, more of a house than a home. But at least no one but yourself could hurt you there, there was no one to turn away and no hearts to break. No one to love.

“Hey.”

You spin back around to face the door, heart stopping upon seeing the moistness in his eyes. You hear the scratchiness in his throat as he sucks in a deep breath.

“James…”

“No, don’t — don’t say anything. I just wanted to tell you, um…” he defeatedly runs a hand through his hair and exhales shakily. “I hope we worked out, you know, in another life.”

That catches you off guard, your heart involuntarily squeezing in your chest. James looks almost embarrassed as he says it, but you see the vulnerability in his eyes. He was right — maybe there was some planet on which you were less of a coward, another world where he could put a ring on your finger. He’d been yours to lose in this life, perhaps he was yours to love in another.

You clear your throat, feeling nausea brimming in the pits of your gut. “Yeah, I… I hope so too.”

You spare yourself one last glance at him before turning towards the exit, praying he didn’t see the tears dribbling down your cheeks.

You squeeze your eyes shut and will yourself to trudge forward, before he can call out to you and break your heart all over again.

In a few long strides, you’re out the gates; out of James’ life again.

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Here

[Yandere! Platonic! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of neglect, Mild Yandere Behavior, Batfam being hella stupid.]

(Not really proofread. The birds and bats seeing that y'know- maybe not paying attention to people and neglecting them isn't a good thing. Chaos ensues. More of a development thing. Might be a little ooc?)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

Chapter 2 of this post. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑—————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

Bruce liked to think he was a good father, for anything that was worth. Or at the very least, a decent one.

He wasn't perfect by any means, but he felt like he raised his children the best he could, and had made them into responsible and diligent adults. Dick was a great example of this, and even if Damian was still growing up, Bruce had hope that he'd turn out to be good as well. The hardships his current Robin had to face would pay off in the end, Bruce was almost too sure of that.

Those he decided to take under his wing had their flaws, yes, but even if he didn't say it out loud or point it out often. He did believe that they were good at what they do, or at least were on the right path to becoming good vigilantes. Bruce couldn't help but be proud and prideful of where his children and sidekicks were, and could only look forward to how they would continue to develop as time went on. Despite their feelings towards him, and his own faults, mistakes, paranoia, and so on. Along with how he felt about them, and their flaws — he couldn't help but respect the people those in his little mess of a family where becoming, and turning out to be.

Or maybe he was both overestimating and underestimating himself, and the true effects he had on those he decided to look after.

Since, for a few days now, he felt like something was... off.

The Manor seemed quieter these days, and even if he couldn't remember a time where it was particularly loud, the detail felt misplaced to him. Sure, he hasn't hosted a gala or party in a while, but that didn't feel like it was the reason why the silence suddenly bothered him.

Bruce tried to think of all possible reasons, a little surprised himself that this feeling of his was bothering him so much, but the more he thought about it the more confused he became. There didn't seem to be a particular reason for this... and yet, just as he was about to put this feeling aside, he heard it.

["I, um, I was just wondering..."]

["Oh, uhh, that's quite alright! Oh, one moment please... oh! Second chorus... T'was brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wade..."]

It sounded like some sort of... play? Bruce wasn't too sure, but still decided to check it out regardless, wondering why something like that was playing in the first place.

So, allowing the sounds of the play to guide him, he continued on.

["Why- why you're a cat!"]

The voices grew louder as Bruce drew closer, interest peaked as he tried to recall and see of he knew this play. The lines sounding familiar, now that he was really listening to them.

["A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves..."]

Once Bruce rounded the corner he saw a... familiar face on the screen.

A student play was being filmed, and the play itself was Alice in Wonderland.

Whereas Bruce didn't recognize the actor for Alice, he did recognize the actor for the Cheshire Cat, but couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was... was that...?

"Y/n?" He whispered your name, voice barely above a whisper.

No, it couldn't be. You didn't participate in any plays, and surely if you did he would've known about it. Even then, that didn't explain why he was seeing this now. The play itself had to have been a recording, since you looked so young...

How long ago did this take place?

["Oh, wait! Don't go, please!"]

["Very well. Third chorus..."]

["Oh no, no, no... thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."]

["Well, that depends on where you want to get to."]

["Oh, it really doesn't matter... as long as I g-"]

["Then it really doesn't matter which way you go! Ah-hmm.... and the momeraths outgrabe..."]

Bruce was staring so intensely at the screen that he hardly noticed how the lines and voices faded into the background. His focus centered on you, disbelief gnawing at the back of his head.

He had never seen you smile like that before, not during all the times he's seen you anyway. Even if those moments themselves were small and short from what he could remember, the smile you wore during your performance felt... new in a way. Like something he hadn't seen before — not on your face anyway. Though that wasn't the only thing that made Bruce feel weird as he watched the play.

It wasn't anything to do with your acting skills. They were fine for the most part — and honestly considering the age you probably were during the time of the play, they might've been above average, or even a little higher than that. Not even the girl who played Alice, who also did relatively well, was the source of this odd feeling.

It wasn't the costumes or the set up, or even the lighting, and how he could faintly see the silhouette of other actors and such just behind the curtain, because of the camera angle. No, it hardly had anything to do with anything like that, but, how should he put this...

... How come he didn't know about this? How come he wasn't aware of this play before? Let alone that they had a recording of it, and that you were even a part of it... but Bruce still felt bothered by this whole realization because, well.

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

The sudden voice snapped Bruce out of whatever trance he was stuck in, as he whipped his head around to face the source of it.

He huffed softly, "Oh, hey Alfred." Bruce greeted calmly, acting as if the butler hadn't caught him off guard.

Alred couldn't help but raise a brow at that.

Almost in a silent, embarrassed way, Bruce glanced off to the side only to notice that the recording was still playing, and so he decided to ask about it. Since, if someone knew anything about anyone in this Manor, it would be Alfred.

"Say... what's this playing on the TV?"

"It's a recording of one of Master Y/n's plays, Master Bruce." Alfred answered simply, almost as if it was common knowledge. "Apologies if it's too loud, I decided to play it while cleaning. I can change it or turn it down if you'd like."

"No, no it's fine... but since when has Y/n acted in plays? I don't remember hearing about this." Bruce stated, confusion growing as another emotion began to swell in his chest. One he was all too familiar with, but ignored for the moment.

"Since middle school, if I recall correctly, but it was only while they were younger. Having only been in three school plays in total, I believe." Alfred moved closer to Bruce as he looked at the screen, eyes softening for a moment as he watched you move along the stage. You had grown up so much since then, and the stage fright you used to have felt like nothing more but a faint memory now.

You wouldn't believe how incredibly proud of you he is.

"It's a shame they didn't do any more afterwards, since it would've been nice to have a few more recordings of their performances, but I suppose that's what happens when you find a new passion." He looked back at Bruce. That previous softness in his gaze nowhere to be found.

There was a certain way how his eyes looked at the billionaire, as if expecting something. As if expecting this.

Alfred had higher hopes, but you had left for a reason. Even if he knew what that reason was, it was only now did he see it more clearly. Especially as he witnessed Bruce's face shift into one of shock and surprise.

"They've always told you, Master Bruce, but you're schedule has just always been too full." Alfred handed Bruce a piece of paper, and Bruce took it wordlessly, looking it over.

It was a flyer promoting a play — the Alice in Wonderland play that was still going in the background — with the dates and times listed below, along with some of the cast members. Your name stuck out like a sour thumb compared to the rest.

Bruce did remember seeing this before, but one thing did still confuse him as he looked back at Alfred.

"I'm pretty sure you gave this to me at the time, not Y/n."

"That I did, sir, but that was only because Master Y/n was having some trouble with catching you attention, because they had wanted to give you the flyer themself. So I offered to give it to you for them." Alfred replied truthfully, cleaning up a little more while he was at it, and leaving Bruce to his thoughts for the moment.

He didn't remember you trying to catch his attention... but if what Alfred says is true then that makes sense, even if it made Bruce feel bad in a way. The feeling growing a little more when he realized something Alfred had said.

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, eyes pinned on the flyer as he pressed his pursed into a thin line. Countless thoughts floated around in his head, all of them jumbled up and messy as he just didn't know what to make of this. Missing one was probably fine, and maybe two at a push, but all three? How could he have missed every single one?

Sure he was busy, but he didn't think it was this bad. Did he just forget? How did he not notice such a thing had slipped right past him?

All Bruce could do was sigh. There was nothing he could do about it now, and even if there was a way to make it up to you, he didn't know where to start, or if that would change anything to begin with. Besides, he didn't even know how long it's been since these performances had happened.

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

Alfred just looked at Bruce, brows just barely creased before he took a breath of his own.

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

At the look of disbelief on Bruce's face, Alfred could only stand and straighten himself out as he calmly asked, "How old do you think Master Y/n is, sir?"

"Oh, well, they're..."

... Bruce couldn't even think of an answer.

Obviously you had to be in highschool since it had been years since you've performed in a play, with the Alice in Wonderland play being one of them, but how old were you exactly? What year were you in? Were you a sophomore? Junior? Surely you weren't a freshman, but even then — what high school did you even go to? Bruce didn't think you were home schooled, or else he'd definitely notice that... or would he?

Oh no.

What if you already graduated? What if you already had gone and done something that not even Alfred knew about? Did you have a job? Where would you even work? Were you already in college? What college would you even go to? Did you manage to get a scholarship? What would be you major? Where would you be studying? Would you even stay in Gotham? Were you even old enough to be out on your own? Could you even drink yet? Could you drive? Did you own a car? Or even a motor bike? When was your birthday? Did it already pass? What's the month? The day? The year?

How old are you?

"I... I think I'm going to go and just check up on them." Bruce couldn't answer, and while he had a vauge idea. That's all it was, an idea. So he moved the subject along, and made his way up the stairs, leaving Alfred behind. Just watching as the world's greatest detective left the room, all because he couldn't figure out the age of one of his own kids. One he had chosen to take in and watch over like all the rest, and yet left behind all the same in the process.

Alfred could only sigh to himself as he paused the recording of the play. Ejecting the disc and putting it in its respective case, and placing it in its usual spot.

This was the only way, he decided. This was the only way.

--------------

Bruce didn't feel much better by the time he reached your room. It took him mistakenly stumbling into two guest rooms before he finally reached it, and honestly he felt more regret over that alone.

Most of this time he hardly remembered that the room before him now was even occupied, let alone that you had claimed it as yours. What didn't help was that it was only now that he remembered introducing this space as your own, and yet he had forgotten that small detail so quickly.

Regardless, Bruce just pushed that all to the side as he knocked on the door, taking in a breath.

"Y/n?" He called out, only to get no respose. So he tried knocking again, but he still got nothing.

Sure, he was getting a little confused, but just pushed that to the side with everything else, as he stared down at the door knob.

... Should he?

He had to talk with you eventually, especially considering what he just figured out and how little he actually knew about you. He needed to talk with you. He couldn't just let this slide, not with what he knew now. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So, be tried the knob, and was kind of surprised that it was unlocked. Though besides that little strange detail, he gently pushed the door open, and took a peak inside.

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

Regardless of that, however, he opened up the door a little wider, and stepped inside. What he saw only made him more confused, but also feel so much worse when he looked all over the room. How could this be...?

Various things were on your desk, shelves, and hung on the walls. Your room looked surprisingly clean, but honestly Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting. After all, he didn't even know your exact age or hardly anything about you, and even then — by the looks of things, he had missed out on so much more than he originally thought.

Trophies, awards, medals, and certificates were littered about your room. The very sight of them made the paper in Bruce's hands feel so much heavier, and yet he still held onto it as he further inspected the awards, and few pictures hung on your walls.

Every color was here, from bronze to silver to gold, and at some point it seemed you were able to get a consistent amount of silvers and gold. The awards themselves were from various events and activities that barely corresponded with each other. From fencing to swimming, and dance to pottery. From track and field to literacy, and gymnastics to cooking.

It was like you had tried to do so much of everything, and were trying to collect all of these awards from all of these different activities, rather than earn them because you deserved it for all your hard work and dedication to do that particular activity, but Bruce just couldn't understand why. Why go through all of the effort just to move on to the next thing? It... didn't make sense.

Right next to you black belt for martial arts, you had hung up the few medals you had gotten from track, and right below that were some awards you had for gymnastics. Beside your soccer trophies you had some kind of art award, and beside that was more awards and things you had received from playing and participating in other sports and activities. Bruce had no idea you were even into some of these things, but just from looking at your room, he could tell you weren't all that into or interested in some of the activities you did. Seeing as some activities and such had more awards when compared to others, but one thing in particular seemed to really catch your interest.

Music.

Not only did you have a whole wall and section of your room dedicated to it, but it felt more organized, and the placement of awards and such seemed more thought out in a way.

Countless awards littered the wall, and from the placement alone he knew you were proud of them. The pictures hung on the wall showed you shaking someone's hand as you either held up an award or album cover. You smiled, and Bruce could see how genuine it was as he felt like he could feel your happiness radiate off the photo itself. The people you were shaking hands with looked pretty happy themselves, and Bruce was a little surprised that he recognized them, but that made him feel more conflicted.

The people in those photos with you, were famous, and you had gotten those opportunities to meet them and shake their hand all by yourself.

All of these awards — they were only the finishing products of what you had spent all of your time doing. They were only small glimpses into the person you truly were, and as Bruce looked at the records you had hung on the wall, he could feel his own regret spilling out of his bleeding heart.

He wish he was there with you.

He wish that he had been there to see you even get half of these rewards that you undoubtedly deserved. He wish he got to hear the music you played, and what kind of songs you wrote. He wish he had been there to see you go on, and work your way up, with him being there as your support, and yet...

He had missed everything.

From the plays, to the matches you had, to the games you played in and competitions you participated in, and how could he forget your performances that even earned you such big, important awards. Awards that probably meant so much to you, because of how far it showed you had grown.

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

No if's or but's this time. No more excuses. He had to find you. Bruce needed to.

So he did a more thorough search of your room. Finally placing the flyer down on your desk as he looked around. He checked your closet, your bed, even under the picture frames, and moved some of the awards around, in order to better check and search for anything. Any hint that could point to where you had gone, and or where you might be. Any clue, any thing that could tell him about you.

He even made sure to take a mental note of the people in the photos, just in case he had to reach out to them and ask if they knew where you were by some off chance. Though that was only if Bruce was convinced that you weren't even in the Manor, and getting some extra information on you never hurt anyway. Seeing as he had a lot of catching up to do.

As he searched, he ran into various things. From equipment, art pieces — most of which were unfinished — and old notes, to other random items. Like an airsoft gun, some glass beakers, various ties, a pair of shades, a glasses frame, and a sewing kit next to a first-aid kit? Bruce didn't want to think about how the first-aid kit both looked used, and was empty.

Bruce even stumbled upon a fancy looking tuxedo he didn't remember buying you at all, but a small tag caught his eye and-

Oh, it was a gift from someone else, and with the note you left behind the tag — most likely with the intention of giving the tuxedo back — it was safe to assume that you and this person knew each other quite well...

Bruce just put the tux back. He would've gotten you a better one anyway if you had just asked, or if he even knew you needed one in the first place. Though regardless of that, he kept looking.

Eventually, he looked under your bed, and found a single box under there. Undisturbed... sitting innocently in the darkness.

Bruce didn't waste much time as he reached out and grabbed it, and placed it on your bed. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, which Bruce found a little strange but kept in mind as he opened the box and looked inside. There, he saw a variety of notebooks and papers, and from the looks of things, the items in here had been collecting a bit of dust too...

