#and I’d try everything I could to get out of your grasp and run away

[rosicheeks]

Oh it would be so easy to hunt you down. I’d just toy with you, calling out to you “Rosie my sweet trophy. Why do you hide? You know you want this.” Then as soon as I find you my hand would be clasped over your mouth before you even have a chance to scream whilst my other hand roughly tears at your clothes so I can slide inside you. “Oh…why are you so wet if you don’t want this? I can see the fear in your eyes and feel your screams against my hand but your pussy is telling a different story.”

🫠

[meinii]

“hold on”

summary: you get severely injured during a fight but Sylus won’t leave your side (つ╥﹏╥)つ

content: angst, lil fluff, injured reader, mentions of blood

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

“hey-” Sylus’ voice cracks as he drops to his knees beside you. too much blood. it pools beneath you, staining the ground, his hands, everything. he presses his palms to your wound without thinking, his fingers trembling “stay with me. you hear me?”

your eyelids flutter, lashes sticky with grime and tears. a weak smile tugs at your lips, but it does nothing except twist a knife deeper into his chest. why are you smiling? this isn’t the time

he swallows hard. focus. but how can he when your breathing’s shallow, when you’re growing colder beneath his touch?

“don’t- don’t do this” the words are jagged, ripped from somewhere deep. he doesn’t beg. sylus onychinus doesn’t beg. yet here he is, voice a hushed plea “you don’t get to leave me.”

his strong facade—so perfectly crafted, so impenetrable—cracks. tears burn at the corners of his eyes, one slipping down before he can catch it. “damn it,” he mutters, cursing both you and himself “you’re supposed to be stubborn. fight back.”

your fingers twitch against his, trying to comfort him. that breaks him further. you’re the one bleeding out, yet you’re still thinking of him

he pulls you closer, cradling you to his chest “hold on,” he whispers into your hair. please. the word stays locked in his throat, too heavy to voice

he calls for backup, barks orders, but it’s a blur. all he sees is you. all he feels is the way your warmth is slipping away too fast

“stay awake,” he murmurs “talk to me. yell at me-say something. anything.”

you breathe out, barely audible. “you… worry too much…”

he huffs a shaky laugh “yeah? and whose fault is that?” but his voice breaks at the end “don’t- don’t close your eyes.”

he rocks you gently, hands steady despite the panic gnawing at him. he can’t lose you. not you. not after everything.

and when the med team finally arrives, prying you from his grasp, he doesn’t let go until he has to. his hands linger in the air, bloodied and shaking

—

the hospital is suffocatingly sterile. fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and he hates how useless he feels sitting in the waiting room. he paces, runs a hand through his hair, stares at the closed doors

hours. endless. every second stretching like a lifetime

when the doctor finally emerges, Sylus bolts upright “she’s stable,” they say “it was close.”

he doesn’t wait for more. he’s through the doors, down the hall, pushing into your room

you’re pale, hooked to monitors, but breathing. breathing. relief crashes into him so hard his knees almost give out. he drags a chair beside you, reaching for your hand

“idiot,” he mutters, voice rough “scared the hell out of me”

your eyes open a fraction “you… cried”

he snorts, wiping at his face “must’ve been the rain”

you smile, soft and tired “wasn’t raining”

“yeah, well” he squeezes your hand “don’t get used to it”

silence stretches. he leans forward, resting his forehead against your joined hands

“you really had me thinking I’d lost you,” he murmurs vulnerability, raw and rare, edges his words “don’t do that again. can’t-” he stops, breath hitching “I can’t lose you”

you brush weak fingers through his hair “I’m still here”

“yeah” his eyes close, breathing you in “you better be. you promised forever, remember?”

you chuckle softly “how could I forget?”

he lifts his head, gaze meeting yours

“good” a pause

“next time you decide to be reckless, think about how gorgeous I’d look in widowhood. don’t make me go through that”

you laugh—hoarse, but alive. it’s the best sound he’s ever heard

he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple “rest,” he murmurs “I’ll be here.”

and he is.

he stays through the night, fingers never leaving yours. the strong, untouchable Sylus—reduced to a man terrified of losing the person he loves most.

but now, with your heartbeat echoing steady on the monitors, he lets out a breath and finally lets himself hope

[rafesangelita]

Rafe visiting sweetheart pogue reader after knowing her better at her little bake shop she works at and they get to talking and she confesses its her absolute dream to open and run her own bake shop and he buys her a little cute shack to start her business off !!! 💕💕

warnings: super sweet fluff, sexual tension that rafe has to force himself not to act on

a/n: this came out longer than i wanted it to, but i loveeee writing for pogue!sweetheart!reader so much, pls send reqs for her if you’d like <3

it was a rather slow day at the icecream shop, so when you heard that little ding! indicating that someone had walked in, you were more than happy to see none other than rafe. “hey!” you chirped, adjusting the pink apron that currently hugged your waist.

“are you the only one working?” he walked up to the counter, your bright smile making his heart beat wildly in his chest. “yeah..” you trailed off, looking over to your manager’s office, “maybe i could ask for a quick break so we could talk?” rafe nodded. “i’d like that.”

he waited until you disappeared before he flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and turned the small lock on the door, so you two could converse without any interruptions. “okay!” you walked back up front. “favorite flavor?” rafe’s mind went blank as you reached for something, your skirt riding up your thighs as you did so.

“uhm- uh, rocky road is good.” you finally grasped the cups you were looking for, beaming at rafe’s response. “i love that one, too! but strawberry cheesecake has been my go to for a while now.” rafe didn’t want to make it obvious that he was staring hard, but he found that it was rather difficult when you were around him.

he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone so sweet and bubbly and charming as you are, could also be so unintentionally sexy at the same time. “rafe?” you snapped him out of his trance, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “here we are.” you walked around the counter, placing the cups of icecream down on a nearby table.

you reached behind you as rafe took a seat, your nails not allowing you to untie the knot you made in the strings of your apron. “what’s wrong?” he looked up at you in confusion. “my apron is a little stuck..” you turned, backing up until you stood been his legs. “can you untie this for me please? i just got my nails done and i did it a bit too tight.”

rafe was going insane. here you were in a mini skirt, potentially giving him a full view of everything that was underneath as you coyly waited for him to ‘help you out’. “sure, yeah-” he cleared his throat, hands coming up to fiddle with the strings that stopped just above the curves of your ass.

once he had it off, you sighed, taking the seat across from him. “where are you coming from?” rafe was still flustered when you took your spoon in your mouth, his eyes following the way your lips wrapped around the damned thing. “work, actually.” he blinked away, zeroing in all his focus elsewhere.

“really? what do you do?” now it was your turn to watch him, the veins on his arms making you lick your lips. “construction. it’s my dad’s business.” you nodded, trying to push the image of rafe all hot and sweaty from working outside, out of your head. “so you’re a handy man?” you teased, unintentionally tapping your foot against his leg.

“i know my way around.” you caught rafe looking at your lips, a shy smile taking over your feautures. “i wish i had those skills, it’d make things so much easier for me.” you raised your eyebrows. “how so?” he leaned forward. “well.. it might sound dumb, but it’s my dream to open my own little bakery. the problem is; i don’t know where to start, i don’t know who i have to get in contact with for licensing and permit stuff, and i definitely don’t know how to install any kind of kitchen appliances.”

rafe thought for a moment.

“do you have a certain location in mind?” he asked. you hummed, shaking your head. “no, i don’t care where it is. i’d just like a bigger space.” rafe nodded. “that doesn’t sound dumb by the way,” you looked up, “i think it’s neat that you want to open up your own business. the entire island will be over the moon once they find out they can get those chocolate chip cookies whenever they want.”

you had never shared that information with anyone, but by the way rafe responded, you were glad it was him that you spilled it to. rafe saw the small flash of sadness pass through your eyes before you shook it off. “one day..” just as you were about to check the time, your manager walk out of her office. “closing shop early today, do you mind helping me out real quick?” without hesitation, you got up from your seat.

“wait for me?” you gave rafe your icecream and apron to go outside with.

“of course.”

over the next two weeks, you found yourself by rafe’s side, whether he was following you around while you made sales, or helping you bake, you two seemed to be attached at the hip. “are you working tomorrow?” rafe currently sat on the floor of your camper, leaning against the lace-trimmed cushions of your pull out couch. “nope!” you offered him a spoon of buttercream to taste test, watching as he took his digit in his mouth.

“goddamn, that’s amazing,” rafe gave you a thumbs up, “but anyways— i was asking because i have a surprise for you.” placing the bowl of frosting on the counter, you turned. “oh?” you sat down, his head resting against the side of your knee. “i think you’ll really like it.” rafe kept his eyes down in his lap. “can i guess what it is?” he shook his head, “i won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong.”

sighing in defeat, you and rafe spent the rest of the night decorating cookies and taking turns shuffling songs until he was ready to head back home. “i’ll be here to pick you up in the morning, ‘that sound okay?” he was leaning against your doorframe, your fingertips itching to reach out for him. “mhmm, thank you for all your help today..” you stepped closer, swallowing thickly as he rested a hand in the curve of your neck.

even though rafe wanted to kiss you and feel your lips on his, he settled for a peck on your temple, which you were more than happy to receive. “goodnight, y/n.” he waved before getting in his truck and driving away. locking the door shut, you couldn’t help the pout that graced your lips at your now empty, quiet, camper.

eager to know what rafe wanted to surprise you with, you were quick to get ready for bed, forcing yourself to go to sleep before having to wake up and get ready.

“promise you’re not peeking?” you giggled, your hands resting on top of rafe’s as he guided you to some unknown location. “i promise!” finally, rafe came to a stop, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of his body pressing against your backside.

“okay, go ahead and open.” you were buzzing with excitement, your mouth falling agape once your vision cleared. there, in front of you sat a perfect little shack, the word ‘sold’ on a red banner adorning the front. you blinked, slightly confused. “this is so cute! did you buy it or something?” rafe nodded, his mouth falling to your ear.

“it’s yours.”

you took a minute to process his words, letting go of a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. “rafe..” he placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. “a couple weeks ago you said it was your dream to have your own bakery but you didn’t know where to start, this is your starting point.” your eyes were watering now as you looked up at the man in front of you.

“i don’t think i can accept this.” you laughed, butterflies swarming your tummy when rafe wiped your tears. “you can, and you will.” you couldn’t hold back anymore, throwing your arms around him. rafe wasn’t used to this feeling in his chest, but he knew it felt right.

“it still needs to be renovated, but i talked to my dad and he agreed cameron development will cover everything.” you pulled away, dumbfounded. “i- why?” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “why not? you deserve it.” sniffling, you looked back at the shack, already envisioning the place up and running. “i can’t thank you enough, rafe.” you couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that rafe, let alone anyone, would do something like this for you.

“we’ll get to that later,” he winked, making you laugh, “should we go pick out a paint color?”

[saturnscafe]

͙˚ ༘✶Le Pew | Skunk Hybrid (GN Reader)

Smut Below

A/N: did I write this after remembering Pepe Le pew? Yes. Yes I did. 😂 Hence the tittle. I wrote this in a daze so bear with me if there’s any mistakes lol.

Skunk hybrid hating humans because they always run away from him. He doesn’t understand why, I mean he does. However he doesn’t understand why they wouldn’t give him a chance. So when he was injured and you found him he was shocked that you didn’t care.

He just stared at you trying to figure out when you’d run, or when you’d say something about his smell. When you patched him up just smiling at him he was entranced with you. Blurting out quick and loudly “Will you be my mate” he didn’t even know where that came from. Neither did you but you’d be lying to yourself if he wasn’t handsome.

That sleek black hair with a small stripe of white. The small scar that went up the side of his cheek, and not to mention how tall he was.

“How about a date first?” You said smiling at him and he thought he could melt right then. He scattered trying to plan the best date for you. He was always a super confident man but you had him feeling like a middle schooler getting ready for his first date. You suggested just a relaxing day at your place, just hanging out and getting to know each other one on one.

When he came knocking on your door the smell of strong cologne washed over you. It was like he bathed himself in it. He was scared you’d change your mind if he smelled. So he drowned himself in a whole bottle of the stuff. You couldn’t help but laugh it just came tumbling out. “Did you use the whole bottle?” You teased. His ears folding down to his head like he did something wrong. “Most humans..” he started to say before you cut him off. “I grew up around skunks, I don’t mind the smell. Quite frankly I don’t even smell it anymore.

His eyes lit up, asking you so many questions as to why. After telling him your father was a vet helping any animal in need. You told him about how he’d made it a mission to help any hybrid that wasn’t treated well. Always opening his home to skunks, snakes, spiders and many more that didn’t meet the “cute” standard.

You both chatted all night, about everything and anything. He’d open up about how he honestly hated humans because how they treated him like the plague. You reassured him that, that wasn’t the case with you. That you knew many people who just loved his kind. The night turned into you both curled on the couch at 1am watching movies.

He felt really comfortable with you, his confidence oozing back. His hand found its way under your chin pulling you into a sweet longing kiss. Your eyes fluttered close taking in how gentle he was. The kiss turned into hands pulling at each other’s clothes. Lips kissing at any part of skin they could find. When he slipped into you it his head fell backwards taking in the feeling of your warm walls. The smell of the cologne finally had faded away, and you could smell his natural musky sent. His smell was different though almost like it was a sort of pheromone. It was driving you crazy.

His cock hit the back of your walls, nails digging into one another as trails of curses left both of you. His eyes found yours making his hips stutter he felt like he was in love. He leaned down kissing you passionately as both of you reached your climaxes hot ropes of cum spirting into you. His arms wrapped around you holding you close as he possibly could. Like you’d float away if he didn’t. He broke the waves of breaths “so does this mean you’ll be my mate?” He said his fluffy tail slowly moving behind him. “I’d be honored” you replied.

People couldn’t grasp why you’d choose to be with a skunk hybrid. They didn’t see him like you did which was honestly their loss. With your love and support he became even more confident. Talking to other humans and finding people who liked him for him. Even meeting your father who absolutely adored him.

[fishnapple]

How to love yourself better? A request letter from yourself. (Channelled message)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know ��

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. White

Dear myself,

If I could light a fire right now, I could, just to see if that fire can compete with my light, our light. And yet I got a feeling that fire will burn brighter than us, just because it had someone to start it. But ours didn't. We stowed our fire away, our light, for fear of burning the eyes of the world? Or for fear of being engulfed in the sea of darkness outside?

Have you ever seen a solar eclipse? People gathered to watch it, a brief moment of the sun being eaten. A brief moment. Imagine how the world would be if that brief moment turned into a very long moment, an eternal one? Panic, fear, despair. We have prolonged our solar eclipse for far too long, let the Sun has its shine. Does it sound arrogant when I talk of us as the Sun? No, you should get used to it. To be the light, the be seen. Even when the Sun seems like a solitary existence on the sky, it's not, so are we.

I wanted to tell you many beautiful words, give you praises and a pat on the head. Sounds embarrassing, right? We should learn to do that more often. And then practice it with other people too, we all need it sometimes, a lot of times.

