#aren't they supposed to be siblings too

[lord-of-tomatoes]

Some other faves that i don't draw much if at all

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Tonight

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

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

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How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

[claitea]

a little personal project i'm slowly chipping away at, thought it would be fun to make it into a chart that i add a doodle to every time i finish a new character so i can track how i'm going with it!

by project i just mean i want an oc of each type. i'm not making a game or anything the positions listed are purely for fun HDJBFJFKE

[dinosrawr]

To the poor friends that have watched me deteriorate a bit in the tags this month: I think I know what enhanced the pain so much this year. And now that I (think) I know, I'll be more capable of dealing with it. On my own, I mean. And not at 4am in Tumblr tags because I need to scream into the void.

[alexiroflife]

Hello! May I request an angsty toji fic where reader finds out she's pregnant (post megumi) and she knows toji doesn't want anymore children so she just kinda leaves with little to no explanation? Maybe just a small note saying things aren't working out. It's up to you if it will be a hurt/comfort. Idk you don't have to do this request I don't want to overload you! I seriously love your writing. The way you right the character just warms my heart. I especially love ur hiding an Injury fic it was SO SO SO GOOD. 🩶🤍🖤

“promise”

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: see above

to sum it up: you think it’s better to run away than to be the one to get hurt

WC: 5,668

Warning(s): angst, suggestive themes, yelling, pregnancy, mentions of abortion

You stare down at the plastic tube clutched in your trembling hands in awe, eyes blown with shocked grief as you peer closer to get a better look, as though those two bright pink lines could have been a trick of your vision.

Unfortunately, however, your vision remains just as crystal clear as it always has been. As you stand in your cramped apartment bathroom, illuminated by a flickering fluorescent gaze shining down from above, horror befalls you.

You’re pregnant.

You should have known sooner when you began feeling queasy every morning, taking trips to either your or Toji’s toilet to hurl out the contents of whatever swam inside your stomach. You always tried to be silent if Toji was around, for he slept like a dog that could not be woken even if a meteor struck earth, and you had been remarkably exhausted. You aren’t even sure if there is a word to describe how sluggish your entire mind and body had been feeling, but you wanted to rule out the very obvious answer to your problems before exploring it.

You begin to panic, your heart pounding in your ears and throat and every inch of your body you could feel the pulse, eyes blurry over the positive test. You’re conflicted. You don’t know how to feel. On the one hand, you would have been jumping for joy to learn that you are starting a new life with your boyfriend, to step into a new chapter of your lives and to provide his children with another sibling.

But hell, the celebration is far too naive and implausible to be had. The sage eyed man has told you time and time again that he does not wish to have anymore kids, that the ones he has are enough and he is not equipped financially or mentally to care for another brat. In honor of those wishes, you’re on the pill, and consequently, Toji has taken the opportunity to plow his load inside of you time after time after time.

And you really, truly should have known that with Toji’s uniquely abled body, what was meant to serve as a barrier and a means of contraception did not work.

You feel like throwing up. What would Toji say? What would he do? What are you supposed to do? Should you tell him, fill him in on what’s going on to risk rejection and abandonment, a nasty habit that Toji had to work to rid himself of when he met you? Would he even care? Would he listen?

You know Toji to be a very tough man, despite the softened interior he attempts to hide in others’ company that is only displayed for you and for his kids. If he has always been adamant about one thing, it’s been to never have kids again, to focus on where he fucked up before and to pour his attention into the little family he’s grown, the one that he has now.

His voice echoes through your head like the gong of a church bell striking upon the ear’s of a sinner.

“Hell, I already got my hands full tryna get Megumi through his teenage years. What the hell is another child gonna do for us?”

“That shit’s fuckin’ expensive. Not to mention, I’d have to baby proof the house again. That’s another expense.”

“If I was capable of givin’ you y’er own, I would, doll. But I ain’t cut out for it. You know that.”

You don’t even know why he would stress the matter so often. You suppose he’s caught the way your eyes linger on a mother tossing their giggling baby up and down into the air, innocent pools of joy beaming down at her each time it reaches the air and lands in her secure hold. Or maybe he’s seen the way you care so deeply for Toji’s kids as though they are your own, despite telling you when you first got involved with each other that he did not expect you to step into their lives in anyway - and yet, you have done that and more. You know how the kids must struggle each day with the trauma of losing their mother so early on, and you never wanted them to think that you were trying to step in as her replacement, but you love them so clearly, as much as you love the man who created them.

Which leads you to your next concern. How would the kids react?

It’s one thing for you, as their father’s girlfriend, to wander into their lives and help navigate them their teenage hood alongside the dark haired man, but to introduce an entire other child only leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

They may be crushed. They me turn to hate you, to despise how you have contaminated the life they have worked so hard to rebuild after numerous tragedies. And would Toji agree with them? Would he turn his nose up to you, that scowl of his melting over his harsh features as he shuns you just as he shunned every other woman who came after his wife and before you. Would he leave you? Would he kick you out of the world that has become your own because you failed to live up to your promise, though it technically isn’t your fault that you are pregnant now but it feels as though it is?

You can not stand the thought, of the man you love turning his once loving gaze stone upon the sight of you, of him pushing you further away, permanently, in the same manner that he tried to when he realized that he was falling in love with you, of watching Megumi and Tsumiki turn their backs to you as though the past four years of your lives had never happened, banning you from their acceptance forever more.

Tears well in your gaze, interfering with your vision. This can not be happening, you think to yourself, everything has been going so well, and now this? This is going to ruin your relationship with Toji for good. Even if you were not in a committed relationship with him, you assume that the idea of any woman getting impregnated by Toji would have been thrown away. You would be thrown away, just like all the others who gave Toji their bodies but not their hearts.

Not the way you have.

Your heart clenches thinking of just how much you love Toji and the kids, of how you would be willing to lay down your own life for the sake of them as Toji swears that he would for you all in return. Even so, despite the commitment to you that a man who swore never to be committed to accustomed, this would be going too far.

…You’re not even sure if he would love you anymore.

Now that you’re pregnant with his child, a child he never meant to have with you, you assume you will mean nothing to him any longer. In his eyes, you will simply become the slut that he took a chance on by a whim, carrying something he would never call his own. You believe the old Toji will resurface, the one who claimed not to care, the one who shoved women out of his bedroom before the sun rose in the sky, the one who often failed to remember to pick his kids up from school, the one who would no longer meet you at eye level but look down upon you, frown upon you for being so clumsy.

You know Toji is the one who did this, but this still feels like it is your doing. Like somehow, you trapped him and he now has no choice but to break free from the steel cage you have barred around him with your conception.

Your fingers clutch over the plastic, your eyes scrunching closed to release a fresh set of tears that cascade over your cheeks and onto the test. You can feel yourself mourning your relationship already, you can feel it slipping through your fingers, see it fading in the distance until it becomes nothing but a bittersweet memory that you can not determine as reality or a figment of your imagination any longer.

You tilt your head, bringing the test to your forehead as you think, grieve, cry. You mull over your options; you could hide this from Toji, get an abortion and never think of it again or you could tell Toji and lose him forever.

You open your bleary eyes, lashes decked with dewy tears, as another idea dawns upon you. You could leave, leave before Toji and the kids have a chance to leave you.

It’s a cruel thought, you think, especially abandoning those children without any proper explanation for them, but what else are you meant to do? You’d be doing them all a favor if anything by taking your leave without them having to be plagued by the knowledge of your unplanned pregnancy, of what they may view as a scheme to destroy their family in your new baby’s wake.

The thought kills you to even entertain. You had promised those kids that you weren’t going anywhere, that you’d stay with them for as long as they allowed you… but this is different. This is not what any of you had in your cards, how you believed your futures to go. Toji wants simplicity at home while he works through chaos through his occupation. He wants security, warmth, safety for you, Megumi, Tsumiki, and no one else. He would never welcome another child. You believe he’d be caught dead before approving of your pregnancy.

And therefore, you know what you have to do.

After taking a few more tests to ensure that the readings are accurate, which they are, you pledge to walk away. You pledge to leave the only man you’ve ever truly loved, the strongest family you’ve known, and the slim possibility that despite Toji’s wishes, he may accept you.

But you don’t want to take that chance and risk the humiliation and unplanned heartbreak. You’d much rather take matters into your own hands, and plan the shattering of your soul yourself.

You don’t sleep all night, for you’re too busy drafting about twenty different letters to Toji. Crumpled loosleaf paper litters the floor beside your bed as you try to think of how to best write down everything you want to say. You go through pages and pages until you are finally satisfied with the result, and the next morning, you slip the envelope into his mail slot and prepare to pack your life away.

It is late Sunday morning when Toji rises from his slumber. The first thing he does is lean over the sheets and drape his arm toward his nightstand to read your daily good morning text - only he finds there isn’t one. With pinched brows, he takes his phone to unlock it and visit your contact. Nothing.

The time reads 12:35 pm. Normally, you’re up and at it or even banging down his door by then to wake him. Maybe you’re just sleeping in?

He goes to give your cell a call, but nothing. Not only that, but your phone is also on do not disturb mode. His gut immediately swells with the suspicion that something is wrong. The dark haired assassin supposes he’s going to pay you a visit this afternoon as soon as he checks on the kids to ensure that they are alright.

His bedroom door opens with a creak, and he calls out to the teens gruffly through a yawn. When they don’t respond, he’s truly growing concerned.

He rounds the corner to prepare to head for their rooms when he finds Tsumiki and Megumi at the dining table. His brows furrow, his pace slowing as he takes in their faces. Tsumiki’s lips are pressed together tightly and the muscles in her face are scrunched as though she is about to cry, while Megumi stares ahead with empty eyes and a hardened exterior.

Toji frowns with quirked brows, approaching his kids. “What’s wrong with you two?”

His brunette daughter looks up at him with glassy eyes and wrinkled chin, lashes fluttering while Megumi does not bother to look at his father. Instead, he brings Toji’s attention to a torn envelope and a thick packet of papers pressed beneath the sixteen year old’s palm. Wordlessly, Megumi slides it toward him, brows slanting.

Toji, perplexed, looks between the papers and his children’s troubled faces. What is this letter? Overdue taxes? An eviction notice? That can’t be possible, because you had ensured that Toji and the kids’ place was secure long ago.

He crunches the papers in his hands and picks them up to read. The first thing that catches his eye is your scribbling handwriting, and the following words that send his heart plummeting to his ass:

This isn’t working out.

Toji whips his head up, baffled, and when he meets Megumi’s gaze again, his eyes are ablaze with resentment.

“What the hell did you do?” he growls.

The green eyed man is not even thinking before he’s dialing Shiu’s number, asking him to watch the kids for the next hour or so, and running out of the apartment after throwing rather unconvincing words of assurance over his shoulder to his kids, who are still with disbelief - Tsumiki with devastation and Megumi with rage, for surely his father pushed you away.

Toji does not bother finding a ride, electing to run to your place which is only a few blocks away. You two were just discussing moving in with one another, combining households, and this is what you spring onto him? Not even for him to stumble across first, but his kids who look up to you and love you like their own mother?

Oh, he’s fuming, a rush of emotions taking over his mind as it fuels his speed. The letter you wrote is still crunched in his fist, whipping through the air as he makes his way to you.

Dear Toji,

This is not working out.

But before you rampage and get angry with me, please let me explain. Let me explain how much I love you, how much those kids mean to me, and how every day I wake up I want to be greeted by all of your smiling faces. For the rest of time, forever. You are undoubtedly the only man for me, and I truly believe that. I know you may think I’m bullshitting because of how the beginning of this letter contradicts what im saying now, but it’s true. I have never loved another person the way I love you, and while it scared me at first when you were so stubborn and full of anger that you misdirected onto me, I stayed and I waited and I helped you and I’ve loved you through every single moment, ever week, every month, and every year. You brought purpose back into my life, and I can picture you scoffing because you’d say the same, but I mean it. You, Tsumiki, and Megumi are the best things that have ever happened to me. I love you all so much.

But in this case, that love is not enough.

I hate to be doing this to you, to the kids, but I have no other choice. Things aren’t going the way they used to, and it’s not your fault but mine. I’m the reason. And it is tearing me apart to know that and simultaneously know what I have to do in order to keep you and the kids happy. Stable. I wish I could explain to you more why I am doing this, but I can’t. Not just because I am dying to picture you reading this, but because I truly can not say. I do not want to ruin you guys’ image of me. While I think that’s a selfish thing to say because who knows how me leaving is going to hurt you all, you would not understand even if you knew the reason behind this.

By the time you are done reading this, I will be gone. I’m going away because as long as I am not with you all, I can’t stay here anymore. I am staying with my mother while I get my travel plans arranged, because I know how you worry when you do not know where I am or if im safe. I should be gone by Friday.

Please do not come see me. I have made my decision, and you will only be hurting us more by trying to stop me. I won’t be stopped.

Kiss and hug and apologize to Megumi and Tsumiki for me. I hope you find someone who fills the role of their mother, someone who knows how Megumi likes to do his homework in the silence of his room with no music or anything, completely isolated so he can focus. Someone who knows how to fix Tsumiki’s eggs properly - to add extra butter to the sides when you fry them so the edges get crispier. Someone who won’t try to feed Gumi’a demidogs because he hates when people assume they can coddle up to them upon first introduction. Someone who cares for the wholly the way I do and always will.

And you. I know how stubborn you are. I know how angry you probably are at me right now, and I will miss that about you, but please do not let that interfere with the possibility of falling in love again. Beneath the layers of grit, standoffishness, and indifference, you are a man with a big heart. For me. For your kids. For those you love and seek to protect.

You say you aren’t a good man, and while that may be true to you, you are an amazing partner and you’ve already become an amazing parent. I’ve seen you grow, and I am so in love with you and so proud of you. I know you’ll be okay without me. It maybe take some time, but you’ll adjust to what’s best. I promise.

With all the love that could possibly be harbored in this world, you are everything to me and that is why I have to go. I wish you every happiness this planet can offer you, and I know that without me, you can begin to find joy again.

Love,

Your doll

You had believed to time this perfectly, for you know that Toji usually does not wake until one, so soon as you are finishing up packing, you are trudging down the stairs to the leasing office to inform them that you will be moving.

You push open the door to the first floor, the breeze hitting you gently, and you round the corner only to be blocked by the last person you wanted to run into during this time.

Your eyes widen as you look up, the burly figure you have grown oh so familiar with over the years heaving as though enraged, ivy eyes crowding over slim pupils as Toji glares down at you, an image of indescribable fury.

Your heart drops and your words die in your throat. “T-Toji?” you whisper, horrified of an outburst. You are rattled by fear, having been so unprepared to walk into this. You did not put it past him to chase you down. But you figured that you’d be at your parents by the time he woke. Then, you could have at least told them to tell him off at the door.

But no. Instead, here he is, six feet and then some of bulking mass as he takes quick, deep breaths that expand the entirety of his chest.

You shift. “What are you doing here-“

“What the fuck is this?”

Toji swiftly, yet aggressively, lifts the papers in his hands, now damaged by his travels and his grip, shaking it firmly with the question. You gulp, lowering your eyes.

“Toji, I told you not to come…”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he swears firmly, and you jump, looking to see if anyone is around to hear you, as the two of you are standing outside your complex.

“We shouldn’t be- let’s just go inside,” you go to grab his arm, but he tears it away. He stares at you as though you have burned him, singed the heart in his chest from the inside out, and he is so unforgiving. So unforgiving before he hears directly from your mouth what this is about.

“I’m not doin’ shit until you tell me what the fuck this is, (Y/n),” he demands, his hand moving the papers about passionately with his speech, and you feel your heart hammering again. This is not how things were supposed to go. You are not supposed to be seeing him right now. “Cause I refuse- I fuckin’ refuse to believe that you’re breaking up with me.”

Your eyes gloss over as you look down at your feet, unsure of what to do or how to handle this confrontation. You can’t do this. You can’t, it’s too much. It’s too hard.

“…I am,” you mumble.

Toji steps forward, leaning down to get a peek of your face, his expression so angry that it worries you. “What?”

“I said… I am.”

“Uh uh, you better say that shit with your chest if you can write a whole damn letter about it,” he growls, fucking further as you continue to turn away. “Look at me,” he barks, and you cringe.

“Toji, don’t yell at me!” you shout back.

“What else do’ya want me to do, huh?” he throws his hands up. “How else do you expect me to react to this bullshit?! You’re leavin’ me? After everythin’ we been through, after everythin’ you and the kids’ve been through, you’re leavin? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

He takes a swift glance at the papers, the very sight sending him into a spiral, before he’s heatedly looking back down at you.

“I don’t buy this shit for one second. No. You’re not leavin’. Not in this world, or the next.”

“I am, Toji, the quicker you accept that, the easier it’ll be for everyone!”

“Easy?” he winces as though the prospect pains him. “You call this shit easy? You call up and tryin’ to abandon me easy? You call the kids waking up to your letter and reading it at the table before I saw it easy?”

Your face falls. “…what?”

“Yeah. You fuckin’ heard me,” he sneers. “Megumi and Tsumiki read this shit first. First thing in the morning, they see a letter about how the woman they love is leavin’ ‘em, just like their mom did, and for what?”

You close your eyes, his words stinging you as they cut through. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true, ain’t it? Y’er leavin’ us, (Y/n), and you didn’t even have the decency to say why!”

Guilt crowds you, like a blanket of darkness consuming you from overhead, and as Toji stands before you completely torn apart by your letter, you see the fear in his eyes, the sadness, the unspoken plea for you not to go.

You try your best to keep your composure as you turn away again. “I told you, I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck that,” he lifts the letter and tosses it to the ground with a thud. You gasp, watching it slam to the concrete pavement.

“Toji!” you exclaim.

“You think you can just leave without me comin’ to hunt you down and see your face so I can figure out what the hell is goin’ on? You must not know me at all.”

“Why do you always have to be so aggressive about everything?!”