When was the last time you touched these?

It seemed a little strange that these were tucked away from everything else, and clearly you didn't want other people going through it or even seeing them since you kept it so out of view. Were they diaries? Bruce would rather learn anything personal about you from yourself, he didn't want to go through your things like this, but considering the situation...

He sighed, and just picked up a random notebook. If this could help him find you, then so be it. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't leave you alone either. Not again.

Yet, he was so focused on looking through your things that he didn't even realize that someone had passed by, and noticed the odd room Bruce was in. A room that they themselves haven't seen before.

"Woah, what's this place? An old childhood room or something?" Dick asked as he invited himself into the room, mindlessly looking around, not really paying attention to anything in particular as he waltzed around.

"It's Y/n's room." Bruce stated bluntly, still looking over the dusty notebooks in the box. Some simply labeled 'Notes' or 'Practice', while one in particular was called 'Ideas/List & Progress' with little drawn sparkles around it. Another two weren't labeled with titles or words, and instead with small music notes doodled onto the cover in your favorite color. Though Bruce didn't know the color was your favorite.

Nevertheless, Bruce decided to look through one of the notebooks with music notes on it, completely missing how Dick had froze, and turned to look at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bruce just gestured to one of the records on the wall, flipping through the notebook in his hand as he read through it quickly but carefully.

Dick, still not entirely convinced and honestly just really confused, looked at one of the records Bruce had gestured towards, and felt like he had just gotten ran over by a truck with how hard reality hit him. There your name was, signed and everything, with a well-known producer listened as well.

His eyes even darted to the other records, only to find the same thing, and for just one final check, he looked at one of the awards on the wall.

Your name was engraved on it.

"Holy-" He covered his mouth, more than shocked as he looked around the room again, hand falling from his face, "but that means-" Now Dick was paying more attention to the room, moving from one thing to another as he looked over everything now.

"How did they- there's no way they did all of this? And- what. They even did gymnastics?!" To say that Dick was in absolute disbelief and shock was an understatement. Yet he hardly had any time to recover or process anything as another person popped into the room, albeit only temporarily.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible, Master Dick." Alfred spoke up, catching the attention of the oldest sibling as he moved into the room, and set a stack of papers on your desk, right next to the flyer Bruce had set down.

Confused and curious, Dick looked at the stack once Alfred had pulled away from it, and picked up the first paper.

It was another flyer, but this time for some kind of solo event or concert you'd be doing. The date written down was a few days ago... a week or so having already passed since then, but how could this be?

Dick hesitated, but took another one as he looked it over. Again, it was for some kind of concert or performance, but the date and time was further away. Three weeks to a month having passed since, but how did they not notice? Didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell them?

"This doesn't make any sense... why didn't Y/n tell us about any of these things?" He asked, mostly to himself as he continued to look through the various flyers.

"Why don't you tell me, Master Dick?" Alfred quipped, looking at Dick in a knowing way before stepping out of the room, "Now, I'll be heading off, but I do trust that both of you make the right choice this time around." With that, he simply left. Leaving Dick confused but feeling worse at the same time as he looked back at the flyers, mind racing until he spotted something.

Carfully, Dick pulled out another flyer out of the pile as he placed the others to the side. He recognized this one, but where had he seen it before? Was it...

... Oh god.

Dick whipped out his phone and checked his messages. He had to scroll down a bit, but he quickly found your contact and tapped on it. He flipped through your messages, hundreds upon thousands of which he never responded to, and even if that alone made he feel bad. When he found what he was looking for, he felt even worse.

He found a message of you sending him a photo of the flyer, and said how you hoped you'd see him there. The message itself had been sent almost a year ago, and as he looked back at the flyer, he didn't know how to feel. Yet he kept looking, especially as he spotted another familiar poster.

Some of them he was able to connect back to another message you had sent, and the further back he went the more he responded... but it wasn't much, and he seemed to leave you on read more times than not. He had made an effort, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Dick couldn't imagine how that must've felt for you, and he almost didn't want to. Yet he still continued to search through the flyers, and came across one he had an odd memory of. He did remember seeing a text for it, but also remembered hearing about it somehow? He wasn't too sure, but just incase he did decide to look through his voicemail. He didn't know what he'd find, but he decided to just have a little look, even if he wasn't sure he'd even find anything.

So, he matched the date of the message and scrolled until he found it.

The voicemail innocently stared at him, and Dick couldn't help but hesitate before he tapped on it, and let it play. Heart already heavy as he stared down at the flyer. The kind of look someone gave when they already knew it was too late, and Dick didn't know what was worse. The fact that he basically missed out on your entire life at this point, or that he had nothing to say for it besides that he was sorry, and had just forgotten about these things one too many times.

["Hey, Dick! I, um, I hope everything is going well and that patrol hasn't been too bad." Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were clearly nervous but you tried to push on anyway, and cleared your throat before you tried again.]

["How are you, though? I heard that you had a rough night the other day- and I know I'm not really into all this crime-fighting stuff like everyone else but... I just hope you're okay, y'know?" You chuckled nervously before you cleared your throat again, "An-anyway, um, yeah. I just- hope you're okay." The sound of a paper being fiddled with could be heard, and you took in a small breath.]

["So... I have this performance I'll be doing next Saturday- it's more of a competition really, since other musicians and stuff will be there too. It's at 7 o'clock, and I know you guys mostly work at night and everything- but if you could drop by or even just quickly come around at 8:15 that would be great! Since, um, that's when I'll be performing..."]

Dick looked at awards you hung on the wall as the voicemall continued to play. Based on the date of the performance he was able to find the award. You had gotten second place.

["It's um, it's a piece I wrote that's a tribute to your family- the Flying Graysons, that is, since we're allowed to play songs we wrote if they were approved beforehand, and it was! So, um, I really hope you don't mind. Your family is cool! Not that Bruce and everyone else isn't or anything- um, I'm going to stop talking about that before I say something stupid. But! I couldn't help but feel inspired so I, y'know-" you cleared your throat again. Clearly nervous.]

["Sorry for my rambling- but, yeah. You can pass by if you want or have the time, and it's right by that one place Bruce had that whole charity announcement on Monday. You can't miss it, there will be lights and all this other stuff- not to mention that it'll probably be loud considering things, but uh, yeah."]

["So if you think you can make it or pass by, it's at 7! Next Saturday! And if you can't make it by then, I play at 8:15! So, yeah. Remember that! If- if you want to. Hope to see you there! And if I don't, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the piece if you hear it. Have a good night! Or-! Or day! Whenever you listen this- um, bye!"]

What? You had wrote a song for him? For his parents? For them?

Dick's heart swelled. He didn't even get to hear it either, he wasn't able to. He didn't have time, and he forgot, but that didn't make things better, did it?

You had gone through all of that effort, and not only made a song for him but even played it during a competition and got second place. Yet he couldn't even put a few minutes to the side to listen to it. He didn't.

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

However, he did notice that there was another voicemail left by you just a few minutes after the last one. So, he decided to play that too before his guilt and regret could fully settle in, as if it'd make him feel better somehow.

["8:45! IT'S 8:45! THAT'S WHEN I PLAY! NOT- Not 8:15, sorry! I mixed up the times- that's when a friend of mine plays, not me! Sorry! Uh, but yeah. I play at 8:45- stop by if you can! I hope to see you then! Buh-bye!"]

Okay, well, Dick officially felt worse now. So much worse.

You had all this character and personality, and yet he was never able to fully see it — to hear it like he has now. Not like this, not while he was paying attention.

Your voice was so much different than what he remembered, and despite your nerves you really tried to tell him because you hoped he'd be there. You tried to tell him in hopes he'd actually show up, and he never did. Even as he listened to your other voice messages, he could hear how his own actions, or lack thereof, were affecting you.

The messages grew shorter, more to the point, and while you did still sound enthusiastic — it's like he could hear the hope dying in your voice. The hope that'd he show up. That any effort would be made, but that didn't happen, and it didn't help that Dick was listening to some of the voicemails he was going through right now, for the first time.

He could only imagine the pain he caused you, and Bruce was thinking the same thing.

Bruce was still looking through your notebooks as Dick was regretting everything he had done to you in the past.

The notebook Bruce was reading now was one where you had written down majority of your more recent song ideas, along with things you wanted to try and melodies you were trying to mix together. It was mostly full of lyrics and small notes to yourself about certain things you wanted to keep in mind, and though there was a lot of things crossed out, Bruce couldn't help but be... charmed in a strange way.

How you talked to yourself was adorable, and seeing your excitement for your own performances and such through each word you wrote, just made Bruce feel so happy for you. He could almost picture your smile and how giddy you felt when you were writing some of these things down, or how focused you were when trying to figure out how to continue the chorus of a song you were making — or if there should even be lyrics to begin with. Along with how you wanted the song itself to sound, and what emotions you wanted to capture in it.

With each page turned it's like he could see the entire process you went through when it came to your song composition. Like he was almost there with you in the moment, watching you do your thing, and honestly? Just by that alone he couldn't help but grow... softer.

Bruce loved seeing how your mind worked when it came to music, and your thought process behind each and every little thing. He just... he felt like through each line and little note he read and looked over, he was falling in love. The kind of love that he couldn't quite describe, besides just the love only a father could feel when they really see their child for who they are for the first time. The kind of love Bruce hadn't felt in a long while, nor this intensely.

You were so creative and passionate, so driven to achieve your dream and do what you loved. You were just so... you, and there was just something about the way you expressed that in the notebook that felt charming. The deeper Bruce got into the notebook, the harder it was to not love you, and each time he saw one of your little notes, he could feel himself smiling. You were so precious, how could he not see that before?

Though, besides all of that, he did notice a small pattern.

Every performance you had, you mentioned in the notebook and would express your feelings about it, and every time you did — you'd write something beneath it. Just a small paragraph about certain hopes you had. Hopes that made Bruce's heart squeeze tighter.

It was you hoping that they'd get to see you perform, that they'd show up, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of why he was doing this in the first place. So, he started to flip through your book, shaking out of whatever trance he was in.

With each performance that passed, the little paragraph got shorter, smaller, simpler. Like a quiet prayer that was dying down, as the believer slowly lost their hope and faith. It even came to a point where only one sentence was written for a while.

"I hope I see one of them."

Bruce's heart broke a little more each and every time he saw it, but the page that really got to him was when the sentence was smudged, small wrinkles and creases were on the page, and you couldn’t even finish writing the sentence as the end of the 'e' in 'them' dragged out.

What didn't help was when he flipped a few more pages, and found the last performance you had written about. It was a few months ago, but the date didn't immediately catch Bruce's eye. No, no, no, what caught his attention at first was the change of that single sentence.

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

His heart shattered at that, smile fading as he took in a breath. A moment passed, with Bruce just stating at the writing. Wishing for the impossible, and to change things that had already been done. It was too late, but he somehow refused to believe that now.

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

That... couldn't be right. You used to write in this notebook all the time from what he could tell, why did you stop? Did something happen that day?

If months really have passed... then that would explain all the dust on the box and contents within it, but still, it didn't make sense. Weren't you still here in the Manor? Bruce honestly couldn't think of why'd you would stop writing unless you somehow couldn't reach the notebook, but you couldn’t have left, right? Surely, above everything else, he would've notice that, right?

...

Bruce finally looked at Dick, seeing the oldest just staring at old flyers from various events and such you had participated in throughout your life. A life they never got to see.

"When was Y/n's last performance?" He asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Dick glanced at Bruce for a moment before looking back down at your desk. He moved some of the papers around before he found the most recent one and looked over to his father with a raised brow.

"About a week ago, why?"

Bruce looked back down at the notebook in his hand, eyes scanning over the date again before he closed it. Looking back at Dick, he asked another question.

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

Dick grew quiet at that, and after a moment he just sighed and shook his head.

"No, I can't say I have." It was only then did he catch what Bruce may have been thinking, "You don't think they-"

"It's a possibility. We can't be too sure just yet," Bruce just wanted to hold onto his hope that you were still here, and even if the chance was small he was willing to take it. He didn't want to believe that they had pushed you so far away that you would not only consider leaving, but actually went ahead and did it. He wanted to be doubtful, but he couldn't rule out anything. Not yet.

"Just keep looking, I'll go ask the others." Bruce stated as he placed the notebook back in the box and headed out the room.

"Keep looking? For what?! Other events we missed? More ways we ignored them? Things they did without us?!"

To say Dick's guilt was eating away at him would be an understatement. It was practically devouring him at this point, and he could just barely take it.

Bruce paused at the doorframe, sighing as he looked back at Dick, "Any hints or clues to where they could be. Favorite spots they might frequent, places where their lessons were held, people they know, anything." He left him with that, causing Dick to just run a stressed hand through his hair as he took a breath.

Worry and regret heavily weighed down on him, but all he could do was carry it for now. He'd make it up to you somehow. He would, and he'd finally get to hear that song one way or another.

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

Bruce did a general search around the house, looking for anyone he came across while also trying to look for you. He thought that if he was lucky, he'd run into you. Even if the possibility was small, it could still happen — or he hoped so anyway.

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

Though, he did end up running into someone, even if it wasn't who he was looking for.

"Woah, someone looks serious. What's got your bat panties in a twist?" Jason asked, amused, "Actually, wait, don't tell me. I don't c-"

"Have you seen Y/n?" Bruce cut Jason off, getting straight to the point.

The sudden question confused Jason as he gave Bruce a weird look, some of his amusment still remaining but it began to die down a bit.

"No... why?"

Bruce took a breath, fingers twitching, "Do you know where they could be?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jason's own confusion began to take over, his amusement continuing to die down, "Seriously, did something happen? Why are you suddenly looking for them?"

Bruce took a moment, just looking at Jason before he sighed.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"... A few days ago..." Jason glanced off to the side.

"Jason."

"Okay, okay! Fine. I don't fucking know! A few weeks ago? Maybe?!" He answered, getting agitated already. "I'm barely here enough as it is, how am I supposed to know where they are!"

Again, Bruce took in another breath, but there was something about it that Jason didn't like. Maybe he inhaled too sharply or deeply — Jason wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he wasn't going to like what Bruce was about to say.

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

"And that's supposed to be a surprise, how? He lives all the way in Bludhaven, of course he isn't going to see Y/n. 'Cause they live here-"

"I haven't seen them."

"..." That was a little more surprising, but just a little more. It still couldn’t mean anything... right?

"With all the shit you do, I would be surprised if you even saw them on a semi-regular basis." Jason crossed his arms, still not convinced — not entirely anyway. Yet Bruce could only exhale softly, the action bothering Jason even more.

"It's just a possibility. I'm trying to find them. Think you can help out?" Bruce clarified before asking. Additional help would definitely be great, especially because it meant that they could find you faster. He could find you faster.

"What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"Did know that Y/n wrote a song that's a tributed to you?"

"... What."

Bruce sighed, "You don't have to do it because I asked you to, or even because I want to find them. You can do it for yourself, Jason. But I'll leave that decision to you." Then, he just walked off to continue his search for you, and the other occupants of the Manor. Leaving Jason by himself, alone...

"That bitch-" Jason cursed under his breath as he walked off, deciding that he'll help look. Though only so he could ask you if Bruce was bullshiting him or not, and not for any other reason...

... Wait, you wrote songs? Like, actually?