Do you know what will happen when we turn the anger on ourselves? Somehow, it will ricochet inside us and finally shoot out at other people. It's painful, for us and for them. Let's hold it in our hands, watch it breathe and stroke it gently, find where does it hurt and tend to it, then poof- it's gone. You catch anger not by throwing it around and putting it in a cage but let it heal and fly away on its own.

I'm sure that sometimes you will find yourself drowning in life, in other people's water. Losing yourself could be your worst nightmare. But you will never lose me. It's odd how we're surrounded by people but feel like we are alone in our struggle. Where did all the people go? Are they also drowning like us? In a different sea? I hope that all the seas are connected to each other so we can all find others to swim with us.

Till the next sun rise, yourself.

2. Pink

Oh, how I want to just throw away everything and run barefoot on the sand. To lie face up, watching the clouds passing by for hours. To paint the wall bright pink and yellow (this combination might hurt your eyes if you stare too long, though). But we're not a kid anymore, or so people have told us, much like how we've told ourselves, convinced ourselves to behave.

It's fascinating to watch the process of our resistance to what is taught to us. Why do we resist it so much? It feels like being gravely offended. We have our principles, and now we have to listen to others telling us what is right? What is wrong? Let me tell you, in a small whisper, it's actually nice to listen. Just listening, not obeying. It will feel like swallowing a rock. Maybe we could learn from the chickens a little, metaphorically. They swallow small rocks to aid in healthy digestion. So let's swallow some of the hard lessons.

You always like to think in concrete fashion. You try to touch your thoughts with your own hands and knead them, mould them into whatever you want. And when you're dropped into a relationship with someone, you find yourself lost that ability. It's all a jumble mess. You find your hands reaching out, grasping for something. How about the other person? Are you afraid that you will lose yourself if you hold on to them? It's fine, you won't. It's just an outdated belief that you've held on for far too long.

As we were talking about swallowing, you may want to watch what you're swallowing into your stomach, literally. Watch what you eat! Don't make yourself, ourselves suffer by bringing unhealthy things into our body. We may want to live long, you know.

Hey, if you find a dance class is too embarrassing, how about we turn off the light and dance with each other in the middle of the night. Nobody will know, but we will feel good (I'm not trying to be a flirt with myself here)

Your best friend, love.

3. Red

Make me a cup of tea, please.

Let's have a chat, just us, lying around lazily, sipping our favourite tea, imagining some weird scenarios to entertain us, playing some puzzle.

I don't have much to tell you because we talk to each other every day and I know you always try to be better for us. I love you and I'm proud of you. Let's be vain and give ourselves applause every day. Make it a pinky promise.

A reminder when you're feeling sluggish and slow, we are going to exactly where we need to be. You are guided and protected.

Keep on shining and be the little kid that runs around in the rain.

I love it when you're running wild, letting yourself, me, free, splashing colours everywhere. I just want to grab other people's hands and drag them to the dance. I love it when you're laughing, loudly, even better when you jolted others around you, oh, their surprised look, priceless.

Just be sure to take care of your body. Don't over tasking them. Work hard, play hard, but rest hard also.

Have you been thinking about going on a trip somewhere? No? Then, allow me to make a gentle request. Let me put the idea in your head. Go on, go to wherever you're thinking, there might be a surprise waiting for us, *hint: it will make our heart flutter*.

Let's make it a ritual to go on a trip every year. Let's give our mind and spirit a makeover. Dust off any tangled mess we have and prepare a space for new things to come into. I'm so excited.

It's got me thinking lately, there's this small blinking light in the back of our mind, sometimes I can see it, sometimes I can't. I want to find out what it is. It's like a signal, trying to reach us, can you feel it? Sometimes, there's this odd feeling swelling inside that you can't put your hand on and naming it. I think if we can sit still, quiet, in the dark, we could see it better. It's guiding us. To where? I got a feeling that it's somewhere deep, somewhere with a treasure, waiting for us. If we can uncover it, it will be the greatest gift that the universe has ever given us. So let's go and find it.

Love, myself.

4. Green

I have some news for you. Brace yourself for changes. They're coming, very fast, very soon. Sit yourself tight. I don't want to give spoilers, but I guess we will receive some sudden confessions or offers. What you will do with those confessions is completely your choice. You don't have to feel guilty if you don't return their feelings, my dear.

I think the way the universe is sending us this kind of surprise is telling us to reconsider our 'single' thinking mode. We have stood alone, strong and independent for so long, I think it actually makes us a little too comfortable in being alone that the thought of getting into a connection with someone can be daunting. Will we lose our freedom? What if we are dependent on them? This time, the universe is saying: 'you and your worries will not make a good journey together, break up with those worries, here, I will throw in some opportunities for you to practice '.

If you don't want romantic connection at the moment, fine, different types of connections will come. No matter what, the universe is determined to get us involved with other people. It's for our own good. I have to admit that it's hard. It's not easy to change our way of thinking and believing. So surprises will be needed.

When opportunities come, the gate is opened, we just need to receive them. Walking through the gate will feel like walking out of a confinement into the wild, lively world outside. We will be propelled into a new path that we hadn't even considered in the past. Beware of what you said in the past about how you don't want to do something, you can't imagine yourself doing something. Well, guess what, we are going to do just that, joke on us.

So, in the meantime, even if you're resisting, it's fine. Just take care of yourself, of us. Obsessive worrying can sadden our body.

Something is going away, giving space to a new energy coming in. This new energy will be softer, more loving. The harshness of the past will go away soon. Trust me.

Love, Your companion.

[munsonsreputation]

all this wild joy

joel miller x fem!reader

word count: [2.6K]

summary: you and joel turn heads in jackson but no one can take away all this wild joy you two worked too hard to find–plus, you really love his shitty pickup lines. 

warnings: no use of y/n, cursing, age-gap (joel is older but you decide how much), mentions of joel's violent past, hints of smut but not described in detail, lmk if i missed anything!

There’s a stark contrast between you both like midnight and daylight, a rebel and a careful daughter, the moon and saturn–but something about you two just makes sense…at least to you both. 

“You’re such an idiot,” you giggle, shaking your head at the man perched beside you, the cause of your smile that never budges from your face.

The reason is Joel Miller. The same man who never even cracks the slightest grin to anyone else, yet there he is in the Tipsy Bison on a Friday night, making you laugh like it’s the only thing he’s ever known how to do. It’s nothing new by any nature, ever since you and Joel got together you both had no issue flooring it through the fences and loving each other loudly despite the objections hurled your way.

He audibly chuckles at your jab, shrugging his shoulders as he leans into you, slinging his arms over your torso, pressing a kiss to your temple and mumbling something only you can hear past the music.

“What? That one too corny for’ya?” He smirks against your skin, causing you to blush, playfully nudging him away with little effort.

“Thank the gods who made you handsome, Miller, because your pick up lines are shit.” You crinkle your nose up at him, lips twitching with a lopsided grin.

“Come on, I got another.” He clears his throat, pushing his empty glass of whisky away.

You lift your brow, teeth biting into your lower lip as a means to hold back your inevitable laughter, before he could even get it out.

“Ellie taught me this one.” He warns you, nodding his head more to himself as he rehearses the line mentally, already anticipating the way it's going make you fall over with laughter.

You snort, resting your chin on your fist as you await his line. “Oh geez, okay let me hear it, babe.” You nod, arm twitching with a go-ahead, ready when he was.

And Joel Miller ever with the dramatics, rolls his shoulders back, fingertips grasping his belt buckle between his forefingers as he sets his sights on you, lowering his voice just a tad for the full effect.

“If you were a country road…I’d take you home.” He winks, flashing you a toothy grin that immediately does you in as you break out into a squeal behind your hands, hunching over the bar a giggly mess.

Sure, he’s an idiot who doesn’t know shit about flirting, but he’s yours and that’s all that matters to him.

He smiles under the dim lights of the bar, moving to hold you against him while you heave and look at him with the utmost happiness one could possess. There are eyes belonging to the rest of the town, trained on you both, trying to decode what a man like Joel could possibly do to elicit that much joy out of you.

It’s sacrilegious to most of them, how someone like you could ruin your best laid plans and good name for someone like Joel who was the epitome of chaos, a bad man who did bad things to survive in a world that was crumbling. But to you, he’s a religion you want to worship, a good man who did everything necessary to protect himself and the ones he loved dearly without reservation—he was your god and you were his loyal devotee.

“Remind me to tell Ellie her pickup lines are crap too,” you finally steady your breathing, swiping at the tears running from the corner of your eyes.

There are still giggles submerged within your chest, bubbling out as the seconds pass and Joel holds you tighter, smiling against your head. He doesn’t know what he’s done in his past life or this one to deserve someone who takes him for who he is the way that you do—he knows he should be crucified for all the wrongs he’s committed, and hell he's raised, but he is certain of one thing: 

He’d accept his fate being guilty as sin, if it means never needing to part from you ever. You’re a lifeline to his soul and he doesn't know how to be without you. It’s comical considering how much of life he’s gone through without ever knowing you or touching your skin, yet here you are like some kind of holy force he needs to survive and yet he doesn’t mind it all. 

“You want another?” He speaks gingerly into your ear.

For a moment, you think he was talking about another godforsaken pickup line, but you follow the path of his fingers, tapping the glass walls of the watery sangria you were sipping throughout the night. The deep plum color is now a translucent red, losing all flavor and interest from you, as you desperately want to taste a different kind of drug that consumes you in ways no one else could.

“No, I’m fine, thank you, baby.” You shake your head, grabbing some napkins to soak up the condensation left behind on the countertop before pushing the glass away.

The sun had fully set over the town by now, and soon enough people on patrol would stop by for a drink, crowding up the place and getting rowdy until midnight. You never mind the extra company catching up with a few of the friendly folks you could call your acquaintances, but you’d much rather enjoy Joel’s company in blissful peace—jealous and stingy you might be, but for good reason when it comes to a luxury like him.

“Can we head home now?” You ask quietly, peering up at him past your lashes where he immediately nods, pulling a few stray bills from his pocket and leaving them behind as a tip.

His palm gently rests on the small of your back, guiding you up out of your seat through the room of people who still can’t understand it and never could. Joel had lucked out, and so did you even in the face of the apocalypse—it’s something no one, not even yourselves, saw coming, but without a doubt you and him jumped head first into each other and never looked back, not even under the warnings of the saboteurs.

The wine ladies sit quietly, judgmentally, in the corner of the bar whispering among themselves and rolling their eyes while Joel intertwines his hand with yours, pressing another kiss to your cheek before he holds the door open for you, giving the place a final one over before he follows suit. He sees them deliberately shifting their eyes to avoid his hardened gaze, but there’s a deep pleasure brewing in his chest because you're his lady, and not even a single one of them could undo the fate he chose and plummeted into willingly.

The bell rings behind you both with the creaking of the door hinges, the quiet of the night enveloping you with rustling leaves scraping against the pavement where the wind carries them and a breeze grazes upon your skin.

“Have fun tonight?” He drapes his arms over your shoulder, letting you lean into him as you walk down the dim street, exposed arms craving the warmth of his body beneath his flannel.

You hum, reaching up to lace your fingers with his dangling above your collarbone, “When do I ever not enjoy a drink and my man trying to flirt with me all night?” You tease, pressing your body impossibly closer to his, basically letting him trudge you both home.

“Gotta keep you on your toes woman, make sure you really wanna be stuck with my old ass.”

You roll your eyes and puff out a pointed breath, making his chest rumble with a deep laugh because he knows just how much you hate when he makes fun of himself and age. You love him wholly, for all the knowledge and life and grays and wrinkles he’s accumulated throughout his lifetime. It’s not everyday someone his age looks and feels as good as he does despite all the physical hell he has endured, and you’re so very lucky he’s healthy, and you intend to preserve it for as long as you can with you by his side.

“I’m not going anywhere, so get that outta your mind, cowboy.” You bite back, detaching from his side as you skip up the porch steps and watch as he chuckles and fishes out the keys, unlocking the door.

“Lots of bachelors for your picking and choosing, y’know.” He replies jokingly, holding the door open for you, follows behind and locking it shut while you kick off your shoes.

“I don’t want them.”

“Why’s that?” He smirks, holding a hand up against the wall while he works off his boots.

“You know why.” You cross your arms over your chest, eyes rolling once more.

“They’re not all bad,” He reasons, shrugging his shoulders, turning to face you.

“Do you hate me or something?” You ask offensively, dropping your arms as his laugh echoes through the hallway while you fail to give into the tight smile creeping up on your face.

He doesn’t hate you, nor ever thinks he could have the power to do such a thing. It’s just simply knowing that you’re just as protective of him as much as he is over you. The jabs about his age were something he was accustomed to since he was an older brother and Tommy never missed the opportunity to throw in a geriatric joke from time to time.

But you minded them a lot, especially when it was coming from people who didn’t know a damn thing about Joel—your Joel. He notices every time you tense up when someone jokingly calls him grandpa, when they point out the cracking of his bones when he gets up after a long time sitting, and the worst one yet, when they take a jab at your relationship.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Miller, she’ll be burying you sooner than later.”

“She’ll trade you in for a newer model in no time.”

You hate it so much and he feels for you, especially if roles were reversed and jokes were made at your expense instead of his–but then again those people wouldn’t be living to see another day had they said something directly to you. 

Closing the distance between you both, he wraps his arms around your frame, tugging your towards his chest while you pout trying to keep up the facade of being annoyed at him.

“m’just playing with you, baby…know I’m the luckiest son of a bitch to have you wantin’ me instead of anyone else.” He confesses, kissing your forehead as he feels your arms folding around his torso tilting your chin up onto his chest.

“Yeah well, you’re different.” You tell him, watching his eyes flit down to yours, raising his brows curiously.

“Tell me about it.” 

It’s rhetorical but you take it as an opportunity to explain it because you want to let him know just how much he means to you even if the three words hanging on your tongue is just enough.

“You’re…selective.”

“Picky?”

“No,” you laugh, shaking your head trying to form the right words, “like…like you know what you want and you’re not afraid of staying true to your word.”

“So I’m a hard-headed fuck?”

“Joel!” you scold, looking up at him with a weak smile, laughing at his vibrant ways of describing himself.

“Go on…” He chuckles, squeezing your hips.

“When we first started seeing each other, you told me you were gonna be good to me,” you start, beaming up into his brown eyes, taking you in all your glory, “that you knew what other people thought about you, but you were gonna show me the real you…the other side.”

He nods along, his memory jogging back to that very moment he first laid eyes on you and spoke words with a purpose that never tempted him until you walked into his life. It was like coming to his senses, realizing that his life didn’t have to stop and end with misery, but maybe, just maybe this you were the one thing he could do right in his life—and you were.

“I—I didn’t care what everyone else thought. Didn’t care that you probably weren’t the friendliest or most talkative person around.” You continue smiling softly at his laugh he let out under his breath, “I cared that you really did show me a different side, and it’s not like you made me work for it or anything like that, you just…did. And since then you’ve never let anyone or anything get in the way of loving me the way you do.”