“Of all fuckin’ things, (Y/n), I think I got a right to be aggressive about this. You were gonna leave without sayin’ goodbye!” he tosses his arm out to the side with the exclamation, brows twisting and teeth bearing. “Is that what our relationship means t’ya? You think you can just toss us aside?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” you beg, a lump forming in your throat as the two of you stand face to face, arguing without a car about who will see you.

“Then tell me,” he shouts. “Cause you’re not givin’ me shit to go off of!”

“I told you already, I can’t,” your lips quiver.

“Then our relationship is nothing to you.”

“No, Toji.”

“Clearly it ain’t, cause I’d think it’d be worth an explanation if you’re runnin’ away!” you frown and shake your head, turning to walk back into the complex when Toji cuts you off, moving in your way. “You don’t think I know you? You don’t think I see it all over your face that somethin’s got you scared, and y’re takin’ off because of it? You think I don’t know what that looks like, (Y/n)? I did that shit. I did it all the damn time before I met you, and hell, I tried to run then but you wouldn’t let me, so what the hell makes you think I’m gonna let you now?”

“This is different,” you say shortly, afraid to reveal the tremble of your voice to the man before you. You keep your gaze down as you try to go around him again, but to no avail. He steps in your path. “Stop!”

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he says gravely, keeping his eyes to yours though you try to avoid contact with them. “Not until you spit it out. I’ll be damned if I got another broken home cause y’re fuckin’ scared.”

“I said stop!” you try to find some bass in your voice, but against your will, it falters when you yell. Toji eyes you carefully, reaching his hand out to grip your shoulder and steady you into place.

You scoff, attempting to pull away, but it’s no use. The dark haired man is everywhere, keeping you from walking away.

“You talk to me like the grown ass woman you are,” he tells you sternly, stepping in. “You use that voice I know you have, and don’t you ever let me catch you writin’ a letter to me about how you wanna break up instead of comin’ to talk to me. Y’understand?”

You exhale shakily, lips pressing together and brows curling. “I can’t.”

“Y’re still not tellin’ me why you think that.”

“Because I can’t, Toji. I can’t tell you. It’ll- it’ll fuck up everything!” you break, and Toji feels the pit in his stomach shift as he looks over your aggrieved expression, depicting the same exact things he feels.

“(Y/n),” he calls your name firmly, the sound of it on his tongue only inspiring the urge to cry more. You continue to shake your head though Toji isn’t exactly speaking, and his green eyes wander you with frustrated concern. “Y’scared of what I’ll do if you tell me?”

You freeze, slowly peeling your eyes to look at his, his face tense with grief. You stare at him for a moment, mouth gaping like a fish as all of your insecurities that talked you toward this ledge run through your mind once more.

“Don’t look surprised,” he says. “I know you like the back of my hand, and I know that you knew I’d be over here to stop ya.”

Your frown deepens, and this time as you look at him, you see every second of your future that you were quick to stomp dow. You see the unbridled, unfiltered love he holds for you as well as the blood curdling fear of letting you go.

“You have to understand,” you whimper. “I know how you’ll react, I- I can’t do this to you. You have to let me go.”

“What the hell could be so horrifyin’ in that head of yours to make you think that I won’t stick with ya through hell and high water?” he grits out, searching your swollen hues of (e/c) hesitation. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I know, but-“

“There’s nothin’ else to say. I ain’t leavin’ until you spill, and when you do, y’re comin’ with me.”

You look at him, pained. It’s a trap, you think. If Toji only knew, he’d be running for the hills instead of trying to track you down.

“Out with it, now.”

You can’t. You can’t tell him. He’ll leave you, he’ll reject you, he’ll turn you away, he’ll never let you see the kids again.

“(Y/n)!”

“I’m pregnant!”

The earth seems to freeze and time seems to slow. You scrunch your eyes, anticipating the worst to come as Toji takes in your words, his tensed expression melting slowly.

You don’t open your eyes to see his reaction. You keep your head ducked and your fists closed as the white noise of nature flutters into relevance. You’re trembling, terrified, and Toji can not move but instead proceeds to stare at you, stunned.

His words about not wanting any more kids run through your mind again as you await his response, and the suspense kills you as you do. You can feel his grip on your shoulder slacken before tightening again, and you are terrified.

He’s going to leave you.

You are quick to step away when the sentiment arises once more, Toji’s hand falling from you arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, still unable to look at him. “I’m sorry, I know that you don’t want any more kids. I know, an I thought we were being careful, but- I took five tests. They’re all positive.”

“You’re pregnant?” he echoes, and you still. You knew it. You knew this would happen.

“I told you, Toji,” you exhale. “I told you that I couldn’t tell you, and now everything’s a mess.”

He twitches. “Hold on-“

“Don’t tell me all of a sudden you want kids,” you snap. “I know how strongly you feel about it.”

“So instead of talkin’ to me, you were gonna leave? Knocked up? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What other choice do I have?!” you cry. “You don’t want more kids, and if I kept it, it would only be a nuisance to you. And Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He scrunches his face. “What about ‘em?”

“How do you think they’d feel if the woman you’re dating after their mother died surprised them with a new baby? They’d be crushed!” you say shakily as salty tears well in your eyes again. “I can’t overstep your boundaries. I just can’t. It’s easier for me to go.”

“And do what, (Y/n)? Raise a kid on your own without any help?”

“I can’t bare you leaving me!” you suddenly confess, tear striking past your cheek.

Toji examines you and frowns. “What are y’talkin’ about? You’re tryin’ to leave me!”

“So I can prevent the inevitable from happening,” you huff. “I’m okay with it. I’ve made peace with everything. That’s why you need to just let me go-“

“After everythin’, you think I’d throw you away because you’re pregnant with my kid?” Toji says incredulously. You falter, for you had been so sure of his reaction before. “You think that low of me?”

“No, but I want you to have what you want.”

“What I want is you, you fuckin’ idiot,” he hisses. “All I ever wanted was you, and I can’t fuckin’ believe you’re tryin’ to take that away from me.”

You furrow your brows, confused. “…You’re not mad?”

“Girl, I’m livid,” he scowls. “Not about the damn kid, but because you assumed what I would say before comin’ to me.”

“Toji, you have to understand that I was trying to look out for you.”

“There’s not lookin’ out for me or those kids or makin’ them happy if you’re gone, (Y/n),” he bites. “Who th’fuck put that idea in your head?”

You stammer, tears proceeding to flow down your face as you reel in the reality of the situation. “I… I just thought-“

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

Before you can respond, his hand is gripping your wrist and he’s tugging you toward him into his chest. You shake when you fall into him, listening to the pace of his heart rapidly beating against your ear as he breaths quickly against you. Large palms smooth over your head and down to your waist as he holds you tightly, and you notice how desperate his grip is. He’s holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, as though you’ll fly away if his hold is not tight enough.

He tucks his head into your neck, fingers grasping into your shirt, and suddenly the animosity of the moment prior is gone. You’re still trembling, leading Toji to hold you tighter to him.

“Can’t believe you tried to leave,” he murmurs into your hair. “Christ, (Y/n) you’re tryin’ to gimme a heart attack. The fuck is goin’ on with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, looking off sadly. “I thought you’d be upset about it. I didn’t want you to know.”

“I should know about any and every single thing that’s goin’ on with you, y’hear me? This ain’t no exception.”

A weight flutters from your shoulders as you sink into Toji’s head, silent tears streaming for the life you almost sacrificed. “What are we gonna do?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “But we’ll figure it out. As a team. Alright?”

You nod meekly. “Okay.”

He groans, pressing himself impossibly further to you. “That letter… fuck, don’t do that shit. Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that. Without you, I ain’t shit- pregnant or not. And those kids would adore another sibling if you were bringing it into this world. Don’t say that shit about them again either. They need ya. We need ya.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine again, Toji’s hand stroking over your back soothingly.

“It’s okay,” he grumbles. “We’ll figure it out.”

[mochinomnoms]

say you can't sleep, baby, I know

NSFW!Trey x Reader

Synopsis

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You're trying to rile him up, right? He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. Trey used to pride himself on his levelheadedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece. “Happy Birthday Trey~”

[wc} - 5,258

[cw/tags] - afab!gn!reader (im sorry folks it's all i know how to write still), NRC is a university in this, domesticity kink, birthday sex, breeding kink (sue me), oral (giving & receiving), trey can be a little mean as a treat

[notes] - i apologize for the person i've become after seeing trey's new b-day card. it does things to me and this is 100% self-indulgent for me. also, tried to use very neutral descriptors for reader so tell me how that went and if it reads well! lastly, the outfit the reader wears is based on sabrina carpenter's outfits from her short n' sweet tour, specifically the baby doll one!

Written while listening to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter, I recommend listening to it while reading :)

Let’s consider exactly the type of person Trey is.

Ever since he’s started school at NRC, he’s always taken a bit of a parental role in Heartslabyul, even before he became vice housewarden. Even Cater would joke about it when they first became friends:

“You’re, like, a total big bro! O-M-G, no! You’re like a dad friend! I’m totes willing to bet that the incoming freshmen are gonna slip up! Call you Dad or something!”

Evidently, when Riddle came into the picture and Trey was appointed his vice, Cater was proven right. He didn’t mind it too much, despite what others might think. 

He liked the familiarity of it, being the oldest at home, it translated well into his position at Heartslabyul, and it came with the added bonus of being able to minimize any chaos that arose. 

That was his main goal, especially with Riddle’s temper during his freshman and at the beginning of his sophomore year. Honestly, he had phenomenal conflict resolution skills, and he just wanted to make his life as easy as possible. 

Everyone at this school liked to make that difficult, though, especially the freshmen of this year.

“Oh fu—I mean sh—dam—fuc—shi—FIDDLESTICKS!”

“Dude, just say fuck, why you gotta say the corniest shit—OW—Treyyy! Deuce hit me!”

Deuce had a guilty look on his face as Trey looked up from his notebook to raise a brow at the two.

“W-well, Ace cussed, so he has to put money in the swear jar!”

“Aw what! Come on Trey!” Ace whined, shoving Deuce’s face to the side as the latter grunted and started pulling at his cheeks and arm. “Riddle’s not here, he’ll never know, so I don’t gotta! Don’t make me!”

Trey simply smirked and gestured to the jar on the fireplace mantle, helpfully available to everyone in the lounge. 

“You know the rules, bud, two thaurmarks for the f-bomb and a .50 cent for the other.”

Ace tossed his head back and groaned, begrudgingly dragging himself over to the jar as he dug around his pocket for change.

“Don’t be rude to your father, Ace.” A few giggles and snorts vibrated amongst the small group studying in the lounge as you wagged a finger at Ace, Grim squinting angrily at the book in your lap. 

Your lips quivered as you hid a laugh, jokingly chastising the ginger. 

“No need to be a brat.”

Trey had to withhold a snort at that comment, rich coming from you. He knew better than anyone that you could be as much of a brat as you were another parental figure.

“Oh ha-ha, very funny, Prefect. What, does that make you, Mom or Dad 2?” Ace stuck his tongue out at you as you grinned and focused back on Grim. 

“Okay Grimmy, so remember, what alchemy recipes need mandrake root?”

Watching from the corner of his eye, Trey watched fondly as you murmured soft words to Grim. It reminded him of his Mom talking to his siblings after a nightmare, or of his Dad after one of them would get hurt in the kitchen. 

Soft, soothing, parental. You’d make an excellent parent one day. 

Trey felt himself get warm at the thought, adjusting himself in his seat and looking back at his musicology notes. He couldn’t sing very well, but he can memorize notes, and that’s what the upcoming exam was focused on. 

That’s what he needed to focus on, not the way you cradled Grim against you like a parent with their child. Focus on his alchemy flashcards, and not the way you cleaned up the mess on the table so you could bring everyone a tray of snacks he’d prepared earlier that day. Focus on the history textbook in front of him, and not the way you cleaned up the lounge as it got later and later.

It wasn’t fair. It was so unfair how well you fell into the role. Cleaning and humming, one of his spare aprons on you as you wiped down the tables of crumbs and stacked a pile of dishes. It was unfair how sweetly you murmured to the few remaining students, and told them to go to bed and rest up. 

They obliged, probably half asleep at this rate, since it was an hour until midnight. Ace and Deuce had retired a while ago, the latter leaning on the former as they haphazardly stumbled to their room. 

Riddle had dropped by after his housewarden meeting, satisfied by the study group, but ultimately stuck to his very strict evening routine. 

Now it was just you two. Even Grim had been tugged along with Ace and Deuce earlier, not unlike a rag doll slung over their shoulders. 

“Trey? Honey, when are you going to sleep? It’s almost midnight.” His eyes fluttered tiredly as he felt your hands slide over his shoulders and a kiss pressed against his temple.

He felt warm again, heat pooling in his belly. You were so unfair. 

“You should go to bed soon, come on, I’ll take care of you.”

He can think of a few ways you could ‘take care’ of him. 

“It’s fine, why don’t you get Grim and head back to Ramshackle? Curfew is in 30 minutes, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing into his ear, making a tingle go down his spine.

“Okay, but please go to bed soon? I left you a little birthday surprise in your bedroom~”

Trey perked up at that, eyeing your mischievous grin as you waved your fingers goodbye, going down the hallway to the dorms to grab Grim.

To be honest, he’d forgotten that his birthday was tomorrow, he’d been so focused on his midterms that it just slipped his mind. Well, he can’t say he’s not excited to see what you got him, especially since you’d been not too subtly probing him for preferences.

He groaned, running his hands over his face and sighing, heavy and exhausted.

“Ugh, just a bit more and I’ll retire for the night.” Trey reassured himself, eyes straining as he looked between the books in front of him. 

The words on the papers blurred after a bit, the sound of the grandclock lulling him further into sleep, his head nodding off until a ping from his phone started him awake.

It was Cater, his Magicam user popping up on his screen. 

cay-cay_diamond: hbd trey!! 🥳🎉🎉🎉grats on being an old man now!

Blinking at the clock, Trey realized that it was now a few minutes past midnight, so it was technically his birthday. He’s lucky that Riddle followed his own sleep schedule so rigorously, or else he’d be getting a scolding for breaking curfew.

luckyclover: Old? I’m only like 4 months older than you cay-cay_diamond: yeah. old. cay-cay_diamond: anyways! enjoy the gift in ur room!!! i helped (name) pick out the wrapping 😘😘😘

Trey hummed, a small smile on his face as he imagined the two of you bickering over wrapping paper and messily wrapping up a box with a bow. You did seem very excited for him to find it earlier, maybe you two picked something out together. 

He was curious on what exactly you got him and why you hadn’t waited to give it to him at his actual birthday party. And why did you need Cater to help you…you’d always shoo him away when he’d tried helping you with gifts for other’s birthdays. 

Stacking his books into his left hand and walking towards the junior dorm rooms, Trey looked at his phone as it pinged again. 

cay-cay_diamond: on that topic thooo…u should rly go 2 ur room and get ur present! the poor thing! they’ve been w8ing very patiently 4 u~ luckyclover: Waiting? (Name)??? cay-cay_diamond: 🤭🤫😉

Trey sighed, shaking his head and tucking his phone away and digging out his room keys. It was times like these, deep into the night, when he was thankful for having his own room. He felt a bit bad now, you probably fell asleep in his bed waiting for him. 

Though, the thought of you clutching one of his pillows, maybe in one of his sweaters to keep warm, made him smile. Then he could come in, gently take your clothes and shoes off to get you more comfortable, and dress down himself to slip in right behind you.

As he finally managed to get to his room, he heard shuffling as he turned the keys. Trey smirked, noticing that only his rose lamp remained on, and all the drapes to his canopy were now closed. 

He could just barely make out the shadow of you moving behind them, hearing you gasp and the bed squeak, making him let out a soft laugh under his breath.

“You’re breaking curfew, you should be asleep you know? You're such a troublemaker sometimes.” Trey teased you as placed his books on his desk, tossing his hat onto its stand and slipping his shoes off to throw them into his wardrobe and grab his slippers. 

He yawned, the late night really starting to sink into his body as he started undressing, his jacket and vest getting hung back up in the closet as he worked on his sash and unbuttoning his pants.  

“Only like a third of the time!” You whined, the bed softly squeaking as you followed his movements behind the canopy. “Besides, I really wanted to give you your present. Don’t you want to unwrap me?”

Trey paused at the purr in your voice, narrowing his gaze as he saw your hand ever so slightly move the curtain at the end of the bed to peek at him. You were still mostly shrouded in darkness, but there was a very soft glow coming from inside the canopy, so he could just barely make out your mischievous smile.

Though, you quickly frowned, eyeing him up and down out of concern. 

“Not if you’re too tired though, you have bags under your eyes, Trey. Do you just wanna go to sleep?”

Giving you a weary smile, Trey finally tossed his sash to the side and reached for the curtains, pushing them to the side to finally take a look at your “mysterious” present. 

“In a bit, let me see what you got me…”

Trey’s breath hitched, he suddenly felt very wide awake as his eyes roamed up and down your body. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see that you set up string lights along the top of the canopy for ambiance, making you look like you were almost glowing. Though it wasn’t that that made him lose his voice. 

You were sitting on the edge of his bed with your legs curled underneath you, dressed in the most darling sage-green, sheer baby doll dress. The dress's puffy sleeves and hem were lacy, matching the lace on the stockings. 

Holy shit you were wearing stockings.

“Ha, I wanted to surprise you, I thought you could use a stress reliever.”

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

“I should’ve realized that you’d be tired from studying for midterms, sorry.”

You're trying to rile him up, right?

“But, still, do you like it? I wrapped myself up just for you~”

He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. To behave.

“In any case,” You shifted onto your knees, the dress splitting in the middle, the only thing keeping it together being a small bow at the base of your neck, revealing the lack of undergarments, just your bare skin underneath. “Even if you’re too tired and just want to sleep, I just wanted to say…”

Trey leaned in as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, batting your eyelashes and ghosting your lips over his with a teasing smile. Your hands caressed the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing soothing circles, making him melt. 