Jason just shook his head, already upset enough as he shoved the thought to the side. When he found you he could ask, and how hard could that be? The Manor was only so big, and besides, you were just one person. He could probably find you before Bruce if he just looked in the right places, but the only thing now was finding those places...

Okay, so maybe he saw the problem, but still. This couldn't be too hard. You were the only one in the whole family who wasn't a vigilante, and so it was only about a matter of time.

Nevertheless, Jason began looking around as well, trying to figure out where he should look as he mindlessly checked every other room he came across. Where would you even go anyway? He'd probably check your room first but he figured that Bruce had already checked there, and it wasn't like Jason knew where your room even was. Though he just chalked that up to how infrequent his incredibly short visits were.

Still, he didn't even know where to start, and would rather avoid searching the entire Manor if he could. He tried to scratch his brain for anything but he just... had no idea.

Well, okay, he had one idea, but that was only because of one night. Even then he's still not sure it was you who he saw on the-

["Master Y/n? Are you alright?"]

Jason's thought process was cut off by a sudden voice. He immediately recognized it as Alfred's, and a realization hit him. Right! He should look for Alfred first, he'd know where you are. Alfred practically knew everything about everyone in the Manor, so he'd lnow something for sure.

So, he followed the sound until he stood in the doorway of one of the lounges. The television was on and playing some kind of recording, but Jason paid no mind to it.

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

When he didn't receive a response, he huffed as his eyes drifted to the television. What was playing, anyway?

You — a smaller, younger version of you — stood in a door way, looking out in the hall before turning back to the camera. Big, innocent eyes looking up. Looking at Jason.

You couldn't have been no older than eight or nine.

[You gave a little nod with a small hum, "I'm okay, Alfred. Just... waiting, like you said."]

A small, soft huff could be heard from the other end of the camera, and the camera moved to be placed down a counter of some kind. Which revealed Alfred to be the one having been recording everything so far.

["Yes, well. How about we do a little something while we wait, hm?" Alfred asked, moving a stool closer to the counter — moving the camera again to be placed on the kitchen isle this time.]

Ingredients and tools used for baking could be seem on the counter. The stool Alfred had place was next to where he was standing, and a good distance away from the stove.

[You looked at Alfred curiously, "What are we going to do?"]

["Oh, nothing too much, Master Y/n. But... I do require a bit of assistance baking this cake, that is if you'd like to help, of course." Alfred patted the top of the stool as he spoke, "Though you can always just watch, if you'd like."]

[You perked up at what Alfred said, climbing up onto the stool enthusiastically with a smile. "I wanna help!" You exclaimed, looking over the ingredients before looking back at Alfred, "But... what cake are we making?"]

[Alfred hummed, pretending to think before be looked back down at you, "Well, what kind of cake would you like, Master Y/n? It is your birthday after all."]

["Really?" When Alfred nodded, you gasped excitedly before suggesting your favorite flavor at the time.]

["Well then, let's get started, shall we?"]

From there, the rest of the recording was of you and Alfred baking. With Alfred helping you when he had to, and laughing lightly when you would inevitably make a mess.

Laughs and jokes were exchanged, and it was probably the happiest Jason has ever seen you... which made him feel weird in a way. He didn't like it, not one bit, and yet he continued to watch the old, wholesome memory play out before him.

Jason watched as you got a bit of flour on your nose and how Alfred wiped it off. He watched as while Alfred was deciding on the shape of the cake, you gathered all the different colors and types of sprinkles you could find, and was looking at a particular color of food coloring. How you nearly fell trying to grab the food coloring, and how Alfred just narrowly managed to catch you. How after that, Alfred visibly recovered from the near heart attack he had gotten from watching you fall, and just watched you add the food coloring to the frosting after you had thanked him for catching you, and apologized for falling.

... It got Jason thinking, if only a little bit.

He didn't know much about you, not really anyway. Even if his visits were few and far inbetween, not to mention incredibly short, someone would think that he'd catch onto a few things about you, or just generally have more interactions with you, but he didn't. All he really knew was that you knew how to play the violin really well, but that was assuming that who he saw that night really was you. Even if he doesn't know who else it'd be.

Jason still remembered that one occurrence despite how long it's been since then... but that was for a different time. He had to focus now, but he still couldn't help but watch the little version of you trying to frost the cake without being too messy, but failing miserably.

It did get him thinking about how many small moments he had missed with you, and just... how little time he had actually spent around you.

Obviously, you weren't a little kid anymore. After all, the last time he remembered seeing you — you were already a teenager. Though was that really a good thing? Jason did remember having some kind of interaction with you in the past... but it wasn't much of anything, and even then he probably forgot half of those moments. What definitely didn't help is that you both didn't have each other's phone numbers, and the only form of communication you had was seeing each other in person.

.... Okay, maybe this whole 'finding you' thing was definitely a lot harder than Jason had originally thought.

["... Are they going to come, Alfred?" You asked, sitting in front of the cake you and Alfred had just made together, looking up at the camera that Alfred was holding once again.]

[Alfred didn't respond right away, but did eventually say, "I'm afraid not, Master Y/n, but if you'd like we could wait a little longer."]

[You shook your head, looking at the cake before looking back at the camera, "It's okay. We can blow out the candles now, but..." you hesitated, looking down at the table, "could you... stay with me? Please?" You looked away, embrassed for asking but didn't take back what you said.]

[Again, a soft huff came from the other end of the camera. "Of course, Master Y/n."]

After a short happy birthday song, the camera was placed down on the table as Alfred cut the cake. It was only after Alfred had given both you and himself a slice did the footage cut out.

Nothing could describe the face you made when Alfred said that no one was coming. Just like how Jason couldn't even begin to describe what it made him feel.

Even when a new recording started, he could hardly pay attention to it as all he saw was your face staring up at the camera. Expression not necessarily sad or upset, but it was easily the most heartbreaking thing Jason had ever seen. A kid shouldn't have a face like that. You shouldn't have a face like that.

Jason was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Cassandra trying to get his attention, nor did he feel her even pull on his sleeve. All he could think of was you, sitting at that table all by yourself. Alone.

He just turned the other way, practically stomping down the hall as he looked straight ahead, glaring.

He had to find you. Now.

Cass, on the other hand, was just confused. Watching as Jason stormed off before looking back at the recording that was playing on the television. What about it had made Jason sp upset? She didn't know, but she was a bit curious.

Bruce had already confronted her and asked her where you were, and of course she didn't know either. He did mention something about how Damian was trying to help a little, which was a surprise in itself, and how Jason might be trying to search for you too, and had asked her if she could do the same. She agreed, of course, just wanting to help out, but having run into Jason just now? That was... odd. Especially when he suddenly stormed off like that, but that wasn't her main focus right now. She still had to-

["Are you still trying to record this, Alfred?"]

Wait... was that your voice?

Cassandra turned back to the television, only to see the camera pointed towards the floor.

["Of course, Master Y/n. Just give me one moment, I almost have the camera set up."]

Oh, Alfred was there too? What was going on?

[Light laughter was heard before you spoke again, "Here, let me help you."]

The camera began to move, and as it paned up, there you were. A soft smile on your face, shining colored hues looking at the camera as you made a few more adjustments before stepping away.

Now, you definitely looked like a teenager or young adult. Voice more matured and settled, almost calm in a way.

["There. That should be good, what do you think?" You asked Alfred, tilting your head to the side a bit, most likely looking at the butler.]

["I have to agree, Master Y/n. Everything should be working properly." Alfred then came into frame, moving towards the counter as you moved around the kitchen isle to follow him. "Now, what is it that you wanted to make this year?"]

["Oh! Right, well..." and you told him, already grabbing a few necessarily ingredients from around the kitchen.]

It wasn't long before the two of you started baking again, but this time around you were clearly more experienced than your younger self — not that Cass was aware of that anyway. You both did your own parts, working exceedingly well together as the conversation between the two of you was nothing but natural.

Cass never saw you talk so naturally, or even knew you could bake, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about you.

She could see that in the footage, you were really relaxed and happy. Almost at ease as you skillfully moved about, as if knowing the necessary steps to make what you were hoping to bake by heart, and how you navigated the kitchen made it look as if you almost knew it as well as Alfred did. It was almost refreshing to see you just be so... in tune with your surroundings, and Cass almost wished she had been there to see you bake for herself. Though she could settle watching footage of you bake for now.

Even if she didn't know why you were even baking in the first place until Alfred mentioned something about a gift for your Birthday, and how that led you to talking about some of the things your friends had given you.

This was... your birthday? Just you and Alfred?

That didn't feel right... but then again, she didn't even know when your birthday was to begin with — and now that she thinks about, had you ever celebrated Christmas with everyone? As a whole family?

... She wasn't sure.

["Are you certain that you don't want to wait, Master Y/n? You never know, someone could show up this time." Alfred asked, looking at you with slight concern.]

[You only smiled, "I'm sure. Besides, even if any of them did come, we both know that it'd be on accident." You laughed lightly to yourself, looking down at the pastry both you and Alfred had made together. "I doubt they even know when my birthday is, but that's okay." You looked back at Alfred, your smile still happy but... there was something off with it.]

["I've told you before, haven't I? You're all the company I need in this house. I'm happy just spending my birthdays like this with you." You took a piece of the pastry and ripped it off before holding it in the air, as if doing a toast, and held it toward Alfred. "So, happy birthday to me?"]

[Alfred sighed softly, but could only smile as he took his own piece of the pastry, copying your actions as he held the piece toward you, "Happy birthday, Master Y/n."]

The footage cut right after, and suddenly Cass found herself in a similar position that Jason had been in just a few moments ago. Just staring at the screen, unsure what to do with this new information, the weight on her chest growing.

Had you really spent every birthday like that? If so... then why didn't you tell anyone? Or had you tried, only for nothing to come of it?

The thought alone hurt, strangely enough, and all Cass wanted to do was... well. She wasn't sure.

She wanted to do so many things, and yet she didn't know if anything would work. Or if anything she could do would fix... well, anything at all.

She wanted to try your baking and... and celebrate a birthday with you. Or maybe she just felt obligated to do so after having seen the recording, but a big part of her did mean it. Especially because she didn't want you to feel alone or anything ever again, not after seeing the extent it went to. Though perhaps there was some irony in that thought that Cass failed to realize.

Regardless, Cass found herself walking off too. Completely missing the figure who turned off the television, and unplugged the camera from it that held all of the footage both her and Jason were shown.

Cass was practically speed walking as she checked the library — remembering have seen glimpses of you in there before — while Jason checked the music room, only for both to turn up equally empty. Yet they kept looking. Everyone did.

Dick tried calling and texting you while trying to see if there was anywhere you could be outside of the Manor. Tim ended up helping as he ran into Dick, and was basically locating and tracking down all the places you've been to with the help of your notebooks and awards in your room. All the while listening to some very earlier pieces you've wrote and played on the mp3 player he found in your box.

Bruce was still looking all over the Manor for you, each minute that passed making him more paranoid and worried. What started as a small possibility was growing into a certainty and he did not enjoy that at all. Damian had decided to search for Alfred, since it seemed like the smartest choice if they wanted to end this quickly. Yet when he did find Alfred and asked him where you were, it turned out that Alfred didn't know where you were either.

While yes, he did know some of the teachers and coaches you've had in the past, he didn't know where you were at this exact moment. How could that be? It was simple, really.

Alfred hadn't seen you in a while either, and once that little piece of information spread around the family... what followed after could only be described as chaos.

The Manor was practically flipped upside down as Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Cass searched for you. Not a single room went unchecked, and when they still came out empty handed, their own worries began to fuel each others.

Dick was the first one to suit up and head out, already calling Barbara as night fell on Gotham, with Tim beginning to suit up — yet Jason had beat him to the punch and was out the second the Manor was cleared. Cass was next to follow, with Bruce and Damian not following too far behind. Tim only left after informing Stephanie — and after downloading some of your songs — and telling Alfred to keep a look out just in case you came back home.

In just a few hours, what started as an unusually uneventful and calm, quiet day for the family, quickly turned into one of the most panicked induced searches and painful night of their lives.

All because of you.

---------

You were tuning your guitar calmly, tapping your foot to the melody playing in your head as you hummed. The silence surrounding you was peaceful for a chance, and didn't feel suffocating or as unnerving as the silence in the Manor did.

Honestly, it took a bit of getting used to but after a few weeks you had grown to love it. Waking up everyday and having someone there to not only greet you, but actually acknowledge you also took a bit of getting used to, but you managed much more easily with that.

Sure, there were other things as well, but you eased into it and had come to accept these small things as just parts of your new life. Yet, you still found yourself appreciating and noticing the smallest things, and almost crying over them too.

It had been a few months since you had left the Manor, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

You now shared an apartment with one of your closets friends, and your career helped you cover your half of the rent, as well as other expenses. You had truly found comfort with this new lifestyle, and even if you'd like to move out of Gotham one day — you could settle for this for now.

This, you believed, was what peace truly felt like.

Even when your phone started to go off like crazy — you just took one look at who it was and rolled your eyes, putting your phone on silent as you placed it face down on the table in front of you. You didn't know what Dick and Tim needed so badly, but you were sure they'd be able to figure it out themselves. After all, they were the sons of the world's greatest detective, right? They could handle themselves.

So you just leaned back into your couch, sighing softly as you mindlessly strummed away at your guitar, smiling a little to yourself when the tune was just right. Creating a melody came all too naturally to you, and all you did was carry it on — humming softly as countless ideas filled your head. A small song beginning to form, even if unintentionally.

A song that went on — with the suffering of Gotham going on in the background. The city being cleared out and searched by the vigilantes that dared to protect it, all of it being done just to look for one person. You.

The shouts and screams served as the base, with the shattering of glass and bones being the lower kick, perhaps. The heart beat serving as the tempo, and so on.

So, just as you had years ago, you played on. Calm and happy in your own little world, unaware of the horrors to come — and destruction being made in your name.

–––––

Well, that's long, isn't it?

Might be making a another post that kind of details what some of the others did before everything went to hell? We'll see. Maybe.

Sorry again for any mistakes, especially towards the halfway point/end there.

[yndrgrl]

your boyfriend, katsuki bakugo, loves you dearly, but you're scared you'll never be deserving of him

cute lil dabble. lowkey songfic. fem! reader. angst to comfort. fluff. established relationship. any au. overthinking! reader.

warnings: there are none :D

a/n: picture a "too sweet" by hozier girl x "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys boy relationship !

-

katsuki is always characterized as hostile yet calculating, a man who knows exactly what he wants. he's destined to be the top of the food chain, everyone knows it. he's powerful man with a deadly gorgeous face, his fangirls would describe.

& in comes you. plain old you.

you honestly have no idea what katsuki sees in you. like, if you're digging deep in yourself, maybe he likes your for your dark, crude sense of humor that always seems to make him belly laugh.

it's said that he's an early bird. he's awake before you every single day, asleep & sound by 8:30-- on the weekends, he'll push it to 10:00. before you've said your first words of the day, he's already made his side of the bed, made & ate breakfast, put away the laundry, & is off to his morning run after his morning workout. his good habits he's developed early in life has benefited him in every way.

he never procrastinated on chores, his paper work is flawless, & you could learn a thing or two from his time management skills. he's always making time for spontaneous dates you wanna go on, festivals you wanna visit, & he makes sure that the pantry is stacked with your favorite snacks. any of your interests are his interests, even if he doesn't fully understand it.

when it comes to katsuki, you ought to wonder if he ever wants to experience something different from his strict, repetitive lifestyle. you sometimes feel stupid for wanting more out; you want to travel somewhere far away, you want to go out clubbing with a bunch of strangers, you want to move to the country side & live in a cottage. katsuki always reels in your dreams, encouraging you but also reminding you that you need to stay consistent to achieve them. you're jealous with how fast he can accept reality.