For a beat there’s silence. You can hear his breathing sharpen just a tad, perhaps taken aback by the frank retelling of a perspective he’s never considered outside of his own. He knew he had walls built up from all the horrors he’s faced, but to make you break them down wasn’t his kind of way of approaching a relationship with you.

He lived what felt like a hundred lives before settling in Jackson, finally deciding to throw an anchor down and stop with the running and traveling in search of nothing ahead. Ellie deserved a home, and she also wanted him with her—he was the reason she was alive, and she was his reason too. He learned soon enough that part of him, despite what he felt inside, was still alive for reasons he couldn’t begin to wrap his head around.

You deserved that Joel. The one he knew was still deep inside of him and just needed a little time to surface once more, and when it finally did, he gave to you all of him. It was freeing to stop hiding behind his past, to let you in and show you all the good and bad without making you feel like you had to earn it—for him it was finally waking up after a 20 year dark night.

“You really do know how to sap a guy up on a Friday night,” he murmurs, burying his face behind your hair almost shyly, pressing kisses against your pulse point, “definitely better at flirting than I am.”

You grin, fingers traveling up his spine, settling on the back of his neck to pull him away from hiding as you stare up at him with pursed lips.

“Don’t sell yourself short. I always liked that line you used on me.” You nod, rubbing your thumbs up and down his weathered skin.

“You’re on my mind so much I should charge you rent?” He guesses.

“No,” you shake your head, a smile playing on your face as he searches through his memories once more.

“You’re so sweet, you are giving my dentures cavities.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head once more, “not quite.”

“I can be a gentleman until you want a ride on the crazy train.”

You furrow your brows slightly, laughing, “Well you actually said ‘ride on a cowboy,’ but yeah that works too.” You correct him, “That one.”

He hums, tracing circles over your waist, pulling you closer. “Really?”

“Yup, you’ve never not been a gentleman since the day I met you, so I guess it’s stuck.”

“Wanna ride a cowboy tonight?” He smirks, making your cheeks flush, lowering your forehead against his chest as he chuckles under you kissing the top of your head. “Only if you want to, sweetheart. I got other plans too,”

“Yeah?” You retreated from your hiding spot, “what are said plans?”

“Gonna carry you upstairs, kiss you all over and make love to you.”

“Hmm, I like that. Might even take you up on that ride later.” You say, biting your lip, nodding with approval.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

You and Joel didn’t need saving from anyone who didn’t understand you both…all of it would just be white noise in your world of screaming color, anyway.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: hi everyone...this is my first fic of 2025 and my first joel fic <3 i haven't watched the show or played the game, but i'm in love with pedro which means i am also in love with joel--if he's not tortured i don't want him right? hahaha, anyways I hope you guys enjoyed this, don't worry i'm not forgetting about stevie or eddie, i just wanted to switch it up. let me know what you think and thank you for reading <3

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[insidekatmind]

Consolation-Virgil Van Dijk

wearning: +18,smut.

Request: yes!

It’s late in the evening, and you’re comfortably seated on your couch, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot tea in your hands. You watched the match on TV: a tough loss, with mistakes rarely seen from such a strong team. You know Virgil is the type to carry everything on his shoulders, and you can’t stop thinking about how he might be feeling right now.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts. You’re not expecting anyone, but when you open the door, there’s Virgil, standing in front of you. He’s still in his tracksuit, hood pulled up like he’s trying to hide from the world. His face, though, gives him away: it’s marked by exhaustion and frustration.

“Can I come in?” he asks in a quiet voice.

“Virgil, of course, come in,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in. You close the door behind him and watch as he pulls down his hood, revealing a tense expression and eyes that avoid meeting yours.

“Sorry for showing up so late,” he says, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you say, guiding him to the couch. “You know you’re always welcome here. Do you want something? Tea, coffee…?”

He shakes his head, sinking heavily onto the couch. “No, thanks. I don’t think I could get anything down right now.”

You sit beside him, giving him space to speak. You know Virgil isn’t the type to open up immediately, but it’s clear he’s wrestling with something big. After a long silence, he finally breaks it.

“It was my fault, y/N,” he says, staring at the floor. “That missed marking… that goal… I can’t stop thinking about it. I let the team down, the fans… everyone.”

“Virgil, listen,” you begin gently, “one lost match doesn’t define who you are—either as a leader or as a player. You’re one of the best in the world, and you know that. But even the best have off nights.”

“It’s not just that,” he counters, clenching his fists on his knees. “I’m supposed to be the anchor, the one everyone else can rely on. And instead… instead, I feel like I’m sinking. It’s frustrating, y/N. I don’t know how to pull myself out of this.”

You look at him, choosing your words carefully. “Virgil, being a leader doesn’t mean never making mistakes. It means showing others how to handle those mistakes. Your team doesn’t need you to be perfect. They need you to be human, to fight to get better.”

He lifts his gaze, finally meeting your eyes. “But it’s so hard… I feel like I’m letting everyone down, and it’s eating me up inside.”

You lean in slightly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “What really matters is how you respond to this feeling. No one can be perfect, Virgil, but you’ve already shown you can overcome challenges. This is just another one, and I know you’ll get through it.”

Virgil remains silent for a moment, then nods slowly. “Maybe you’re right,” he says with a small sigh. “I need to stop focusing only on what went wrong and think about what I can do to improve. But… it’s easier said than done.”

“That’s why I’m here,” you reply with a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever you need, you know you can count on me.”

He offers a faint smile, the first you’ve seen since he arrived. “Thanks, y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Virgil gently takes your wrist and pulls you to straddle him.You stumble slightly as he pulls you onto him, your thighs resting beside his lap. You look down at him, your heart beating faster now. He looks up at you with an intensity in his eyes that you’ve seldom seen before. He keeps your wrist in his grasp, his fingers wrapped around it almost tenderly, yet with a hint of desire.

You can feel the warmth of his body against yours as he pulls you closer, his free hand coming to rest on your thigh. He watches you silently, his eyes roaming over your face. You take a breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “Virgil…?” you murmur, questioning, uncertain about the situation unfolding.

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze holding you captive. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, something you rarely see from the normally strong and confident man. His thumb begins tracing slow circles over your thigh, the touch sending shivers up your spine. After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice low and a bit hoarse. “I needed this,” he whispers, his hand on your wrist squeezing gently.

You nod softly, hugging him, stroking his hair.Virgil returns your embrace, his arms encircling you, pulling you flush against him. His head dips slightly, his face burying into your chest, his breath warm against your skin. For a moment, he just holds you, his heart beating against your chest, his fingers tracing light patterns over your back.

This tender version of Virgil, all vulnerability and gentleness, melts your heart. You run your fingers through his hair, your touch soft and soothing. You can feel the tension in him slowly start to ease away as he clings to you, seeking comfort in your presence.

After some time, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes are closed, and he looks weary, but his expression is less troubled than it was when he arrived. “Y/N…” he begins softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how you do it, but being here with you… it helps. Even on nights like tonight.”

"Do you want to spend the night here?" You ask softly, caressing his cheeks.He looks at you for a moment, his gaze searching your face as if to gauge whether you truly mean your offer. Then, a small nod of his head answers your question. "Please," he murmurs, his hand on your thigh squeezing again. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

You nod and kiss his forehead softly, then his nose, and then his cheeks.He watches you intently as you press soft kisses to his forehead, his nose, and his cheeks. A soft sigh escapes his lips, his eyes never leaving your face. His grip on your thigh tightens slightly, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he let go for even a moment. Each kiss seems to soothe him further, the stress lines around his eyes smoothing out.

The silence in the room feels heavy yet peaceful at the same time. The only sound is your soft breathing and the occasional sigh from him as you continue to pepper his face with gentle kisses. He lifts his hand from your thigh, his fingers tracing your jawline tenderly, before his thumb brushes across your bottom lip. He seems to have calmed down completely now, all the earlier turmoil replaced by a quiet vulnerability.

"Y/N..." he murmurs again, his voice barely above a whisper, "I..." He trails off, his eyes filled with an emotion you can't quite name. He looks like he wants to say something important, but the right words don't seem to come. The atmosphere in the room is thick with unspoken words and untold feelings.

You can sense that there's more he wants to say, more that he's feeling, but it's like a dam holding back a flood of emotions. His hand, still on your jaw, moves to cup the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer. His eyes seem to be searching your face for something, a silent question in the depths of their blue.

The closeness between you is almost tangible now. You're so close that you can feel his breath against your skin, his body against yours. The air feels charged with unspoken tension, the space between you filled with a heady mixture of desire and something else, something deeper and more complex. He keeps touching you, his fingertips tracing over your skin as if he's committing you to memory.

Finally, he speaks again, breaking the silence that hangs between you. His voice is deeper than usual, and raw with emotion. "I need you," he murmurs, his fingers splaying against the nape of your neck. "More than I need anything right now... I just... I need you."

You nod and kiss him softly.As your lips meet his, he responds almost instantly, pressing against you with a hunger that you haven't felt from him before. He pulls you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. The kiss deepens, his tongue brushing against your lips, seeking entry. He kisses you like a drowning man gasping for air, as if he's pouring all his unspoken feelings into that one action.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you even closer. You feel the heat of his body against yours, the strength of his embrace. There's an urgency in his kiss, a desperate need he's trying to convey. His hands roam over your body, touching, caressing, as if he's trying to assure himself that you're really there, really with him.

He breaks the kiss, just for a moment, to look at you. His eyes are darker than before, filled with a storm of emotions. He's breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Y/N..." he whispers, his voice hoarse and raw with desire. "Stay with me tonight. Please... just stay."There's a vulnerability in his plea that cuts right to your heart. He needs you, not just now, but deeper, more permanently. He isn't just asking for comfort or physical connection; he's asking for something more substantial, a lifeline to hold onto amidst his storm of insecurities and fears.

You nod, your heart overflowing with affection for this man, who stands so strong in the face of the world, yet crumbles when alone. "I'll stay," you assure him, your voice soft but firm. "As long as you need me to, I'm not going anywhere."

You kiss him with more passion.The passion in your kiss stokes the fire that's been steadily building between you. He reacts instantly, the kiss becoming more intense, more desperate. He pulls you flush against him, his hands roaming over your body, seeking skin to touch, flesh to touch.There's a hunger in the way he kisses you, an intensity that borders on frantic. His tongue tangles with yours, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you even closer.

You gently pulled away to take off your shirt and then reattached your lips to his.His eyes follow your movements as you lift your shirt over your head, baring your skin to him. For a moment he just stares, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh, his gaze hungry and appreciative.As you return to his lips, he responds with a deep, guttural moan. His hands go to your waist, sliding over your bare skin, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you more fiercely now, his tongue delving deeper, his body pressing harder against yours.

He gently laid you down on the couch and took off the rest of your clothes and undressed himself too.As he moves over you, his naked body pressed against yours, you can feel the heat coming off him, his skin hot and smooth. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. His hands rest on either side of your head, bracing his weight on strong arms, trapping you beneath him.

As he moves over you, his naked body pressed against yours, you can feel the heat coming off him, his skin hot and smooth. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. His hands rest on either side of your head, bracing his weight on strong arms, trapping you beneath him.

In one sharp thrust he entered you making both of you moan into the kiss.You arch against him as he fills you, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He moans into the kiss, his body shaking with restrained desire. He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his hands clenching the fabric of the couch on either side of your head.

“Babe, you're squeezing my cock so good,” he murmurs, moaning, and begins to move quickly. His thrusts were not gentle at all. You could feel inch by inch going in and out.He mouths at your neck, his lips tracing a path from jawline to collarbone. His breath is hot against your skin, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as he sets the pace.

You moan feeling his thrusts getting harder and harder. "Virgil I'm close" you murmur nibbling his neck."I know," he rasps, his voice strained with the effort it's taking to hold back. "Just... hold on a bit longer, please..." His body is tense above you, muscles taut as he tries to maintain his control, not wanting this to end too soon.

He picks up the pace suddenly, his thrusts becoming faster, more urgent. His lips are back at your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "I can't hold back much longer," he mutters, his words barely decipherable between the gasps and moans.

You can feel the edge approaching, your body trembling, your hands clawing at his back, seeking an anchor in this storm of sensations. "Virgil, I..." you start to say, but your words fade into a guttural moan as he hits a sensitive spot.

"I know," he gasps, his voice hoarse. "Me too." He's struggling to hold back, the need to let go warring with his desire to prolong this moment. His hips pound against yours, his fingers gripping your hips almost to the point of pain, holding you steady as he reaches the limit

"I need..." he moans, the word hanging in the air, half-formulated. He doesn't know what he needs; only that he wants more, more of you, more of this, more of the pleasure that's threatening to consume him altogether.

He pulls out of you and then turns you on all fours and enters you again.He's behind you suddenly, his body pressed against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist. His breath is hot on your neck, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He waits for a moment, letting you adjust to the new position, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your ear.

“fuck” you moan feeling his thrusts get even harder. Virgil grabs a lock of your hair and pulls it making you arch and moan.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice rough and low, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His grip on your hair is tight, his hand keeping your head tilted back, exposing the vulnerable line of your neck. “You like that, huh?”

“yes” you moan resting your head on his shoulders as Virgil continued to thrust harder. "very much".He chuckles breathlessly, the sound more a exhalation than a laugh. "I thought you would," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "You make the best sounds when I pull your hair like this."

You moan feeling his thrusts get stronger. One push in particular had you bent back onto the couch.He follows the motion, the force of his thrust pressing you down into the couch. Your body is arched, your back bowing under the combined weight of his body and the intensity of his movements. You can hear him panting, his breath hot against your neck, his hands roaming over your flesh, seeking to draw out more.

"God, you look beautiful like this," he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly with desire. "Bent over for me like this."Virgil slaps your ass and goes faster.

His hands are everywhere, roaming freely over your flesh, seeking to touch every inch of you. His lips are back on your throat, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of little bite marks in their wake.

“Virgil” you scream loudly moaning.He groans against your neck, your cry of pleasure going straight to his stomach. "Yeah," he mutters, his voice hoarse and raw. "Say my name again. I love hearing you say my name like that."

He moves faster, his hips slamming into you with every stroke, his pace picking up steadily. "Again," he gasps, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. "Say my name."

“Virgil” you moan again.He shudders behind you, the sound of his name on your lips sending a jolt through him. "Again," he demands, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he moves faster. "Say it again. I want to hear you."

You repeat his name, the word becoming a litany, a prayer on your lips as you're pushed closer and closer to the edge. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he urges you on.

“That’s it," he growls, his voice hoarse. "Just like that. You’re so close, I can tell. I can feel it. Come on, say my name again. Let me hear you say it one more time."His words are like a drug, driving you higher, higher until you feel like you’re going to burst. You repeat his name again, the syllables almost lost in the litany of moans and gasps that fill the air.

as you fall over the edge, your body spasming around him, a cry of pleasure torn from your throat. Behind you he groans, the sound guttural and primal. He follows you over the edge, his body trembling against yours as he comes, your name falling from his lips in a shuddering gasp. For a moment there's only the sound of labored breathing, the aftermath of pleasure leaving you both boneless and weary. He gathers you in his arms, pulling you down with him as he collapses back onto the couch, holding you close against his chest.