“Happy Birthday Trey~”

It’s now that he noticed that you even added a gloss to your lips, and he could smell the warm perfume on your neck as you pressed your lips to his, tongue swiping over his mouth, asking for permission to enter. Obliging, Trey sighed into the kiss and tangled his tongue with yours, his hands slipping underneath the baby doll and squeezing at your waist.

He really should go to sleep. He has to wake up early for the party. He has to dress in his birthday robes. He has to make sure that the others don’t burn down the kitchen or damage his expensive bakeware as they made his cake. 

But the way your skin felt under his gloved hands, skin meeting skin, lace, skin, and lace again.

How could he be expected to sleep now?

Trey used to pride himself on his level headedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece.

Humming in delight against your mouth, Trey slid his hands down, as you curled into his body in response, and squeezed at the fat of your thighs before picking you up. 

A yelp left your mouth as he picked you up and tossed you up the bed, pulling off his shirt and tossing it behind him as he crawled on top of you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he saw the way the dress fell open to expose your body, your chest moving up and down as you watched him with a giddy smile. 

“Oh! I guess you’re not that tired—ah!”

You gasped as Trey grabbed your calves, tugging you up to place the back of your knees on his shoulders. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your right thigh, smirking against the lace. 

“I was tired. I should be asleep,” Trey murmured against your stocking laced skin, pressing kisses as he went farther and farther down. “Resting—kiss—Up—kiss—but no.”

He gave you a half-hearted glare, which you responded with a smile and lacing your hands through his hair as he pressed another kiss to the bend where your thigh met your sex. 

“You broke curfew, you wanted to keep me up with your little ‘present’, you know I’d get in trouble for hiding you out in my room.”

Trey gave you a bite on your thigh, groaning as he felt your hands tighten in his hair, moving back to press a soothing kiss to the mark he left.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble? Throw me in the doghouse?”  “Cause I’ll make sure you come right with me, after a little taste of my birthday treat.”

The same time he ran his tongue up your sex, Trey could feel you shiver and pull on his hair as he ate you feverishly, like a man starved from food or water for ages. 

“Mmm! Trey!” You threw your head back, bringing one hand up to slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, the walls here weren’t known to be sound-proof. 

He should probably care a bit more, especially when you let out a particularly high-pitched squeal as his tongue began fucking into your hole. 

“Trey! Oooh, Trey~” 

Bringing a finger to join his tongue, Trey smiled against your skin as you squeezed your thighs around his head, using his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to palm at his dick. 

“Trey—aaaah—wait, let me—mmph—Honey—” You let out a shuddering gasp, pulling his head up from your sex. Trey locked eyes with you, leaning into the hand you slid down to cup his cheek and caress his lower lips, wiping the slick and drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes? Honey?” Removing his hand from inside you to cover your own hand and kiss your palm, Trey smiled and hummed, “I like that, you know, reminds me of a husband coming home to his spouse.”

Pressing kisses up your body, soft and tingly, up your neck, and back to your lips where they belonged.

“Hmm, I really like the sound of that, (Name) Clover.” You murmured against his lips, smiling as you wrapped a leg around his waist to bring his dick closer to your sex, rubbing against him as you both sighed into each other’s mouths. 

“Is that what you want? You want me to be a cute little spouse? Dress up in a cute apron? Greet you when you come home from work?”

So focused on the softness of your lips and the wetness sliding against his dick, Trey didn’t even notice you twisting your body to turn him onto his back, the back of his head hitting the back of his pillows as you sat on top with a cheeky grin. 

“Hm? How would my husband want me to welcome him home? A hug? A kiss? Mm, what about…me?” Trey watched you with flushed cheeks as you kissed down his body, mimicking his earlier actions as you helped him tug off the rest of his clothes. 

“Oh, how nice it would be for you to come back to a warm, clean home with a spouse…” Looking up at him through your eyelashes and giving him a kitten lick to his tip. “...ready to give soft wet holes for you to fill~”

Giving him a vision into that sweet, sweet future, you swallowed his tip, down his shaft, and started sucking. 

“Haaah—”

Trey lolled his head back into his pillow, letting out a breathless moan as you bobbed your head up and down his length, your hand working the rest that didn’t fit into your mouth. 

“Fuuuuck. That does sound nice—mmh!” Reaching his hand down, you immediately took one of your hands to lace it with his, squeezing it as you hummed around his cock. 

“My lovely spouse—nnnngh—their pretty mouth—unnnh—soft holes—aaaah—all for me to come home to every day, what a dream~”

A particularly harsh suck made Trey arch his back and squeeze your hand harder, a giggle vibrating his dick as you pulled off. 

“Hehe, is this your way of proposing? Kinda dirty to do it with your dick on my mouth.” You giggled, pressing kisses and quick licks along his shaft. 

“That’s okay though, you and I both know that deep down, you’re a bit of a pervert. Right?”

Trey scoffed, tugging you up with a bemused smile. “Yeah? How can you tell? Thought I hid that pretty well.”

A soft laugh escaping you, you held both of his hands, bringing them up to press kisses on his knuckles, making the green-haired man sigh fondly. 

“The way you look at me sometimes, like you’re undressing me. It makes me feel all warm and tingly, especially when I piss you off.”

Both of you let out a breathless moan as your wetness rubbed against his hard dick, grinding against one another as the tip occasionally caught against your hole, making you shiver. 

“Is it bad that sometimes I wanna get you mad so you’ll fuck me real mean? Is it bad that I want you to use me? To fuck your stress out with me?”

A lump forming in his throat, Trey let go of your hands to pull at the string holding your flimsy baby doll together. Eyes half lidded, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, watching it pool at your elbows as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself as your grinding turned into vigorous humping against him, making you both gasp in pleasure. 

“Ooh, Trey, honey, baby, hubby~ Won’t you use me? Be a little mean? Pleeeease? Fuck me, fill me up like I know you want! Pleeeeease Trey? Pretty, pretty please?”

Lips smashed against yours as Trey bolted up, groaning into your mouth as he grabbed your hips in an almost painful grip. 

He picked you up once again, throwing you on all fours, covers tangling against your knees and hands, as he ripped your dress off and tossed it. 

Trey’s left hand placed itself on your hip, while his right pushed down on your back, following up your spine to the base of your neck where he pushed you down to shove your face into the sheets, forcing you into a doggy pose.

“So you do like getting me in trouble, little brat. Fine, I’ll be mean.” 

Trey lined his dick against your throbbing hole, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your ear and moving the hand on your neck to wove with your right, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“Squeeze three times if you need me to stop, otherwise, I’m going to fuck that brain right out of your pretty little head, since you don’t seem to be wanting to use it.”

In one, swift move, Trey slammed his hips to your ass, sinking nearly half his length into your warm, waiting hole. 

“FUCK! YES—MMMPH” Burying your face into the sheets to muffle your cries, Trey did the same into your shoulder, shivering at your tightness around him. 

Setting a rhythm, hips smacking into your ass, Trey worked the rest of his cock into you until he could hear the smack of your ass against his hips, the sound echoing with the creak of the bed.

Your tightness around him was heavenly, as was the sight of you sinking further into the bed and arching your ass to sloppily meet his thrusts. Straightening again, bending your arm back so that your hands could remain intertwined.

His left hand caressed your back and the fat of your behind, before bringing it down in a harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp and squeeze his hand in a vice grip, though you also tightened around his cock. 

Rubbing a soothing circle against the reddening skin, slowed his thrusts, making you whine and push against him. 

“Haaah, that okay? Feel good?” Trey murmured, smiling at the frantic nod and wiggle against him. “Want me to keep going?”

“Mmmph... yessshh... mmmore, mmmore... pleeeashh, honey~” Your sounds were muffled as you bit into the blanket, getting higher and higher as he obliged, not one to deny you after all. 

Every other thrust was met with a slap to one cheek, then the other, the skin turning redder and redder with his handprints marking you. The harder he went, the more and more slack you went, until he was eventually just fucking you like his personal toy. 

Though, you did offer yourself as his present, didn’t you? So it was only fair that he got to use his present as he wished, and right now, he wanted to feel you cumming around him. 

Ceasing his smacks, making you whine, Trey instead melded his body against yours, the weight both overwhelming and comforting, as his left hand instead moved to your sex to rub you to completion. 

Trey watched as you gasped for breath, completely burying your head into the bed to muffled your screams as you came around him, trembling and squeezing him. 

The feeling of your walls pulsating around his shaft was becoming dangerously addicting, and he was very greedy for more of that. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close! You can give me another one, right?”

Slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you up, Trey adjusted you so that you sat on his dick, kissing the side of your neck for reassurance as he let go of your hand to quickly slide his arms under your knees. 

From all his years of tossing bags of flour and sugar, from kneading dough, from all the labor he’s done as a baker, picking you up was like child’s play. 

Folding your knees up to your chest so he could hold you, back flush to his chest, was nothing for him. Everything for you, though, your over sensitive hole squeezing down on him again.  

“FUCK! I caaame! Treytreytreytrey—” You dug a hand into his arm, tossing your head back and lolling your tongue out with a dumb, drooly smile on your lips. 

“A-almost there—nngh—just squeeze if I need to stop—I’m so close~”

Smashing his lips against yours for an open mouth, wet kiss, Trey pounded faster into you, determined to feel your walls pulsate again, this time as he filled your insides up like one of his pastries. 

Then, an awful, perverted thought filled his head, like a devil was whispering in his ear. 

Why doesn’t he fill them up with his kids? Don’t stop until his cum is drooling out of their hole, and go again to make up for the lost seed. He already wants them to be his spouse, why not add a few little ones to that picture?

Trey was losing any bit of restraint that he may have had as he was now determined to fullfill his fantasy. Even if you couldn’t do it, magic made anything here possible, and right now is good practice anyway.

“I’m—aaaahhh—I’m gonna come inside, okay? Fill you up, yeah?”

Digging your nails into his skin, you nodded against his mouth and whined. 

“Yessssss! Fill me up! Inside! Gimme a baby Trey! I wanna make you a daaaaddy~”

Squeezing your legs further against your chest, Trey pounded faster and faster, trembling as he reached close and closer to his peak. 

Warmth flooded his body, tingles, and he swears sparks, flying over his skin as he felt you clamp down on him for a third time. 

Your voice squealed higher and higher, any previous attempt to be quiet for naught as you practically screamed.

Trey shuddered as he finally came, cum flooding your warm insides as you went limp in his arms. 

Panting for air, both of you remained still for a minute, the bed feeling stuffy with the curtains still closed. After another minute, Trey pulled you up and off of him, shaky as his now limp dick left your warm, comfortable embrace.

Doing his best to gently place you on the bed, Trey let out a breathless laugh as you collapsed on the bed like a rag doll, blinking your eyes tiredly at the ceiling of the canopy. 

“Haah, sorry, I went too hard there, huh?”

You shook your head, giving him a tired smile and reaching a hand for him, which he took and brought up to kiss. 

“It was good, really, good. You liked your present?”

Snorting and nodding, Trey carefully scooped you up to move your head onto the pillows and gently roll off your garter stocking, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he did. 

“Yeah, I did. Come on, let me get you a shirt.”

You whined as he pulled away, exhaustion starting to steep into him as he tied back the curtains to the canopy to let the stuffiness out. Trey picked up the baby doll he’d tossed earlier, placing it into his wardrobe drawer as he dug out a shirt and sweatpants for himself and a shirt for you.

As he closed the drawer, he noticed your backpack hidden underneath it, digging in it to grab you some underwear. You had packed a pair of pajamas, apparently, but…he’d rather see you in his clothes. 

“Hmm, honey? Come to bed…” You whined, hands reaching out for him impatiently as he slipped on his clothes, crawling over to you and helping you slip your underwear and his shirt on. 

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Trey slowly blinked, eyelids heavy as he scoop you up to place you two under the covers, the soft mattress making him practically become one with the bed and you as you nestled into his chest. 

Your legs tangled with his as Trey wrapped his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. He could feel fatigue and sleep quickly taking over him as your voice vibrated against his chest, soft and sleepy. 

“Happy birthday honey, I—yawn—love…you…”

A different kind of warmth, soft and sweet, filled him as he squeezed you tighter against him, murmuring back. 

“I love you too…”

*Riiiing* *Riiiiiiiing* *Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

An irritating, loud noise filled Trey’s ears as he groaned, half-awake as he turned over to smack his hand on his phone, silencing the alarm. 

“Aah…Noisy…hhggh.” Trey groaned, rolling over, careful to not crush you under him to blindly reach for his glasses. 

“Glasses…glasses…ah..”

Plastic and glass finally under his palm, Trey slipped his glasses on his face, ultimately throwing himself back into bed next to you, who’d begun shifting awake.

“Mmm, honey?” 

Grunting in response, Trey threw an arm over his eyes, irritated at the sun seeping through the window into his eyes. 

“Early…”

You chuckled, a yawn escaping you as you decided to move closer and slip a hand under his shirt to rub at his chest, pressing kisses into his neck as well. 

“You’re so grumpy in the morning. Come on, you've got a big day ahead.”

“…Ugh, I do?”

Snorting at his response, Trey grunted as he felt you move, peaking under his arm to see you resting on your elbow. You had puffy, dark circles under your eyes from the little sleep you managed to get. 

“Birthdays are a pretty big deal, right?” Smiling at him, Trey squinted an eye and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in protest.

“Ugggh, yeah…”

Hearing you hum, Trey groaned in surprise as he felt you straddle his waist and caress his neck and cheeks, making him remove his arm to blink up at you. 

Your hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in all sorts of places. The bags under your eyes more noticeable under the night. His shirt dwarfed you. You were a hot mess, all things considered. 

He probably wouldn’t say it out loud, with how cute you were last night, but he thinks you look most beautiful like this. Better than any frilly, skimpy, or tight outfit.

“Come on, Birthday Boy, want me to give you a little pick me up?”

Kissing him with a smile, Trey moaned into the lazy, sloppy morning kiss, tilting his head back as you pressed kissed down his neck, deciding to work on leaving a love bite at the nape of his neck.

Trey’s phone chimed, making him sigh as he reached for it, letting you continue your love bites and kisses, 

Squinting at the few messages, it seemed like a few of his friends and classmates were already sending him birthday wishes. Though, a message from Cater made him blot up, a sudden shock of alertness running down his spine. 

“Ah! Trey, what is it?”

cay-cay_diamond: morning!! happy bday 2 the bday boi again! thought i let u no tht u owe me a favor, had 2 cast a silencing spell on ur roum last nite. totes ruined my beauty sleep! cay-cay_diamond: also i know u got ur lil cutie 2 distract ya, but liek dont b l8 2 ur bday breakfast, grimmy might eat it!

“Shit, we were too loud, Cater had to cast a silencing spell on the room.”

You made an ‘oh’ shape with your mouth, giving Trey an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, but at least you enjoyed it, right?”

Trey smiled, more awake now, and nodded, sharing a sweet kiss with you. 

“Definitely. You might have to consider making your go-to gift for now on, it’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve ever gotten.”

He solidified that statement with one more, firm, assuring kiss with you, before having to leave your sweet dream into the real world. 

At least he could have one part of that dream with him at his side from now on: you. 

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[inkskinned]

it's hard to explain because inevitably you sound like an asshole, but some people are allowed to lose their temper, lose their mind - you're not, though.

when your friend never texts you first and misses your birthday and never makes an effort; you don't mind. you know she's struggling, and you want her to get the help that she deserves. you give her every excuse and every chance.

it shouldn't matter to you so much that people are always coming through for her. you want her to be happy, you love it for her. you love that her community rises up to the occasion. why does it bother you that when she snaps at someone, says horrible mean things - but two hours later, everyone is comforting her while she's crying. you know she's stressed. why do you kind of hate that she is welcomed back to her job, that her parents are endlessly wiring her money.

and you're - fuck, are you envious?

but when you don't text back, someone sits you down and says i know you're struggling, but you're being a bad friend. when you're too numb to show up for work, your boss just shakes his head. i'm sorry. i can't approve more time off. we have the company to protect. when you finally snap back at your family for making that shitty comment again, you're forced to apologize for being too sensitive.

god forbid you need something. people aren't used to you being the one asking. you're the giver like the book you hated; your pages all open and rumpled. you always have the answer, always have the solution. you are reliable, trustworthy. people like you don't struggle with things. you're supposed to be lifted by tragedy. you are given a maximum of 24 hours to grieve, and then you need to just behave at the party.

you can't read the giving tree without feeling like crying, and even that feels like it's too much emotion. like, nobody looks at you and assumes you're the tree; they'd name five other people before even considering you in the running. you're just there, never-asking.

your friend gets to say mean shit, that's just her personality. when you make a snide comment, you're just being petty. people laugh when your friend stands you up for another event; they say she's just like that. you were 5 minutes late to a meeting with friends and they were mad about it for the rest of the evening. your friend sets everything on fire; everyone applauds her through the ashes. you so much as light a candle: and suddenly now you're an arsonist.

you don't want your friend to suffer, though. the thing is that you just wish that the empathy and kindness your friend gets - you wish you had that option, that everyone offered you grace and money and a gentle reception.

the other day you were fighting down the bad urge; the void call, the end note. you tried-anyway. you went to the family event, tried laughing at the right moments. nodded and smiled and all of it. one of your siblings threw a fit, but she's allowed to, so everyone just rolled their eyes about it. you took 3 whole minutes to stand outside when you got overwhelmed. you literally set a timer about it.

in the morning you woke up to a text from your parents: you were a complete disgrace last night. idk what your attitude problem is, but you really need to fix it.

[bonebabbles]

Toshiro Dungeon Meshi really said "I am an autistic man and I've suffered quietly my whole life, the way I'm supposed to, the way that's expected of me. The way you're supposed to, the way that I expect of you. It infuriates me that you don't. It envies me that you don't. I've never expressed this before because I don't know how and I snapped and all of my emotions came tumbling out and I said it in a way I don't actually mean, just like how you never mean it."