"babe? you listening?" katsuki questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked a couple of times then nodded almost-too enthusiastically. he let out a little chuckle & stroked your cheek with his thumb. "what're you thinking about?"

"nothing, i'm sorry," you sighed with your hands in your lap. you both were on the couch, doing your own thing. he was on his phone, & you were supposed to be doing some work on your laptop, but you found yourself spacing out again.

"don't apologize. i'm just curious about what's going on in that pretty, little head of yours," he told you before he took your hand & pressed his lips against your knuckles. you thought to yourself, i'm not good enough for this man.

you debated whether or not to tell the truth. on one side, he has been your devoted boyfriend for years now, but on the other, he could just be asking out of curtesy. like, what if he actually does not care at all- "(y/n)? talk to me. i know you have something you wanna say," katsuki commented, scooting closer to you. he set the pillow that you placed your laptop on the coffee table so he could get your undivided attention. he caressed your thigh to help ground you.

you stayed silent for a moment, & he waited patiently. you swallowed, your eyes darted from his piercing red ones to the floor to his hands. finally, you said, "you're too sweet for me." he laughed & laughed, & you couldn't help but crack a smile. "what? what's so funny?" you pouted.

"sorry for laughing, princess. it's just no one ever calls me sweet. like, ever," admitted katsuki as he settled down from his fit of laughter. what he said was true though, he didn't have a problem with it. he was not sweet at all, he was rough around the edges & egotistical with the skills to back him up. he only ever thinks about himself & you. "but what makes you say that, hm?"

"well, for one, you always treat me out & take me anywhere i want. we never go where you wanna go," you pointed out, jabbing your finger in his toned chest playfully.

"that doesn't make me sweet. i have the money, & i don't fuckin' care about where we go to eat."

you chose to ignore him, rolling your eyes at him because that was his excuse every time. "two, you're literally in the prime of your life, & you choose to go to sleep at 8:30? how do you sleep so well?"

"(y/n), what is this really about?" he questioned. katsuki brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the silky strands behind your ear. "& don't lie to me, i know you."

"ugh, fineee," you groaned as you threw your head back. maybe it was for comedic effect, or to gather your thoughts & regulate the tears that started to well in your eyes. "do you think i'm like, worthy of you?"

"worthy of me?"

"yeah, do you think i'm good enough for you?" you rephrased, pulling your hands away from him to rub your upper arm. it's embarrassing to admit something, it's scary too. what if, once you point it out, he'll agree & leave you?

"'course i do! i'm the best around & i got the best fuckin' girl, why are you thinking this shit?" katsuki exclaimed, his passion that you wish you had seeping through to his tone. a moment of thick silence followed, you took a deep breath. you suck at emotions.

"you're too good for me, okay! you're so much stronger than everyone, & if that wasn't enough, you're insanely smart! i'm just... here. average at best. people praise you like the morning after an eternity of darkness. you're the rain after a heatwave. everything works out for you, & i'm just the one holding you back from even better things-"

"babe, you're not holding me back or whatever. you've never held me back," he stated like it was a fact, but you felt as though he was just saying that to calm you down. it angered you, & you were ashamed that you were angry because it wasn't even directed at him, it was directed at the fact you felt unworthy.

"no, you don't get it! i aim low because it's realistic for me, i can't afford to aim for anything else because i'm destined to fail. you, on the other hand... you have so much potential. don't you get embarrassed about having a girlfriend like me?"

"no." he answered so quickly, like it was rehearsed, like he knew what you were going to say. "i've never felt embarrassed of you ever. you're so fuckin' dense, you know that?"

you paused just to stare at him. katsuki sure had a way with comforting people. even after years of being a hero, he never learned how to traditionally comfort people. tough love, everyone would call it. but with you, he forced himself to be tender because you deserve treatment no one else gets from him.

there were so many things he wanted to say to you. don't you realize what you do for him? god, katsuki would go mad living without you now that he knows what life is like with you, his missing rib. the two of you are meant to be, you're two sides of the same coin. so what if he's as bright as the morning? you were his darling night, the very universe was visible through your eyes.

"you must be dense if you really thing you're just average. would i go for an average girl?"

"i mean-"

"no, the answer is no. you're deserving of love, my love. everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome, you're just diminishing it because what? you think you're dumb or something? you- you..." you're the reason my world goes round, you are so talented, he was so desperate to shout these praises at you.

he was never one for romantic gestures through words. if he did, he would've been the best damn poet in the game. "i am yours."

it was such a simple sentence, yet it shook you to the core. you stared into his lively, crimson eyes. the look he gave you in return made your breath hitch; he was so deeply devoted to you, as deep as the pacific ocean.

you leaned in, capturing him in a kiss. tears rolled down your cheeks, your despair melting away. you felt like the two of you were kids again, sharing your first kiss. how could you doubt a man who so clearly, who so desperately, loves every bit of you.

[moonstruckme]

ok request coming in

poly!marauders play a prank at a holiday party where they spike the eggnog, but reader doesn’t get the memo and ends up drinking it. they find reader totally out of it, guilt and groveling ensue as they take care of them

Finally, the oldest request in my inbox! Thanks for being so, so patient anon, and thanks for your request <3 I varied it slightly but I hope you still enjoy it

cw: spiked/drugged drinks (if it makes it better they were only trying to drug bigots? (I know it doesn't really make it better))

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 852 words

Someone has found James’ eggnog. Well, really it’s all of their eggnog, but it was James’ idea to spike a bottle of the stuff with befuddlement draught, tie it up in a ribbon, and leave it in the Slytherin dorms for Snape and his lot to find on Christmas morning. The marauders had hidden the bottle in the Gryffindor common room until then—they couldn’t very well be found to be keeping prank materials in their dorm again—quite well, Sirius had thought. Still, he perhaps should have known better than to think that a room full of merry, intoxicated students wouldn’t unearth it. 

James is trying to wrangle the students who’ve drunk it, Remus has gone to whip up an antidote, and Sirius, by a combination of luck and willful argumentation, gets to watch over you. 

“Do I have wings?” you ask. You’re sitting on Sirius’ lap, his hands planted on either side of your hips to keep you there. 

He raises his eyebrows. “Have you had wings before?” 

“No,” you say, perplexed. You lift and lower your elbows experimentally. “I think I do now, though.” 

“You don’t, lovely girl.” 

You watch your arms a moment longer, and then the look you give Sirius is near pitying. “I think only I can see them,” you tell him sympathetically, “but I’ll show you. I can fly down from the top of the stairs.” 

You start to get up from his lap, frowning when Sirius plonks you right back down. 

“Sirius,” you say, suddenly stern, “I can prove it. I’m telling you, it’s probably a side effect of that thing Remus said I took.” 

“I have no doubt this is an effect of what Remus said you took,” he agrees, running his thumb over your hip through the material of your jumper. “And our Remus is a very smart boy. Considering that he told you to stay put right here, I think we ought to listen to him, don’t you?”

You’re growing sullen. “You don’t believe me.”

“My darling,” says Sirius, “you would make a very beautiful bird, but I like you even better without wings.” 

Your lips purse into a concerned pout. “Then what are you going to think of me now that I have them?”

Sirius isn’t entirely sure what to say to that.

Luckily, he sees James and Remus moving about the room in his peripheral vision. Sirius waves Remus over, spotting the vial he holds in his hand. 

“What, only one left? Did you really leave our girl until last?”

“We had second years trying to sled down the staircases.” Remus comes to sit beside the both of you. “We had to prioritize. Sorry, dovey.” He kisses you on the cheek. Your mood seems to lift slightly. “You seem to be fairly placid over here by comparison.” 

“Hardly. She keeps wanting to jump from high places.” 

“Well, yes, that’s what befuddlement draught does,” Remus says drily, unstoppering the vial of antidote. “It makes people reckless. Things you ought to know if you plan to distribute it, I reckon.” 

Sirius ignores the jab, taking the vial from Remus and lifting it to his nose. “Oh, fuck.” He recoils. “Merlin, Rem, you couldn’t dilute it with something nicer? That’s got to taste like ass.” 

“You’d know,” you chirp. “You eat plenty of it.” 

Remus snorts, and Sirius makes an appalled scoffing noise. “Reckless indeed!” He pinches your chin, not enough to hurt. “Alright, my loveliest nuisance, bottoms up.” 

Despite Sirius’ warnings you drink it without hesitation (perhaps the recklessness at play), gagging only once the vial is empty. James comes up behind you then, rubbing between your shoulders while you cough. 

“I’m sorry, lovie,” he says ruefully. “This should never have happened. We’ll have to start hiding our impending pranks more safely.” 

“Or,” Remus suggests, “you could stop trying to drug other students and then being surprised when it backfires.” 

Sirius pats your boyfriend’s thigh. “Be realistic, love.” 

“Ugh.” You smack your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “I feel…weird.” 

“It’ll probably take a few minutes for the effects to wear off fully,” Remus tells you, his expression going soft as he focuses on you. “Do you feel alright, sweetheart? Sick?” 

You shake your head, though you’re still grimacing, rolling your tongue around in your mouth as though it doesn’t fit. “No, I’m okay. Not sick.” 

“Are you upset?” James frets. 

Remus shoots him an exasperated look, but you only tilt your head at him consideringly. “I don’t think so,” you say. “Ask me tomorrow.” 

James looks a bit unsettled, but Remus rubs your leg, smiling slightly. “Smart girl,” he murmurs. 

“Can I let you go now?” Sirius squeezes your hips teasingly. “Or do you still think that you have wings?” 

James’ eyebrows lift. “That she what?” 

“I’m not going to try to fly anymore,” you say placidly, laying your head down on Sirius’ shoulder, “but you don’t have to let me go either, if you don’t want to.” 

“I can tell the effects are wearing off already.” Sirius stamps a happy kiss to the side of your head. “That’s my girl.”

[lbhslefttiddie]

honestly i don't think sqq (jiu) would have minded the accusations of preferential treatment from yqy if they'd felt true. like as children he guarded the title of being yue qi's Favorite with teeth and claws. why shouldn't he be given preferential treatment? everyone ought to know just who qi-ge likes and trusts over everyone else. and for good fucking reason--who else here is watching out for qi-ge? as peak lords he's literally 2nd in command and chief tactician, if yqy values his word over yours, then its both what makes most sense and also what he deserves.

the thing is that to sqq, being accused of being favoured by yqy over others now just feels like a sick joke, because obviously (to him) that's not the fucking case. if he actually gave him preferential treatment you'd think he'd listen to what he has to fucking say, instead of believing what anyone else tells him about sqq. you'd think, if he was yqy's favorite, he wouldn't have left him to rot.

so i think, in a setting where they reconcile after becoming peak lords, that sqq would very much slap yqy's love for him in everyones faces as a kind of power move. a kind of, "oh, you thought that was favouritism? you havent seen yet what it looks like when qi-ge lets himself favour someone."

[avocado-writing]

Hey, I love your writing and I just saw Deadpool and Wolverine and fuck it was good!

Could I request a Dp x W x reader smut where Logan goes into rut? If not that’s totally fine, but I figured it doesn’t hurt to ask

@saradika did an amazing Logan rut fic here, you really ought to go and read it if you like this kinda thing!

3.2k words. smut. minors dni

vaguely sub!Logan (he deserves to be taken care of); handjob (logan receiving); p in v sex (Logan giving, reader receiving); p in a sex (Wade giving, Logan receiving); knotting; fluff

It’s been a long day.

Logan is tired in a way he’s unused to being tired, at least for several years now - the kind where he’s worked himself to exhaustion after a hard day on the job. It’s not been easy, trying to build himself a new life from the ground up, make amends for how he was and attempt to be a good man again, but at least he’s got a pretty solid foundation beneath him: you and Wade.

He spots the two of you waiting outside the local bodega, finds himself rolling his eyes but smiling when Wade makes a big show of waving to him. Ahh. You two. He’s not quite sure where he fits in with your relationship, but you’ve both made it clear he’s welcome there. The three of you don’t go through something like what happened in the Void and come out without some pretty soul-deep bonds. And it’s… nice. It’s new.

Nothing too much has transpired yet, at least physically. The two of you are happy to pepper him in kisses but, so far, he’s gently turned down every invitation to join you in the bedroom. Not that he doesn’t want to. Fuck, he wants to. But he’s an old man now, a recovering drunk, and he has some… concerns about how well he’d be able to keep up. Doesn’t wanna humiliate himself between the two of you. So for now, he’s content to just be in a pile with you both when you’re watching a movie at night, held and caressed.

“Hey sugartits,” says Wade with a grin when he’s within earshot, “how was our hard-working man’s day at the testosterone factory?”

“Fine. Pretty fuckin’ tiring,” he confesses. He’s working manual labour at the moment, long days at a construction site, getting himself back into the shape he used to be. It’s good to feel like he’s doing something active and he’s making an okay paycheck too. You press a cool soda into his hand, a glass bottle, and he looks around before using his claws to pop the lid off. It’s refreshing as he gulps it down and he’s glad for it - no more booze. Not any more. He’s trying to be better and the two of you are either side of him to help get there.

“We got sandwiches for dinner, hope that’s okay,” you say, holding up a plastic bag. He breathes in the warm smell of the foil-wrapped food and…

… and he catches something else, too.

Something sweet, heady. It’s oozing off of you and Wade in waves. Catches in the back of his throat as he starts scenting the air properly. Oh fuck. 

His nostrils flare.

The two of you smell delicious.

And, for the first time in years, he can feel something begin to boil in his stomach, thick like molasses, the urge to mate.

Just lile that, he’s going into a rut.

“Logan, you okay?” you ask, noticing his shift in demeanour and reaching out to place a hand on his bicep. It’s like you’re made of static electricity, shooting a current all the way through him - and that’s just over his sleeve. God knows how he’d survive if it was skin-to-skin. He has to strangle a moan in his mouth before it can escape and incriminate him.

“Mmm. Not feeling so hot. Want to get home.”

You and Wade exchange a concerned look, but you know when not to push - and you stop Wade from doing so, too. He limits himself to an, “okay Peanut, keep your secrets I guess…” and leaves it there.

Logan makes himself hang behind as the two of you start the wander back to the apartment, tangling your fingers together and speaking in hushed tones. If he was in the state of mind to care more he’d try to listen in. He isn’t. The only thing he can concentrate on is trying not to get a semi in the street.

He thought he was over this. Thought that age and years of alcohol had grinded down that particular biological impulse. He’d sort of forgotten what it was like, actually, the urge to fuck so bad that part of his brain was worried it’d kill him if he didn’t. 

But then again, until now, he hasn’t had you both, has he? People who cared about him again. People who loved him. People who made it clear they’d look after him, whatever way he needed you to.

Fuck. Fuck. He needs to get home now.

It’s agony, the two of you walking in front of him. You both smell fucking amazing. There’s a soft, perfumey, light scent rolling off you; Wade’s slightly headier, nearly cloying. Together it is the most amazing combination he’s ever known. He digs his fingernails into the meat of his palm to steady himself until they bleed and heal, bleed and heal, bleed and heal - over and over. At least the pain is distracting.