"That was..." he starts, his voice thick with emotion. He trails off, unable to articulate the maelstrom of feelings coursing through him. "That was... incredible."

You nod, your legs shaking with pleasure. You rest on his chest as you recover from your climax.He holds you against him, his strong arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. He drops a kiss on the top of your head, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "You okay?" he asks quietly, the concern in his voice belied by the possessive way he's holding onto you.

You nod again, not quite trusting yourself to speak yet. Your body is still quivering with aftershocks, your mind a delightful buzz. You nuzzle against his chest, inhaling the scent of him, letting his presence ground you.

He responds instinctively, his hold on you tightening almost reflexively, as if afraid you might disappear if he lets go. "Good," he murmurs, the relief in his voice palpable. "I was worried I might've been too... rough."

"No," you find your voice at last, though it comes out as a gravelly whisper rather than your usual tone. "It was... perfect. I don't think I can move."Virgil chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Not surprised," he says, the pride in his voice evident. "I kinda went a bit... uh... overboard, huh?"

You give a weak nod, still feeling like your bones have turned to jello. "Just a bit," you manage to reply, a hint of a laugh in your voice.He tightens his hold on you just a fraction more, a possessive gesture that you don't mind at all. "Well, I'm not sorry," he says, sounding very much unapologetic. "You were making the most delightful sounds. Couldn't help myself."

"I have no complaints," you murmur, your eyes drifting closed. You can feel his heart beating under your cheek, the steady thump-thump like a soothing lullaby. You're tired, boneless, satisfied to the point of exhaustion, and very much not ready to move yet.

He seems to sense this and relaxes under you, his hand continuing that soothing motion on your back. "Get some rest," he whispers, his voice low and soothing. He doesn't seem in any hurry to move either, his body warm and solid beneath you.

You hum a wordless assent, already drifting towards sleep. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the reassuring presence of his body, the exhaustion of your recent activities all combining to pull you inexorably into unconsciousness."Sweet dreams," he murmurs, his voice a quiet whisper. You feel a soft kiss on the top of your head, his lips gentle and tender against your hair.

You murmur something inarticulate, too far gone to form actual words. The last thing you feel before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, a soothing thrum that lulls you into darkness.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 35. Just Sex?

Summary: Fucking War Games.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links

I can’t help but glare up at the dais. Fucking War Games. Leadership had strolled down the halls at an ungodly hour this morning, ringing bells, banging on doors, and calling for us all to dress and head to formation. Which for those who got sleep was fine. Myself on the other hand… the multiple rounds Garrick and I had gone for had left both of us with very little sleep. And by very little. I got none.

I wanted to burn the memory of me trying to scurry off Garrick, hastily dressing in my dress uniform before I’d rushed out the door only to run into Xaden who was about to knock on the door, as well as Bodhi who had been following him like a lost puppy. Bodhi who was now staring a head with a shit eating grin on his face.

”What’s up with you two? You look like you want to murder someone and Bodhi looks like you’ve given him the best gift he’s ever gotten.” Austin comments as she looks between the two of us.

”Oh because she did.” He joyfully adds as he smiles down at me. I roll my eyes, ignoring his comment.

“It’s nothing. I just didn’t sleep well.” I say dismissively, Austin looking at me like she doesn’t believe me but slowly nods.

”I hardly think Garrick is nothing.” Bodhi teases from besides me, Austin’s eyes snapping to him. I on the other hand turn and narrow my eyes at him, catching a pair of familiar hazel eyes as I do so. “Remind me where I found you this morning?”

Austin grasps my shoulder excitedly. “Holy shit, did it happen?”

”Oh it definitely did.” Liz says happily as she pokes her head around Austin.

”For fucks sake, yes. Now keep your voices down.” I hiss at them as I turn my attention back to the front where leadership and wing leaders are talking.

”So are you two like together?” Bodhi whispers to me as he leans closer.

I shove him away jokingly. “It was just sex.”

Bodhi looks shocked at my words, looking between me and where I know Garrick stands. I don’t dare meet Garrick’s eyes though. I know if I do I’ll want to drag him away at figure out what the fuck we were now. And maybe go another round or two. Two weeks ago he’d essentially broken my heart even though I’d never given it to him. Then he’d come and defended me against my father like I meant something to him. And then I’d thrown caution to the wind and kissed him. Let him consume me, and give into the tension that had been there for the better part of the year. Though the few words we had spoken indicated this was more than just sex. But how much more I wasn’t sure. ”

I don’t think it was just sex, for either of you.” Bodhi states as he turns his attention back to me. “I might have only known you a year Dahlia, but I’ve never seen you like this. Go tell him.”

I look over and see Garrick looking directly at me. His hazel eyes piercing into mine, as if trying to read my thoughts, see what’s going on inside my head. I should hate him. Should want nothing to do with him after everything that had happened in the last year. But I didn’t. I wanted that handsome asshole more than anything. I wanted to leap into the unknown and see where the hell it took me. See what this could be, even if it meant getting hurt again.

”We have War Games to win first.” I tell Bodhi as I turn my head to look at him. “Let’s see if we survive that first before diving into my questionable love life.” A/N: And don't worry, I'm not that cruel to leave you hanging for a week. Post War Games coming tomorrow.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus

[mikanotes]

goodbyes are sour

connor x gn!reader — 2.1k words

genre: angst sorta! mutual pining in denial

warnings: mentions of guns and killing, kabedon for the sake of science, connor unreliable narrator LOL u have feelings android man… maybe ooc idk. (wrote this w the idea of connor being deviant since the beginning bcs Yeah!)

synopsis: You meet Connor again. Turns out things are much more complicated when you aren’t working together.

author’s note: hi dbh fic?! i Love connor nd i’ve been writing this for a while (crazy since it’s rly short) but i don’t like it much… anyways whoevers alive in the dbh fandom have this!

“Detective.”

There’s just something about the way Connor speaks. The cadence, the pitch, the enunciation of each word. It’s painfully evident that he isn’t human. Everything about him is so machine-like that even his perfect, human-like exterior could not fool anyone. However it is something you got used to. Hearing the android speak your name and call you ‘Detective’ back a while ago felt somewhat unsettling. Now it’s so easy to recognize that it almost makes you feel at ease.

“Do you seriously think I’m an android? I don’t wanna deal with those fucking machines, either. I’d be glad if you put a bullet through them rather than me.”

Turns out hearing him fake being a human is ten times more terrifying than his android speech patterns could ever hope to be.

This was not part of the plan.

You were sent with a unit to patrol around the streets for any android who still hadn’t been brought back or destroyed. You weren’t a fan of this whole assignment, but felt better than the rookies who were sent out to shoot humanoid robots as their first field mission probably did.

It would be fine, is what you told yourself, because you didn’t feel anything towards Cyberlife’s creations enough to be completely uncomfortable with the idea of their blue blood on your hands, though it wasn’t ideal. You could manage. Until the first person you came across happened to be the one android you genuinely cared about.

“I don’t think he’s one of them…” one of your fellow officers murmurs next to you. You suddenly become very aware of the gun he, too, is holding and pointing towards the target. Fuck. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough.

At least this idiot’s performance seems to be fooling them.

You wait one second, then sigh on the second, and finally lower your gun on the third. “You shouldn’t be here.” you say casually, prompting your colleagues to relax and the atmosphere to lighten a little. Your heart is in your throat, however. “We’ve got orders to round up every android we see around here. You should go home. This isn’t exactly safe.”

“I know, I know.” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “I was gonna leave anyways, thanks.”

Your coworkers mumble to themselves about how disagreeable this guy’s attitude is and it’s enough for them to miss the wink the latter sends your way as he leaves. You almost regret not shooting a bullet through his head.

Still, you sigh in relief, setting your gun back at your side and running a hand over your face. You don’t think you can continue patrolling in peace. There’s one too many questions in your mind and the key to answering them is escaping from your grasp.

You take the phone in your pocket and pretend to get a call, moving it to your ear and looking at the members of your team. “I’ll join up with you later.” you say, gesturing towards your phone. They nod and walk away, and you do the same, feeling more relieved than ever that these people see you as a leader of sorts. They won’t question you on anything. You hurry towards the direction your so-called partner left to the moment they’re out of sight.

A rooftop door, stairs, and more stairs. You’re jogging down like you’re chasing a criminal on the run. You’re down to the fifth floor out of eight when someone grabs your arm and pulls you out a door.

“Wha—” you try to yell, but a cold hand settle over your mouth. Your body relaxes but your expression tenses. Connor. “Let me go,” you mumble incoherently, surprisingly succeeding in getting him to let you step away.

You sigh and shake your head, turning around abruptly. His ‘human costume’ (which really just was a grey suit jacket thrown over what should’ve been his Cyberlife uniform, glasses, and a cap to hide his LED) is already gone, replaced by his usual attire, just missing his jacket.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, annoyed, pointing towards the staircase (back there, on the roof) and the android simply shrugs. “Connor.”

“I was undercover, Detective. I thought someone as smart as you would recognize that much.” he says, his tone back to normal. You’d feel relieved if he wasn’t being so irritating. “Was I wrong?”

Your face drops. “No. I figured as much. But what for?” you sigh, crossing your arms.

“Same mission as always.”

“Who are you chasing? Did you find the place?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

It only clicks then that while you know about Connor continuing his mission after being laid off the case, you’re not part of it anymore. He had to be sent back to Cyberlife, and you should’ve been forgetting about him entirely. You’re still DPD, and you have orders to shoot Androids on sight— Which you clearly aren’t following. He’s right. He has no reason to tell you.

Still.

You grab his arm when he threatens to walk away. You’re not sure what you want to say, but you’re not done talking. He lets you. “Connor.”

“Detective.” he says. You straighten your back and sigh, not breaking eye contact. He tilts his head to the side and his LED flashes yellow for an instant. “You’re angry.”

Of course you’re angry. He’s infuriating. There’s something about how logical and dead-set on following every single rule he is that makes Connor the most annoying individual you’ve ever talked to. Everything he does has to be for his mission. Every single thing.

“Do threats work with you?” you ask blankly, “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’ll get Cyberlife to bring you back, and all that?”

When he takes a step closer to you again, forcing your back to press against the wall, and his LED does not even threaten to change hues, you’re taken aback. Just a bit. It’s the same kind of frustrated attitude you would’ve expected from a human after saying what you just did. But not Connor.

He doesn’t seem frustrated, though. And you know he can look annoyed. He just doesn’t. So he must not be. And you want to find what it is he’s doing exactly, stepping closer to you without even saying a word, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting at the distance between you two. You know he does everything for his work. Does he think you have new information on deviants? Does he really believe you would call Cyberlife on him? Is he using his stupid interrogation module on you? Whatever it is makes you even more annoyed.

The silence feels heavy. It makes things worse. It gives your brain time to process how this is making you feel and it’s no good at all. “What?” you break the silence, tone somewhat irritated.

“I’m trying to understand the reason why you’re so angry at me.” he explains simply, like it makes sense. His eyes narrow a bit and the LED at the side of his head flickers yellow for a moment. “And no, Detective. Threats don’t work on me. Not when I can tell you’re lying so easily.” he adds, quieter.

“Shut up.” you scoff.

“I dont think I will.”

“Connor.”

“— However,” he interrupts, “I can step away from you at any moment if you tell me to.”

“No.”

“No?”

What— No?! You register the word after saying it and sigh, face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. You panicked and said it, your mind processing his offer as him leaving you again— With no information and nothing to ease your stupid worries. Now it just sounds odd.

Is that embarrassment?

“You didn’t finish what you were trying to do, did you? You haven’t told me why I’m angry yet. Since you apparently care so much.” you say, tone sounding much softer than before. Your apparent discomposure took away all the bitterness from your voice. Interesting.

Truth be told, Connor knows why you’re angry. He’s not letting you in on the details of what he’s doing despite the time you spent working as partners a very short while ago. He’s spent enough time with people, and you especially, to know that after forming some kind of bond with a work partner, it would be frustrating not to receive information about their mission the way you used to from them—

Especially considering he was still chasing after something you both knew about. Jericho. But he cannot tell you about that. Not… Right now.

What he really was trying to do was evaluate how much of a threat you really could be to his investigation. He didn’t sense any hostility before and he doesn’t now, and you could’ve shot him but you didn’t. But it’s not enough. He needs more time— More evidence that it’s fine. That’s why he pulled you here in the first place. That’s why he pressured you to talk.

He needs to make sure killing you isn’t necessary.

“Because I posed a threat to the stability of your current mission earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to shoot me had I been discovered, and your reaction to your colleagues shooting me would’ve jeopardized your job itself.” he answers.

This reasoning would make sense.

“That’s not it.” you sigh.

Your heartbeat is slowing down. No good. Connor leans his arm on the wall next to you and moves closer. Your heartbeat picks up in speed. It’s almost alarming. He can tell all the details about your physical condition and deduce what you’re thinking or feeling based off of them, sure. But he’s no human. The way he views and comprehends emotions is registered in his system in a much more clear and logic-based way than it is in humans’ brains.

So maybe he won’t ever know why your heart beats so heavily against your ribcage. So he just has to pressure the right places and demand answers. He unfortunately can’t allow you to relax. He won’t get anything out of you if you’re calm. You’re much too turbulent for that.

Or maybe he’ll just have to ask. In a normal way.

“Detective, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you scoff, eyes widening. Wrong question.

You seem like you want to be angry but something is holding you back from displaying just how much he gets on your nerves. You sigh deeply and look at him, “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. More than usual. Why’d you pull me here if you didn’t want to tell me anything? And I’m worried. What if you really did get shot? Wasn’t Cyberlife supposed to deactivate you? They wouldn’t have brought in another Connor this time. You’re off the case, you— You would’ve died!”

“Maybe.”

There’s circles under your eyes. There always are, but they’re more defined now than they were the last time he saw you. Now that you’re actually being honest, your whole voice and mannerisms betray any of your usual annoyed and dismissive facade. He didn’t think you cared this much, though he understands that some humans are quick to empathize. To a fault.

Now it’s clear he doesn’t need to eliminate you at all. Part of him seems to have grown fond of your company. He couldn’t risk that getting in the way of his better judgment.

“I only pulled you here so you wouldn’t pointlessly chase down the streets searching for me, since I made sure no one would follow.” he says, stepping back and giving you more space, “You’re a police officer. It doesn’t matter what you say you’ll keep to yourself or not. I can’t compromise. This is too important.”

You’re hurt, it’s visible. He’s saying he can’t risk trusting you. He figures that must not feel nice.

The sound of the radio attached to your side breaks this prolonged silence with the promise of separation. You take it, eyes not leaving Connor’s, and listen to your colleague speak. You tell them you’ll be right there. You’re not one to be late. He knows you’ll really leave this time— Too far away for him to hope to talk to you again, if anything goes awry.

You turn the radio off and put it back where it was. “Hope you succeed, then.” you say, bitter, and push yourself up to start walking away.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.” Connor says. Asks. The words come out before he can really think. Something about your voice and this whole atmosphere made him… Feel uneasy. Like he needed to say something. If this is how your partnership ends, he doesn’t believe it should be on such a sour note. He cares doesn’t dislike you at all, so why should it?