And then he said, "And then we fought. And you won, of course you did, and now we're talking openly because you're someone I CAN talk to. I always COULD talk to you. I just never DID. Of course you're taking this seriously. And you know I take it all seriously. Why are you like this? Why do I RECOIL every time you speak to me, even when you aren't doing anything wrong? How can a person even be like this?? Why do I sometimes wish that I could be like you?"

AND THEN HE SAID, "Wait. Please. I need you to know I do care about you. I can't tell you that directly because I have been taught my whole life that to love someone is to lessen their burden, to BE less of a burden, shrink yourself, don't have demands, don't have needs, don't eat more than the bare minimum to sustain yourself. I'm working on that now, because of my family, because of her, and because of you, but I still can't bring myself to settle the full weight of my being onto another person. Here is a magic bell that will let you safely become my burden. I will not lose you too."

The magic bell rolls around in Laios' bag and rings constantly because Toshiro didn't think to stuff it with a piece of paper before giving it to the most physically active fighter in the group who does all the runnining aroundening.

The one he JUST brawled for being imperceptive.

Blurting out that he would help him escape the Elf Cops took priority. He NEEDED Laios to know this so bad. I just know he was thinking about putting that bell in his hand as soon as he started sharing how he wished that he'd told Falin how much she meant to him sooner but was trying to think of the right moment. He was absolutely BESIEGED by the autistic swagger of the Touden siblings. How can you not start scratching the furniture thinking about it

[ma1dita]

Congratulations on 23! not a book reader but I remember reading somewhere that there's a rule that boys and girls who aren't related ofc be alone in the cabins together. Imagine this rule got implemented bc of Luke and posideon! reader

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x poseidon!reader

not sure if this was supposed to be a smut request but guys look what you've done to me this is all yalls fault

a/n: smut... a bit of godly desecration & blasphemy?...is this dark!luke? luke said fuck the gods literally...no dialogue...wrap before you tap bc they dont (luke castellan x poseidon!reader)

wc: 603

It had been raining at Camp Half-Blood for a whole month.

No amount of prayers from Cabin 7 nor Mr. D's control over the atmosphere of his camp could change this—and everyone was doing their hardest to figure out why.

You and Luke however, were having the time of your lives— with camp activities canceled due to the downpour, it gave you more time to bundle up under the covers and within each other's arms. It wasn't a secret per say, just something so natural between the both of you. Like crashing tides, he'd fall into your embrace over and over for as long as the gods would allow. But sometimes, he liked spiting them for the fun of it.

Your cabin was empty all the time anyway, no pesky siblings or unclaimed campers peering over the bunks and invading your personal space, because this is what this was between the both of you---personal and intimate. No one's business but your own.

In Cabin 3, you were his alone. And as much as he is Camp Half-Blood’s all-star camper, he thinks the gods owe him this much. He’s allowed to be selfish when it comes to you.

Luke could relish in the sound of your moans echoing off the marble walls, waves of pleasure extracted from you as he thrusts into your pussy, soaked and pulling him in deep. He marks you where only he can see, handprints on your hips, hickeys between your tits and thighs, and he licks your cheek like a fucking dog, just because he can.

His alone.

His cock pistons harder as he holds onto the plush of your tummy, hands grappling onto every expanse of skin he could touch—his, his, his, from the hair he's pulling on your head to the tips of your curled toes. The harder you shake underneath him, the wider he grins, reducing a daughter of the Big Three to nothing but a fucked out puddle of tears. 

Luke encourages you to be louder—deep down, he likes the idea of desecrating you in a place of honor. The Big Three were too pretentious to be parents, forbidden children given temples instead of homes to sleep in. It’s not his fault this place has too many platforms to christen. He supposes you both should try your father’s altar next.

Your eyes glaze over before you cum, and each time it reminds him of sparkling seafoam kissing the coast of the beach back home. It's his cue to throw your legs over his shoulders, diving into your mouth like you'd breathe oxygen into his lungs as he loses control and moans until your heart, like the rest of you feels full of him. He swirls your pretty pearl between his fingers, coaxing your orgasm out of you as naturally as he calls your name. 

Under the tears and drool, Luke agrees you’re your father’s daughter, soft and sopping wet, drenched in his domain. Anchoring himself between your hips, you let out a scream of Luke's name and he kisses you delicately as you both release—everything from your collarbones to your breasts to the skin behind your knee, he kisses all of it. 

His.

Luke could argue that the cum dripping out of your womb is his too, despite how eagerly he gives it to you each time. You didn’t even have to beg him this time.

It's what he loves about Cabin 3—it's his as much as it's yours, no clothes necessary. Until Mr. D comes barging in drenched to nine hells and floodwaters rising behind him with a personal threat from your father.

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (You're here) Chapter 4

Chapter 3

For Duke it was a normal day after going to a classmate's house to finish a group project. He was eager to show you the project and talk to you about his day as he had started to do since the first day he set foot in Wayne Manor.

He could never forget that day...

The first time Duke went to Wayne Manor he was a bundle of nerves along with other emotions. He had just lost his parents due to the Joker's toxin and had just started his training with Bruce. He couldn't deny that he wasn't grateful to the billionaire and his family of vigilantes but he did miss that normality in his day to day life like when his parents were still well.

It was a day that he was lost in the mansion that was the one that found you. He had just finished his training with Bruce and Damian and had the intention of returning to his room when he got lost, but it wasn't until he ran into someone that he finally paid attention to where he was walking.

You were walking down the hall with your laptop in your hands, it seemed like you had just come from outside. He had never seen you before but Damian had mentioned that he had an older sibling that he didn't give much importance to.

"Oops, sorry. You okay, kiddo?" you asked him kindly

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. I should apologize. I didn't see where I was going" the young man apologized

"I see you're lost, these hallways of the mansion aren't that frequented" you commented

"Really? And what are you doing here then?"

"My room is over here" you commented

"Ah..." He didn't know what to say

"You must be the new kid that Bruce adopted, right?"

"Yes, it's me" he nodded

"It's a pleasure, I'm (Name)" you extended your hand to shake it and he took it

He could immediately notice the warmth of your hand, they weren't rough and hard like the hands of others, but he could feel familiarity in your grip. It felt like home.

"Duke" he nodded as he shook your hand

"Well Duke, if you want I can guide you through these halls. It's almost impossible not to get lost in this place" you chuckled

"Yeah... I'd like that" he said with a smile

"Well, then follow me!" you said with a smile as you then guided him through the Manor

From that meeting on, Duke looked for any excuse to go talk to you. He soon discovered that the family didn't show much interest in you, which he couldn't understand why. In a family of vigilantes, being the most normal should be a relief, right? Or at least that's how he saw it, since when he was with you, he felt like he was going back to his old life, without worries or training.

That's why from then on he always waited for the time to be able to go find you.

What a surprise he would get when he saw that you weren't there

Once he entered Wayne Manor, Duke immediately went to look for you in your room only to find it empty. He felt his heart stop for a second.

No... It can't be...

"Alfred!" Duke shouted in search of the butler as he ran to the kitchen and there he saw Alfred who was making food for the Waynes.

"Alfred! Have you seen (Name)? Her room is empty!" the boy spoke quickly

"Yes, I am sorry to have to tell you this Master Duke, but our dear (Name) has left the mansion" informed the butler

"What?! So fast? N-no… They couldn't leave here… Much less without saying goodbye…" he said incredulously

It was like losing his parents all over again.

"They left me a letter in my room. I suppose they left one in yours too Master Duke"

Without saying another word, Duke ran to his room where he found a letter on his bed that had his name on it. He read it and right there (Name) said goodbye to him, thanked him for his company and just like with Alfred, left him the cell phone number of his second phone in case he wanted to talk to them.

"No… It can't be…" said Duke as he let a few tears escape from his eyes

How could he not stop them?

"Please don't cry Master Duke" said a voice from the door of his room. It was Alfred who looked at him with eyes that reflected sorrow and sadness but at the same time determination.

"I know that the departure of Master (Name) was something that hurt you and me" the butler began to speak

"But I assure you that they will return home"

"How Alfred? It was more than obvious that they wanted to leave here" he said between sadness and bitterness "But I don't understand, why did no one in this place pay attention to them? They are a Wayne too"

You were like a refreshing stream for him, you were like a glass of ice water in the middle of a desert.

Why did no one in this damn place notice?

"I couldn't answer that, Master Duke, but what we both know is that the behavior of the members of this family towards (Name) has been unfair and unjustified" Alfred walked towards the young guard and sat next to him

"I spent years waiting for someone else to see how amazing they were, but no one noticed, no one tried to get to know them" he unconsciously closed his hands into fists "And I can say that it was partly my fault, but you came along and finally someone realized what a great person we had in the family"

Alfred turned to look at him and put a hand on his shoulder which he gave a light squeeze.

"And for that same reason that they have such a powerful light, in a place like Gotham it is important to take care of them"

Duke looked at Alfred for a few seconds and then looked at the ground.

He is right. Their light is very bright. He can't let anyone turn it off.

"But… How are you going to do it Alfred? How are you going to get them back? Not even half of the people who live here remember who they are" said the young vigilante irritated

"Don't worry about that Master Duke, but you will have to help me with some things"

Don't worry (Name), you will return home.

Whether you want to or not.

But you will be by their side

It's been 2 weeks since you left Wayne Manor and to be honest… You've never been happier in your life!

Sure, you'd always had a lot of independence but now this independence felt different, it felt more refreshing.

Likewise, college had also been an interesting change from a social and academic point of view since a few years ago you had studied online and life at university was a bit chaotic but you were starting to like it.

You rented your apartment to an old man who owned the building and who kindly let you pay your rent little by little. Inside it were a few pieces of furniture that were already there, however, you gave it some personal touches to feel more at home. But what couldn't be missing were photos of your parents (F/N) and (M/N), Alfred and Duke with you.

You couldn't complain, you were living a true dream.

But live it up and savor it while you can

Because soon you'll lose it all

You were in the kitchen of your apartment making dinner when your phone rang. You picked it up and answered without looking at who it was,

"Hello?" you said as you answered your phone

"Hey (Name)!" a familiar voice greeted you

"Oh, hey Duke!" you said enthusiastically "How have you been? How's school going?"

"Oh been good, lots of homework" he chuckled "I was calling you because I wanted to see you"

"Oh yeah, sure" you nodded "Do you need me for something specific?"

"No no. I just want to see you. I miss you being around the mansion" he admitted

"Aww, you're really sweet Duke but I'm sure you have plenty of company at Wayne Manor" now was your turn to chuckle

"Yeah, they're good company but you're my best confidant and sibling"

You're MY home…

"Okay Duke, if you want we can see each other tomorrow" you proposed

"Sure!" he excited

"Perfect" you giggled at his excitement "How about we meet at the park near downtown Gotham?"

"Okay" he nodded

"Fine, see you tomorrow bro!" you said goodbye to him

"See you tomorrow sibling" he said goodbye before hanging up the call

You smiled just thinking about seeing Duke tomorrow. You couldn't wait to do it.

This was your first mistake. Trusting him.

"It's done Alfred" said Duke from the doorway of the living room

"They agreed to see me tomorrow"

"Okay Master Duke" Alfred nodded and then dusted the furniture again

"Now what?" asked the young man

"Now all that's left is to wait for me to arrive tomorrow and just follow my instructions" the butler commanded

"So… do you think all this is going to work? What if it doesn't?" he asked, half scared and half anxious

Alfred turned to look at the nervous boy and walked towards him. He placed a hand on his shoulder in an assuring manner.

"It's going to work" he assured him "Now go rest, tomorrow you're going to have a busy day"

Duke nodded, still a little unsure, but he didn't say anything else. Then he retired to his bedroom.

When he left Alfred couldn't help but smile a little. Everything was going as he had been planning and although he knew that this plan wasn't going to be to your liking in the least, he was also sure that this was the best for you.

Yes… This was the best thing for you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For y…

For y…

For them..

For them...

For them...

For him…

This was going to be the best thing for HIM

This was going to bring you home to HIM

His little ray of sunshine

Helloooo. Here it goes the third chapter! I hope you like it and I swear that in the next one the rest of the family will appear, still I would love to heart what do you expect of this work! And even some ideas!

Also I added the people that told me to add them in tag list so if you want to be added please tell me and I will happily add you. And also if I missed someone please tell me as well because I'm a bit blind most of the times and despite being on tumblr for a while now I'm still getting used to using it ":v

So if you liked this chapter please leave a heart and I'll see you on the next one!

-Izadi

TAG LIST

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[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part five

there's one last chance for everything to fall apart, but this time you aren't at the center of disaster - Spencer is

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: lots of future talk (marriage and pregnancy), takes place during 15x10 "and in the end", explosions, the chameleon arc, spencer's hospital stay, sibling loss, diana's alzheimers, canon cm violence word count: 7.34k a/n: so this is the last part! i can't resist doing an epilogue, so a cutie little "where are they now" part on the horizon, but this was always the way it was going to end. as always, telling me your thoughts is the sexiest thing you can do.

“She’s not a threat,” Spencer pointed out, carrying on a conversation with you while he adjusted the straps of your bulletproof vest, pulling it tightly around you to cover as much of your torso as possible. You’d complain about him taking away your ability to breathe but if it brought peace to his busy mind, you could sacrifice your full lung capacity.

You flattened your palm against the SWAT truck for support while he resumed tugging at the Velcro straps of your Kevlar, “Speak for yourself! You’re not the favorite stepdaughter of a woman that you can’t stand.”

Deciding your vest was as secure as it was going to get, Spencer stood up, sharing a look with the SWAT commander before turning his attention back to you, “Why are you the favorite stepdaughter again?”

Dramatically, you tilted your head back and looked at the sky, “Because JJ had a child out of wedlock. I’m the favorite by default.” It was funny to think of your stepmother choosing you as a favorite, but you supposed the pickings were rather slim. “Hey,” you continued, “There’s an idea.”

“Uh huh,” Spencer responded mockingly, “Pick a new subject, please.”

Rolling your eyes, you rested fully against the armored truck, scuffing your boots against the gravel driveway to Everett Lynch’s house. “You’re no fun,” you accused, trying to use your family issues as a discussion to pass the time before you had permission from Emily to put your plan into motion.

Spencer hummed in response, watching your sister as she answered her phone and hopefully received instruction from Emily. You didn't like lingering out here like sitting ducks, no matter how many armed agents there were with you.

Matching JJ’s gaze, she nodded to you and Spencer, letting you know that Emily had given the go-ahead.

Quickly, Spencer slipped his phone from his pocket and dialed the number that he had previously memorized. You heard the phone ring as he held it up to his ear, and then a woman’s voice came through, “No, Roberta my name is Dr. Spencer Reid and it’s important that you listen to me right now.” He fed the Lynch matriarch instructions over the phone, “Even though you have the gun, the moment your son realizes you’re not gonna shoot him, he’s gonna get the upper hand.”

You couldn’t make out her response, but based on the way Spencer’s eyebrows were pinched together, you worried he wasn’t getting through to her.

“Yes,” he answered over the phone, “but first you need to let Olivia walk out of there, okay?” The next step was simple enough, and not long after he spoke, you saw the teenager run out of the house.

JJ had the opportunity to take the Chameleon out earlier that day, but he’d used Olivia and her diabetes as a bargaining chip. You lingered with Spencer while JJ ran out to meet her, gently guiding her behind the barricade to the waiting ambulance. 

Instinctively, you set your hand on your firearm as a single gunshot rang out from the house, “Roberta,” Spencer urged, “that warning shot is what’s about to give you away, but we can help. Are you ready for us to come in?” He waited almost too long before speaking again, “Roberta?”

He looked back at the SWAT captain as everything hinged on Roberta’s response, and when Spencer gave the order to breach, you took your spot next to the armored truck. Your instructions were very clear, you were in charge of Everett once he was apprehended, and JJ was in charge of Roberta.

Across from you, JJ’s phone rang, you couldn’t hear either end of the conversation, but you could see the fear in her eyes when she looked up at Spencer and all of the other SWAT agents headed toward the structure. You took a few steps forward, trying to follow after Spencer, but JJ shouted your name and caught your attention right as the bomb went off.

The blast warped your perception of time. You looked back at the house on fire before your eyes automatically searched for Spencer. Everything was moving in slow motion, but even so, there he was, on the ground. “Spence,” you yelped before scrambling forward, dropping to your knees at his side.

Spencer started to rise from the driveway, propping himself up on his elbows. He likely couldn’t hear you, based on the way your own ears were ringing while you checked him over for injuries.

“Are you okay?” You asked him anyway, “Baby, can you hear me?” He tried to sit up, but you settled your hands on his shoulders, “No, it’s okay, stay down.” You continued to speak to him, taking time to shout instructions for the now scrambled first responders.

JJ called your name again, causing your head to snap in her direction, “Your head is bleeding,” she told you, jogging toward you and Spencer.

You rose on shaky legs as your sister took your face in her hands, frantically checking the wound that you couldn’t feel. Waving away paramedics, you urged them to assist the downed SWAT agents instead of you, “It’s fine, Jayg,” you breathed, straightening yourself out and keeping an eye on Spencer.

“Are you feeling alright?” You whispered to Spencer, noting the lack of focus in his eyes, you resisted the urge to wave your hand in front of his face.

He hummed in response, “I’m fine.”

Unable to help it, you frowned at him. ‘Fine’ had been his only sensation from the moment you arrived at the hospital in Reno until now. ‘Fine’ was a term used by people who were avoiding any genuine emotion, and you couldn’t entirely blame him. Last you heard the casualty count from the explosion was up to seven – including Everett and Roberta Lynch.

He’d gotten an MRI at the hospital – not that you’d given him much choice – and it came back clear, so the rest of the team wasted no time in having the jet prepared to return to Quantico.

It wasn’t the silence that unnerved you, it was the absence of activity. Your sister sat in one of the chairs, periodically turning her head to check on you, Rossi and Matt had claimed their own spots throughout the aircraft, and you and Spencer were sequestered next to the galley. Everyone seemed to be disassociating from the events of the day.