When you open the door to the apartment he shoulders past you both and heads straight into the bedroom, attempting to slam the pathetic plywood door behind him and gruffly telling you not to follow. He can’t have you see him like this: animalistic, desperate, feral. So needy that it’s fucking humiliating. He needs to have something touching his dick, now.

He slumps down on the bed, hands fumbling at how quickly he tries to rid himself of his jeans. Fuck he wishes he hadn’t worn a belt this morning, just wasting time, getting in the way… he slices it off instead, flinging it to the side of the room where it hits the wall and lands on the shared washing basket. Three sets of clothes share that space like you share this one: yours, his, Wade’s. What a mixture. Fuck. For a moment he considers burying his face in it, smelling your combination and fucking himself to completion on the scent of home. At least he has the strength to resist that.

His cock is leaking when he pulls it out. Red, thick, pulsing in his hand as he wraps his fingers around it. Logan growls out a little noise of pleasure as he starts to work himself. He finds his hips bucking up pathetically into his own grasp but he knows it isn’t enough: if he’s going into a rut he’s going to need someone to help him through it. Look at him. Fucking pitiful old man jerking himself off because he has no control over his own body. What sort of partner would he make for you both?

“Logan, we just wanted to check you’re… oh.”

And then there you both are. In the doorway, eyes open and very much fixed on what he’s doing to himself. He can see the way Wade’s pupils dilate, how you lick your lips at the sight of his cock. 

“I mean, you could have told us you needed to bust one o–” you elbow Wade in the ribs, wiping the grin off of his face.

“Logan, honey,” you whisper, voice syrupy sweet. Oh shit. Another wave of pre dribbles down his knuckles and he hears Wade suck in a breath. “Do you need us to help?”

He can only grit his teeth and nod. He’d do anything to feel another set of hands on him right now.

Instead, he feels two.

Wade sits down on his right, you on his left. He doesn’t expect Wade to kiss him but he’s not exactly complaining about it either, not when the mercenary’s tongue swipes across his and it tastes so good. Your lips attach to the sweet spot of skin between his earlobe and his jaw and start to bite. Logan moans into Wade’s mouth as you nibble on him, tracing his pulse with your teeth.

When Wade pulls back it’s only to catch the back of your head and press your mouth to Logan’s too with a gravelly, “your turn.” Without debate you take over, kissing him softly but passionately, moaning against his lips. Your hand bumps against his, encouraging him to move it, and he does so dutifully - and it’s him moaning when you wrap around his cock.

“Fuck, look at that. Hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I used to subscribe to a lot of OnlyFans,” Wade murmurs, and Logan nearly yelps when he feels your hand get heavier on him. He glances down to see Wade has wrapped his fingers around yours so that you can both jerk him off at the same time. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Is this good?” you breathe, eyes wide. Logan can only groan and nod, and then suddenly he’s coming - a train to his guts, trickling down over both of you and choking out an amalgamation of your names. 

He feels you pull back, then hears you whisper “oh fuck” when he’s still hard.

“I told you!” Wade hisses. “I told you I thought he could go for multiple rounds!”

You press your fingers into his mouth to shut him up, making him lick Logan’s spend off your knuckles. He does so with surprising obedience. 

“‘S a biological thing,” Logan says through gritted teeth, still aware he’s throbbing even though he’s just had an orgasm, “gotta be inside someone to make it calm down.”

Your eyes widen. You and Wade look at each other.

“Do… do you have a preference?” you ask, voice low. He shakes his head.

“No. It’ll probably end up bein’ both of you by the end of the night.”

From the way the two of you light up, it’s as if he’s just announced that Christmas has come early. He watches, dumbstruck, as the two of you slap your fists into your palms, the same ones who just gave him the first non self-eked orgasm in years, and say in unison:

“Rock-paper-scissors-shoot!”

Your paper covers Wade’s rock. You grin and he grumbles.

“Fine, I’m more of a top, anyway…”

Logan watches the two of you begin to strip properly. If he had his senses about him this is something he’d enjoy doing himself, seeing every inch of soft curve you have to offer, the strong plain of Wade’s abdomen. But all he can do is stare with need as you unveil yourselves to him, two perfect presents he’s allowed to indulge in.

Wade’s hard, you’re pretty fucking soaked as you lay down on the bed in front of him, tapping his bicep to indicate the fact he’s still wearing his flannel shirt.

“This needs to come off,” you state, authoritatively. Well, fuck. That sends a roll of electricity down Logan’s spine which he wasn’t expecting. He starts to tug at it, pulling the material over his head as Wade fiddles with his jeans.

“These too big boy,” Wade mumbles, and he lets himself be handled by the two people he knows are sincere about looking after him. Together your abandoned clothes make a mess of the bedroom and Logan feels himself throb at the idea of being at the centre of the chaos.

“C’mere,” you sigh, opening your arms to him. Logan wastes no time in accepting the invitation, moving so that he’s above you and you’re able to part your legs to make room for his bulk. Any other time, any other time, he’d want to stretch this out. Maybe eat you out for a while as Wade is forced to watch, or vice versa… but right now all he can do is thrust wildly at your folds, feeling the blunt head of his cock slide against your wetness.

“C’mon loverboy, you can do it,” Wade whispers in his ear, and suddenly a scarred hand is wrapping around his length to guide him inside of you. Logan hisses as he sinks in with one fluid motion. You suck air in through your teeth, grinning up wildly at him.

“Fuck, Logan, that’s it…”

“How does he feel, baby?” asks Wade from where he’s reaching into the side table, though Logan’s whole body is so preoccupied with being inside a warm, wet hole that he can’t in that moment fathom why.

“Fucking fantastic,” you breathe as Logan starts to fuck you properly. There’s no rhythm to it, just utter desperation, just chasing that orgasm which will relieve him of the weight and languidness in his bones. You breathe roughly, the hair on his chest scratching your tits as they bounce up and down. You throw your head back and he buries his face in your neck, where your scent is strongest, and he knows he’s gonna have to go all night at this rate.

A finger circles his hole and for a second he freezes, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

Wade is lining himself up in position behind him, bottle of lube in one hand, the other teasing at his entrance. The mercenary cocks a brow.

“What, you never had someone fuck you like this before? Gimme a break, peanut. The amount of flannel and leather you wear, you’ve known you’re bisexual for a long time.”

If he had more control over his speech he’d bite something back at Wade, but right now…? Yeah. He wants Wade to fuck him like he’s fucking you.

“Go hard. I can take it,” he growls, continuing to plow down, sinking his cock impossibly deeper into your tight heat and making you squeal. He hears Wade whisper a prayer of thanks to whatever god is listening and then he presses two long, lubed fingers inside him.

It’s a strange intrusion. Logan hasn’t had someone there for a long while now. That’s not to say it isn’t good, because holy shit it feels amazing to fuck back onto Wade’s hand as he move his hips against you. Wade does as he’s been bid, stretching him open roughly and wantonly, pouring more out of the little bottle when needed to ease his access. A third finger is added and every time Logan moves back to drive further into you, he feels himself hit Wade’s knuckles. 

“Holy shit,” Wade mutters, “look at you, peanut! Taking me like a champ. You reckon I could fit my whole hand inside, or…?”

“If you don’t put your dick to good use in the next ten seconds I’m gonna rip it off,” Logan snarls, needy and ferocious. Wade doesn’t have an answer to that, instead positioning himself behind him and holding onto Logan’s hips to make him go still. You mewl at the loss of movement but it isn’t for long - Wade sinks himself balls deep inside of Logan, filling him to the brim.

“Fu-uu-uu-ck,” Wade groans, eyes rolling back, then to you: “you’re right, baby. This is pretty goddamn fantastic.”

You smile up at him from beneath both men, reaching up so you can take his hand in yours and squeeze his fingers in the solidarity of sharing a man you’ve both been fantasising about since you met him for the first time at that dingy bar.

Then Wade starts to move, and Logan loses himself.

It’s messy and uncoordinated, but fuck does it feel good to ride out his rut sandwiched between two partners. Each time Wade presses down his hips, his head hitting that spot inside that’s been neglected for decades, he’s forced to fuck into you. Your cunt makes lewd, thrilled noises as he goes, and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders to bring him closer. Your tongue swipes the hinge of his jaw and Logan moans, cradled and cared for and adored.

His second orgasm is on the horizon and, with it, a feeling in his cock he hasn’t known for a long time. One he didn’t expect to know again. As Wade dips down to start pressing kisses all over his shoulderblades, Logan moves his mouth to the shell of your ear.

“Gonna knot you,” he manages, and though you can’t be entirely sure what he means, you nod enthusiastically.

“Oh fuck. Yeah. Do it, Logan,” you breathe. Fog floods his mind as he starts chasing his release inside of you, base of his cock swelling. Wade can clearly sense that something is on the horizon and quickens his pace, the idea of all of you finishing together just too good to pass up; Logan feels him catch his elbow and manoeuvre his hand towards where your hips meet his.

“C’mon Logan, if we don’t all cum it’s no fun,” he chuckles. Logan gets the picture and moves so that he can press his callused thumb into your clit and work rough circles there. When you gasp in pleasure so hard that your eyes roll back in your head, he knows it’s working. 

Fuck. He can’t last much longer. Wade fucks down into him, the heat in his stomach builds, and then—

It’s like fireworks.

He feels his knot force its way along the straining length of his cock and you gasp and squeeze him as it locks into place inside of you. He floods you with his cum, biting down on a pillow as it rocks him to his very core, keeps moving his hand and then you’re there with him, walls fluttering as you let out a string of very colourful language. Wade’s head tips forward to rest on his back as he empties himself inside of Logan, his hot seed spilling out and dripping onto the mattress below.

The three of you collapse for a moment to catch your breaths. Then suddenly your hand is slapping his arm.

“Fucking move, you two. You’re crushing me…”

“Oop,” Wade breathes, pulling out of Logan and making him hiss with the loss of contact, but meaning that he can roll over and have you rest comfortably on top of him. You sigh, happier now, nestling your head into Logan’s chest. Wade runs his fingers over the seam where you’re connected.

“So what, this just stays like this for…?” he leaves the end of the sentence open. Logan hums, pretty fucking blissful.

“‘Bout half an hour. Not too long.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him. He can feel his cum ripple inside you obscenely, Wade’s own dripping out of his fucked-out hole. 

“You feel better now?” you breath, dropping a kiss on his pectoral.

“Yeah. Thanks. I, uh, appreciate it,” he manages. You and Wade grin at each other.

“Any time, pookie. Just remember, next time I have first dibs on that monster dong,” Wade states, slapping the side of his ass like he’s a prime piece of meat… but hey, maybe he is. Maybe he doesn’t mind so much if it’s coming from someone he cares about.

His cock twitches inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Logan, again…?”

“It lasts a few days,” he confesses. 

“A few days… I’m gonna go get the sandwiches. Well need sustenance for the road ahead,” Wade states, rushing out to the kitchen without even bothering to tug his sweatpants back on. Logan gives an affectionate chuckle and then, for a moment, it’s just you and him.

“Really,” he mutters, “thank you. Dunno what I’d have done if you two weren’t there.”

Your fingers come to tangle in his hair.

“Logan, honey. You don’t have to thank us. We love you,” you say, simply, and it stirs his heart in a way he hasn’t felt for a long time now.

Yeah. Maybe it'll take some time to say it out loud but loves you both, too.

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: just a short lil blurb idea I had whilst procrastinating from finishing my other two WIP’s xoxo

warning: implied age gap of reader being a “young woman”, but no specific reference to Spencer’s age, I just envision this as a very post-prison thing for him to do

Listen

“Excuse me, lady, but you don’t get to waltz in here and start ordering my officers around. This your first day on the job or something, sweetheart?” The local chief of police smirks down at you, condescension dripping from his every word.

That, coupled with his casual misogyny, is enough to have you smirking right back at him.

Shocker, another old-fashioned cop assuming that a young woman like you doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s almost laughable. Almost.

“FBI Agent first, ‘lady’ second, and ‘sweetheart’? Not under any circumstances. I’m here with the rest of my team to assist you on a case that you’ve requested our help to solve. You don’t like the way we do things? Raise a formal complaint. If you want this case solved, you’ll do well to listen to the advice given. This is far from my first case, and you are far from the first police chief to invalidate that.” Your voice is the epitome of cool, calm and collected.

Naturally, that only aggravates the ignorant man in front of you. More predictable than a- well, actually, there are few things more predictable than the fragile masculinity found in a man like this.

“I’ll be happy to listen to your boss before I take any orders from a girl with a mouth bigger than it ought to be.” The local chief of police eyes you up and down, as if to intimidate you by comparing your stature to his.

Much to his surprise - and absolute dismay - his efforts are in vain. This is made clear when a quiet laugh passes your lips and you lean back against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest and looking to your left.

Moments later, as though emerging from the shadows, Doctor Spencer Reid takes the few large strides necessary to reach your side. A formidable force, exacerbated by the dark scowl that’s etched into his features and directed at the local chief of police. Having not long returned from visiting a crime scene, he had overheard the conversation between you and elected to wait before he stepped in, hypothesizing both how far the ignorance would go, and how long he would be able to hear it before seeing red.

“If you value the continued use of your jaw, I’d advise you close it and listen. Disrespect Agent (Y/N) again and this entire precinct will suffer the consequences of your ignorance.” Spencer’s threat is eerily quiet and, while unprofessional by nature, the intent is understood to the extent that even a local chief of police wouldn’t dare call it into question.

The man caught in Spencer’s glare visibly shrinks, clears his throat, and pretends to find something to very quickly busy himself elsewhere. The glare follows him until he’s out of sight.

“I could have Garcia file a report severe enough to end that man’s career.” Spencer murmurs, gaze fixed on the door that the ignorance left through.

Turning to face Spencer, you smile up at him sweetly and pat his chest, your palm against his tie when the contact snaps his eyes back down to look at you.

“I think making him ruin his briefs in the workplace is punishment enough.” You joke lightly, your words enough to cause a smile to curl at the corner of Spencer’s mouth, a silent understanding caught in your locked gazes.

Nobody disrespects you and gets away with it, not so long as Doctor Spencer Reid is around to commit verbal homicide.

[hiraethwrote]

just come home pt. 3 - satoru gojo

[ satoru gojo - f!reader ]

✧ summary: attending the same event, emotions are running high between you and satoru ✧ cw: angst, fluff, arguing, jealousy, some cursing, creative liberties in the sense of like world and story yk, random character i ended up naming (we dont like him) ✧ word count: 4.9k

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

— 13 months ago —

You didn’t dare peer your eyes off the phone, just waiting to hear your ringtone chime threw the kitchen. The tapping of your foot against the floor filled the room until Satoru eventually placed a comforting hand on your knee, containing some of the bouncing.

“There’s no reason to worry! You’re going to get it.” The sweet tone of his voice was much appreciated, but you did not let yourself fully believe him.

A long and shaky breath left you in hopes of it calming you down, but to no success. There wasn’t any particular reason for you to be this nervous; the interview went well, you were more than qualified and there wasn’t necessarily a lot of competition for the position. However, you really wanted it, and would rather go in with low expectations and be positively surprised.

The nerves were winning no matter how hard you tried to smother them, anxiously taking the tip of your thumb between your teeth. Satoru, without hesitation, pulled your hand away, intertwining his fingers with yours to hinder your bad habit.

“Hey,” he grabbed your attention, turning to look at him. His finger traveled tenderly across your cheek before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, so much compassion in his look. “It’s alright.” You managed to give him a weak smile, leaning into his touch.