You stagger a little, seemingly stopping in your tracks, but moving again no more than a second later. “You too, Connor.”

Somehow, goodbyes had never seemed so sad.

[fear-is-truth]

Hello pretty one !!

Can I request the Evans reaction to y/n asking for divorce/ break up?!

Like they have been in a shaky times in their relationship, and one night the reader asks for divorce when they come to the bedroom?

Thanks for doing your best.

Have a nice day.

(pls include James 💋)

𝜗ϱ ┆ BREAKING UP WITH THEM .ᐟ

── THE EVANs ‧ h e a d c a n o n s ೃ࿐

ft. tate ‧ kit ‧ jimmy ‧ james ‧ kai

⟣ TAGS ‧ SFW | f! reader | angst

a/n: james’ is the most detailed since you specifically asked. no kyle because i’d never break up with him

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

Tate would refuse to accept that you’re breaking up with him. the moment you say the words, his face would fall like a lead balloon, but then he’d quickly mask it with an incredulous laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “you don’t mean that. we love each other,”

he wouldn’t let the breakup go easily, instantly pleading for you to reconsider. Tate would be persistent, even frantic. “i’ll do better, i’ll change,” he’d promise, grabbing your hand with shaking fingers, voice cracking. he’d pull out everything he could think of to get you to stay — recounting memories of when things were good between you, making promises for the future. you’d see the fear in his eyes as he feels you slipping away, and he definitely cry. “don’t you remember how happy we were?”

Tate has major abandonment issues, and feels kind of entitled to you. he’d accuse you of seeing someone else, trying to find any explanation for why you’re leaving. Tate’s mood would fluctuate rapidly, from angry outbursts to tearful apologies.

would resort to manipulation if he feels like he’s losing you.. “you said you’d never leave me. you’re all i have.” he’d use it to pull at your heartstrings, knowing you’ve always been the one person who understood him.

Tate would never stop loving you, never stop trying to be a part of your life, even if it’s just by being in the same space. he’d become fixated on the idea that maybe you just need time to come around. his visits would be quieter, less dramatic, but no less intense. he’d just sit at the edge of your bed, not speaking, just watching.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

Kit would be stunned by the breakup, initially not even processing what you’re saying. his first reaction would be utter disbelief, brows furrowing as he tries to understand where things went wrong. “wait, what do you mean? we can fix this,” he’d say, voice shaky but calm at first, not fully grasping the finality of the situation.

he has kind of a hero complex, so he’d be the first to blame himself for the relationship ending. he’d try to figure out what he did wrong, even if the breakup wasn’t entirely his fault. “i should have done more,” he’d mutter, eyes downcast, his hands nervously running through his hair. Kit would feel immense guilt, thinking he didn’t do enough to keep the relationship alive. he’d ask if there’s anything he could do to make it right, wanting desperately to fix the situation.

he isn’t the type to beg or become overly dramatic, but there’d be a hint of desperation in his tone when he asks you to reconsider. “please, don’t go. we’ve been through so much together. i love you.” his voice would crack slightly as he says this. Kit wouldn’t pressure you, but you’d feel how much this is breaking him.

Kit is super empathetic, so once the shock wears off, he’d want to understand why you’re breaking up with him. he’d ask you what went wrong, genuinely listening to your reasons, even though it’s tearing him apart inside. he wouldn’t even be angry, just deeply hurt. “i don’t get it… i thought we were happy,” he’d say softly, his voice full of sadness. even though it’s painful, he’d want to know if there’s anything he could do differently. ultimately, Kit would try to respect your decision, even if it breaks him.

Kit has already lost so much — from Alma to Grace, he’s familiar with the pain of being separated from the people he loves. losing you would reopen old wounds, triggering feelings of abandonment that he’s never fully healed from. he’d appear distant in the days following the breakup, finding it hard to accept that someone else he deeply cared for is gone from his life.

family is everything to Kit, and after the breakup, he’d pour himself into being a father. you’d see how much time he spends with Julia and Thomas, using them as a way to cope with the loss. he’d take them on walks, read to them, and try to create a semblance of normalcy. Kit would never let his pain affect his kids.

he wouldn’t disappear from your life completely, especially if you were close. he’d check in on you occasionally, not to win you back, but just to see how you’re doing. Kit cares deeply, and even after the breakup, he’d still want to make sure you’re okay. you’d receive a call from him now and then, something simple like, “hope you’re doing well,” or “i’m here if you ever need anything.”

in all seriousness, why would one even want to break up with Kit Walker ?!!

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

Jimmy would immediately spiral into a drinking binge. he’d be back at the bar, downing drink after drink, drowning the pain and self-loathing in whiskey bottles. he’d stumble back to the caravan late at night, lost in a haze of regret and sadness.

after a few drinks, he’d become incredibly emotional and prone to outbursts. start ranting to his fellow freak show performers, saying things like, “she was the only girl i ever loved.” he’d wear his heart on his sleeve, lashing out at anyone who tried to comfort him.

he’d be plagued with guilt, blaming himself entirely for the breakup. thinking back to every argument, every moment he could have done better, and it would eat him alive. “maybe if i wasn’t such a freak… maybe if i could have given her more.” he’d dwell on his physical differences. Jimmy truly believes that he’s the reason for the breakup—that you deserve someone better.

after the breakup, Jimmy would avoid performing at the freak show for a while. the stage, once a place where he felt pride in who he was, would now feel like a spotlight shining on his failures. he’d skip performances, spending his time holed up in his caravan or wandering the outskirts of town, drunk and aimless. “what’s the point anymore?” he’d say, staring at his gloves or the bottles in front of him.

he would eventually seek comfort from his mother. he’d go to Ethel, disheveled and reeking of alcohol, collapsing into her arms like a lost child. “i messed it all up, ma,” he’d say, tears spilling down his face as she strokes his hair, trying to console him. she’d try to get him to see that it wasn’t all his fault (and she’d not-so-secretly resent you), but Jimmy would struggle to believe it.

if you ever had to interact with Jimmy after the breakup, especially if you were still part of the freak show, he’d still overprotective of you like when you were together. even though you’d broken up, he’d still feel the need to keep an eye on you. if someone else tried to get close to you, Jimmy would bristle with jealousy. he wouldn’t confront you directly, but there’d be a quiet possessiveness in his demeanor. “i’m just looking out for her,” he’d tell himself, still struggling to accept that he doesn’t have you anymore.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

at first, James wouldn’t truly believe you were serious. in his mind, love—especially his love—is eternal. he’d be utterly bewildered by the concept that you’d want to leave him. “darling, you must be jesting,” he’d say with a tight smile, trying to brush it off as a fleeting moment of dissatisfaction.

he’d offer to “discuss” your concerns over a drink, trying to charm you back into his arms with smooth words and promises. “surely, my love, this is just a passing phase,” he’d say in that honeyed voice, suggesting you take some time apart to reconsider. he’d always be trying to hold the power, coaxing you to rethink your decision.

James is a master manipulator, and he’d play every card to try to win you back. he’d remind you of the luxury and life he’s given you, the way he’s treated you like royalty. “who else could give you such a life, my sweet? no one can love you as i do,” he’d declare confidently, attempting to convince you that leaving him is a mistake.

though James is normally composed, beneath his refined exterior is a deep well of rage. you’d see the calm facade crack ever so slightly, especially if he feels he’s truly losing control. his eyes would harden, jaw clenching.

if charm and manipulation both fail, James would escalate to grand romantic gestures to try to win you back. expect lavish gifts—clothes, jewellery, flowers, extravagant dinners from him.

when James realises you are serious about leaving him, he wouldn’t hesitate to drop his dignified, grandiose demeanor and fall to his knees. like with Elizabeth, he’d be utterly desperate, pleading with you to stay. “my love, you must reconsider. you cannot leave me,” he’d beg like the pathetic simp that he is.

he would quickly spiral into anger and violence, not just at you but at the entire hotel. his fury would be unleashed on the guests of the Cortez—he’d go on a killing spree, brutally murdering any unfortunate souls he comes across. his anger wouldn’t be directed at you but rather at his own inability to control the situation. his murder spree would serve as an outlet for his pain and frustration.

on the other hand, James might swing to the opposite extreme, abstaining from killing altogether. you’re his greatest passion, and if he loses you, nothing would hold meaning anymore—not even murder, which is his hobby. he’d shut himself in his office, pacing, sipping whiskey, and brooding. his hands would shake with the need to kill, but his grief would overpower it. “i cannot do this without her,” he’d murmur to himself, staring blankly into the fireplace.

as a last resort, James would do something extreme to keep you, especially if he feels like there’s no other way. in his mind, death isn’t the end—it’s just another stage of your relationship. he’d definitely try to trap you in the cortez with him forever, orchestrating events to lead to your death so you can stay by his side eternally. “if i cannot have you in life, then we shall be together in death,” he’d say with a somewhat sinister smile.

no matter how much time passes, James would never stop loving you—or at least his version of love. to him, you are his soulmate, and he would remain in the belief that you’ll return to him eventually. he’d likely continue sending you gifts and dinner invitations, convinced that it’s only a matter of time before you realise he’s the only one for you. his devotion to you is eternal, obsessive, and inescapable.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

Kai would immediately reject the idea of a breakup. he’d try to convince you that it’s just a rough patch, something that can be fixed if you were both willing to “work on it.” he’d speak with a calm and patronising tone, acting like he’s the voice of reason. “this is all in your head. you’re overreacting as usual,”

once he realises you’re serious, Kai would turn to guilt-tripping, framing the breakup as an act of betrayal. “after everything i’ve done for you? after all we’ve built together?” as he paints himself as the victim. Kai has a knack for making you feel responsible for his emotions, and he’d use this to make you second-guess your decision. he’d make it seem like you’re abandoning him at a critical moment, especially when he’s in the middle of his movement.

if manipulation doesn’t work (smart you!), Kai would escalate to more aggressive tactics. he’d get angry—like really angry. his voice would rise, and start pacing or slamming objects around to intimidate you. “you think you can just walk away from me?!” his eyes would burn with fury, and there’s a good chance he’d lash out verbally, calling you weak, ungrateful, or a stupid bitch for thinking you can survive without him. he wouldn’t hurt you physically (yet)

Kai has a god complex, and losing control of you would feel like a personal attack on his sense of superiority. he’d go on a long, impassioned rant about how you’re making the biggest mistake of your life, how he’s the only one who can truly understand and protect you. “you’ll come crawling back when the world chews you up and spits you out,” he’d sneer. perhaps weave in a few conspiracy theories or grand ideas about the future, making it seem like you’re betraying some higher cause by leaving him.

even after you break up with him, Kai wouldn’t let you out of his orbit so easily. he’d watch you closely, making sure you don’t stray too far from his influence. he’d manipulate your friends and find ways to keep tabs on you, using people or technology to always know where you are.

despite his anger, Kai would have moments where he switches to a softer, vulnerable approach (think about the time he convinced winter to agree to the weird religious nutjob inc*st threesome). he knows how to manipulate through emotion, and he’d use this to try and pull you back in. he’d sit down and speak in a low, defeated tone, saying things like, “you were the only person who ever saw the real me, who truly knows me.” 🥺

Kai is obsessed with loyalty, and your breakup would feel like the ultimate betrayal to him. he’d test your commitment by putting you in difficult situations—manipulating circumstances to see if you’ll come back to him. orchestrating moments where you feel vulnerable, then swoop in as the only person you can rely on.

lowkey understandable why you’d wanna break up with him. he’s a toxic boi (still hot)

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[tootiecakes234]

Sanji x reader

(You come back from a mission injured. )

You come back to Sanji after you two were on two separate assignments. Initially you’re facing away from him so he’s just relieved that you’re safe. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your front.

“My beautiful one and only. I’m so happy to see you safe.” Words mumbled because His face is nuzzled up into your neck and he’s breathing in the scent of you. Even though you’re sweaty and gross, you’re his favorite scent in the entire world and that includes his cooking.

“Are you tired?? When we get back to the ship I’ll run you a nice bath yea??” Mind you he says all this in almost a sing song voice.

Normally you would be just as excited as he was, but you know. You know the time he sees your injury he’s going to 1000% flip his shit and you were trying to postpone the inevitable as long as possible.

When Sanji finally looked up he saw the strange looks the rest of the crew was giving and he was confused.

“What the hell are you idiots looking at? Why do you assholes look guilty?”

“Hey you guys can I have a moment alone with Sanji please?”

They all excused themselves and set off very swiftly because they knew the shit storm was a brewing.

He starts pulling his arms from around you but you quickly grab them and hold him still.

“Babe, can you promise me something??”, you whisper in the most even tone you can manage.

“Of course. I’d do anything for you. You know that.” And his arms tighten around you.

“Ok, remember. You’re a man of your word. Promise me you won’t freak out” You start to slowly pull away.

“Why would I-“

“Just promise me ok?”

“I promise me sweet.” And he chuckles a little at how weird you’re being.

The twirl you do around is so achingly slow but Sanji is nothing if not patient with you.

When you finally catch his eye, you see the smile morph on his face.

He is livid. infuriated. No there has to be a word that means “ready to burn down the fucking world and everyone and everything in it!”

“Who! Had! The Goddamn Nerve! To Touch you?!?”

“Saaannjii, baby. It’s fine. I promise you. It’s just a scratch. Chopper checked it out and he said it wouldn’t even need stitches.” Trying to keep the peace was not working. AT ALL.

“Who!? And where are they now?” He was seething.

You could feel hellfire coming off him.

The laceration was a long one coming up from your clavicle and wrapping up right under your chin, but it wasn’t deep. You had managed to dodge most of it.

“Theyre dead and gone. He only got the one chance. I promise, I’m ok. Everyone is ok and safe. So can you breathe?? Cuz I don’t think you’re breathing…”

“Where the hell was everyone when you were nearly KILLED?!”

“Trying to avoid dying themselves. I’m not some damsel in distress, even though I know that’s how you see me.” You had started to get a little testy but you had to remind yourself, he honestly just loved you way too much to be faced with a situation where you could’ve been taken from him.

You slowly get a little closer to him and reach out to grasp his hand, and honestly that touch did more for him than any of your words did.

His shoulders sagged just the slightest amount and you heard him draw in a sharp breath.

“I know you’re upset, you have every right to be, but I’m right here.” You said with all the love you could muster and lifted your other hand to wrap around the back of his neck and scratch at the back of his head.

Another breath and now his eyes were starting to soften.

You smile up at him and that sets his heart back to thumping at the inconsistent speed it always does when you look at him like that.

Next thing you know you’re being pulled into his arms and squeezed to the point where it’s almost taking your breath away.

You don’t realize he’s crying until you feel dampness from where he’s again tucked his head down into your neck.

His words come out all mumbled, “I can’t l-lose you. I truly fucking can’t… you- you’re the only reason my heart beats. The only thing that gives me the strength to draw another breath. I love you. I love you.”

And now you’re crying because damn. This man is everything to you, and the fact that he never fails to make sure you know how he feels the same way if not stronger…. Your heart is just so full.