You willed Spencer to pull a book out of his bag and start reading. You silently begged him to do something that you could find comfort in. Instead, he noticed you staring and leaned over to gently kiss the unmarred side of your forehead.

Taking a raincheck on Penelope’s vision-boarding, you made sure the two of you got home in one piece. “Do you need to clean it?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the mark on your forehead.

You kicked off your shoes in the entryway, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as he sat down on the couch. “No, maybe in the morning,” you responded. “Are you gonna come to bed?”

“In a bit,” he offered, leaning his head back to look at you one more time before you disappeared into the bedroom.

There were a lot of things about the day that didn’t make any sense, but the one thing you couldn’t wrap your head around was Everett Lynch’s suicide. Not to be mistaken with sympathy, you didn’t understand how his particular personality type could choose to blow itself up. He was too confident, too narcissistic for that.

The doubt kept waking you up, each time you hoped to find that Spencer had finally come to bed. Once the clock struck four in the morning and he still hadn’t come to lie down, you crawled out of bed, expecting to find him asleep on the couch.

Your heart dropped when you found him on the floor, dried blood crusted around his nose, deathly still.

Phone, phone, phone – where was your phone?

Grabbing his phone off of the coffee table, your head spun as you dialed 911, crouching next to him as you tried to make out the sound of his breathing.

In a four-in-the-morning fugue, you went through the motions, answering all of the dispatcher’s questions, all of the paramedic’s questions, and all of the nurse’s questions.

The emergency department nurse looked at you sadly, not much more than a pile of limbs in a stiff plastic chair, “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

Swallowing thickly, you shrugged in response. You wanted her to call everyone and no one at the same time, building up walls around yourself made of materials that you couldn’t name. You needed to call Emily. You needed to call Diana. Frowning at the nurse, you gave it another moment of thought before responding, “My sister.”

JJ didn’t answer.

The nurse tried her twice and you called once from your phone, but there was no answer.

Spencer didn’t wake up. Dr. K didn’t seem confident that he would.

Like a metronome, the steady beeping of Spencer’s vital monitor nearly lulled you to sleep until the ringing of a phone interrupted the pattern. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and your stomach lurched at the realization that your sister was finally calling you back, “I have been trying to reach you all morning.”

Your sister was silent on the other side, and you wondered if you had come on too strong. “What happened?”

The world was falling apart around you. Your castle was crumbling with you in it. You looked longingly at Spencer before you answered, “I think he’s dying.”

Time passed in an inordinate pattern, convincing yourself that hours had passed when it had only been minutes. You had moved your chair to Spencer’s bedside, tracing the scar on the inside of his palm in time with the steady rising and falling of his chest.

“Have you been here all night?” Your older sister’s voice rang from the doorway, she didn’t wait to be welcomed in, immediately moving to the side of the bed opposite to you.

Your eyes followed her hand as she gently set a palm on his shoulder, her blonde hair curling around her face as she studied Spencer’s appearance. Quickly, she caught herself, straightening up and making her way around the bed so that she stood behind you, smoothing a hand through your hair like she did when you were just kids.

Penelope followed behind JJ on a delay, her skin paling at the sight of Spencer in the hospital bed. She stood at the foot of the bed, placing her hands on the footboard and taking several deep breaths.

“I went to bed without him last night. I wasn’t sleeping well, so when I woke up at four in the morning and he hadn’t made it to bed I went to see if he had fallen asleep on the couch, but he was just… on the floor,” You told them absently, watching Spencer as he slept and recalling the way you had found him in the apartment. His body contorted from falling on the ground with a puddle of blood beginning to gather beneath his head.

You couldn’t look at them. You couldn’t look away from him knowing that it could be the last time you see him alive. “What do you need?” JJ asked, continuing to smooth down your hair.

Clasping his hand in yours, you nodded to yourself reassuringly, “Can you call Brookfield? I need to talk to Diana. If she’s lucid enough, can you ask if they can bring her here? If he… she should be here.” Sinking into an abyss of unknowns, at the very least you knew that he’d want his mother here with him.

The two blondes shared a wary look, and you steeled yourself for a difficult conversation. Penelope left to call Brookfield on your behalf, but JJ stayed behind, dragging one of the plastic chairs over to the bed so she could sit next to you. “We got the casualty report back from the medical examiner in Reno,” she informed you; her voice was low – the tone she took up when she wasn’t sure how to navigate a situation.

You nodded in understanding, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“There were six SWAT agents, Roberta Lynch, and Orlando Gaines,” she told you gently, watching your face for any sign of a reaction.

You frowned, expecting her to add Everett Lynch to the tally later on for dramatic effect, but the moment never came, “Oh,” you breathed, looking at Spencer.

JJ continued to explain that, based on the blueprints of the house that he had pilfered from one of his victims, he had likely escaped using a tunnel system beneath the house. The Chameleon was in the wind, and Spencer might just be his latest victim. “We know he’s not done though,” JJ tried to reassure you, “He’ll resurface somewhere.”

“We don’t know where and we don’t know when, though,” you told her, an edge of despair creeping into your voice. He should’ve died. Everett Lynch should be dead, and you shouldn’t be sitting next to Spencer’s hospital bed right now. “And Spencer might die for no reason,” you added. There was a slight chance that you could, someday, find comfort in Spencer succumbing to injuries sustained in a blast that took out The Chameleon, but with Lynch still out there, you were struggling to find any glimpse of a silver lining.

Your sister looked at a loss for words, reaching out her hand and dropping it to your knee when you didn’t take it. She mumbled something about letting it go for Spencer’s sake, but Spencer was unconscious, if you held on to your grudge against your sister, he was none the wiser. It brought you back to something he had told you after Grace Lynch shot you – I don’t want you to forget your anger.

Glancing over at her briefly, you took a deep breath, “You should get back to Quantico – the team will need you to catch Lynch.”

“No,” she said, pinching her brows together, “I’m going to stay here.”

Pursing your lips, you gave her a sidelong glance, “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you going to stay here, JJ? Do you want to stay at the hospital for my sake or for Spencer’s?” Keeping your hand tucked into his, you didn’t budge when she pulled her hand off of your knee, and even then, you had your answer. “I’m asking you to please, go back to Quantico and find Everett Lynch. Spencer will have me, his mom, and Penelope with him and I need you to find the person who did this to him. I’m asking you to go, so you aren’t staying for me.”

She was looking at you in pure disbelief, “Ducky, I don’t-“ She faltered, “I thought we were all friends again. You told me you understood where I was coming from.”

Nodding in agreement, you recalled the conversation you had with her while Spencer was with Cat Adams, “I told you I understood how you could be in love with him because I’m in love with him, but I have limits, JJ, and there comes a point where I just can’t understand why you keep using your love as a weapon.”

“I- I’m not,” she insisted, but you could hear the unease in her voice.

You shrugged, “Maybe it’s not your intention, but you are fighting a one-sided battle. You’re married and Spencer and I are engaged, and you have single-handedly destroyed our relationship.”

JJ scoffed in disbelief, “You and Spencer seem to be doing just fine.”

“I’m not talking about me and Spencer, I’m talking about me and you,” you corrected her. “At Rossi’s wedding, you told me that you had meant what you said to Spencer when you were in the pawn shop, and every day since then you have refused to give me the space that I’ve asked for.” Your hands shook as your eyes flittered between her and your fiancé, “You’re my big sister, JJ. You’re always going to be my big sister, and I am always going to love you because of that, but we aren’t friends, so don’t try to pretend you’re doing this for me.”

She tilted her head to the side, “I didn’t want space – you’re my sister.”

“But I needed space,” you emphasized, the one thing that JJ had never seemed to understand. You were the one who got hurt in the process, “I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired, and I can’t pretend to be your friend anymore while you can’t even be a decent sister. You tell me that you and Spencer have all of this history, that you’ve known each other for fifteen years, but you’ve been my sister for thirty-two. You keep asking for me to hear you out, and yet you haven’t once listened to me. Go back to Quantico, go find Lynch, and be my fucking sister.”

You couldn’t be friends with someone who had been long harboring a crush on your partner, and it didn’t make sense for you to make any exceptions for her. “Okay, I’ll um… I’ll go,” she told you, hesitating for a moment before she nodded to herself and walked out of the room. You knew what you told her stung, you were sending her out with her tail between her legs, but you didn't have the gracefulness to coddle her anymore.

Slowly, you leaned your head down, gently setting your chin on the sidebar of Spencer’s hospital bed, keeping a watchful eye on him even as tears streamed down your face.

Your eyes were dry by the time Diana arrived, being guided by one of her nurses and intercepted by Garcia, who had known better than to ask any questions when your sister left in a hurry. With your sight zeroed in on the rising and falling of Spencer’s chest, you listened to the conversation, “Oh, Diana, hi,” Penelope said, unable to hide the panic in her voice, “Hi, it’s Penelope. I work with Spencer. I’ve come to see you before,” she explained.

Garcia had tagged along multiple times to see Diana at Brookfield, which was likely why they were so receptive when she called the facility. “You’re almost as tall as I am,” Diana responded and your heart sunk, worried that she might not be stable enough to face this.

“Diana,” Penelope continued gently, “Spencer fell, and he hit his head really hard, and he’s not conscious.” Her words were carefully chosen to avoid raising any alarm.

“Well, let’s wake him up,” Diana insisted, and you straightened up at the sound of footsteps approaching, “Let’s see him.”

Penelope practically stumbled in behind her, “No, wait.”

His mother nodded, not even acknowledging you as she walked in, “He’ll listen to me… Spencer,” she called to him. Seconds later, you saw it, the moment the switch in her brain flipped and an internal war started, “it’s not him,” she murmured. “No. No, no, no,” the conviction in her voice broke your heart, “This is not my son.”

Silently, you sat back in your chair, trying to think of something you could say to her to reassure her, but you couldn’t even console yourself.

Then she reached out for his hand, turning his wrist over and exposing the inside of his wrist, the small star-shaped scar that marred his skin facing the ceiling, “Oh, my baby,” she breathed. “Oh, my baby,” she leaned over Spencer, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, cupping his face with her hands, and begging with an unknown force, “Oh, please.”

Unable to tolerate the sight of her begging for Spencer to wake up, you quietly got up from your chair, hugging your arms around yourself before walking out of the room.

For years, Diana and Spencer had been all each other had, and you couldn’t imagine what this was like for her. To have her son fighting for his life in the hospital while she spent every day trying to hold on to fleeting memories of him. You couldn’t watch her, afraid of losing him. It wasn’t supposed to work like that – parents weren’t supposed to have to bury their children.

You thought about calling your mom, knowing she’d drop everything and drive the four hours to come be with you, but maybe it would be cruel. It would be cruel to have her watch a parent lose a child when she had lost her own.

Leaning your head back against the taupe walls of the hospital, you glanced over at Penelope, giving her a stiff smile.

“Hey, you,” she said, shoving her laptop in her bag before making her way over to you. “How are you holding up?”

You laughed humorlessly, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes before looking back up at her, “I’m not entirely sure that I am.”

Her eyes were filled with grief, and you knew that she was another person in Spencer’s life who didn’t deserve more loss, “Can I get you anything? Have you eaten?”

Food had been approximately the last thing on your list of concerns today, but you hadn’t eaten since Reno yesterday. You shook your head, “I’m not hungry,” You were actually a bit queasy, but you weren’t entirely sure if you were nauseous from your current predicament or if it was because you hadn’t eaten anything. “Maybe later,” you tried to appease her.

“Okay,” she sighed, “I don’t know what happened between you and JJ, but I do know that something happened. I might not know what it’s like between sisters, but I do know what it’s like to be a sister.” Garcia gave you a soft smile, “Do you need to talk about it?”

Desperately. Your chest ached at the idea of being able to talk to someone else about what had gone down between you and your sister, but you shook your head, “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

The understanding expression on her face deepened the ache in your chest, but she reached out and pulled you into a hug, “I know the two of you will figure it out.” She pulled away, sweeping tears from under her eyes, “I know you said you’re not hungry, but I’m going to go down to the cafeteria and I’ll get you something to pick at. You look like you need it.”

You smiled at her concern and gave her a small wave as she made her way through the hallways. It was sweet that she had faith in the sororal bond between you and JJ – even more than you had, but you just didn’t see it the way she did. There had always been an expectation of you and JJ growing up that you’d always make up because you were the only sibling that each other had left.

That expectation had led to a lot of issues being swept under the rug, maybe too many issues, but you couldn’t forgive JJ, not fully. Even under the weight of the obligation to forgive her for the sake of your familial tie, you couldn’t let this one go. JJ had broken any semblance of trust between the two of you, and even if you worked to rebuild that trust, the cracks were always going to be there.

When you and Spencer had fought and you knocked a bowl off of the counter, he made a remark about how the bowl could be fixed with kintsugi, but the bowl would always have cracks, no matter how pretty the gold looked in the seams. You and JJ would never get back to where you had been, and now, you were sure that you didn’t want to go back.

Wiping a few stray tears from beneath your eyes, you nodded to yourself before walking back into the hospital room, introducing Diana and Dr. K before the doctor gave you some information, telling you that Spencer’s brain was bleeding.

Tilting your head to the side, “No, I made sure he got an MRI at the hospital. The doctor there told us it was completely clear,” you assured her, remembering how you refused to let Spencer board the jet without getting an MRI.

Dr. K nodded, “We got the scans sent over from the hospital in Reno, there’s a small bleed that was possibly overlooked. From what you’ve told me, it seems like they were overwhelmed and needed to get other people through,” she told you, making it seem like no more than a clerical error.

“So…” you dragged out the vowel, trying to wrap your head around this reality, “His brain’s been bleeding since yesterday?”

The doctor affirmed your suspicions, “Boarding a plane with even the smallest of brain bleeds can have catastrophic consequences. In Spencer’s case, it’s caused intracranial hemorrhaging. Parts of his brain are shutting down and other parts are struggling to survive.”

Your stomach flipped at the mention of his brain shutting down, the term was far too close to brain death for comfort, “Is he… is he already gone, then?” You asked, faltering over your words.

“No,” she gave you some reassurance, “There’s a chance that his brain bleed will resolve on its own.”

“But not a good chance,” you observed, taking Spencer’s hand in your own. “Is there anything that can be done?”

The doctor adjusted the tablet in her hands, “The conservative approach would be surgery. It may reduce the swelling around Spencer’s brain faster. There is risk, it could cause seizures and even more bleeding,” she explained to the both of you.

The image in your mind of brain surgery didn’t bring you any reassurance, you looked up at Diana. Until you and Spencer got married, she was his next of kin. Spencer didn’t have any kind of healthcare directive for a situation like this, and you weren’t entirely sure where to go from here.

His mom shrugged at you, shaking her head, “I thought it was Tuesday, and it’s not Tuesday. So, I can’t tell you,” she answered, looking at you helplessly.

Turning your head to Dr. K, you asked, “Could we have a minute?”

The doctor gave you both an understanding look before stepping out of the room.

“What would he want?” Diana asked you, looking at you expectantly, “I don’t want to make the decision.”

Abhorring the idea that you would be the one to make the decision, you looked up at Diana, “I’m not sure,” you admitted.

“He always says he trusts you the most,” she told you. “Oh, for years in his letters, he’d always talk about you. Even before you started dating – it was always about you in a way I’d never heard him talk about anyone,” she continued, nodding as if she were convincing herself. “If he trusts you that much, then I have no problem trusting you.”

You didn’t want it to be up to you, and before you had the opportunity to answer, the alarm on Spencer’s vital monitor started going off. “Oh my god,” You breathed, moving back to allow the nurses space as they crowded around Spencer’s bed.

“What’s happening to my boy?” Diana asked, placing her hands in front of her mouth in shock, “What is happening to him?”

Watching quietly as he seized, you listened to his mom cry out for him and decided you wanted to wait a bit longer before resorting to surgery.

Picking at the bread of the sandwich that Penelope had gotten you from the cafeteria, you found yourself more amenable to sipping at the water she had brought you than you were toward actually eating something. According to Garcia, the team was hot on Everett Lynch’s trail, but she wouldn’t give you any more details than that.

Periodically, Spencer’s hand would twitch, but you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. You tried not to get your hopes up, not until Dr. K said something reassuring.

With the doctor in the room, there were four pairs of eyes watching his every move, no matter how minuscule. You leaned back in the chair, gently tracing the lines in his palm, “His… his eyes are fluttering,” you observed aloud, not daring to look away, afraid your mind was playing tricks on you.

“That’s a good sign,” Dr. K said, leaning forward and observing the same thing as you.

Penelope inclined her head to look up at the doctor, “Is he gonna be okay?”

She looked uneasy, “He’s putting up one hell of a fight, but it’s still too early to know for sure,” she answered diplomatically, checking something on her tablet before excusing herself.

Shortly after, Garcia’s phone started to ring, she brought it out into the hallway, letting you know she’d be right back.

Leaving just you and Diana in the room with Spencer, you watched as she continued to smooth his hair back, being able to see the maternal gesture made your chest ache – you never knew how many more moments there would be. “Has he been here before?” She asked you, “In the hospital, like this?”

You nodded slowly, moving through a fog of exhaustion as the day came to an end, “Yes,” you told her, memories of Briscoe County bubbled to the surface.

“Were you there for him?” She continued, wondering if someone had been there for her baby when she couldn’t be.

You had sat around his hospital bed with Alex and Penelope, waiting for him to wake up while Penelope set up Doctor Who figurines throughout the room. “Yes,” you answered again.

“Oh,” she sighed, “How awful,” she commiserated.

While a corrupt precinct wasn’t a new concept to the BAU, that case had been particularly difficult on the team, and there had been a day, much like today, where you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to tell Spencer you loved him again.

You didn’t tell him you loved him before going to bed last night.

“It was, actually,” you remembered, previously buried memories of time spent in hospital rooms. Months ago, your roles had been reversed, and Spencer had been the one begging you to wake up.

After a moment, Diana leaned forward a bit, “Spencer,” she spoke to him, “I saw some cumuliform heaps today. His favorite clouds,” She added the last bit for you, “I plucked that for him,” she explained as Penelope came back into the room. “Everything is up there, and we pluck what we want when we want, and we let go what we don’t.”