Both of you jumped at the sound of your phone ringing, interrupting the stressful silence. Satoru jumped up, shaking your shoulders vigorously as he urged you to answer the phone. Picking up the phone, you shushed him resulting in him slapping his hands over his mouth in order to stop his excited rambling. Finally you gathered up the courage to answer the dreaded phone call.

“Hello,” you spoke softly, hiding your nervousness.

“Good day, is this Miss y/l/n?” a kind voice spoke on the other side of the line.

“This is she.” There was no way you’d be able to sit still waiting for whether you got the job or not. You rose from the chair and started pacing around the room.

Satoru was growing more and more impatient of the answer, his eyes following your every step. While he was as stressed as you, he stood there admiring you as well. Because every single muscle and joint in your body was tense with nerves, but your tone was utterly steady.

Still choking back his excitement, he was desperately trying to deduce what was being said on the phone because you gave him nothing to go on. Whatever was said on the other side, you just nodded along, answering in short statements— yes, no, I understand.

“Yes, thank you. Goodbye.” Finally you hung up, suspense filling the room. Looking at your boyfriend, who put his hands out in front of him, was waiting for the answer.

“So?”

“I got the job!”

“You got the job,” he repeated before you ran at him and launched into his arms, embracing him tightly with both arms and legs. His strong arms wrapped around your back just as tight, securing you in the hug. “I knew you’d get it! Never doubted a second,” he said in between the many kisses he placed on your cheek. He began to spin around, a series of giggles and squeals escaping you.

“‘Toru, I’m getting dizzy,” you managed to get out. Eventually he stopped, carefully putting you down before cupping your face lovingly and placing a deep kiss on your lips.

“My beautiful, brilliant, wonderful girlfriend,” he gushed. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he studied every inch of your face, a sparkle he only had looking at you. “This ought to have a celebration.”

“That’s not necessary. It’s just a job.”

“Just a-“ he cut himself off with a dramatic huff. “Listen to her. It’s just a job. Ridiculous. You deserve a celebration to match this milestone.” Only Satoru was able to make something as mundane as getting a job seem like the most important event. “Your word is my command. Whatever you want, and I’ll fix it.”

“Order takeout?” You suggested sweetly before he planted a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I give you the opportunity to have anything you want, and you just want to order food?”

“I don’t have a need to celebrate all that much. Just want to spend the evening with you,” you spoke softly before embracing him and resting your head on his chest, closing your eyes and taking in his warmth.

You knew once you told your friends about the job, they’d throw together a party in your honour and you would gladly accept. But right now, what you wanted was just to stay in with Satoru, wearing your pyjamas, eat some food that wasn’t good for you and watch a movie.

“Only thing that could make this better is if you came to teach alongside me. I mean, imagine sharing lunch together.” His arms wrapped around you again, resting his head on top of yours.

“Me too, darling. But you know it’s not really up to me.”

“Yeah, because your school sucks. All that exclusive bullshit.” His chest vibrated with a soft chuckle, a smile growing on your face as a response.

“Couldn’t agree more.”

— present day —

The day you accepted the invitation to the conference, you were beyond excited. It would be a great opportunity to meet other teachers, share techniques and experiences. You hadn’t really been a teacher for long, so you felt it would do you good. But that seemed like a lifetime ago, two weeks before the breakup.

With both you and Satoru working within education, you knew he had gotten the same invitation. But you had no clue if he had accepted it or not, meaning you risked running into him there.

Seven weeks had passed since you’d bumped into him at the supermarket, and in that period, some sort of communication had been re-established. He sent a lot of texts throughout the day, most of them left on read. Regardless of that, he had been right that there were a lot of unsaid things between you that might need airing out. So even though you still hadn’t agreed to meet up with him, you sent him a short reply every once in a while to let him know you weren’t completely unreachable.

This was, of course, to your friends great frustration. They never sugarcoated how absolutely infuriated they were by the entire situation and did not think he deserved to hear a single word from you. But they didn’t seem to understand those small texts you sent him gave you a sense of comfort as he didn’t seem so far away from you anymore. In one way, you could say it numbed some of the pain.

Your thoughts were pulled away from Satoru when a soft buzz came from your purse.

Ren: I’m outside in five minutes :)

“Urgh.” The reaction to the text you received was entirely involuntary, but you couldn’t help it. Ren wasn’t even a bad guy, he was just a lot. He was a colleague of yours, who had been trying to get your attention ever since you started working at the school. Satoru had teased you about it endlessly, finding his work crush on you incredibly funny.

“I think I have to meet this Ren.” And once he had gotten that idea, there was no stopping him. Therefore you weren’t all that surprised when one day he showed up at your school during lunch, with his charm turned up to the max. He’d strutted right up to you, who at the time just so happened to be in a conversation with poor Ren. Satoru hadn’t hesitated to throw his arm across your shoulders and placing a kiss on the side of your head. “Had a few minutes, thought I’d come say hi.”

All the colour had instantly been drained from Ren’s face at the sight of Satoru. Ren was definitely aware of the existence of your boyfriend, though he had no idea what he looked like. So with his impressive 6’3” and striking looks, he could appear intimidating. Even more so, when he confidently reached out his hand to introduce himself to Ren.

It didn’t take long for your colleague to come up with a lame excuse to leave. “You’re mean,” you’d sighed in frustration once he was too far away to hear you.

“What?” He was playing dumb, not even trying to hide the fact that his lips were curving into a smile. “I had to check out my competition.”

“And?” You asked curiously, hating that you wanted to know his verdict.

“Ain’t even worried.” Playfully you pushed him away from you, rolling your eyes at how extremely cocky he was. He hummed satisfied, with his hands in his pockets, giving you one last kiss before he had to leave again.

Somehow, Ren had become aware of your breakup. So about a week ago, he’d called you up and asked if you’d like to attend the conference together. Of course it was just your luck that you were hanging out with your friends when he had called, the same friends that hated Satoru at the moment. They practically gave you no choice but to accept.

Attending with your colleague was another reason you hoped Satoru had declined the invitation. He had never been the jealous type, but he had never had a reason to be either. You were nervous if he was to be there, he’d be unable to stop himself from throwing some passive aggressive comment at Ren and he’d be too scared to defend himself.

The knock on your door startled you back into reality, bracing yourself to face him. Opening the door, his face lit up at the sight of you, a boyish charm to his expression.

“Hi,” he said with a small nod. Before you were able to respond, he stretched out his hand where he held one single rose.

“Oh— thank you.” A ripple of guilt hit you hard of how you couldn’t even fake a believable sincerity. “That’s so kind of you.”

You had held onto a naive hope that Ren had invited you purely on friendly terms, but the rose in your hand was a sign that wasn’t the case. He thought of this as a date, and another bang of guilt hit you. This one concerning Satoru.

Nearly three months since you’d left him, but it still felt like such a betrayal. For two years you’d been his, and he yours. That was how it was supposed to be, and how you always thought it would end. Not to mention that it was just too soon. You did not want to go on a date, freshly out of a committed relationship you thought was going to be the one.

But you put on a brave face and tried to give Ren a genuine smile. “Shall we go then?”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Satoru was seething.

Never had he been happier to wear his sunglasses so no one could see the pure anger that was radiating in his eyes. Even though he wanted to look away in order to not torture himself, there was no way of that happening. He would not let your colleague make any kind of move on you, especially if he could help it.

It wasn’t until the event had been moved to the after party in the hotel ballroom he had spotted you. Resting his gaze upon you, he felt as the rest of the room disappeared, only one single spotlight illuminating you. His world calmed down at the sight of you, as if every confusing thing in his life was resolved.

Losing your presence in his life had turned it upside down in all the wrong ways, realising how much he had truly depended on you. Not because you actively did all that much for him, but by simply just existing as a consistent in his life he felt safe. You never judged him, never complained, always tried to see things from his perspective and overall being the rock he needed.

He felt truly at peace for the first time in a long time as he sized you up, head to toe, wearing the dress he had bought you for your first anniversary dinner. As always, he found you absolutely breathtaking, wondering how he ever managed to score you in the first place.

When a small hand landed on your bare shoulder, his peaceful fantasy shattered instantly. He nearly spat out his drink when he saw who the hand belonged to, Ren ogling you with pure adoration. Eventually he knew he’d have no choice but intervene, even though causing a scene would do him no favours whatsoever.

Satoru could clearly tell you were uncomfortable, with your arms loosely wrapped around yourself and picking the skin around your fingernails. Usually, when he noticed you doing one of your bad habits, he instinctively intervened. Every bone in his body wanted to walk over and grab your hand in order for you to stop, reassuring you that everything was alright.

His agitation only grew seeing Ren happily chat you up, when he wasn’t allowed to. And you, being as kind as you were, tried your very best to pay attention to whatever story he was telling, chuckling and smiling. But Satoru knew you’d rather be anywhere else than here.

Suddenly the tone of your conversation changed, as he observed Ren now served a worried expression. The next second he was taking off his blazer, carefully placing it over your shoulders even though you politely tried to object.

That’s it. How was he supposed to stand and watch some other guy do the things he was supposed to do? Swiftly, Satoru made his way through the crowd, doing his best not to bump into anyone in his small frenzy.

While Ren instantly froze when he realised who had approached, you wore a confused expression. “Satoru?” It slipped out of you weakly, your eyebrows narrowed at his sudden appearance.

“Fancy seeing you guys here!” He sounded so chipper, presenting himself with a gloating smile. Ren shot you a nervous glance, desperately needing you to give him any sort of hint on how to deal with the abrupt company of your ex-boyfriend. You weren’t to much help, only scowling at Satoru, in utter disbelief at the audacity he had to just storm right up to you.

Clearing his throat, he captured Satoru’s attention again. He could see how Ren was finding every ounce of courage to shake off his insecurities. “Good to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Y/n told me you were a teacher.” A faux smile appeared on Satoru’s face, a displeased reaction to how Ren had a newfound confidence all of a sudden. Even though he was very much still nervous, he wasn’t as fragile as the first time Satoru had met him. Seeing Ren try and put on a brave face, most likely to impress you, only aggravated him more.

“I sure am.” He turned his head back to you, not surprised to see that your uncomfortable stance had shifted into fury. Fire in your eyes as they were drilling into him with your arms crossed over your chest.

Satoru was already mentally kicking himself for his selfish stunt when it sunk in exactly how irritated you were. He could see you were resisting the temptation to actually wrap your hands around his throat in animosity, yet he himself softened at the sight of you. He couldn’t help it, you had that affect on him naturally.

“What are you doing?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“Thought it would be rude not to come over and say hi.” What you’d feared would happen was actually about to take place in front of you. Of course some part of you had secretly wanted to have an excuse to talk to Satoru, but this wasn’t the way you wanted it to go down. You shouldn’t be too surprised however, as it wasn’t unusual for his dumb pride to get in the way.

“Oh, you did, didn’t you? Funny,” you sneered in response, hating how he was making you talk like this to him. Licking his lips, Satoru forced his gaze back to Ren who was probably contemplating everything.

“So, did you two come here together or?”

“Satoru, don’t!” You said sternly, but he kept staring at Ren.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and dared put his hand on your upper back. In the corner of his eyes, Satoru saw your desire to flinch away from his touch, but stopped yourself. “We did actually.”

“Lovely. Bet you brought her flowers as well?”

“Satoru,” you tried to intervene again, feeling extremely sorry for Ren, stuttering madly, trying so hard not to let himself be humiliated.

“Y-yeah, I-“

“Roses, right?” Ren nodded weakly. “Big mistake, she doesn’t like those.”

“Hey!” You’d had enough, finally stepping in assertively and grabbing Satoru’s wrist which instantly shut him up. Snapping his head back at you, he glared at you in awe, all signs of his jealousy gone. “Get it together!”

Over his sunglasses he made eye contact with you, letting his now mild glare flitter between your eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, just like it used to before.

“I’m so sorry,” you said to Ren when you finally managed to avert your gaze from Satoru. “Let me just-“ you couldn’t find the right words to excuse yourself, so you just whispered another apology before forcefully pulling Satoru after you.

Whispering small profanities under your breath, your grip on Satoru turned your knuckles white. Feeling like everyone’s eyes were on you, rushing through the crowd with the giant of a man at your heels. A sigh of relief left you once you’d gotten you both into a deserted hallway, instantly letting go of his wrist.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

His lips twitched, like a he was holding back a frustrated smile. “Come on. I couldn’t just stand there and watch his sorry attempt at hitting on you.” His shoulders raised as if he was in the right, that his actions were within reason.

“Don’t give me that! You embarrassed the shit out of him. You embarrassed me!”

This conversation was unlike any you’d had before, considering you hadn’t been a couple that got very loud or sharp with each other on the rare occasions you even got into an argument. Usually, your arguments rooted in unimportant matters that resulted in the silent treatment from both sides until one of you realised exactly how silly you were acting. Whoever caved first would come crawling into the arms of the other before apologising profusely.

“But him, y/n? Really? The guy who’s been drooling all over you, even when we were still together.”

On one hand, Satoru’s frustration with Ren wasn’t unjustified. You’d also found Ren’s advances on you inappropriate, knowing you were taken. Nonetheless, neither of you had ever taken it seriously, well aware that he never stood a chance. Yet, Satoru’s behaviour was out of line.

With disgust written all over his face, he opened his mouth and continued his rant. “And then he makes tonight a date. The body isn’t even cold yet.”

“Satoru!” You watched him flinch at your outburst because of his tasteless comment.

It went without saying that Satoru was an incredibly kind soul, with a strong sense of what was right or wrong. Nevertheless, he could have a tendency to lash out with cruel jabs that always took you by surprise. You’d never been on the receiving end of his shots, but you would shut that down real quick.

“What if I was here with a date? Would you have liked it seeing me with another girl?”

“Of course not!” You answered, barely letting him finish before you fired back at him. “I cannot imagine anything worse, but I’d never approach you like you just did, and you know that!”

“You didn’t see the way he looked at you, y/n! It irked me. I mean, I’m-“ he cut himself off, a sharp breath leaving his nose. He didn’t know where to put all his agitated nerves, so he tried to contain it by shoving his hands in his pockets, his shoulders almost reaching his ears with tension.

“Go on.”

“I’m the only one who’s supposed to look at you like that.”

It didn’t take more to entirely change the atmosphere of the conversation, dropping your defences once his voice had calmed down.

“Yeah, I know,” you quietly agreed, matching his tone.

Silence washed over you, and you paid close attention to him as he removed his sunglasses to rub his eyes. He released a low, shaky exhale. Just when he was about to place them back in his nose, your body moved on its own accord, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

He looked exactly like you’d remembered, how you had permanently engraved him into your mind. Once he had dropped his jealous guard, you were reminded of how much you had yearned for the opportunity to look at him like this again. Every cell of your body was screaming for you to embrace him, like they would collapse if you did not receive his touch soon.

But once he blinked, the spell broke and you jerked your hand away, reminded of how it only hurt you because he wasn’t yours anymore.

“I never wanted to go with him,” you hesitated, taking a few steps back until you felt you back hit the wall behind you. “My friends kinda forced me to accept.”

A somber chuckle was heard from him, trying to seem steadfast, also leaning against the wall behind him.

“I guess they don’t like me very much.”

“Not exactly.” Your face was painted with the same sadness as Satoru’s. He had his head down, staring at his feet. You could see how the gears were turning in his head to figure out the best way to approach this.