“I love you too Sanji. And I’m never leaving… you’re stuck with me forever and ever and ever.”

When he pulls back his eyes are all red and puffy.

“You mean it?” His voice sounds all groggy now, like he just woke up. But also bright, like morning sunshine.

“Of course I mean it. You and me always.” You give him a small genuine smile.

“Then marry me…”

[goldengalore]

Neglected

A househusband!Harry fic.

Summary: Harry has been feeling neglected and unappreciated by Y/N, and she doesn’t realize it.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: angst, smut (sub!harry, soft dom!reader)

A/N: I woke up at 4am one morning with the urge to write this. Also listened to Tolerate It by Taylor Swift for more inspo!

***

In all the years that Harry has been married to Y/N, he has never felt neglected by her. Sure, there have been instances where her schedule became too hectic for them to spend much time together, but even then, her love and appreciation for him could be felt through her actions.

Lately though, that hasn’t been the case.

Work has been stressing her out, he can discern that much. And while she has never been one to let work stress affect her personal relationships, this past week has brought out a different side to her. A side that makes him feel small and invisible.

When she comes home, it’s like she wants nothing to do with him. She heads straight upstairs, telling him she’ll be down for dinner later. During dinner, she’ll ask their daughter, Savannah, about her day but won’t ask him. After dinner, she’ll go back upstairs without acknowledging whether the food was good or not, even when he cooks her favourite dishes. He’ll wash up in the kitchen and go up to their bedroom to find her already asleep on her side of the bed—or pretending to be asleep, it seems at times. If he tries to cuddle up to her, she’ll shrug him off and shift further towards the edge of the bed with her back to him.

He’s beginning to wonder if he unwittingly did something to upset her. Or maybe it’s all in his head. Maybe he should just suck it up. Surely, this won’t last forever and she’ll be back to her normal self soon enough…

It’s Friday now. He hopes that with the weekend on the horizon, Y/N will be in a much better mood when she gets home.

“Hi, lovie,” he greets her when she walks in through the door. “How was your day?”

She releases a heavy sigh as she slips off her heels. “Shitty, but at least it’s over, right?”

“Sorry to hear that.” He attempts to give her a hug, but it doesn’t last longer than a second before she pulls away with a tight smile.

She heads to the kitchen, dropping her bag and keys by the stairs along the way. He follows her like a lost puppy. Grabbing herself a glass of water, she collapses onto one of the dining chairs and chugs it down.

At least she didn’t go straight upstairs today, he thinks to himself, grasping for a silver lining.

She rolls her neck from side to side and rubs the back of her shoulder, wincing a bit. Harry moves to stand behind her. Shifting her hair over to one side, he starts massaging her neck and shoulders. He holds his breath, expecting her to brush him off, but instead, she reclines in her seat while he carefully presses his thumbs into the nape of her neck.

“Work has been such a pain lately,” she admits.

“I know. Could tell you’ve been stressed out.”

“It’s this new boss. She’s impossible to work with. She puts unreasonable deadlines on everything, expecting us to finish these huge, complicated tasks within days. Then, when people like me try to speak up about it, she’ll publicly shame us in front of the whole office and pile on even more work so that— Ow! Okay, H, you’re pressing too hard.” She reaches behind her to push his hands away.

“Oops. Sorry, love.” Fuck. She was finally opening up to him about why she’s been acting so cold, finally giving him more than just one-word responses or vague explanations, and he ruined it.

“It’s fine. I’m going to go take a shower.” She stands up.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing her hand.

She turns to him with a look of mild annoyance.

“Um, wh—why don’t I run you a hot bath?”

“Sure. Not too hot though, okay? I’d like to not burn my skin off.”

He chuckles at the comment, pretending that it didn’t sting a little. “Yeah, of course.”

He runs the bath and checks the temperature of the water multiple times while Y/N undresses in their bedroom. He’s about to check for a fourth time when she enters the bathroom in her white robe, which she hangs up on the wall hook. She settles into the tub and closes her eyes. Meanwhile, Harry watches from the doorway, wishing he could get in there with her and be close to her.

“Do you want me to stay?” he offers tentatively. “We can talk more about the stuff you’ve been dealing with at work.”

“Ugh, no, I don’t even want to think about work.”

“Oh. Well, we can chat about something else to get your mind off—”

“I’m not really in the mood to talk.” She opens her eyes briefly to look at him. “I’ll be down for dinner later, okay?”

Translation: Don’t bother me until dinner.

With a hollowness in his chest, he shuts the bathroom door and returns downstairs to the kitchen.

***

“Daaaaad?” Savannah calls to her father from the dining table, where she has decided to do her homework tonight.

“Yeeeees?”

“Can you help me with my homework?”

“Be right there.” He turns down the heat on the stove before walking over to his daughter, leaning over her to take a look at what she’s working on. Math. His worst enemy.

“I don’t understand this question,” she says, pointing to a lengthy word problem on the page with several multiple choice options.

He reads and rereads it a few times before attempting to solve it in his head. It seems easy enough… Until he realizes that the answer he came up with isn’t even one of the options. He asks Savannah how her teacher taught her to approach questions like this, and her explanation only confuses him even more. Math was tough when he was in school, but the way they teach it nowadays boggles his mind.

“I’ll go see if your mum can help.”

He heads upstairs to check if Y/N is done with her bath and finds her sitting at the foot of their bed in her robe, brushing her hair. The sun is setting outside. Its warm, amber glow spills through the curtains and falls across one side of Y/N’s face, casting a shadow on the other. She looks ethereal in this light, like a goddess, and he feels unworthy of her presence.

“Babe? Savannah needs help with her maths homework,” he tells her.

“Can’t you handle it?”

“I mean, I’m trying, but we both know how useless I am at maths,” he answers with a smirk, but she doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Harry, it’s grade school math, not rocket science.”

His face drops. “Well, yeah, but I— Never mind. I’ll figure it out.” He turns to leave but pauses in the doorway, turning back around to face her. “Y/N, are you… Are you upset with me? Have I done something wrong?”

He instantly regrets asking. Y/N closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No, H, I just need some time alone,” she states slowly. “Like, is that too much to ask? I can’t even have a second alone without you getting clingy and thinking I’m mad at you? It’s exhausting.”

His heart cracks for what feels like the millionth time that night. Clingy. His wife thinks he’s clingy. It’s not the first time he has been called that word. But it is the first time he has been called that word by her. And God, does it hurt like a dagger slicing through his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before leaving.

He tries his best to help Savannah with the question, ultimately resorting to Google where he finds the solution posted on some forum a few years ago.

“Daddy, are you okay?” asks Savannah once her homework has been sorted.

He raises a brow at the odd, adult-like concern in his daughter’s voice. “Yes. Why?”

“You look sad.”

He forces a smile. “I’m not sad. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, of course. But I’m fine.”

She squints her big eyes at him suspiciously, drawing a genuine laugh out of him.

Kissing the top of her head, he says, “I’m going to finish making dinner, but let me know if you need anything else.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

That little token of appreciation means so much to him, he gives her another kiss on the head.

“You’re very welcome.”

***

Harry feels numb at dinner. His appetite is nonexistent. The food that he himself cooked with love and care tastes bland and flavourless to him. He has long zoned out on the conversation between Y/N and Savannah, which is completely unlike him, as someone who prides himself on being a good listener.

“H, you okay? You’ve barely touched your food,” comments Y/N. It shocks him that she even noticed.

“Daddy’s sad,” Savannah blurts out.

Y/N frowns, studying him from across the table. “Sad about what?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He stares down at his plate and changes the subject. “Does anyone else feel like the pasta sauce is missing something? I followed the recipe to a tee and still messed it up somehow.” He shakes his head, frustrated with his inability to get anything right today.

“No, it’s perfect,” says Y/N. “As always.”

She’s praising him. So why does he feel like crying?

“Where are you going?” she asks as he pushes his chair back and rises to his feet.

“I have a headache. Going to lie down for a bit. Just leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll take care of it later.” He places his unfinished plate on the kitchen counter and leaves.

Tears are flooding his eyes before he has even reached the top of the stairs. By the time he gets to the bedroom, they’re spilling onto his cheeks. He doesn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, he just climbs under the covers on his side of the bed and lets his pillow soak them up.

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed before he hears Savannah’s voice down the hall, telling her mother goodnight, and then moments later, the light creak of the bedroom door opening, followed by Y/N’s footsteps approaching the bed. The mattress dips behind him.

“H?” she says softly.

“Hmm?”

“You still awake?”

He clears his throat and tries to keep a steady voice as he replies, “Yeah. You need anything?”

“No, just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“Do you need anything from me? Painkillers? A cup of tea?”

How about kisses? Or cuddles? Or any kind of attention that doesn’t involve you glaring at me like I’m a waste of space? he answers in his head, but out loud he says, “I’m fine. Thank you, love.”

“You know, you keep saying you’re fine and I don’t know if I believe you.”

He doesn’t respond.

She places a hand on his arm over the covers. “Look at me.”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he emphasizes stubbornly.

“Can you please look at me?”

He sighs. A part of him is tempted to snap at her and tell her to leave him alone, to hurt her the way she hurt him, but he doesn’t have it in him to do that. In fact, the last thing he wants right now is to be left alone. What he really wants is to be held by her, to be told that he is loved and appreciated and wanted.

When she gently tugs on his arm to make him turn around, he doesn’t resist. Her eyes scan his face, taking in the tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

“Oh, honey.” She brings a hand to his cheek. He’s been so deprived of her touch that he leans into it immediately. “Did I do this?” she asks with guilt-ridden eyes which suggest she already knows the answer to that.

“I feel like I can’t do anything right by you lately,” he says. “I just want to spend some time with you when you get home, but you never talk to me and you shoo me away any time I try to come near you. I don’t know what I did, but lately, I feel more like an annoying pest that you have to tolerate than your husband. And maybe that makes me clingy or whatever—”

“That does not make you clingy,” she interjects, shaking her head adamantly. “I’m sorry I called you that, and I’m sorry I made you feel this way. I’ve just been under so much pressure at work. That’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you, but I need you to know that it has nothing to do with you, okay? You haven’t done a single thing wrong.”

He sniffles. “Really?”

“Yes, baby. The only reason I’ve been pushing you away is because I come home with all this pent-up frustration and I don’t want to take it out on you by accident… But it looks like I’ve been doing that anyway.” She wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and kisses him tenderly. “I’m sorry, honey.”

She gets under the covers with him and guides his head to her chest, tangling her fingers into his hair. He nuzzles his face close to her breasts. She apologizes again and reassures him that he’s the best husband she could have ever asked for, that she still looks forward to coming home to him at the end of each day, that she loves him more than words can ever explain.

Her delicate touches mixed with her comforting voice telling him everything he needed to hear soothes his aching heart. They cuddle in silence for a while, their legs intertwined with each other. Y/N shifts around a bit while keeping him close to her. When her thigh brushes up against his crotch, she freezes.

“Are you hard right now?”

“Fuck, um… yeah?” he mumbles into her chest nervously, his face growing hot.

She giggles. “Well, let’s take care of it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, you deserve it.”

She sits up on the bed beside him, while he lays on his back, gazing up at her, melting when she gives him a warm smile. Her hand disappears under the covers, making its slow descent into the waistband of his shorts. He gasps when she gropes him through his briefs.

“I don’t think I’ll last very long,” he admits.

“That’s okay. Been a while since we’ve done this, huh?”

He nods, gulping as her fingers trace his bulge. Although he sometimes touches himself when he’s home alone during the day or in the shower, it’s never the same as when she does it. The orgasms lack the intensity he craves.

“My poor baby,” she coos, using her other hand to scratch the top of his head. “I haven’t been taking proper care of you. We’re going to fix that this weekend.”

She suddenly removes her hand from his shorts and takes off her shirt, revealing her braless torso. The sight of her gorgeous, round breasts makes his mouth water before she even invites him to suck on them. Moving his head into her lap, he wraps his lips around one nipple and swirls his tongue around the taut flesh.

Her hand ventures back into his shorts, this time slipping into his underwear. Instead of wrapping her whole hand around him, she uses only two fingers and her thumb, running them along his length in slow, gentle strokes that make his body shudder with pleasure.

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that? Nothing you do for me goes unnoticed, I promise you,” she says.

The reassurance brings tears to his eyes again but happy ones this time. She wraps the rest of her hand around his cock, picking up the pace and pressure of her strokes. He thrusts his hips into her hand desperately as his orgasm builds. She tells him he can come whenever he’s ready, but he tries to delay it for as long as possible until he can’t any longer. Then he lets himself go, his moans and grunts muffled by her breast.

“There you go. Good boy.” She coaxes the last few drops of come out of him.

He rests his head in her lap afterwards, dazed and breathless, hoping that she’ll let him lay there a little while longer. Luckily, that’s exactly what she does, only moving to rest her back against the headboard to make herself comfortable while keeping his head in her lap, her fingers in his hair. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

***

Thank you for reading! For more househusband!Harry and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[kurishiri]

00 . . . “ the hunter and the cursed ones’ medical records ”

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— this story is told from Roger’s point of view. it’s recommended, but not necessarily required, to read the second prologue before reading this.

— cw: none.

At an unexpected time, a pure white evil had descended upon England.

The castle had since suddenly become more noisy, but the one who had to pay attention especially——was someone like myself.

Alfons: I’m coming in, Roger. Victor entrusted me to hand you this book...

A: I must say, this is quite a sight to behold.

Documents were scattered everywhere in the room, leaving no room to maneuver or step around, and Al, seeing this, furrowed his brows.

Alfons: I can’t help but wonder if you’ve made a sore blunder and just up and left in the middle of the night?

A: All that said, I do hold my doubts on whether it’s even possible to run away with that big body of yours...

Roger: Trying to start up another argument as always, huh.

R: I was just thinking I should sort out all these different types of research documents.

Alfons: And why is that?

Roger: ‘Cause of Vogel.

R: Not like I know if they’ve got some ulterior motive hidden up their sleeve, but in those cases there’s no such thing as exercising too much caution.

Alfons: Seldom comes a time when I do agree with you, but it seems we do see eye to eye in this matter.

Al picked up one of the documents from the floor with his fingers.

Alfons: Well, I’ll be, this is our medical records [1], no?

Roger: That it is, it’s highly confidential too.

Alfons: Height, weight, medical history...

A: Dear me, to have this written as well. It’s as though the notion of privacy is nonexistent!

Roger: Don’t go taking my tenacity so lightly now?

R: Well, all that said, it’s not like I don’t know where you’re coming from. To know everything about someone else is basically the same as grasping their weaknesses.

R: But, on the flip side, you could also say that if I’m the one holding onto such information, I could save you guys’ lives.

Alfons: Hah. I suppose it is a case of the same coin having two sides.

Roger: Pretty interesting stuff, right? See, for example, Jude—

Alfons: .........

A: Just how long do you plan on continuing this?

While playing with the document with his fingers as though having little interest in them,

ashy gray eyes looked my way.

(I’ve never talked about the real reason I’ve joined Crown.)

(That is, aside from this person before me, who’s an old acquaintance of mine, though begrudgingly so.)

Roger: What, you want me to pay more attention to you?

Alfons: Most definitely not. So by all means, do continue your unproductive research.

A: Well then, I’ve done what I needed to do here, so I will take my leave.

Roger: Wait, Al.

Alfons: What is it?

I waved Al’s medical record as I read it aloud.

Roger: Alfons Sylvatica. Bearer of the Mirror Curse.

R: Sound for someone who’s regularly unsystematic. Has a stomach that rivals that of a beast.

R: And...

R: A friend from the old times, whom I’d like to get along better with me.

Alfons: And that is exactly why Jude calls you a ‘quack of a doctor.’

That was all he said before he closed the door, the sound cold and robotic.

Roger: Haha, he’s cold as always.

Now alone in the room, silence fell upon me as I looked out the window.

Rays of sun that penetrated through the leaves of trees came through, giving the medical records a streak of light.

(All I said was that I had an interest in the Cursed ones, so I was doing research on them.)

(But, that)

——was a complete lie.

There was no way I would choose not to succeed my family, instead joining an organization who specialized in assassination just because I was ‘interested.’

The reason I joined Crown, was because it was a place where Cursed ones gathered.

And it was also a place directly under Her Majesty the Queen, so it was a perfect place to gather information.

“The Cursed ones”——it was an absurd fate, bestowed by the whims of God.

(And I——want to rid the world of Curses.)

(That was the reason I turned to Crown,)

(and it was my ambition for a long time now.)

And the medical records of Crown showed that very ambition,

as I’ve made meticulous records on every member.

——No, every member but one.

(The Queen’s Aide, Victor.)

(On his record, and his alone, there is not a single piece of useful information written down.)

As I stared at his medical record, I felt myself returning to a memory from the past.

When I first met Victor, it was at the hideout a serial killer was residing in.

By the time I arrived at the scene, the criminal had already drew his last breath, and only long, jet black hair flowed in the wind.

That man turned around, not uttering a sound.

When our eyes met, the man with eyes like jewels gave me a lax smile.

Victor: Good evening to you. The full moon tonight is quite beautiful, isn’t it.

first. next →

full masterlist 📄

NOTES:

[1] the apparent pronunciation (furigana) for this is [カルテ] (karute). It’s a Japanese loan word from the German word ‘Karte,’ which I believe translates to ‘card.’ In Japanese, though, it means a medical or clinical record for a patient. Anyway, any time you see ‘medical record,’ it is pronounced as karute.

[ownlittleuniverse]

snippet #1 - hero comes home with a date

warning: forceful villain, forceful situation, invasion of privacy, touchy villain (not nsfw), low self-esteem thoughts, could be uncomfortable for some readers.

“I really enjoyed tonight.”

“Me too.”

The hero put their key into the lock of their apartment door. It’s been so long since they last had gotten… intimate… They were a bit desperate at this point.

“Do you mind if I came in?” their date asked.

“No,” the hero stroked their tie, wrapping their fingers around the fabric. They were trying so hard to suppress the excitement in their voice.

“I’d like that.”

Their date hummed, then finally, kissed them. The hero caressed their date's locks, but then quickly realized they had to take their date's hands and put them where they wanted them to be.

The hero liked their date, they were incredibly sweet, but this kiss was not as explosive as they hoped. That’s unfair, this was nice and they hadn’t had it in a while.

The hero pulled away from the kiss, leading their date back into their apartment. Their date went for their lips again but this time, they stopped and looked behind them.

Terror rushed their date’s eyes like a tsunami.

“I have to go.” Their date untangled themselves completely from the hero’s grasp. They’re breathing picked up, their voice strained.

“But-” the hero blurted in confusion. What the hell was wrong with them?

“I’ll call you!”

“I-“

Their date practically sprinted down the hall.

The hero, confused, looked behind them and saw only an empty dark apartment.

What did they see that made them run for the hills?

Nothing.. you're just that unlovable.

They closed the door slowly as this ache in their chest started to infect. Suddenly they felt the stinging blisters from their heels, the cold wind hitting their bare legs.

Date after date after date, no one wanted them. No one called them back. No one ever came back.

Are they really that uninteresting? Appalling, revolting? Unlovable? A tear slipped out as they tried to sniff it back. Dating a hero is something no one wants to endure.

They looked in the mirror at their sunken eyes, the hope already drained out of them. They wiped their scarlet lipstick off and let it smudge over their skin.

They needed a drink.

They went to the fridge in search of that bottle of expensive vodka the company gave them as a gift.

They opened the fridge and saw that it wasn't anywhere. They must have already taken it out, so excited to have the place ready for their date only to be disappointed again.

They closed the fridge and gasped at the chuckle of someone’s familiar, cold voice.

In the dark, sat in their armchair across the apartment, drinking straight from their expensive bottle that was already half empty. Lounging without a care like they owned the place, was the villain.

The hero’s heart immediately picked up speed.

“You better pay for that,” they quivered, trying to find the confidence in their voice.

“Your precious drink or ruining your date?”

The hero thought back to the expression on their date's face when they left. Scared.

No, terrified.

“You- What is wrong with you?”

“I thought you of all people would know the answer to that question,” the villain chuckled.

They brought the strong vodka back to their lips that would burn everyone else’s throat, but they were gulping it down like it was water.

“Everything is wrong with me, darling,” they smirk.

The hero stifled the scream they desperately wanted to unleash at the villain.

“Get out.”

The villain only smirked.

“I’m not in any mood to deal with you tonight, okay?” The hero’s voice cracked, and they hated the sound of it.

”Aw,” the villain mocks, “Is my poor little hero sad they didn’t get their clothes stripped off by a random stranger? Or in that guy’s case, carefully taken off with extra precision by a random stranger?”

The hero wanted to smash that bottle right over their head. The only thing that stopped them was the tinge of something else in the villain's voice. Something like…jealousy?

“Aren’t you sad that no one can love you, especially not a guy who clearly doesn’t know how to please you?”

That stung.

“You‘re wrong,” the hero shivered.

“Am I?” the villain said, standing up and gulping down more of the hero’s precious drink. The hero could only stagger back in fear, their body beginning to shake.

“Or did you need to take his hands and put them on your body because he was afraid you would shatter if he dared to graze you?”

The hero backed up as much as they could, their breathing felt tight as they pressed themselves into the front door.

“Did you feel like you had to guide them everywhere, instead of having someone who just knew exactly where to put their hands on their body? Someone who knew exactly, and confidently how to make you writhe?”

The hero gulped as a heat started to envelop them.

“I-um..”

“Am I wrong that you didn’t even like him that much, you just wanted to feel cared for? Wanted?”

The villain walked over to the hero, caging their shaking body.

The villain pressed the hero into the door, still drinking from their bottle. The hero shivered at their touch and the coldness of the glass. The hero was breathing like they ran a marathon.

“Am I wrong that all you want is for someone else to touch you? Love you, that you’ll even sleep with someone you don’t even like to feel like someone would care for you even a bit?”

The hero’s eyes stung from their words and the smell of the vodka on the villain's breath.

“But-“

“That the innocent little hero of this city wants someone to please them, make them cry out and make them beg for them to stop because it's too much?”

The hero didn’t know what to say to them anymore.

“Well?” they whispered.

The villain pressed their body into them more. They caged them in with two hands beside their head, leaning over them.

The hero was in a whirlwind of emotions. They didn’t know if they felt angry, sad, hurt, lustful. They just wanted to stop chasing everyone away and to soothe the ache between their thighs.

The proximity of the villain's body, their cologne and the smell of the alcohol, their mouth was making everything feel hazy.

“Go on,” the villain whispered, their gaze going between the hero’s eyes and mouth. “Tell me I’m wrong, darling.”

They wanted to, they really did, but they couldn't get the words out of their mouth.

Because you want everything they told you...and more.

“You want a drink?”

The hero looked up at the villain's eyes. They nodded their head. They wanted to chug.

The villain didn’t move their hand so the hero went for the bottle. But before the hero could grab it, the villain moved the drink above their heads.

“Wha-“

”Open your mouth.”

The hero stared in disbelief and confusion at the villain. The villain took their hand and opened the hero’s mouth themselves. It shot a wave of shivers through the hero’s body. They held their mouth open, stroking their skin as the hero looked up at them and whined.

The villain began to gently pour the vodka down the hero’s throat.

The drink burned when it hit the back of the hero’s throat, making their eyes sting. It was cold and flooded their senses quickly, making their eyes roll.

But when the hero looked up at the villain, they felt this sense of warmth enveloping them quickly as they stared into their cold eyes. The hero gripped the villain's shirt and their one arm, clenching their thighs, as the villain smirked down. They had to know how they were making the hero feel, and how much the hero liked this and hated that they did.

The hero tapped the villain's arm for them to stop, but… they didn’t. They didn’t let go.

It started to burn their lungs.

The hero’s eyes filled with panic as the villain's smile only grew wider. The villain's hands dug more to their jaw and waist, they pressed the hero more into the wall.

No. No. Please-

The hero could only gulp down the drink more and more. They tried so hard to close their mouth but the villain was too strong. They began to panic.

It burned. It burned tears to their eyes, their throat, and their stomach. They clawed at the villain's shirt to stop but they didn't release them, they just let the rest of the bottle go down the hero’s throat. They started to gargle, trying to say please or anything, but they couldn't. They could only drink. It felt like they were drowning.

The villain didn’t let up, in fact, they kept their hand digging into the hero’s jaw as the hero tried desperately to turn their head away. The villain loved to see their hero panicking, writhing underneath them. The fear flooded their eyes as they desperately pleaded with the villain through them. The villain only pressed them further into the wall and listened to them gulp down their drink and whine like a good little hero.

The villain didn’t want to punish their hero, but they needed to after they dared to show their beautiful, amazing self to another. They were theirs and theirs only.

The hero spurted and heaved the drink up as it burned their lungs. Arms wrapped around their waist as the last cold contents of the bottle spilled over their face and hair. A little of the alcohol seeped out of their mouth, dripping down to their chest.

Their chest felt like it was on fire as they coughed more. Breathing felt like the hardest thing. They already felt the effects of the vodka seeping through their bones, making them mush.

“You made a mess of your expensive drink.” the villain snarked, slowly wiping some of the hero’s drool with their thumb.

The hero didn’t have much energy but they tried to glare, still coughing a bit. The villain reveled in it.

“Don’t worry,” the villain smiled too widely, “I'll clean it up for you.”

The hero didn’t have time to react before the villain gripped them by their hips and waist, and licked a long strip from their neck to where the vodka was seeping out of their mouth. Their hero couldn’t suppress their gasp.

The villain was thinking of doing this for too long of a time. They went absolutely insane when they found out about their little date. They were going to torture and kill them like all the others, but this time they wanted to torture their little defiant hero a bit instead. Teach them a lesson.

And the hero, the hero could only moan and whine underneath them as the villain devoured them, gripping them exactly in the way the hero wanted their date to.

[joedirtymadre]

Sandwiches - Part 2

LAW X READER! SMUT!! (Please send requests! PLEASE! 🙏)

Well you decided to play with fire and now you’re the one getting burned. At first it was fun and even a little cute to see Law get riled up whenever you flirt with him. However, you were always able to escape before he could catch you and make you reap the consequences. But something makes you feel like your lucky streak is about to come to an end.

You walked down the main streets of Wano, and found Sanji or Sangorou. “Hi (Y/N)-swan~” he cooed as he poured another bowl of soba. “Hi Sangorou,” you waved as you approached his cart. “Care for some soba?” He asked. “Not right now, I’m trying to find O-Robi. She said she would meet me here, but don't see her anywhere,” you sighed. “She’s probably a bit late, being a geisha is hard work,” Sanji explained. “You’re right, anyways I have to rush back to Luffytaro and everyone else. Tell O-Robi that I’ll stop by tomorrow!” You yelled as you ran down the street.

You decided to go down an alley for a shortcut, until you were suddenly stopped by a group of misfits. “Hi princess,” one of them said. “Just come with us and everything will be nice and easy,” another said. “She’d make a beautiful geisha,” one added. I rolled my eyes. “She’s with me, and if you wanna live I’d leave her alone,” a dark voice said behind me. Oh no… your eyes widened and slowly turned around. Oh god, he finally found me!

“Huh?! Get out of here punk! We just want her!” the leader of the group said before charging towards Law and I. I quickly hopped out of the way, to let Law deal with them. You watched as Law quickly sliced them into parts. Alright, this is my cue to… you were stopped by a firm hand on your shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going? Not even going to thank your savior?” Law smirked. “My savior? I could’ve knocked those guys out too,” you scoffed. “Sure you could,” he chuckled.

You quickly turned around to give him a piece of your mind, but was suddenly thrown against the wall of one of the buildings. “H-Hu-“ you were cut off as you felt a pair of rough lips overcome yours. You immediately felt your legs giving out, but before they could you felt an arm wrap around your body keeping you up.

Law finally pulled away, allowing you a chance to catch your breath. “What’s wrong (Y/N)-ya? Seems like you’re about to faint, let’s go somewhere more quiet,” he smirked as he teleported us to a secluded part of the forest.

You pushed out of his grip, causing you to fall back. You sat as you watched the raven haired captain loom over you, with a mischievous smile. “H-Hi Law…” you stuttered as you scooted back. “Hello, (Y/N)-ya,” he smirked as he followed me. “Leaving so soon?” He added. “W-Well, Luffy and the others are waiting for me so… I should probably get going,” you explained as you quickly stood up. As you tried to escape you felt a hand grasp your arm, pulling you back and being engulfed into a strong embrace. “Don’t worry, I told them I would meet with you because I had a small special mission for you,” he said. “Y-You do?” You asked nervously. “Mhmm… just call it payback for all those little teasings you like doing,” he whispered into your ear, causing your whole body to fill with goosebumps.

You found yourself in an abandoned shed that Law had discovered. You also found yourself naked, blindfolded and your arms tied by your ankles. Causing you to lay on your back with your privates exposed. You gasped as you felt a hand glide over your exposed skin. “L-Law!” you cried out. “What’s wrong (Y/N)-ya?” His breath hitting your skin. “No m-more teasing p-please,” you begged as you’ve gotten tired of him running his fingers or hand across your skin.

“Alright, since you asked so nicely,” he chuckled as you gasped at the sudden insertion of his fingers. “Ahhh!” You let out. Your body burned as he slowly thrusted his fingers into your pussy. “Such a wet pussy, my fingers slipped in so easily,” he said as he increased the pace. “F-Faster! Faster!” You cried. “Such a demanding tone, I don’t know if I like that,” he said as he slowed down his pace. “No! No I’m sorry, pl- please go faster?” You begged as you bucked your hips. “That’s better,” he said before increasing the speed again. “Mmm~ Law~!” You moaned. “You’re so cute (Y/N)-ya,” Law smirked. You gasped as you felt something wet swirl around your right nipple. “L-!” You threw your head back as you felt bites on your breasts.

Your head was becoming fuzzy and dizzier, making it difficult to keep up with Law’s words. “Man, your body is so fucking sexy… I’d love to show you how sexy you are every single day,” he said against my skin. “H-Hah! Mmmf!” You responded. “Can’t speak huh?” He chuckled. “Well then let’s get to the final act,” he said. You whimpered at the loss of his fingers. “La-W!” You cried out as I felt something larger replace his fingers. “Haa! Ah! Law~” you moaned as his cock stretched my walls, while hitting deep inside me.

“Fuck…” he groaned.

“Law… p-please untie me…” you begged. “Well… since you’ve been a good girl,” he groaned, and slowly untied your restraints. You quickly removed the blindfold, allowing you to see the man in front of you. “Wanted to sit in the front seat, huh?” He smirked. You blushed, and threw your arms around his neck. “Don’t stop,” you said. “Still so demanding, but I’ll allow it… this time,” he said as he continued thrusting hard and deep inside you. You trembled under him, feeling your body get warmer and warmer with each thrust. “HaaA!” You cried out as you felt him bite your shoulder. Your hands traveled to his hair and grasped it. “Fuck, fuck…” he whispered into your ear.

“L-Law~ kiss me~” you moaned. Law quickly moved his lips to yours, and with one rough thrust you gasped into the kiss. Allowing him to slip his tongue inside. You both fought each other, but Law was ultimately the winner as you were too weak from all the pleasure. His tongue explored your cavern as he continued to thrust his cock.

He slowly pulled away, “I almost forgot something,” he smirked. “Hmm?” You hummed. Then an electric shock coarsed through your body and you felt his finger glide over your clit. “L-Law?” You questioned. “I can’t be the only one who finishes,” he smirked as he rubbed your clit.

You threw your head back, “Too much! Ah!” You cried out. “God, your moans are so sexy,” he said before increasing his pace. “Law! S-Slow down! Law!” You choked out. “I’m-!” But it was too late, you felt a sudden electric shock run through your body. You felt your nails dig into Law’s back as you rode along the waves of ecstasy.

“Cumming without my permission, huh?” Law asked as he began thrusting faster. “Wait! I’m- I’m sensitive!” You let out. “Mmm, good,” he whispered in your ear. You continued to dig your nails into your back, you couldn’t control your moans as he pounded away. “Fuck…” he groaned, and did one final thrust. You felt your walls get coated as he let out a trembled sigh. “Fuck… I wanted to go a bit longer,” he said as he kissed your forehead.

“From now on you’re mine now, and don’t you forget it,” he said to you. Not realizing that you passed out from the overexertion and pleasure.

Law’s POV

“I guess I went too hard,” I said, as I cleaned her up. I picked her up, and teleported us to the submarine. “Captain!” Bepo called out as we landed. “Captain is that (Y/N) from the Straw Hats? Is she injured?” He asked as he inspected her. “No, just asleep, if you’ll excuse us we’ll be in my room,” I said as I passed him. “Your room? But we have extra bunks,” he said as he followed us. “No, I won’t have my wife sleep on a small bunk bed,” I smirked as I continued to carry her to my room. “W-Wife? When’d you get married?! When did you have the time? Aren’t we at war?!” Bepo asked, in shock. I rolled my eyes and shut the door to my door and softly placed her on my bed.

[fenricken]

You Keep Slipping From My Grasp 4/7

AO3

Ship: Spirit Halloween

first

prev

The rain fell heavily, washing the blood on the ground away as he stepped toward the woman. She was hunched over, sobbing, clutching her dead son to her chest. She glanced up at him as he approached, mouthing silent prayers.

“What happened here?” he asked, carefully ignoring the dead bodies around.

“They came… for a box my family has guarded for a long time. They killed my husband and my son, and they’ve taken my Catherine… They’ll torture her to make her speak its secrets. Please! Please, help her!”

She reached out a hand to him, imploringly. He crouched down to take it.

“I will.”

————

Danny stood before Clockwork, adjusting his new cowboy hat. Maddie and Jack stood behind Clockwork tinkering on the Fenton Omega Siphoner, and arguing over the aesthetics of the machine.

“I have already sent Dani out to help the Justice League locate Batman’s cape. Hopefully we should receive word on her success soon.” Clockwork began, “In the meantime, we do still need someone to make sure Batman doesn’t rush forward too quickly, lest he build up too much energy before we can stop him. Are you ready?”

“Always ready for bat-sitting duty. I’d hope he’s doing something  a bit calmer this time, but I suppose there’s no chance of that happening.” Danny responded, pointing to his hat.

Clockwork just gave his usual cryptic smile before opening a portal for Danny to step through.

————

“Roooooobin. Rooooooooobin.”

Tim whirled around, searching for the source of the noise.

“Oooh, new fit?” Poltergeist asked, stepping out of the shadows. “Ugly cowl, but I like the rest of it.”

Tim lowered his bo staff at her, readying himself for whatever chaotic ‘game’ she tried to rope him into this time.

“Your city’s on fire. You bats trying out some new defense mechanism or something? Like, you think no rogue would want to take over Gotham if it’s a pile of rubble and ash?” She turned in a circle, surveying the chaos Gotham was under.

“What do you want, Poltergeist?”

“Well, so like, Batman’s stuck in time, right? And-”

“How do you know that?!” Red Robin cut in. He had been struggling to convince everyone that Batman was still alive ever since he found those paintings on the walls of the Batcave. Suddenly, here was Poltergeist who seemed to know something about it, but he couldn’t trust her. She was unpredictable, and running into her could mean leaving with anything as benign yet uncomfortable as soaked socks or as irritating and hindering as being cursed to only speak dead languages for the next 3 days.

And things only got worse if she was tagging along with Klarion. Fortunately, he wasn’t in sight, so it's unlikely he was here with her.

“What do you want?”

She smiled slightly at him. “Oh! I want to get Batman back where he belongs before he dies or explodes everything.”

Explodes everything?

“I mean, Gotham’s got a grumpy quota and since you’re his mini-me I figured you’d start trying to take it on and that’d be so boring.” She raised her pointer fingers to the side of her head, imitating Batman’s cowl and adopted a nasally voice. “I don’t have time to play, Poltergeist. Gotham needs me. I have to go stalk Penguin, and then I need to go brood on my favorite gargoyle.”

“So you want to help me find Batman so that I will… be able to play with you?”

“Well, that, but also if he makes his way to the present day on his own, he’ll have built up enough of something called Omega Energy to make all of reality go ka-blooey, and I actually really like this universe. Top 10, easily.”

Tim held up his hand to stop the oncoming ramble while he compartmentalized.

First, Poltergeist knew Bruce was lost in the time stream and seemed to want to help.

Second, Bruce was making his way back to the present, and by doing so was becoming a living bomb

Third, Poltergeist is a multiversal being???

That last one can probably be ignored for now.

“If I were to let you help me find Batman, where do you suggest we start? I’ve been tracking down artifacts I think he’s left behind  to try and convince the Justice League to help us-”

“Psh. Justice League Shmustice League. My dad and my Nana and Pops are already working on it. We just need to find the cape he was sent back in time with for them. Besides, I can probably convince Wonder Woman to help us get the Justice Dorks to help out once we get the cape if we really need to.”

What.

“What?”

“My grandparents are building a thingy-thing to suck all the Omega Energy out of Batman so he’s not a bomb. My dad’s hanging out with him to keep him from dying or something, and we’re supposed to find his cape so we can safely yoink him out of the time stream.”

“I didn’t know you had parents??? What do they do while you’re here breaking things???”

Poltergeist shrugged “King things I guess. And I only have a dad.”

“King things???”

She rolled her eyes, “Anyway, Dad said he last saw Batman’s cape in the Batcave.”

“You didn’t answer my question, and I’m not taking you to the Batcave.”

Poltergeist landed on her feet, and stared at him with wide eyes. He stared back, caught in her gaze for what felt like an eternity, as he felt invisible fingers trickle up his spine. Whispers started low in his ears, building to a crescendo. It was getting too much to bear, until he broke eye contact and looked away. All of a sudden, it stopped. Tim heaved a big sigh.

“I’m… kinda fighting with the current Batman, so we’ll have to sneak in.”

She punched both arms into the air, “YES!”

Tim turned, flicking his cape and walking off, not waiting to see if she’d follow.

“Poltergeist, when this is over you are going to be answering my questions.”

He heard her blow a raspberry at his back, but kept walking.

————

He followed their trail easily enough, the rain trailing after him. As he reached his destination, men came out to fight him, readying pistols, but he made short work of them easily enough.

With his memory having returned in bits and pieces, it had been easy to fashion metal into bat shapes aerodynamic enough to hit true when thrown, and it was these he’d used to disarm the men.

These memories were useful. The ones of children with blurry faces less so, haunting him as they stayed just out of his complete grasp. A constant reminder of how lost and alone he was.

He steadily made his way to the headquarters, where he figured they were keeping Catherine. He whirled around, sensing someone approaching from behind. It was the man with white hair, again.

“Seems you’ve got this well enough in hand, but I hope you don’t mind if I’d tag along all the same.”

“Why?”

The white haired man smiled slightly. “Will you not believe that I just want to help you?”

He stared, unblinking and quiet. Memories from before had proven this a good method to get more information.

His target stared back, also quiet and unblinking. It wasn’t long before he started shifting, and not much longer before he finally spoke again. Under his breath, almost too quiet to hear, he muttered “Just like Dani, I swear…”

Louder, the man said, “I’ve not known you to be the kind of man to ever be on the wrong side of a cause. Whatever you’re up to, I just want to help.”

He squinted at the man, trying to find any evidence of a lie, but the man just appeared open and honest.

“No guns,” he says, before turning back around and leading the white haired man on towards the headquarters.

As they got closer, they noticed two men standing guard. He deployed smoke bombs to cover their approach, sneaking closer with his companion close behind. They were spotted, but the smoke did its work, scaring the two guards and allowing him and his companion to disappear from view again.

“How you gonna tell me there’s no such things as ghosts now???” One of them whimpered, apparently to his white-haired friend’s delight, as he broke out in giggles.

As the smoke continued to grow, he and his friend snuck around the two, tricking them into fighting each other.

He broke through into the offices in the back. They were unfortunately empty.

“Already gone!” He said, slamming a hand on the desk. His companion stood at the window.

“Not long though, look!”

When he spotted their carriage speeding away through the window, he knew he had to act quickly. He launched himself out of the window, and onto the tarp covering the wagon.

An explosion sounded behind him, but he focused on the task ahead of him. His friend always seemed to find his way back, so he’d have to trust he’d do it again.

The ensuing fight was nothing pretty, little more than mad scrambling as he fought to hold his balance, dodge bullets, and wrestle the men actually in the cart so he could get away with the Catherine and her family’s box.

Looking ahead, he saw they were quickly approaching the dock, and a man who was walking down it. Thinking quickly, he swung his body-weight around, tipping the wagon over and sending everyone sprawling. 

The man who had been at the dock had acted quickly, grabbing the young woman and holding her protectively behind him. He stood up, adding to the obstacles that stood protecting Catherine from her kidnappers. Only 3 men remained. From the snippets he heard as two of them fought, he figures the two fighting must’ve been the masterminds behind the plot and the third still in the distance was a gun-for-hire. Taking out his weapons of choice, he quickly dispatched the two men.

Catherine tugged on his cloak. He turned to face her, seeing that she had opened up the box, and was showing him what was inside.

It was Jack Valor’s journal.

He wanted to reach out–to see what Jack had added since they parted, but the gun-for-hire had caught up to them by then.

“My employers may have been dealt with, but I still have a reputation to uphold. Draw.”

He stood up straight, reaching for more of his weapon of choice. Over the shoulder of the gun-for-hire, he saw another man approaching quickly, white-haired. His friend.

A loud bang echoed, and he felt pain in his side. He stumbled, too close to the edge of the dock, and as he fell over he heard one last cry of ‘BAT–’.

And everything went dark.

————

Shit.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

As if Batman stumbling towards the present through who-knows-when wasn’t bad enough, now he’s SHOT???

Danny quickly ripped a portal back to Clockwork’s lair.

“Please tell me you’ve almost got the machine ready.” Danny said after confirming his parents were in the room.

“Almost! Just one problem, sweetie…” His mom said, looking over at her husband so he’d finish.

“Batman needs to die. Or at least be very close to death!” Jack said, ending with a laugh.

“Basically, we can get this machine to suck out the Omega Energy, but it’s tightly bonded with Batman’s life energy, so it’s extremely risky unless we can find a way to diminish his life energy.”

Danny groaned, putting his face in his hands. “It’s just one thing after another! He’s just been shot. Would that bring him close enough?”

His dad tilted his head back and forth, considering. “Likely not, unless he was in a pretty bad way. In any case, we asked Sam and Tucker to take a look into it!”

“We’ve already found something, actually.” Sam said, having entered the room. Tucker followed behind her.

“There’s an herb that I was able to locate, which should slow his heart down to extreme levels, to the point his heartbeat would be pretty undetectable. Only problem is that his heart would have to be jump-started afterward by a great shock.”

“Clockwork let me take a closer look at his monitors into Batman’s original time and place, and I was able to determine that they have defibrillator technology that can administer an electrical shock needed to get his heart pumping again, as well as adrenaline injections in case we’d need the extra boost.” Tucker continued.

Maddie clapped her hands together. “Excellent! If we can get the Justice League to set up the anchor point on the Watchtower, we can pull Batman to that point and perform everything there! It’d probably work best to do it in his original time as well, to avoid any potential effects that could crop up from being in the wrong time when we remove the Omega Energy and try to stabilize his system.”

“Great, some good news.” Danny said, tension leaving his body. He turned to Clockwork, who had been quiet thus far. “How’s Dani’s work coming along? Will we be ready to proceed soon?”

“Dani and Red Robin have recovered Batman’s cape, and have moved it to the Watchtower. I believe Dani was able to recruit Wonder Woman’s help into getting the rest of the Justice League in line to receive Batman.”

 ————

“Red Robin! Did you seriously bring Poltergeist into the cave??? What were you thinking?”

Before Tim could reply, Poltergeist raised a hand to point at Dick-as-Batman.

“AAH! It’s the cops! Run!”

Poltergeist placed her hand on Tim’s shoulder, pulling him and the cape through the ceiling of the batcave and up in the open air of Gotham. As Tim caught sight of Wayne Manor his head whipped towards Poltergeist, hoping she wouldn’t make any connections.

She was staring at him, lips pressed together, looking a bit like a frog.

He was quiet, waiting for her to say something.

She blew a breath of air out, letting her lips buzz.

“Listen, you keep my secret, and I won’t tell anyone Batman’s secret id is some rich fruitloop.”

“...What secret?”

She pivoted them somewhere Southeast.

“That sometimes I can be responsible. Let’s go see Wonder Woman.”

AN:

It's definitely been longer than I had planned since the last update, rip.

Not going to lie, this is like my second ever fic and I definitely thought it'd be a bit easier to get back into the habit of writing. Thought I was making it easier on my self by strongly sticking to the plot of an existing story, but I think that's been an obstacle in and of itself.

Always a little worried that the language is a bit stuffy or things aren't being clear.