Penelope grinned, “That sounds very good. Okay, I am plucking a memory about Spencer’s eyes, and they are brown with gold on the outside,” she posited. 

Diana hummed, “I think they’re gold on the inside.”

Tantalizingly slowly, Spencer’s eyes started to open, and your heart raced as a mix of emotions flooded through you. As your eyes met him, you smiled sadly and whispered, “Gold on the inside.”

“Hey,” Garcia said, the smile plain in her voice, “we were just plucking eye memories of you.”

He returned the smiles in the room, “I heard you.” Spencer hummed, “Forgot how much I loved those clouds, mom. You helped me remember.”

Diana grinned, any remaining trace of grief wiped from her face, “I did, huh?” Well, maybe I can come back tomorrow, and we can watch clouds together,” she offered.

“Am I still dreaming?” He asked rhetorically.

“Sweetie,” she cupped his cheek with a maternal gentleness, “You are very much alive.”

Once Diana was on her way back to Brookfield and Penelope – still not providing you with any details – left to go check in with the team, you rested your head on the armrest of his hospital bed, maintaining a watchful eye on him. “I love you,” you whispered to him after Dr. K left for the night.

He hummed, tired eyes looking back at you, “You’ve said that three times in the last ten minutes.”

“And?” You inquired, furrowing your brows.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, “And I love you too.”

You smiled at him, “Thank you for having a traumatic brain injury so I could delay my stepmother’s visit.”

At that, he fully grinned up at you, “It was all part of my plan.”

A thousand words rested on the tip of your tongue, asking him how he was feeling and about healthcare directives and how he chose his favorite cloud, but everything felt so important and so inconsequential at the same time.  

“You should go home,” he spoke before you had the chance to, “Get some good rest, sleep in a real bed.”

You shook your head succinctly, “I’m gonna stay here.”

He raised his eyebrows, “The nurses will keep coming in all night and wake you up,” he insisted, knowing well enough that the hospital chairs did not make for a good night’s rest.

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t have anywhere to be but here tomorrow,” you told him, thumbing the fabric of his hospital blanket as you insisted on staying.

Spencer shifted slightly on the bed, trying to get a better look at you, “You need to take care of yourself.”

His concern comforted you, but you still shook your head, “If I don’t stay here next to you, I’ll drive myself crazy. This is the best place for me.” You picked your head up, reaching out to cup his cheek and smiling to yourself when he leaned into your touch. “What’re you thinking about?”

His head lolled lazily on the pillows, brown eyes – with gold on the inside – studying your features like he was trying to make sense of something in his muddled brain, “I had a weird dream.”

Most of the time, Spencer didn’t give credit to dream analysis, so when he had dreams that he deemed inexplicable, he’d make his head spin trying to find a logical reason. “Maybe it’s a side effect of the seizure medication they put you on,” you proposed, skimming the apple of his cheek with the pad of your thumb.

Spencer didn’t look convinced, “I saw people while I was unconscious.” His attempt at explaining gave you more insight on what he was struggling with, he had a complicated relationship with the concept of the afterlife.

“Oh, yeah?” You asked softly, hoping the two of you could talk it out.

He nodded almost indeterminably, “Strauss, Foyet, Gideon,” he elaborated, opening his mouth to add another name, but he faltered when the time came.

“Your brain was looking for manifestations of guilt,” you analyzed, each of those deaths had affected him in one way or another. “Using your past traumas against you,” you continued.

He still seemed unsure, “I’m not sure that’s all of it, some of it, sure, but…”

Your chest ached at the confusion in his gaze, “Was there someone else you saw?”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the pillows and looking at the dimmed fluorescent lights of the hospital room, “A little kid. A girl,” he told you, closing his eyes as if he was trying to recall the child from his dream.

“Well,” you considered it, “If your brain was using the other three as a manifestation of guilt, maybe the little girl is a manifestation of hope. The part of your subconscious telling you to stay formed her to represent the people you can still help.”

Spencer frowned deeply, looking at you again, “I guess I assumed there was a deeper meaning to it.”

You raised your eyebrows, “What else do you think it could be?”

“I thought…” he faltered, “I’m not sure.”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked you, already starting to walk through Dave’s house to where everyone was gathering on the patio.

You stood in the foyer, pressing your lips together as you shifted the strap of your purse over your shoulder before finally hanging it up. Looking up at Spencer, you dropped your arms to your sides, “What?”

His eyebrows furrowed in concern, “I asked if you were alright. Are you?”

Your eyes widened, “Oh, oh yeah. It’s just weird, you know? Pen leaving,” the half-truth slipped easily from your lips.

“It feels like everyone’s changing except for us,” he said, returning to you in the foyer so that the two of you could walk outside together.

“Ha,” you said humorlessly, “Right.” Penelope was leaving, having decided that Silicon Valley was too far for her, but landing a job with a nonprofit in D.C. and leaving the BAU behind. Emily was house hunting in Denver, not for a permanent move, but for something for her to share with Andrew.

You and Spencer were staying with the BAU, he wanted to split time between consulting and teaching, similar to what he had done during his sabbaticals. “Well,” he ceded, “We’re not changing much.”

The two of you emerged onto the patio hand-in-hand, being on the receiving end of welcoming smiles that had an air of relief. Everyone was still in that phase of remembering how grateful they were to have him around every time they saw him. “How ya feeling, kid?” Rossi asked, standing around the table with Krystall.

Spencer set his hand on the small of your back before responding, “Feeling great, and I’m starting back next week. Can’t let the team be down two members,” he mused, looking down at you reassuringly.

Next to you, Tara scoffed, “Oh, come on, teaching and consulting? You’re making me look bad.”

“Just doing what I love,” Spencer replied candidly.

Luke raised his champagne, “Hey, I will drink to that,”

You prepared yourself to turn down a drink, thinking up an excuse until Penelope stepped out onto the patio, “Uh, you’re not supposed to start the festivities until the belle of the ball has arrived,” she jokingly protested, giving everyone a little twirl in a very Garcia-fashion.

Leaning into Spencer slightly, the two of you watched as Luke put his hands up in defense, “Don’t worry, okay? ‘Cause this is gonna be the first of many.”

“Penelope!” Kristy called out from across the table, “Congratulations! Here I thought we were coming to celebrate Dave’s retirement, but Matt said it’s your farewell party. And you had like a hundred offers,” she said, beaming from across the table.

Garcia waved her hand in faux humility, “Oh, that’s only if you round up, but yes,” she said excitedly. “Anyway, it’s a nonprofit, it’s close to here, and the dress code is all FBI conservative like I’ve been having to do,” she said, ignoring the doubtful looks that were shared around the table.

“I’m still in denial that you’re leaving,” JJ told her mournfully, a slight frown on her face.

Matt shook his head, “It won’t be the same without you.”

“Better not be,” Penelope scolded, her tone suggesting that she found the idea ridiculous.

Emily leaned over the table to clarify for Kristy, “Dave decided he wasn’t going to retire. He didn’t want the team to go through too much of a transition all at once.”

“That’s ‘cause Dave’s never gonna actually do it,” Krystall interjected, saying what many members of the BAU had also thought.

“Hey,” Rossi protested in mock offense, “Look, being with you all, doing what few others can, that’s where I belong.” He turned to Garcia, “But this night is not about me. To our beloved Penelope – a salut.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Luke and Penelope wander off to the patio, the two of them seeking out water. You made a mental note to ask her what it was about just as Spencer approached you, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

You waved off his concern, making your way over to the house, hoping there were hors d’oeuvres remaining in the kitchen. “I’m fine, this is Pen’s night,” you explained to Spencer as he followed you.

“Right, that’s reassuring,” he responded sardonically, trailing close behind you through the kitchen.

Turning back to him, you pleaded, “Can you let this go? Just for now.”

Spencer frowned, “I thought we were working on our communication.”

Silently, you cursed him for bringing up your therapist’s – who was likely going to have a field day when she found out – tactics. “Spence,” you complained, hating how your voice sounded like a whine.

“Y/N,” he answered in kind.

Groaning, you looked around the kitchen before dragging Spencer into the pantry by his shirt. You flipped the light on and looked up at him, “I had my yearly physical this morning.”

He knew this, in order to remain eligible to stay in the field, everyone needed to have a yearly physical performed by an FBI physician. The concern on his face deepened, “I- Are you okay?”

“I’m pregnant,” you breathed, the words that had been balancing on your tongue for the better of the day. You wished you had been able to give him a better announcement. A card or a onesie, anything would have been better than turning Rossi’s pantry into a confessional.

Instantly, you saw the gears turning in his head as he tried to do the math, “That would mean…” he started, eyes widening as he came to different conclusions.

You nodded, “I’ve been pregnant. They couldn’t give an accurate estimate based on just the blood test and I’ve been trying to figure it out, but-“

“Eight weeks,” Spencer answered, the concern refusing to waver as he studied your appearance.

He was looking for signs and trying to remember symptoms, and you didn’t blame him. You had always assumed you’d have some idea, but you were so shocked that the FBI physician had insisted that you lay down before driving home.

The same surprise was pasted across Spencer’s face now, his hands tentatively placed on either side of your waist, thumbs hovering over your abdomen, “You were pregnant when the house blew up in Reno.” His voice solemn as he held back any excitement, “Did the doctor… is everything alright?”

“He said if anything had happened as a result of the blast, we’d know by now,” you offered some reassurance, having shared the same worry when you found out that morning. You wanted him to be happy, because once Spencer was happy about this, you could be happy.

Spencer shifted his weight, “But you made an appointment with an obstetrician, right?”

Slouching slightly, you looked up at him, “First thing Monday morning. Spencer-“

“If I had known, I never would’ve let you go to Nevada,” he interrupted, instantly protective.

“Spencer,” you startled him, “Are you happy?”

He paused and your chest ached more and more with every moment he remained silent, “Did you think that I wouldn’t be?”

You released a small sigh of relief, smiling at him sheepishly, “It’s just… it’s a surprise,” you offered quietly. “Is it awful timing?”

“No,” he insisted, pulling you in by the waist and wrapping his arms around you. He leaned his head down, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, “It’s perfect,” he reassured you. “I love you,” he whispered, voice muffled as he held you tightly – held you together.

The two of you remained that way until a knock at the door came, “Hey, uh,” Luke’s voice rang out from the other side of the door, “If you guys are doing freaky shit in Rossi’s pantry he’s gonna be pissed.”

Standing up straight, you clasped your hand over your mouth in an attempt to cover up your laugh. Spencer looked equally as amused, dropping a kiss to your lips before reaching behind you to open the door, revealing Luke and his impish grin.

He threw his hands up in the air, looking at the both of you as he walked backward out the door, “I was sent in to get you. Rumor has it they’re about to play the belle of the ball’s favorite song.”

You and Spencer shared a knowing look, “Heroes,” the both of you said in unison.

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[letorip]

kiss with a fist [iii]

"your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you can't help but feel like maybe you and tara are more than frenemies, and it culminates in a night where you finally share some truths with each other.

warnings: a somewhat traumatic dream sequence lmao, mentions of sex, kissing (almost), curse words, blood

word count: 5.8k

A/N: hope y'all like this one because i definitely liked writing it. definitely a whole lot more kissing than fisting.... wait a minute....

it's 5 am, my ass is grass. anyways, part 4 relatively soon because woo wee theres still so much to explore in this story i legitimately cant believe my idiot self said it'd be done in 2 parts originally

===+++===

===+++===

"(Y/n)," a voice calls to you, sing-song and sweet as your eyes fade to darkness. It's a gentle woman's whisper, but it manages to hit you like a truck, pulling you down from wherever you came from, and plopping you wherever you've arrived. Or, rather, wherever you've always been. "(Y/n), look, darlin'."

A gust of wind gently strokes over the plane of your cheek, and when you open your eyes, all you can see is rye. On one end, it reaches out towards a sharp cliff, overlooking a lake, with nothing but rocks and the water below. On the other, it runs far up the plains of land in front of you, stopping in front of the white house you know all too well, with its rickety porch and broken tire swing.

You take a few steps forward, as if ready to run right inside, and then before you know it, you're running. Like the world is about to end, like the house is burning down, like you'll never see the place ever again. Foot after foot, you dash towards it, hearing Alisha's piano flit through the front window for the first time in years, and the smell of a pie right along with it. "(Y/n)!" the voice calls again. "Dinner time, kid!"—

But your foot catches on a root, just like it did in your memory, and in an instant, you've fallen down into the rye, with a painful thud, right on your face. You let out a grunt, feeling the dirt on your new, white shirt. The one your mother never let you wear when you were playing outside.

And when you right yourself again, sitting up out of the field, the house isn't any closer than it was before. It sits, perfectly far away, only all that stuff is gone now, and the house looks about as dark as it did the day of Mitchie's funeral.

"(Y/n)!" an excited voice calls from behind you. "Wanna play tag?"

"(Y/n)'s too old for that, Mitchie," another voice chides, and you whip around like Calvin would actually be there to chide him like that. Like he used to. But he isn't. All you can see is the rye. It stands in thick stalks, reaching up to your knees in lush groupings, tall and abundant, strong and growing.

Another voice. "Read me a story?" It's soft and it's a little girl's and it's far away, and you get to your feet and spin in a circle, waiting for her to appear. It seemed to reverberate through your ears, washing through the pathways of your brain before seeping into your heart. It fills it up, and before you know it, you can feel yourself hastily searching for her.

"'Randa?" you called into the open field. "Miranda? You there?" but she continues on like she didn't hear you.

"Would you read me a story? Please?"

"I will Miranda, but where are you?" you called back, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the barrel of the hot sun.

"I'm gone, (Y/n). You're supposed to be gone too," she says back, with a sweet giggle. "Why aren't you gone with us?"

"I—" you stammer, whipping your head around the field in search of your siblings. "I don't—"

"Do you really think that's fair, (Y/n)?" Calvin asks.

"Why aren't you here, (Y/n)?" Miranda asks again, this time her voice wavering like she was about to cry. "Why aren't you in the rye with us?" Your hands came up to your head, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and block out the noises, but they seemed to reverberate into your skull.

"Mitchie was your fault, you know," Peter chides. "We would've never let that—"

"—Why did you get to stay, (Y/n)?" Came Tomas' voice. "We're supposed to be cursed, and you're supposed to be cursed too." He was always the quiet one, but now his voice had a sharp edge to it. One of jealousy. One of anger.

"Why didn't you catch me?" Mitchie asked. "If you just would've caught me..."

"Come play piano with me, I'll teach you," said Alisha, in her light, airy laugh.

"Why did it get to be you?" snarled Calvin. "And why are you getting closer to Tara? You want to curse her, too?"

"Stop—" you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

"Wanna play hopscotch?" said Mitchie.

"Do you miss us, (Y/n)?" Alisha said, in between tears.

"Yes, of course— I—" you tried, but now the voices were filling up your head, threatening to spill over and knocking you to the ground. You curled up into a ball as your brain filled up. Words piling up on top of words, piling up on top of words, about to split you open. "STOP!" you yelled.

And everything went silent. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself still in the field, but your siblings' voices had gone entirely. Now it was just you, in the field, alone with the rustling of the wind and the rye, as it grazed gently against your legs. You hadn't remembered standing up, but you were now.

In a flash, you could see a shape, running through the rye in a line that was very visible from where you were. You recognised the dark hair, and the yellow jacket he always wore. With the realisation came the looming dread, and you realised with very little time left what this exactly was a memory of.

You took off running, faster than you had to the house, faster than you had ever run, and faster than you had run then, chasing after him as he took off towards the cliff-end of your rye field. "Mitchie!" you yelled, trying to be louder than the buzzing cicadas, but it seemed the moment you yelled, the cicadas got even louder. He was too short to see over the stalks, but you could see him go, running in odd shapes as he got nearer and nearer to the cliffs edge.

"Catch me if you can, (Y/n)!" he called back with a gleeful laugh.

"(Y/n), grab your brother," called your mother. She didn't seem too worried, and she hadn't been, then. No one had been, until it was too late.

"Mitchie! Stop!" you cried out, feeling tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks. "Mitchie!" you tried again.

"Come on, you've gotta be faster than that if you're gonna be it!” Mitchie called back. "Catch me! Get me! C'mon! I'm gonna make it hard for you to win, Duck."

"MITCHIE! PLEASE!" you screamed, but all he did was giggle. “STOP! DON’T GO!” But the moment you reached the end of the rye, he was gone over the edge, just he had been when you were 13, and there was an arm shaking you awake.

===+++===

"Oh my god, you're about the least peaceful sleeper I've literally ever seen," Tara laughed, grinning at you from over her textbook. She had it pulled into her lap from her side of the table and titled against the table edge, and spread out in front of you were her papers galore, with notes scribbled all over them in preparation for her upcoming exam.

Mindy sat next to her, playing a stupid game on her phone, while Ethan was also studying in his own textbook. He had stopped trying to avoid you as much, as had Chad. You and Tara "dating" seemed to offend them less and less the longer it went on.

"Uh," you mumbled, still feeling a little bit disoriented from the dream. It was like a dose of adrenaline had been shot directly into your heart, and you struggled to adjust to the calm, peaceful library that actually was around you. "Shut up," you grumbled, but not like you were actually upset by her teasing.

Tara watched you with her eyebrows raised. "You look tired."

You sat up in your chair, running a hand through your hair. There was a small layer of sweat on your forehead. "Aren't you never supposed to say that to someone? Pretty sure that's how you get someone at the bar to throw their drink in your face."

"It is," Ethan nodded. "I made that mistake once. I was trying to be sweet."

"Good thing I'm not seducing you, then," Tara shrugged. "You've seen me puke everywhere. Pretty sure that ruined my chances right-out, and yet you love me anyways."

You grinned, leaning back to stretch out your arms. It was meant to be a gentle teasing from Tara, but you had only gotten better and better at deflecting the longer you were around her. "You'd be surprised, actually. That was super pretty. That was the prettiest you've ever been." Mindy snorted next to Tara.

Tara glared at you, unappreciatively. "And you're pretty when you do not speak."

"I'm pretty all the time, Tara," you mockingly shook your head. "And you think I'm joking. Find yourself a girl who looks nice covered in sweat, with her hair going everywhere, and puking in the toilet. That's my girlfriend."

"You're such a dick," Tara scoffed, but you could tell part of her was stifling a laugh. It was funny to her too, and you both had laughed at it together for days, afterwards.

If anything, it had gotten easier and easier, to act like the both of you were actually dating. You weren't too sure why, maybe Tara had become less annoying, or you had become less annoyed by her, but you had definitely at least become a better actor. That's what it was, after all. "Oh, also," she continued.

"Yeah?"

"Someone tried to call your phone, while you were sleeping. I think it was your dad."

You frowned. "You didn't pick up, right?"

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. Then she paused. She dropped her voice to speak just to you, guarding the conversation from Mindy and Ethan. "Do you and him not get along?"

You shrugged. "Eh. He was probably just checking in. We have a fine relationship." It wasn't true but it was an easy lie, that rolled off the tongue like nothing. He had already called twice, that day, and you knew why.

"Seriously, though," she said with a frown, looking up from her book. "You look fucking horrifying—"

"—Thanks," you said, flatly.

"—I mean, even more than normal, it's crazy—"

"—Thanks," you repeated.

"—Have you not been sleeping, or something?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I'm an architecture major, and it's midterms... so not really."

"Hm."

"What?" you asked, propping your head up on your arm. "What's the 'hm' for?"

She shrugged, trying to turn back to her textbook. "Hm, nothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at her. "Well, obviously the 'hm' was something, Tara." Mindy shot you a look again.

"Or it was just a hm."

“Would you two shush,” she said to you, rolling her eyes. “You bicker like an old married couple.” But you both ignored her.

"It's never just a 'hm.'"

"I say hm all the time. It's literally just a hm."

"No, it means you've got something to say but don't want to say it."

She frowned at the accusation but was obviously even more displeased that you were correct. "I was gonna suggest we go to the OBK party tonight, but maybe you should just go home and sleep. I was trying to be nice.”

You shrugged. "I won't be doing either, actually." Tonight was not the night for parties. You were somewhat grateful, that you had a legitimate excuse to busy your time, or else you would've spent even longer thinking about the dream. "I have to do homework. My final is due tomorrow."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you. "Wait, but I thought classes ended today."

You shook your head. "Nope. I've still got some stuff do."

"Oh," Tara frowned.

"Not all of us can have easy majors," you teased, trying to lighten the mood away from what was clearly concern.

"Hey! You chose the stupid thing," Tara shot back. "Not my fault I chose something fun." She stood up, gathering her things into a neat stack. The time was nearing for her midterm exam, and you stood up with her, grabbing her textbook to be helpful.

"Thanks," she said, then she wandered over and held out her hand. You grabbed it in yours, lacing your fingers together, just like you had practiced together.

The library was a tall building on the far side of campus from where you lived. It was a trek and a half to get there, which is partially why you had been a little annoyed, when Tara said she needed to go there. It ended up being the perfect place to fall asleep in, with the quiet signs and only a few murmurs now and again, and though it had been a less than peaceful dream, it was more than you had been getting for the past few days.

"I don't see why you can't just go without me," you shrugged, adjusting her book in your hands. "Just tell Sam I'll meet you there. Besides, Chad and Mindy are going to the same party, right?"

"Yeah, but I what if they realise you're not actually there and mention it to Sam, or something? And, I'd have to go there alone, since Chad and Mindy are going early."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Helping with set up. Mindy literally just mentioned that. Shows how much you listen to her.” She shook her head in a mocking disappointment in you.

“I was asleep, jerk.”

“I know,” she said, grinning.

You looked down to her, where she walked next to you, gently swinging your joint hands back and forth. "It's not a far walk to OBK. You could probably make it there in five minutes. It's well-lit, and—"

Tara frowned, shaking her head adamantly. "Not alone. Not without you, no way. Sam would want to see you at the door to pick me up. She'd probably hate the idea of it."

"Fair enough," you shrugged. "Find a movie at home tonight, then. Relax, or something. I'd kill to be done with this stupid project."

"What are you even making?" Tara groaned, breaking your hands to shove hers into her pockets. Actually, it was your jacket, and therefore technically your pockets too, but she had taken a liking to it, after your date. You had been less than pleased, when she asked to borrow it, considering how much the jacket meant to you, but she insisted it was assisting her to keep up the act. You figured you could part with it, at least for a little while.

"Architecture," you said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at you. She nudged you, and you couldn't help but laugh as her elbow pointed into your side.

"Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"I'm hilarious."

"You wish..." she scoffed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful day in autumn, and the weather was soon to leave the sigh of brown leaves and rainy days and move into whispery winds and icy pavement. You didn't mind winter, but you didn't like the chills, even though it was undoubtedly what gave summer's warmth a certain sweetness. Still, nothing burned like the cold.

You walked her all the way to the door of the exam hall, stopping out front to hand her the textbook you had been carrying. You went to speak, but the moment you tried to open your mouth, your phone started ringing. You grabbed it from your pocket, sighing and declining the call, while Tara stared at you.

"Is that your dad, again?"

"No," you said. "Telemarketer."

"Right..." she said, frowning. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" you challenged. You were, it was true.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m asking why, (Y/n).”

"Why don't you leave it alone?" you shot, in frustration. You could see Tara's eyes narrow at your tone, and you felt a bit bad. There was the occasional reflex still, to bite each other's heads off. You weren't sure what it was about her, but something about Tara Carpenter always seemed to rile you up inside, and do the same for her with you.

"Sorry," you said, looking down at your shoes. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be an asshole," Tara glared.

"Right... I'm... sorry."

Tara sighed. "I guess I'll see you next week?" She asked.

You nodded. "There'll be plenty of time after this, I just need to get this thing done."

"Okay," she nodded, failing to hide her excitement. Tara seemed to really love parties, the more and more she went to, and you were somewhat glad you could help her find something she enjoyed. It was nice to see, not that you'd ever say that to her. Doing that would absolutely result in her teasing you again, or something even more annoying.

"Good luck on your test," you said.

"Good luck on your project, babe," she said, drawing the name out.

“Now who’s hilarious,” you said with an eye roll. Tara winked at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Me.”

===+++===

It seemed you were having no good luck on it whatsoever, actually. Laid out in front of you was all of your materials, in a messy pile of cut-out pieces and foam boards that were there, sure, but not likely to just jump together and put itself together on its own.

The clock had already ticked away to 12:33 in the morning, and your design was barely finalised to where you could get to work and finish quickly. All of the other students had left at a much more reasonable hour, and it left you standing at your table alone, quietly working to classical music in the empty modelling lab.

At this rate, you could be here for another two or three hours, and the project was due at eight. You were sluggish, slowly working through the plans you had set out days ago and working through the kinks.

Every few minutes, when you stopped for even a second, the dream seemed to rush back to the forefront of your brain. Your mother had been the one to call, that evening while you were eating a poor excuse of a dinner, and you had declined that call just like you had declined all the rest.

You were hunched over your work, probably unhealthily so, with your face buried in your iPad, hastily throwing out sketches of the various shapes. You were settling on a design that would have to do, heading for the woodcutter, when you heard a noise.

It resembled a door shutting, and you froze right where you were. "Greg?" you called out. There was no one else in the building except for you and Greg, at his usual security post, and you waited with bated breath for him to return your call.

But there was no response, and all you could hear was the sounds of classical music gently floating in the background. Usually, it set you at ease while you worked through whatever you were doing in the lab, but now all it did was raise your heart rate to match the increasing tempo. It was completely dark, except for the overhead light above you, which illuminated the table you were working at and a few of the stainless steel cabinets that held tools and supplies.

Then, off to the side, you heard a rolling. An odd, wooden rolling, slowly drifting towards you. On the ground was a pencil, gently pushed towards you, playfully rolling as if perfectly in front of your toes. You hopped to your feet. "Hello?" you called, squinting in the dim light, in case anyone else was there. "Is anyone there?" you called out again. "Greg?"

Now you could really feel the thumping of your heart. The modelling lab had always been creepy late at night, but this was a new level of unease. It was as if someone was watching you, playing with their food, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "Is someone there?" you said to the rest of the room.

"Hey!" said a voice, and you jumped what felt like five feet into the air.

"Fuck!" you shouted, spinning around and seeing Tara behind you. She jumped at your reaction, raising her hands up. In one of them was a tray with two coffees on it. “You scared me!”

"Woah, woah, are you okay?" she asked, face etched with concern. She walked towards you slowly, and you put your hands on the edge of the table, trying to calm yourself.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that, dude," you glared at her.

"I literally didn't, I fucking announced myself, loud as can be," Tara said, rolling her eyes at you. Then, it melded into concern. "How long have you been here?" she asked, looking around the place and its emptiness.

"Since I left you at your test," you shrugged. "How'd it go by the way?" Tara's eyebrows furrowed, ignoring your question instead for one of her own.

"Did you at least eat dinner, or something?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Good."

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, turning back to your work. “How did you know where I was?"

“I asked Chad. He’s still a little snippy with me about, well, thinking we're together. Tried to tell me that if anyone would know, it would be me, and I said, yeah, that’s true, but it’s only been three months, now.”

“Well,” you said, gesturing around to the lab. “This is the modelling lab.” You were a bit of a nerd about the whole place, showing it off like it was your cool superhero lair.

“I know,” Tara mocked. “I saw it on the giant sign above the front door.”

“Ha ha. Does Sam know that you’re here?” You asked, grabbing your pen and resuming your work while you continued to talk to Tara. She plopped herself down on the edge of the table, letting her feet swing.

She looked a bit sheepish at the question. “Uh… no.”

“You know she’ll kill me like she did that one time, if you’re not home when she wakes up,” you frowned, wandering over to the supplies and grabbing out a box cutter to help trim the pieces you needed.

Tara nodded. “I know. But I snuck out, so I’ll sneak back in.”

You turned back around to reply, maybe say something stupid, but you had to stop yourself from laughing, when you saw her legs hanging off the counter and not reaching the ground.

“What?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and returning to the table. “…Dwarf.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking you on the arm. “I brought you coffee, don’t make me take it back.”

“That’s true,” you frowned, weighing your options. “Guess I can’t make fun of you; you brought me caffeine.”

“That’s more like it."

You worked in silence for a few minutes, feeling Tara watch your every movement. It was harder to work, under her scrutiny, but you were grateful that she was there. It wasn’t lonely in there, any more. A few months ago, you would’ve hated her guts for sitting around while you attempted to work. But not with Tara anymore. Not on that day.

“This might be an all-nighter,” you warned, sending her a small smile as you sliced a piece of foam in half and went to work to attach it to your board.

“Fine with me,” Tara shrugged. She just continued to watch you, in a calm silence. “Actually, I have beef with you,” she hummed.

You laughed, looking up while you secured the base with glue. “Why’s that, Tara?”

“You got that song, stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“The one you sang for me. I found it online.”

“Which one?” you teased, smiling again. Your face was tired and the smile certainly didn’t help, but you couldn’t help the newfound peace washing over you again. You had completely forgotten the weird happening from earlier.

“You know, don’t play dumb.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I really don’t know.”

“You literally do,” Tara scoffed.

“Sing a little bit. Refresh my memory.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is a trap.”

“It isn’t,” you insisted, sticking your pinky out to her. “Swear.”

She wrapped it in her own, rolling her eyes. She definitely knew it was, but she obliged anyway. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a strangerrr. You know in the end,” her voice broke on the low note like yours did, and you laughed while heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll always be thereeee.”

“And when you’re in doubt,” you sang back to her, in between laughs. “And when you’re in dangerrr.” You both were tone deaf and the rendition was awful, but the mood in the lab was getting lighter and lighter the longer you were together.

“Take a look all around,” Tara sang, coming back in. “And I’ll be there.”

It was impossible not to laugh at how bad it was on both sides, and you grinned at her toothily, before turning back to your work. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, idiot,” she teased, nudging you in the side again.

===+++===

You went back to working on your model, finishing the first floor in about an hour. You and Tara occasionally talked now and again, but mostly she just watched you while you worked. “Why are you doing this all tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time the past couple weeks…cause of… well, you.”

She shot up to her feet, mouth dropping open. “Why the hell didn’t you say no to me?! I didn’t know you had all this to do.”

You shrugged. “I never mentioned it. Plus, you were having fun. I’m glad someone was enjoying themselves.”

“Oh…” she said, and it sounded small.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

���…Nothing."

“It’s fine, Tar. Seriously.” She blinked at you.

“Tar?” she asked, looking amused.

You looked up from your work, feeling the change in the atmosphere. “What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just never used the nickname for me, before.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Is it weird?”

“Well… no. I kind of like it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding a little. “My mom was the one who gave me the nickname Tar. Haven’t spoken to her in a little while, though.”

“Do you still miss her?” you asked, glueing your second story onto the base successfully.

“Sometimes…” she trailed off, staring out at the pitch black night through the window that hung over your workspace. "She calls me once in a while."

"Do you answer?" you asked.

"No," she admitted. "It's usually about Woodsboro. I gave up on her a few months ago, but she still calls sometimes about the town."

"You never talk about it..." you comment, trailing off with a hand on the back of your neck. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." You leaned back against the table with a curiosity, watching her face move as she struggled to answer.

"Well... it's cause I don't want to that I don't talk about it. You know how people say that shit about manifesting happiness?" you nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Well, I keep saying I'm fine, and I'm moving on, but it just keeps following me everywhere. It's like this chronic cough I can't shake. This constant thing. No matter how much I run, it's always there. People don't see me as anything but one of the survivors."

You swallowed, feeling her words hit you. "I know what you mean." Tara's eyes snapped down to yours, but when you didn't volunteer more information, she sighed.

You frowned, turning yourself back to your work and hunching over, so she wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “I, uh… I listened to that song you said you liked, too.”

“You did?” she asked, lighting up at the mention of it.

“Yeah… added it to my playlist… so…”

“So…” Tara laughed, amused by your awkwardness. It was somehow less awkward when you hated each other. The fact you could tolerate each other now was unusual but not unpleasant, and you still found yourself grappling with how pretty Tara’s eyes looked in lamplight. "If I get a nickname, you absolutely have to have one too."

You scoffed. "That's not at all what that means."

"You had to have had one at some point."

"No, I haven't had one," you said.

"Liar!" Tara said with a giggle, pointing at you with her finger. "You're so bad at lying it's remarkable. Now spill. What is it?"

"I'm not lying!" you insisted, but now you were laughing and it was even less convincing.

"C'mon, promise I won't say it in public— unless it's really bad."

You stared at her for a moment, when she clasped her hands together in a begging plea.

"Please?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee?"

"Fine," you sighed. "My family, they used to call me Duck."

"Duck?" She asked, leaning back to look at you as if the nickname would re-contextualise your entire appearance. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's dumb. I used to wear this yellow raincoat when it was storming outside and these orange booties, so my little brother Mitchie saw me, when he was like five or six, and said I was a Duck. And so I was Duck."

She smiled at you, genuinely pleased with the explanation. "That's adorable. Where is Mitchie, tonight?"

You opened your mouth but shut it. Then, you opened it again. "Probably watching cartoons, or something. Back in Nebraska." (A/N: my ass genuinely did not know that was a U.S. state until right now)

You couldn't tell her that today was the day he had died, several years ago. That a year or two before that had happened, Calvin had gone, and a few months before that, Tomas and Alisha had passed too. That Peter had gotten sick, or that Miranda had gone missing before any of that mess had happened. That you were the only one left.

It was a bad lie, and probably one you would regret later, but it was one you ushered past, and Tara didn't seem to pick up on. From one cursed person to another, you figured it was probably best that you keep your own curse to yourself. It's part of what had made you hate Tara so much at first. She walked around knowing her days were likely numbered, so carefree and careless. And then there was you, you who was so careful in order to keep living.

But you couldn't resent her for that. It had melted away with seeing the Tara underneath. The real, beautiful Tara underneath.

"Duck is good, though. I'll bring it out when I want to embarrass you," Tara smiled, inching closer on the table.

"Yeah?" you grinned back at her, standing up to gently tap against the glue. It was set, and your model was finally finished at 4:42 in the morning. Tara leaned close, watching the glue with her own eyes, cheek almost up against yours in curiosity.

You finished the thing, looking over at her and her large, warm brown eyes, staring at the model you had made with so much curiosity and genuine interest. Tara hadn't lifted a finger to help, but you couldn't help but feel like it was partially hers.

You went to pull back but found your face turning towards hers, looking at each other for a long moment. Your eyes lingered on the slope of her nose, down to the curvature of her soft lips, turned up in the corners like Tara always did when she smiled. They looked so soft, and before you knew what was happening, you could feel Tara's hands coming up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently stroking against the skin there.

You couldn't breathe, feeling the warmth of the pads of her fingers on your face and the faint brush of her breath upon your nose. "Tara," you whispered. The pull was magnetic, and just as you were about to say to hell with it all, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and you both leapt apart from each other.

You wandered a few feet away, trying to seem busy while she answered it. You could feel Tara watching you while she spoke on the phone, so you did your best to hide the blush that was certainly spread wide across your cheeks.

This was the very girl you had spent the past several months hating. You suddenly felt dizzy, like the world would slip out from under your feet. Tara, the very same annoying girl who had pestered with you and bickered with you. The one who had so much more to her that what you had ever thought possible. The one who drew you in. The one in search of a hook up, for which you were only the decoy. You cleared your throat, whipping around when you heard Tara say "What?!"

"What's wrong?" you asked. "What's going on?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at you like she was about to cry. "They're questioning Sam again. They think Ghostface is back."

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN anyways my ass is going to bed now. also i do not recommend anyone lie to someone they're interested in about who they are, ESPECIALLY an attempted murder victim

[feefivefoe]

need to see Jason showing up at reader’s door. Or Damian’s attempts at befriending reader.

I legit think Damian shows up at their front door first. Jason acts a little like a creep at first, only sneaking through their window at night bc he's scared of their reaction.

I mean. He's supposed to be dead. And he had forgotten about you for like, 2 years! Will you be mad at him like you are at Bruce? Because he did do the same thing that he did...

There's also how he's changed, too. Sure he wasn't the easiest kid to deal with, ever, but now he's...he's kinda fucked up. Night terrors, reactions to sudden movements, more violent in general...of course he'd never hurt you, and he's better than he was at first, but you aren't dirtied like the rest of the family is.

You've never raised a genuine weapon. Your child self was fine being pushed around. Preferred it, even. Instead of blowing up at your brothers and father, you'd chosen to take the quiet way out. Hell, you don't even hate them! You're softer and sweeter than the rest of them, especially him, could ever be.

Maybe he gets too complacent, letting himself in night after night. Feeling overconfident in his ability to not wake you up. Forgetting that you also have trauma that gives you night terrors, causing you to wake up in a fit only to see Red Hood standing in your room.

It isn't pretty. You're convinced he's there to kill you, at first. As some sort of vengeance for the actions of your mother, given she wasn't here to take the divine punishment.

It's a bad move. He knows it is. He knows from experience that it isn't going to help, and will just make your panic attack worse.

But...damn it, that's his favorite sibling! It's ripping his heart in two to watch them crying.

So, without thinking twice, he ends up technically restraining you in his arms for the time it takes for you to stop struggling. It's less that you eventually gather your bearings, and more that you run out of energy to keep struggling.

Of course you don't recognize his form, or his voice. He had died while you were in high school, and now you were in your early twenties. Puberty had hit him like a truck. Or a crowbar, either or-

"Pleasepleaseplease- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry- I didn't- I didn't know, I'm sorry-"

His grip tightens, pulling a whimper of pain from you. His face cracks beneath the cowl.

"Nonononono- you don't need to be sorry. I fucked up, you're okay. You didn't do anything wrong." He tries, but you're still too far gone.

He doesn't even mean to reveal himself, but slips up when he calls you by a childhood nickname. Maybe your friends also use it, maybe it was exclusive to him. But even in your haze, you start piecing things together.

Known vigilante aligned with Batman...who knows Nightwing, Red Robin, and the new baby Robin that recently has become attached to you. Sure, maybe Bruce had picked up an older orphan you missed, but they wouldn't know to call you that unless...

"...Jay?"

He BREAKS at that. Losing grasp of his strength, keeping you so trapped against him you're half convinced you'll meld together.

There will be words exchanged later. Explanations, regrets, and even more anger directed at the rest of the family. But it takes a few...hours to get through all the conflicting emotions.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Yoichi Isagi's older sibling.

"Who's that?" In the middle of their gathering as this happened to be their first week off at blue lock, Chigiri was the first to notice the presence of other from afar. "Yeah, who's that? They've been looking at us ever since we got here." This time it was Bachira whom have been long aware of the other person presence ever since they have gathered in the cafe. "And they're good looking too." Eita spoke that causes everyone to look at the person they were talking about. It was a person wearing shades and a mask, so how could Eita tell they were good looking? "Who- ah. That's my older sibling." This time it was Isagi who spoke. "Who-?! What?!"

Imagine, as far as you are aware of. Your younger brother Isagi was supposed to be on that so called project, blue lock? Was it? So now that you have seen him in the midst of the crowd in the middle of your agenda. You cannot helo but to observe him in the far distance, was that really your younger brother? Come to think of it, your mother has been urging you to attend some game just a couple of days ago as well as making you come home last time. But you cannot, you are busy nowadays.

Imagine, just a couple of seconds ago you are pretty sure they were all looking at you. And now, they are all in front of you with Isagi at front leading them in tow. "It's really you kiddo." You spoke in awe once he was in front of you. "Are these your friends? That quite... a lot." With all sorts of hair color variety too causing you to sweat drop. "Well... things happened. But! These are my friends from blue lock, and this is my older sibling, Isagi (First name)." "It's a pleasure to meet my younger brother's friend." You chuckle, removing your mask as you throw your arm around Yoichi's shoulder and making a two finger salute towards his friend that have their jaw dropped. "You bastard! You never told us you have an older sibling let alone a them being a model!"

Imagine tagging along with them. Sure you were in the middle of your agenda butttt that could wait, you haven't hangout with your brother for a while now. Besides, it was fun to have them around, youths have their own ways of enjoying and it's really fun. So you tag along, paying things on their behalf as the oldest among them despite those punks being loaded as fuck. Damn, they even have the Mikage heir among them and that young model you have seen before. Still, the point is that you are the oldest, and you have taken a liking on these punks so it was your treat. Not that you played with them though, you just watch them from the side. Looking at your brother fondly with a smile on your lips.

Imagine having a smoke break, a piece of cigarette yet to be lit up on your lips as you lean against the wall on an alley when you heard a footsteps coming towards you. "You smoke?" You shake your head, finger reaching out for the cigarette on your lips before signing your brother to come closer. "Why are you outside? Aren't there more time left at the karaoke?" "Oh, I just went outside for a breather." You nod once again and silence take over the place. Suddenly you really want to smoke but held it in as you open your mouth. "So.. How's blue lock?" It was an unexpected question coming from you, at least for Isagi. You have never taken interest when it comes to such things after all. But now that you asked, his eyes sparkle unknowingly. You on the other hand listened as your brother rant about his life inside the blue lock.

Imagine in the middle of their bowling match, in the midst of fun, you receive a text message from your manager causing you to bid your goodbye to them. "Oh." You look back at them that was watching your departure. "It might be too much to ask but please take a good care of my brother." You bow before standing up straight again. "And Yoichi." Before he knew it, a card was thrown in his face. "Feel free to treat your friend and buy whatever you want, you're at home till the end of the week right? I'll come home tomorrow." You spoke looking at him. "Well then, goodbye." With a silly as salute and a wink, you turn your back at them.

Imagine, Isagi always found you intimidating. Maybe it was the age gap between the two of you or the difference in your personality but you were quite hard to get along with to be honest. But now that he think about it. "Woah, you have such cool sibling, Isagi." His friends- his team mates exclaimed, even Aiku and his team could only agree. And with a laugh, "Yeah, so cool, right?" Isagi said smiling.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

[tourturestarradio]

𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇

"𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐰𝐬, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚"

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Pairing: Choso x Vampire reader

Prompt: You're curse just wanting to roam free but after certain events lead you to meet your new blood bag you fall face first into a growing obsession for his blood.

Warnings:Smut, fem bodied reader, kinda mean reader, hand job, riding, blow job (male receiving), doggy style, not proof read, manipulation, blood sucking (obviously.) switch! choso, Switch reader, semi public sex (only a little), hair pulling

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

You stared at the male in front of you "you'd be of great help Y/n." blinking you sighed "no thanks." turning and walking away you felt energy zoom past you tilting your head to the side just in time as a sharp object passed you.

You groan in annoyance "I don't have a choice do I?" looking back you stared at the man dubbed as Geto, he freaked you out "I suppose you don't" standing still for a moment you blinked "okay. i'll join you."

After joining the creep with the scar on his forehead's little gang you were paired with a half curse named "Choso?" you looked at him.

He didn't talk much but not because he didn't like you, he just wasn't that sociable. Or maybe he just didn't like you. Either he didn't speak with you much.

Up until you asked what he could do, he explained his technique but in all honesty you didn't pay any form of attention to what he was saying as you were staring at his face. He was so cute. But he was also really hot when he was fighting.

Licking your lips you spoke "sooo, you can control blood can you?" he nodded "can I see?" leaning closer to him, he agreed showing off his piercing blood technique. Then the sweet smell hit your nose "so that's your blood? No one else's?" he shook his head again "can I taste it?" he snapped his head over "...what" nothing but a look of confusion covered his face.

You scooted closer your shoulders now touching "please your blood smells so good! just a little taste?" you asked, it then clicked for Choso, "you're a vampire aren't you?" he asked, as if to remind himself, you slumped "how did you forget so easily" Choso looked you up and down "do you need any blood right now?" you nodded your head rapidly.

Remembering a conversation you had with him you thought of an idea just a quick white lie.

"Ya'know...I have family too." Choso seemed to perk up at the mention of family "really?" you nodded "yes two little siblings, and they mean so much to me. and I'm the only one who can take care of them and I need blood to survive because without me, my little siblings could be out on the streets...or worse..." you mumbled hoping he would fall for your dumb story.

Choso frowned "I understand wanting to do anything to keep your siblings safe." you nodded 'fuckin idiot.' you thought to yourself "i'll let you have some." you smiled "alright come on." getting up you grabbed his arm dragging him away.

He let you pull him away into a different room shutting the door you had to keep a smile from growing on your face. tilting his chin up you pulled his scarf down staring at his neck you could smell his blood right below his skin. Licking a spot on his neck you felt him shiver. Biting down on his neck a sweet taste flooded your mouth, one like which you've never tasted before.

Your heart started pumping faster as you gripped onto his shoulder biting down harder "ah...!" Choso groaned at how hard you were biting him in the mist of an oddly euphoric feeling he remembered "wait-!" shoving you off he held the spot on his neck "my blood it's poiso-" "delicious! ah I've never tasted such good blood in my life!" you didn't seem to be affected by his blood, in a split second you latched onto his neck again.

Choso could feel your tongue glide over where you had bitten at, that same strange feeling washing over him again. His hand slid into your hair gripping onto it, after a few seconds he could feel himself get a little woozy.

Pulling your head away you licked your lips "Choso! I wasn't finished!" he caught his breath "I'm sorry I just felt a little tired" he huffed, You roll your eyes "right. well thanks Choso baby you're a big help." you were about to walk away but Choso grabbed your arm "wait....I feel weird." you tilted your head "hm? oh my saliva has some type of chemical thingy that'll nullify the bite, make you feel a little better." you explained.

"Hm. Alright but I feel all hot. Is that normal?" he asked you looked down seeing he was hard. Cute just from sucking on his neck a bit.

You chuckled "I can help with that, but is it okay if I do?" he nodded his head "ah, ah say it."

"Yes, please."

A smile grew on your face "good boy." pushing him up against a wall, getting on your knees you tugged the waistband down "wow." you stated, staring at his cock grabbing hold of it you looked up at him again "is it okay if I...?" he nodded his head rapidly that growing need getting worse.

"Speak."

"Y-Yes."

Licking his tip you looked up at him seeing him squeezing his eyes shut his face growing red "aw I barely even touched you." you chuckled, taking his tip into your mouth you swirled your tongue around his tip feeling him shudder under you.

Pulling your head up spitting on his cock your hand going to work as you pump is cock whimpers leaving his mouth. He leaked pre-cum as he covered his mouth with the back of his hand "can you...can you use your mouth...fuck...again? please." he asked, a smile played on your face "as you wish" wrapping your lips around his cock again you pushed your head further down.

"Fuck...ah, ah~" as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat Choso grabbed your hair tightly, feeling an odd knot built up "I feel...hah, weird..."

You giggled sending a vibration up his body 'coming so quickly?' you bobbed your head back and forth faster "fuck...fuck, fuck..!" you nearly gagged as he came into your mouth pulling your head away you licked your lips "you're so cute Choso" you say lightly slapping his cheek "wait...wait can you do that again?" he asked carefully sliding you hand to his cock.

"Oh?" you roll your wrist back and forth "you like that baby?" you hum in his ear he nodded a low moan escaping his mouth "yeah..." he groaned tossing his head back.

"Don't be too loud now baby. Don't want the others to hear what a needy slut you're being." you hummed, pumping his cock faster he gripped onto your arm "shit..." he groaned again.

With another curse he came again letting out little whimpers as he tried to catch his breath, beads of sweat rolling down his head. Letting go of his dripping cock you licked your hand clean "might have to do this more often." You muttered, leaving him there in shambles trying to recollect himself.

.

As the days passed you couldn't get the taste of his blood out of your mouth. Trying your damned hardest to find something similar to it, but no one's was similar.

Once again you asked him for some blood.

A few days after that you went back again after that.

Then the next day.

Then the next day.

A repeating cycle but you weren't the only one getting something out of this Choso would ask for sex after just because he always felt so needy after. Sometimes you'd say yes sometimes you said no. Either way he was understanding.

It was late at night and you were hungry. But not for blood, you wanted Choso. No you needed him. Badly.

By some odd coincidence Choso was also craving you as well, because you heard a knock at your apartment door. Opening the door you saw Choso standing there.

Almost instantly you both were latched onto each other, Choso kissed you his hand holding your hips "I need you...I need you so bad" he muttered between kisses, "me too" pulling your shirt over your head he pushed you back onto your bed kissing down your torso.

He looked at you through his lashes "can I?" you nodded your head "ah, ah, say it" you smirked hearing him turn the tables on you.

"Yes you can"

Sliding your clothes off your body Choso looked over your body "like the view?" you teased, turning around on your stomach you propped your ass up looking back at him. Pulling his clothes off Choso kept his eyes trained on you, putting all his bite marks, and hickeys that littered his body from previous meet ups.

You were already soaking wet waiting for him. Choso pumped his cock a bit before lining his cock up with your entrance. Slowly pushing into you, he hissed "mm...tight, relax Y/n." he groaned slowly moving in and out of you as you moaned his name.

His thrust grew rougher as you gripped the sheets, he held your waist tightly "fuck...you feel so good." he groaned, tossing his head back. You cursed under your breath "shit! just like that baby. ngh, fuck" your breathing grew unsteady as he thrust in and out of you.

His hips stuttered he could feel himself coming close to his high "fuck...Y/n...m'close hah" you squeezed around him "ngh, not y-yet." you shook your head "..what?" he was confused but you shook your head again "n-not yet!" you dropped your head moaning his name again.

Reaching back you grabbed his hand "pull...out" slowly Choso pulled out "what's wrong?" he huffed out of breath.

"Lay back." he did as he was told laying on his back, you crawled on top of him, hovering over his throbbing cock. Leaning down you kissed him again sliding yourself down onto him.

Leaning up again, you rolled your hips forward "I like looking at your face when you cum" you smiled your fangs showing as you continued to ride the black haired male.

One hand held your waist while the other groped your chest.

"Mm I-I could say the s-same...ngh" squeezing his eyes shut he bit at his lip swallowing thickly as the urge to cum became strong again. You also felt the same urge "fuck. m'close too" your moans grew louder "let's....let's cum together" Choso had rolled his hips upwards "mm, make me feel so good...ahh, hah." your eyes rolled back as you and Choso came together.

Your body shuddered as you rode out your high, you laid down on Choso.

He opened his mouth to speak but you were asleep before he could say anything, a small smile displayed on his face.

"I'll let you sleep" pressing a kiss against your forehead he held you close to his chest closing his eyes.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: I love Chosoooooooooooo

[boiohboii]

A broken house

(Charles leclerc x daughter! Reader)

Masterlist

I just saw remembered this heartbreaking scene from an old theatre play (is that what they're called?), like when colors on tv first became a thing old, and I just had to write it down. WARNING: implications of cheating, abandoning children, Charles is not a good guy at all, a daughter confronting her dad, not proofread, just something quick right before bed

Charles never imagined he would ever be in this situation.

When he first held yn in his arms, his precious, precious daughter, his oldest and the apple of his eyes, he vowed to never hurt her, to never see her cry and to never let her expirence heartbreak, so what was he supposed to do when she's standing right in front of him cheeks flushed, fists by her side and angry tears falling out of her eyes.

He was the reason, he was the reason and he never thought he'd be. And to make it all worse, he doesn't feel sorry. He doesn't know where it all went wrong and he doesn't know when he became so cold-hearted towards the sunshine of his life, his pride and joy. But it's too late now, too late to try and talk, too late to try to explain and too late to even get a speck of the love yn held in her eyes for him. He knew it was too late. It was just too late.

"So what," yn refused to accept her father's silence, she needed to hear him say it, admit to his wrongdoings "you're just gonna leave us?"

"You don't understand," Charles tried to reason, his eyes not even meeting his daughter's identical ones "she needs help."

"THAT'S YOUR REASON!" yn's voice boomed through the empty house, thanking anything and everything that her mother and siblings aren't home yet "that's your reason to abandon us! What about mum huh? what about your wife? The woman WHO SACRIFICED HER YOUTH FOR YOU! TO FOLLOW YOU! TO HELP YOU! And what of my siblings, what are they gonna do? What did they do to deserve this? What did any of us do to deserve this?"

Yn looked at her father, slowly walking towards him, she refused to believe that's the same man who showed her what love is, who carried her on her shoulders to hear her laughter, who promised to sheild her from the world's treachery. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, the man who promised to protect her is the one clawing at her heart and watching it bleed, too much of a coward to even lift his eyes from the floor.

"Please," yn's voice broke as she thought of her home tearing apart, her mother and her baby siblings "please take a moment and think about it, about our family, just for five minutes. Please."

"I'm not going to waste my time."

Yn's breath hitched in her throat, her voice gaining power as her disappointment and anger took over, yet still so quite.

"All four of us don't even deserve five minutes of your time. Are you that impatient to leave with her? Don't worry, I won't hold you back, but I swear to you, I swear on everything that you believe in that you will regret it. There will be a day where you will wish for the time to go back for an hour, a minute or even a second, you will wish you'd have thought this through and really kept in mind who actually loved you before you ruined it all. But even if all the years turn back, we will never forgive you, we will never miss you and we will never think of you as the man you once were. We will never love you again."

Yn doesn't know where it all went wrong, she doesn't know how could 20 years of loving someone, your father, all just go down the drain because of one voice call. She doesn't know what she's supposed to do or what's she supposed to tell her mother, her siblings, her grandparents, but she knew one thing; it was too late to try and talk her father out of it, too late to not let this moment tarnish all the good memories they had together, too late to even leave a bit of her love for her father in her heart. It was just too late.