“I miss you,” his said, trying to hide the fact that his voice cracked just a little. When he looked up again, you saw the sparkle in his eyes that you’d noticed so many times before. “Every day.”

“I miss you too,” you were only able to express in a light mumble, feeling the emotions about to take over you already.

“You wanna know one of the things I regret the most?” You simply nodded. “Not being able to say anything to you. That night I mean.”

You pressed your lips together to try and slow down the tears that were fighting their way to the surface. “It’s okay, Satoru.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he heaved as he was the first to break this time. “You spilled your guts about how much I was hurting you and I just stood there! Speechless!” He wept, taking you by surprise at how quickly he had started crying.

“It was a lot to take in. I put a lot of information on you at one time.” You tried your best to remain serene, knowing neither of you would be able to get anything helpful out of the conversation if you were both just teary wet messes.

“Stop doing that! Stop making excuses for me.” He frantically began to wipe his tears with the back of his hand, trying to steady his voice so he could continue. “As you said, I always have something to say. And the one time— the one time you needed me to talk, I couldn’t do it. I did not treat you according to how I feel about you and I truly am so insanely sorry, y/n!”

He’d spent every waking moment, and probably quite a few sleeping ones, pondering about everything that had went down and how it had ended here. Even though you were completely taken aback by how broken he looked, sobbing like an innocent child, a small part of you felt a sense of relief. You got some confirmation on the questions you’d been asking yourself.

Ever single day you’d wondered if he was as beaten up about it all as you, or if he had found it in himself to move on. If maybe he was even relieved to not have to deal with the stresses of a relationship anymore. But he was coming apart at the seams, his eyes red from the crying, desperately trying to gather himself again.

He took a deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth before he spoke again. “And I want you to know I understand why you did what you did. I never deserved you I-“

“No, don’t say that,” you shot in, drawing his eyes to you again. “Ever!” You saw him swallow some of the sobs that were building up. Pushing yourself off the wall, you slowly walked up him, your body growing hotter the closer you got to him.

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he said remorsefully, quiet tears falling down his cheeks. You didn’t have it in you anymore to just stand there and watch him cry without doing anything about it. Delicately, you dried them off his cheeks. “I wish I could have done things differently.”

“There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about you, Satoru.” You’re voice was barely a whisper, drenched in compassion.

He wanted a second chance, more than anything. But he was so afraid to ask, even though the question was restlessly waiting at the tip of his tongue. He knew he didn’t deserve it, and suggesting it would be nothing other than egotistical.

What he didn’t know was how fiercely you wanted him to ask, to fight for you. If there was one thing you truly wanted, it was to have him back in your life. To have him wake you of with featherlight strokes on you back again. The evenings where he did come home, you’d both stand in the kitchen together trying to prep a proper meal only for him to make a mess of everything. Walking down the streets, his protective arm draped over you shoulder as he so proudly showed you off. Every small and big aspect of the relationship you wanted back.

With your eyes, you tried to beg him to cross that line and ask you to be his again. The time you’d spent apart had been nothing but pain for the both of you, but it had definitely put things in perspective.

Please ask me.

He was staring deep into your eyes, and you knew if there was one person in the entire universe who would be able to know what you were thinking, it was him.

“Is there any chance of us being together again?” The small question made you fill your lungs with a deep breath of relief.

“Yes.”

Without thinking, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours like it was second nature to him. You couldn’t help but form a harmonious smile.

Finally the whirlwind that had run rampant in his mind for the past few months, settled. A mixture of sob and chuckle slipped out of Satoru, as he didn’t quite know where to put himself. Though this was what he had hoped for, he hadn’t really expected it.

“But,” you broke the comfortable silence, pulling away even though you didn’t want to. “It cannot be how it was.”

“I know!” He hurried to say the second the sentence had left you. “I’ll quit if I have to. And three’s a crowd, Suguru and Shoko are better as duo anyways.” You instantly began to giggle at his erratic statements and it was music to his ears.

“Satoru, I’m not asking you to stop living your life.” His heart fluttered at the sound of your voice speaking his name with so much love.

“No, I know. But I’d be willing to do it, just so you know.” A tiny smile had made its way onto his face as well, though his eyes still showed so many signs of crying. Carefully, waiting for you to stop him, he cupped your face. “I just have one request.”

“Alright?”

“Can you please take off that damn jacket?” It wasn’t until he mentioned it you remembered you were still wearing Ren’s jacket. He didn’t have to hear you answer, the chuckle playing on your lips was all he needed to brush it off your shoulders. “I think I might have to burn it.”

“Be nice.” His hand quickly went back to your face and he daringly began to lean closer. At last, his lips crashed into yours, after what had felt like an eternity.

Satoru was so grateful for the second chance he had been giving, and he had no plans of screwing it up now. All that time apart, he had only become absolutely certain a life without you in it wasn't one he wanted. He would do everything in his power to keep it that way, whatever the cost.

And the kiss told you everything you needed to know. It felt like a promise, that from now on everything would be okay. You weren't even scared he woul ever let you down again. Wordlessly, you managed to believe him that this was it now. And the hardest months of your life, was now going to be worth it.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tags: @alisstaa, @starlightanyaaa, @nyahctrl, @creolequeen11210, @iheartlinds, @new-weather47, @rjt017

a/n finally part three, and it feels pretty final now dont you think? when i eventually got an idea for part three, i wrote for like three days straight. thanks everyone for all the amazing support, and i hope this is a sufficient end to it all <3 reblogs, replies and likes are highly appreciated Also, might take a small break from writing this week to gather some motivation (unless i get some requests or something) and try and set up this blog more. Do a little 'about me' and rules etc.

Plagiarism not authorized

[driaswrld]

city boys! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 1.4k

summary : you go grocery shopping with satoru and suguru and they're just idiots tbvh (gn! reader)

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : i have shamelessly brought my calculator to a kfc drive thru and yes i do it at the grocery store bcus i have dyscalculia math sucks don't @ me. also i have so much satosugu brainrot i can't breathe. yay to the satoru themed era of the blog :))

other : this can be read as platonic or poly just however you wanna see it! (like three curse words i think - mentions of cunnilingus) I SWEAR ITS NOT WHAT U THINK

current casette : city boys - burna boy

There’s something about summer that makes Satoru and Suguru hang off your shoulders more than they ought to. In the most mundane situations too.

“—and it’s not even that serious!” Satoru groans, dragging his feet on the floor, reluctantly marching behind where you’re pushing the trolley. “Who cares what kind of curry it is? Curry is curry.” He reasons with a huff.

Suguru nudges you in the middle of the supermarket aisle from time to time, pointing out things you usually buy, brands you usually prefer over most, and you grab whatever you find remotely necessary and toss in the cart, both of you collectively ignoring Satoru’s whines.

“C’monnn… Listen to me!”

You pick up a can of diced pineapple and look at Suguru. “Nah, that one’s too sour,” he murmurs and you put it back instantly. Afterall, Suguru’s the best taste tester you could ever ask for. Satoru just scarfs down everything in a forty mile radius.

“The design on the can was pretty though, ‘s a shame.” You sigh.

Satoru’s groans fall on deaf ears.

You turn a corner and head into the fruit aisle. Suguru’s eyes flick to something over your head and his steps falter for a moment. While you’re pushing the trolley ahead, a soft smack! noise comes from behind you and before you can turn your head—

“No! I wanted the other one—”

“This one’s better—”

You ignore them, albeit barely with all the commotion both boys are causing in the supermarket. Leaning over an array of cherries on display, you hum to yourself, carefully picking the pretty ones to add to the cart, perusing at the other assortment of fruit and if even possible, Satoru and Suguru’s bickering gets louder.

“That tastes like shit—” “You look like shit—”

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“You eat pussy with that mouth?”

You strain your head forward as an old lady strolls past, her eyes a little wide and eyebrows knitted with a look of utter shock and you shrink. With a stiff, humorless giggle you turn your back to her, suddenly finding a bunch of grapes oddly interesting.

Embarrassing.

And when you breathe a breath of relief as the old lady passes by, Satoru swings his arm over your shoulder, pouting. “Suguru’s a dumbass—” He’s cut off by a smack to the back of his head, and despite yourself you can’t help but laugh a little.

“Will you two just behave and,” you shift out of Satoru’s hold to take the mini package of ridiculously sweet m&m infused rice krispies he has in his other hand.

You toss it into the cart. “—help me pick some stuff for my fruit salad?” Satoru shrugs with a sigh, he hates shopping. It’s so boring—

You laugh and pull up the list you typed up on your phone : Raspberries, check. Kiwi, check. Watermelon, check. Grapes…

“What else do you need?” Suguru asks, and he sidesteps Satoru, leaning casually on the trolley, one foot pushing it forward and backward as you look through the fruits. “Grapes—” you murmur, suddenly feeling indecisive as you look through the different bunches. Green or Purple. Purple or Green.

Satoru pushes his sunglasses down to the curve of his nose. “Green, ‘s prettier,” he says and you turn to grab a bunch of the green grapes as Suguru straightens his body, pretending to look over your shoulder as he sneakily drops a package of plain marshmallow rice krispies into the cart. “Yeah, green would make it look way more appealing, wouldn’t it?” You whisper to yourself.

“I saw that—” Satoru begins to say.

“Purple’s better, healthier than the green ones.” Suguru says with a straight face. Behind your back he flips Satoru off.

You shrug your shoulders and grab a small bunch of both. If anything, it’ll be shared well between you and Shoko in the bentos you make. Hopefully she appreciates the struggle.

Sliding your phone unlocked, you glance at the list again as you step off. Grapes, check. Suguru pushes the trolley, following close behind you as Satoru trudges behind him. “Wait—” You halt immediately, and Suguru has to steer the trolley left so he doesn’t run into you, but Satoru steps on the back of Suguru's shoes, and looks away with a bashful whistle.

“Other aisle, we need to turn around.” You say, sliding your phone back into your back pocket. Canned Pineapples. You forgot you put back the last one. “How many damn aisles are there?” Satoru mumbles as you turn and make a beeline for the next corner, going back where the three of you came. Suguru chuckles.

Kneeling, you grab the canned pineapples opposite to the ones Suguru said were sour. Hopefully that much distance in the store is enough of a difference between the two brands.

You check the list one more time. Pineapples, check.

“Right, that should be it.” You mumble and both boys internally celebrate — well, Satoru makes a show of letting out a long dramatic sigh of relief while Suguru nods.

Taking a look into the cart, Satoru pettily moves his package of rice krispies on the other side of the cart, away from Suguru’s and when Suguru looks at him incredulously, he sticks a tongue out, “Your flavor’s trash.”

Suguru rolls his eyes and is about to push the trolley forward to run him over when he sees you pull out a scientific calculator from your tote.

A scientific calculator. The same one you use for school. “The fu—” Satoru is about to say, and Suguru glances at him, both of them trying to at least read each other’s minds about what the hell is going on.

You however, are so hyper focused on your little task, pushing the buttons of your calculator, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. Satoru and Suguru watch you for all of two minutes. One minute spent with expressions morphing from confused, to even more confused, to utterly amused. The second minute spent snickering quietly and snapping silent pictures for the groupchat.

“Huh, I went over a little.” You hum and though they haven’t wiped the sheer amusement off their faces, they both find themselves intrigued. “By how much?” Suguru asks, quickly sending off the pictures to the groupchat.

“Seven hundred yen.” You reply as you step forward to peer into the cart, willing and ready to discard one unnecessary item to drop the price.

Three of your phones chime. Satoru checks his own notification.

[Gojo Fanclub]

Nanaminn <3 : who added me to this???

Nanaminn <3 : delete my number gojo.

“Bet it’s the curry.” Satoru mumbles absentmindedly, typing at his phone screen. “The curry’s like—” he pauses, shoves his phone in his hoodie pocket and counts silently on his fingers. “A thousand yen or something — they must’ve put the god of curry in there or something.”

“It’s not the curry,” you reason scouring the cart for any discrepancies. And there’s quite a few of them. Including but not limited to some Sakura tarts, sour candies, an extra package of rice krispies—

“The curry powder we picked is five hundred yen, it’s not the curry.” Suguru shrugs, and Satoru leans against one of the shelves of seasoning, letting out a quiet sneeze.

“Bless you— I need to recheck these.” The calculator comes out again as you murmur to yourself, the click clacking of the buttons drowning out your own thoughts.

“I’m just saying— maybe it was the rice krispie Suguru snuck into the cart—” Satoru mumbles, all while he bends his body at the end of the aisle, reaching blindly around to the shelves on the other side.

“You put one in, I was only balancing the trolley weight.” Suguru interrupts, and he turns his head away when you look up from your calculator at him accusingly.

“See?” Satoru grins, almost victoriously as he grasps a package of baumkuchen, wheeling his hand back as he sidesteps Suguru, moving to slide the pastry into the trolley. “Who knows what else’ll just drop into the cart?” And your calculator is forgotten as you snatch the pastry from Satoru’s hand. “Nothing else is dropping into the cart—”

But something else catches your attention as you’re about to scold him.

Two bright green bags, hidden at the bottom of the cart, stuffed under the packaging of Sakura tarts.

“Who the hell put Kenpi chips in here?”

Satoru and Suguru both freeze, and suddenly their accusing fingers are pointed at each other. But instead of scolding them like they expect—

“Should’ve at least put one for me.”

You're never going to the grocery store with them again.

Bonus :

“Satoru’s paying for the extra snacks—”

“Not fair! Suguru shouldn’t get to just stuff his face—”

“Only two of those snacks are mine. Two. Out of ten.”

A notification sounds on the three of your phones.

[Gojo Fanclub]

Nanaminn <3 : is that my calculator that you borrowed???

@todorokies gets the privilege tag cs i told knives ab this first😭

[dindjarindiaries]

Borrowed Time

summary: You can’t stop staring at Hunter during a mission, and little do you know just how distracting it is for both him and you.

pairing: sergeant hunter (tbb) x reader

tags: canon-typical violence, light angst, kissing, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.786k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

“All right.”

Hunter’s voice, modulated by his helmet, broke through your silent reverie as you finished your weapons check. You looked up to face him and instantly, your jaw locked up. This certainly wasn’t close to the first time you’d seen him in his armor, and it was likely far from the last, but today… it was hitting different.

“Does everyone remember the plan?”

Hunter’s visor looked around the group. You couldn’t peel your gaze from him, and when his visor found you, he didn’t look away, either. It was only when Tech spoke up that the two of you shifted your attention to him. “Considering that you briefed us on the plan only a standard hour’s time ago, I would confidently say that yes. We remember.” He began tapping around on his datapad once again. “We ought to get moving if we would like to make any progress.”

“Good call, Tech.” Hunter nodded at him. “Are comms being monitored?”

“It doesn’t appear so at the moment.” Tech glanced up from his datapad to return Hunter’s nod. “That is why I suggested we move in.”

“Right.” Hunter led the way, and you were more than happy to keep your eyes on him. You blinked a few times and shook your head. There was a time and place for admiring him, and a mission wasn’t one of them.

But the lack of privacy the two of you always had to deal with left no luxury of picking and choosing when such feelings and urges would arise. You had to take any chance you could get, even if that meant your admiration would happen during a risky job.

Hunter led the group through the foliage that surrounded the hangar you were infiltrating. Cid had you chasing some kind of valuable fuel, but unlike Tech, you had somewhat drifted off during the briefing and knew next to nothing else about it. You couldn’t help it when the glow of the holoprojector had started to illuminate the golden flecks in Hunter’s eyes. He was more important than the plan in that moment.

It wasn’t long before there was a break in the trees, and Hunter crouched down before motioning for the rest of you to do the same. You weren’t far behind him, which gave you the chance to watch the steady rise and fall of his armored shoulders as he focused on observing the wide stretch of the open hangar.

“Sunny?” Omega’s voice whispered your nickname to get your attention. You leaned down to show her you were listening, despite the fact your gaze remained on Hunter. “Do you see something?”

You huffed and offered her a sweet look. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Omega.”

“Oh, okay.” Omega gave you a small smile. “You just looked really focused.” She gestured to her own forehead, and that’s when you realized there was a small knit of focus in your brow.

You fought the urge to laugh as your ears burned. “I’m only keeping an eye out. It’s a little eerie around here.”

“You can say that again,” Echo muttered from your other side. “I’m not liking this.”

“You say that about every job!” Wrecker reminded him.

Hunter’s helmet whipped around as he lifted a finger over where his mouth would be. “Quiet.”

You inhaled a breath and didn’t let go of it. It sat in your chest as you hung on his every move, your gaze zeroing in on his gloved fingers as they took some of the dirt and sifted it in a slow and steady motion. Then came your exhale, along with a slight tightening of your hand upon your own thigh as you kept yourself in place.

“The cargo’s on the other side of the hangar.” Hunter kept his voice low as he addressed the squad once again. You looked at him through your lashes as an attempt to keep your gaze focused on something other than him. Obviously, it hadn’t worked. “I can sense where they’re using it.” He drew his blaster and nodded. “Let’s head in.”

Hunter wasted no time leading the way yet again. He was sliding down the slight decline that separated the foliage from the furthest edges of the hangar, and you should’ve been following. Instead, you assured everyone you would bring up the rear, just so you could finish watching him. When he reached the ground, he stayed low, but you saw his visor find you as he gestured with his head for you to come down next.

You pulled your blaster and obeyed, this time staying attentive to what you were doing for fear of misstepping and losing your footing. When you reached the bottom, an outstretched hand was already there to help you up. You took it and made the sweet mistake of looking up, meeting the intensity of Hunter’s visor that never once left your gaze as one easy tug got you back onto your feet.

He didn’t let go of your hand, not right away. You could’ve melted right there if his sense of duty didn’t pull him back to the moment.

With a lingering touch, he pulled away and checked on the rest of the group, who had all just gotten back into position on their feet. “Okay. Plan seventy-two.” He pointed to the right side of the hangar. “Echo, Wrecker, and Omega, you’re on the diversion. Tech,” he turned his helmet, “you’re with me and Sunny.” He gestured to the extractor on Tech’s belt. “How much time will you need?”

Tech clicked around on his datapad before answering. “Not much. It seems that this type of fuel responds well to extraction, and thanks to my keen ability to handle such delicate operations, I should only need a standard minute or two to complete the procedure.”

Hunter nodded, then his visor found Echo. You still hadn’t looked away from him, not even once, and so your gaze didn’t follow his as he looked at the ARC trooper. “Echo?”

“I’ll trigger an alarm to reroute forces.” Echo gestured to the collection of ships by their designated area. “There should be a scomp over there.”

“And if that doesn’t work, I’ll blow something up,” Wrecker assured the squad.

“Fine,” Hunter agreed, setting his weight on his hip and lifting his arm to point his blaster at the ground. “Just make sure Omega’s fully out of the blast range this time.”

You bit back your smile. Protective. Omega had been quite far away from Wrecker’s last blast, but that hadn’t been enough for Hunter, of course. It only made the warmth within your chest and stomach burn more as you gave him a once-over that was dangerously obvious.

When your gaze had risen back up to his helmet, you realized his visor was already on you—and it likely had been the entire time. He began to tilt his helmet at you, but you couldn’t tell if it was a look of warning or a look of reciprocated desire.

“Hunter, we need to get going.” Tech’s voice broke through your brief trance as Hunter’s visor snapped over to his brother. “If we delay much longer, their diversion will be for nothing.”

Both you and Hunter looked to see that Echo, Wrecker, and Omega had already left. So much for being subtle. You could take the blame for that one. “Right.” Hunter lifted his blaster and ran ahead, sticking to the shadows as you and Tech did the same.

You were inside the hangar and running between cargo crates when Hunter suddenly raised his fist and began to back up behind one of the crates. The momentum from your running nearly made you run right into him, but without missing a beat, Hunter lowered his hand to reach behind himself and grab your thigh to steady you. He pressed you between his hand and the crate, keeping his grasp there until the small patrol of guards passed by.

Tech had already made it to the next crate, and he kept an eye out as Hunter slowly swung his helmet to face you. His voice was low in a tone he would never use with the others as he spoke to you. “You okay? You seem… distracted.”

You played it coy as you nodded. “Yeah, Hunter, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His helmet tilted again, but he said nothing for a moment. Instead, he returned your nod and leaned even closer. “Good. Keep that focus.” His hand gave your thigh a quick squeeze before he began to follow in Tech’s footsteps.

You blinked a few times before following. There was no way Hunter realized how difficult it would be to follow that order, especially when he was behaving in such a way—which, you supposed, was just the normal way he acted on every mission. Somehow, that made it even worse.

At one point, Tech stopped behind another crate, looking at Hunter behind him. “Are we close to the fuel source?”

Hunter didn’t answer right away, and it wasn’t hard to tell why. He was focusing on his senses, and he helped himself to lock in even more by kneeling down and setting his palm upon the hangar’s floor. You watched as his gloved fingers gently splayed across the floor, and you had to circle your jaw to fight the flushing feeling it brought you. “We’re close.” Hunter rose up and pointed with two fingers to a cargo crate diagonal from your position. “It should be just beyond there.”

Tech nodded, taking a cautious look before he launched forward. You and Hunter followed, with you trailing just behind Hunter. It was a view you couldn’t resist, even if you were arguably focusing on where you were going. There had to be a way of following Hunter’s gentle order while also obeying your demanding heart.

Once you had gotten to the crate Hunter had pointed out before, the fuel source became more obvious. It glowed a bright green as it bubbled inside its transparisteel container. You, unsurprisingly, stared at Hunter as his visor studied it for a moment. “Are you gonna need help with that, Tech?”

“I will assume that is not an insult and kindly reject your offer,” Tech assured him. “Like I said before,” he took the extractor from his belt, “I have a keen ability for such delicate operations.”

Before anyone could say anything else, a blaring alarm sounded throughout the hangar. The three of you stayed concealed in the shadow of the cargo crate as guards began to run from their posts over to where Echo, Wrecker, and Omega were luring them. After three groups of guards had gone by, Hunter nodded at Tech, and he made his way over to the container to extract the fuel.

And even then, you couldn’t look at anything except the small sliver of skin that became apparent by Hunter’s chin as he surveyed the area to watch Tech’s back. You should’ve been doing the same, and you did every once in a while, but the pull back to Hunter was magnetic, as if he was a constant pulse you couldn’t stop sensing.

Hunter’s visor eventually found you again, and he slightly eased his grip on his blaster as he tilted his helmet. “Sunny.” He gestured with his blaster to your surroundings. “You’re supposed to be keeping watch.”

You huffed. “I am watching.” It was true; you were watching something, just not what you were supposed to be. The way you peeled your gaze away from him for the moment, though, was  enough to convince Hunter.

Just as Tech had promised, he was quick with the extraction, and he was soon joining you and Hunter once again with the fuel secured on his belt. “The extraction is complete.”

“Good work, Tech.” Hunter looked over at his brother and nodded. “Get back to the ship and power it up. Sunny and I will go help the others.”

Both yours and Tech’s eyebrows shot up at that. It made no sense; Hunter could easily call them off over the comms. Tech seemed to have the same thought, and he spoke on it before you could. “Comms still are not being monitored, Hunter. We can—.”

“That’s an order, Tech.” Hunter’s tone left no room for argument.

Tech sighed, nodding once more before he backtracked the way you had all come. You were still furrowing your brow at Hunter, who was beginning to lurk out from the other end of the cargo crate. “Hunter, what’s going on?”

He glanced back at you and gestured with his head to a long set of cargo crates. “This way.”

Your confusion grew, but there was no point in questioning him. You followed him over to the crates and waited to line yourself up along its shadows. Instead, Hunter’s arm seized your waist, and he pulled you into the small space left between the two looming cargo crates.

Before you could fully make sense of it, you realized you were trapped between one of the crates and Hunter’s body, one of his hands still on your waist as the other, with his blaster, was pressed against the crate by your head. You could only look at him in awe as he spoke. “Why did you lie to me?”

You blinked a few times, and the tips of your ears began to burn. “What are you talking about?”

Hunter said your real name, his voice still low as he leaned even closer. You swallowed hard as the heat of his body washed over you in the sweetest wave. “You’ve been staring at me ever since the briefing.” He lifted his hand from your waist only to grab the lip of his helmet and lift it over his head. Your breath caught in your lungs at the sight of his gaze, which was darkened in the same amount of desire you felt for him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

You shrugged, giving him a once-over just like before. “I thought your senses might’ve been… otherwise occupied.”

Hunter raised his brow. “Trust me, my senses are working overtime.” His arm wrapped around the side of your waist, even as he continued to hold his helmet in that grasp. “But only because they’re so committed to you that they refuse to let me focus on anything else when you’re around.”

You looked between his eyes and his lips, caught in your conflict between the invisible tether that brought you closer to him and the rest of the galaxy that was still in chaos around you. “Hunter,” you breathed his name, and at that point, your breath was fanning right over his lips. Your hands betrayed your weak protest as they wove themselves into his hair. “The mission.”

“The mission.” Hunter repeated your words and let the corner of his mouth rise in a smug smile. “It’s giving us the two things we never have: time,” his lips brushed your own, “and privacy.”

You couldn’t resist him. It didn’t matter how bad of an idea it was, and it certainly didn’t matter that you were at risk of being seen by anyone in the vicinity should they get curious. All that mattered was him, the man you had been staring at this entire time, and the fact that the warmth of his mouth and his body was on you in all the ways you’d been wanting for much too long.

All at once, he flooded your senses, from the touch of his hair on your hands to the pleased hum that he breathed into you. It was hard to separate each desperate move you made together, and even more impossible to count the seconds or minutes that ticked by as his tongue explored your mouth as if he’d never have the chance to do so again. It was breathless, passionate, and desperate all at once, with the adrenaline of the mission only adding to the sweet chaos that kept you going back for more time and time again.

Eventually, your lungs demanded air, but somehow Hunter’s didn’t need the same luxury. His lips grazed down to your neck to let you practically gasp for air underneath the hot warmth of his mouth. Each exhale you managed was dedicated to him, utterances of his name or simple breaths and sweet curses. You willed your lungs to take in enough air so you could have his lips on yours again, and soon, they allowed you to take a hold of his jaw and raise it enough for you to bring yourself back to him.

Your surroundings had long since disappeared in the haze of your affection, but for Hunter, that would never be a reality. That’s how he noticed the guard who had stopped at the place where the two of you had entered and was able to lift, aim, and stun them without missing even a single matching stroke of your tongue.

It only made your knees weaken even more.

But that distraction was enough to make the galaxy around you louder in your roaring ears, and with Hunter’s helmet just behind your back, you were able to hear the muffled voices of your squad. With a strength you never realized you were capable of, you pulled yourself away from him and spoke between pants. “The comms,” you managed. “Your helmet.”

Hunter tightened his jaw, unraveling his arm from your waist to set his helmet over his head. He kept two fingers on the side of it, and the slight tilt of his head made you hold back a giggle as you smoothed out the wrinkles in your clothes as well as in Hunter’s scarf. “We’re not far behind,” Hunter insisted. “We were just on our way to your position.” You playfully rolled your eyes at his lie as he finished. “We’ll head back to the ship.”

As he lowered his hand, you raised your brow. “Who’s the liar now?”

Hunter sighed, his hand brushing over your back as he nodded. “Come on, love. Let’s go.”

Your chest burned with a lovely ache at the nickname as the two of you stepped over the stunned guard and retreated back to the Marauder. Your pace never slowed, and thanks to the diversion Echo, Wrecker, and Omega had pulled off, you didn’t have to worry about being seen by any more guards. It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the ship, which the others had only just arrived to themselves.

“Okay, Tech,” Hunter called to his brother in the cockpit after he’d done a quick headcount. “Get us out of here.”

As Tech initiated takeoff, Omega approached you, her brow furrowed in concern. You instantly got down to her level as she met your gaze. “Sunny, what happened?” Omega gave you a worried once-over. “Did you get hurt?”

You lifted an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean, Omega?”

Omega pointed towards the cockpit. “Tech said on the comms that you and Hunter were coming to meet us, but you never did.”

You fought the warmth that attempted to enter your face as you instead reassured her with a smile. “We just got sidetracked, that’s all. There were a few lingering guards.”

“Really?” The sound of Echo’s voice caused you to look up at him. His expression was much too mischievous for your liking. “That’s surprising.”

Hunter was the one to speak up for you. His tone was coated in caution as he lifted his helmet from his head. “Why?”

Echo leaned against the back of the nearest chair. “Because that alarm I set off was supposed to summon every guard to our post.”

Hunter set his helmet down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, it didn’t.”

Echo’s brow shot up. “Are you sure about that?”

“Hunter is telling the truth.” Tech emerged from the cockpit, having already gotten the Marauder into hyperspace. “I saw him stun a guard not far from the fuel supply while he and Sunny were engaged in a passionate kiss.”

Your jaw dropped, and your heart went right with it. Hunter froze beside you, and Echo’s lips stretched in a shit-eating grin as Wrecker broke the stunned silence first. “A what?” He shuffled Omega in front of himself and covered her ears with his hands. She glanced up at him with confusion.

Tech furrowed his brow. “Does that information surprise you?”

“It doesn’t surprise you?” Echo remarked. Meanwhile, you had slightly turned your head towards Hunter, hoping you could somehow hide yourself from this awkward tension.

“Each part of what I have said is rational to me,” Tech explained. “One guard stayed behind with the fuel supply, and Hunter and Sunny have never been subtle with their own relationship. It makes utter and complete sense for them to take advantage of a moment spent alone when we have constantly been around them for many rotations.”

The Marauder had never been more silent. You sighed and rested your hand against your forehead as you spoke. “Thank you for that, Tech.”

Hunter subtly brushed a hand over your back to soothe you as he spoke up next. “I thought you were going back to the ship.”

“I only returned when you were not answering my comm,” Tech argued. “I was attempting to warn you about the lingering guard.”

“We would’ve realized what happened anyway,” Echo insisted. He looked between the two of you and drew a circle around his own mouth. “Lips don’t lie.”

You and Hunter glanced at each other, and it was hard to bite back a smile of amusement when you realized Echo was right. The intensity of your kiss was left behind in evidence on his mouth, and you were sure your own—and possibly even your neck—was just as bad, if not worse.

“We still achieved the objective,” Tech reminded you all. “So what ought to be learned here is that… well, perhaps we should let the two of you have more privacy outside the bounds of a mission.”

Hunter raised his brow at you, and your smile spoke for you before he responded. “That would be nice.”

“Yeah.” You brought yourself just a step closer to his side. “That would be nice.”

But deep down, you both knew the truth; you would do it all over again on the next mission if it meant recreating even a fraction of the moment you had just shared.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist