#but he covers it up by doing everyone elses

[wearysparrows]

Cyanide in my Seeds

ao3/masterlist

Summary: While visiting Caleb at his college, you convince him to practice kissing with you. It escalates.

cw(18+): female reader, reader is mc, Pseudo-Incest. Kissing, Grinding, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pet Names, Minor Angst, Mirrors, Texting, Not Beta Read, Coming In Pants, Pre current timeline 5K

Caleb:

paging pip. what’s your 20 ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

9:31AM

Me:

Train was a little early. I’m in your dorm already. Your roommate let me in on his way out lol

9:31AM

Caleb:

him getting to see you before me in my own room is crazy work. im on my way, be a good girl and wait for me ;)

9:32AM

You lay back on the bed of Caleb’s dorm, setting your phone down next to you. You had intended to meet up with him directly when you arrived, but had run into his roommate, Gideon, on your way. Your train had arrived surprisingly early, and Caleb was still finishing the last of his morning workout in the campus gym. Gideon kindly led you back to their dorm so that you could wait patiently for your brother. Well, your boyfriend, as everyone on campus knew him. Caleb’s little stunt had worked wonders to fend his many admirers off. It was obvious to anyone who looked that you were close, though you tried not to read the comments on Caleb’s university’s social media that wondered at why Caleb was dating a girl with quiet eyes, and a blank face that gave nothing away to match. You weren’t Caleb’s shadow anymore – but you were still in the darkness, comparatively. He cast a long shadow, for all of his light. Still, it was impossible to not love Caleb for his radiance, and you were no exception. He excelled in everything – and that included the boyfriend act. 

It was almost too good. Caleb treating you the way you had long wanted him to treat you – well, it could be hard on the heart. But you were selfish, too. You’d accept the facsimile of the thing if it wasn’t reality. You’d drink it in before he found someone he truly cared about. Someone he didn’t have to pretend with. Someone he was in love with. Someone he would fill up with all of himself. Someone who wasn’t his sister. Someone who wasn’t you. The thought made your insides twist around themselves, and a small wave of nausea washed over you. Images of Caleb standing next to the nebulous form of someone else flashed in your mind's eye. You swatted at them in the real world, as if the motion would coax them to leave you alone. 

The sound of the door handle turning blessedly interrupted your musings. Caleb stepped in, looking flushed and unfairly handsome. He was still in his gym clothes – a tight white tank top, and grey exercise shorts that hugged him in all the right places. He was still covered in a soft sheen of sweat, and his chest rose and fell quickly, like he had been running just moments before. Your body was standing before you had a chance to tell it to do otherwise, walking towards him. He grinned at you, pretty purple eyes full of unadulterated mirth in your direction. Your walk quickly turned into a run, and you leapt at him. Caleb caught you easily, just as you knew he would. As he always had, since you were children. Your brother’s strength had never once faltered. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. He held you with one arm around your back, the other easily supporting the span of your ass. A chuckle left him as you made contact with his body.

“Should I take this as you saying you missed me?” 

You buried your face in his neck, and inhaled. The familiar smell of his sweat, of the outside, of his warmth. You melted into him. It was like being kissed by your own personal sun. You could feel the quickness with which his heart beat under your touch.

“Caleb,” you managed. It was enough for him to understand.

“Hi, baby. I missed you, too.”

Caleb walked with you as you clung to him in the direction of his dorm bed. You knew it was coming, that he was going to release you, but you would have rather crawled under his skin and lived inside him. He set you down on the mattress, hand slipping out from under your ass. You released your hold on him reluctantly. He knelt in between your knees, his big hands spreading your legs wide apart to make room for him. A bolt of shyness shot through you, but you did your best to ignore it. Had he looked down between your legs, he would have seen everything. You were in a skirt, after all. But his gaze stayed respectful, even when you didn’t want it to.

“You’re gonna get my sweat all over your cute little clothes. I need to shower before we hang out. You got here before I could make myself all pretty for you. I stink.”

You leaned towards him and sniffed with intention. He didn’t stink. He smelled like sweat, cotton, clean laundry –  the ever tranquil scent of your brother. You still buried your face in his pillow back home, trying to catch what was left of it, even months after he was gone. He had caught you, once. You had expected him to tease you, but he said nothing, staring at you hugging his pillow with an unreadable expression on his face. Neither of you mentioned it, afterwards. Things went on as usual.

“You don’t stink. You smell good. Suit yourself, though.”

A funny look came over Caleb’s face, along with the slow rise of a deeper blush to his already red cheeks and ears. The corner of his mouth turned up, like he was trying to keep another expression in check. His hands drifted further up your legs, until he was squeezing your bare thighs. Any closer, and he could have touched you between your legs.

“You’re messin’ with me. Here,”

He removed one hand from your thigh, and you momentarily mourned its absence. He produced his phone from his pocket, and put it face down on your leg. It was cold and heavy, dead weight. Nothing like his warm hand. It was something that belonged to him, though. You would accept it as recompense for his missing touch. He tapped the back of his phone with a finger.

“You can play with my phone while you wait, if you want. It still has all the games you downloaded last time. I’ll be quick.”

You didn’t want to be apart from him for any longer than you had to. You had so little time together as it was. Even just a few minutes sounded like an age to your ears.

“Okay. But if you aren’t fast enough, I’m going to hide all your stuff from you. You’ll never find your fancy compass again.”

Caleb stood, and his groin was momentarily level with your face. You didn’t have the strength to avert your eyes. Every part of him was big. Those stupid shorts of his left nothing to the imagination. Not that you didn’t already know. He reached out, ruffling your hair. Then, as if thinking better of it, he smoothed it back into place with his palms. The pleasant sensation of his touch made your lower back prickle. 

“Instead of playin’ hide and seek with my stuff, play with me instead when I’m done.”

Caleb dropped his hands as he spoke and turned from you. As he stepped away, your hand reached out and grasped his shorts. You stared at it as if it had acted on its own accord. Caleb tilted his head at you, smiling. 

“What, you wanna shower with me?”

You dropped your hand, feeling your face warm at his teasing. What would he have done if you said yes? 

You shook your head instead of saying yes, I do want to shower with you. Just like when we were kids, I want to do everything you do, I want to do everything with you, I want you–

“Just make it quick. I’m only here for a day.”

Caleb nodded, his expression turning into one of mock resoluteness. He couldn’t keep it up, though, and it morphed back into a warm smile.

“Ten-four. Give me five minutes, angel.”

With that, Caleb disappeared into the adjacent restroom. The dorm was small, which meant you could hear every movement he made in the shower. Instead of straining your ears to catch his sounds, you laid back on the bed, and picked up Caleb’s phone. You didn’t have to guess at his password – it was your birthday. It had been for as long as you could remember. His wallpaper stared you in the face. More accurately, your face stared at you in the face, because his wallpaper was a brightly smiling picture of you, leaning over one of Caleb’s home cooked meals. Your stomach flipped. Not wanting your own eyes to continue to look back at you, you opened the first app your fingers touched – his camera roll. It wasn’t your intention to pry – but then again, Caleb didn’t really seem to mind, either. He never tried to hide his phone from you. There was nothing out of the ordinary – it was mostly slides from presentations and complicated diagrams of flight paths that you couldn’t decipher. There were some recent photos of you and Caleb together. Strangely, there weren’t any pictures of Caleb with his friends, as you would have imagined. Puzzled, you scrolled down to the groupings at the bottom. 

The little blue letters of the folders glowed faintly back at you. ‘Hidden’ seemed to stand out among them. You debated setting the phone down, letting Caleb keep his privacy. He was an adult man, and surely there were parts of himself he kept hidden, even from you. But your desire to peel him open and connect yourself to his insides got the better of you. You clicked it, and it unlocked with your face ID. You had no idea what to expect, but it hadn’t been this.

The first visible rows were almost entirely pictures of Caleb. Shirtless, in nothing but his boxers. In the mirror. You held your breath, as if you were hiding from something that would be able to hear your intake of oxygen. You clicked on one, your adrenaline racing through you, all the way into the tips of your thumbs. In it, Caleb stood in his boxers, phone in hand. He flexed his right bicep. The lighting was such that his muscles were deeply accentuated by dark shadows on his lovely tanned skin, the ripple of his abs moving down, down, turning into a line of dark hair that disappeared into his boxers. The outline of his dick was clearly visible in the soft spandex, suggested by the veins in his lower abdomen, too. The necklace that you gave him sat neatly in between his big pecs. Your mouth suddenly felt very, very dry. You forced yourself to swipe away from the image – but not before it had been permanently burned into your mind. You ached for him. Your brother, and Caleb. Whatever it was that was in between the two. You scrolled up and up through the hidden folder, and it was like watching the progression of Caleb turn into a man. He grew visibly taller, bigger. More tanned. His body fat shrank into virtual nothingness, until the striations of his muscles were visible under his skin.

Amongst the sea of Calebs, one photo stood out to you. It wasn’t Caleb at all. It was marked as a favorite, too. You clicked it, and the image of your sleeping face appeared on the screen. You were sleeping on Caleb’s bicep, wearing his shirt. It fell from your shoulder, revealing the smooth slope of your collarbone. You checked the date on the photo. It coincided with the last time Caleb had come home to visit. You had been so tired from studying the Hunter’s exam that you had fallen asleep on him. Questions sprang into your mind, rapid fire. Why did he have a photo of you sleeping, of all things? And why was it this deep in his hidden folder, if it was so recent? And why was it favorited? Your body felt uncomfortably hot. 

Was this really something he wanted to keep from you?

The sound of Caleb clattering open the bathroom door suddenly reached your ears. You had been so absorbed in your snooping that you hadn’t heard him cut off the flow of water. You threw his phone onto the bed, where it landed with a dejected thump. You crossed your hands awkwardly over your lap. Caleb padded over to you, rubbing a towel over his still wet hair. He was, of course, in nothing but a pair of sweats. You stared down at his bare feet instead of up into his face. Guilt dug into your ribs, rendering you unable to look up at him.

“What were you up to, pipsqueak? What’s with that weird posture? Doin’ something bad again?”

Caleb’s warm hand, still slightly damp, nudged your chin up so that you were forced to look up into his handsome face. There was a stray droplet of water on his neck. You wanted to lick it off.

“No,” you answered levelly. Or what you hoped was levelly.

“Just…meditating.” 

This earned a brow raise from Caleb, and he snorted, his eyes crinkling up with laughter. Obvious disbelief rang in his voice.

“Riiight. And I’m the Dali Lama.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Internally, you desperately searched for something to redirect his line of questioning away from you ogling at the partial nudes on his phone. After an agonizing moment of mental scrabbling, it came to you. You tugged on the leg of his sweats.

“Let me dry your hair, Caleb. You’re dripping everywhere.”

Caleb blinked owlishly, and then looked more pleased than ever. He nudged your arm with his hand.

“Wow, the prince treatment from you? You really did miss me.”

Caleb wandered back into the bathroom for a moment, and reappeared holding a rather beaten-up looking hair dryer. It was nothing like the nice, expensive one he had wired you money for that you had at home. He plugged it into the power strip adjacent to you, and put it in your hands. You held it, and its weight somehow felt awkward in your grip. More peculiar guilt rang its bells in your ears. He sent you money every week, but couldn’t get himself a better hair dryer? You made a mental note. Even if it was with his money, you could still get him a better one. You shook your head.

“You’re so popular, you basically are a prince around here. You don’t need me for special treatment.”

Caleb sat between your legs, and looked up at you. The violet of his eyes reflected the light that was cutting in through the small window of the dorm. You didn’t share his blood, but sometimes, inexplicably, you looked at him and saw some aspect of yourself looking back. What aspect it was, though, you didn’t know.

“But you’re the only one who I want special treatment from. Besides,”

He leaned his head against the inside of your knee, and pressed a chaste kiss there. 

“That makes you my princess, right?”

You opted to ignore his question, as well as the kiss, and turned the hairdryer on, instead. You could only handle so much of his vague insinuations about the nature of your relationship without crossing any lines. Caleb leaned his head down obediently as you worked your fingers through the softness of his dark hair. The heat and the successive whirr of the dryer lulled you into a pleasant state of relaxation. Caleb’s eyes were closed, his head bowed. You brushed your fingers through his hair again and again, a makeshift comb. His hair was quick to dry, and it seemed as if he had cut it just recently. You clicked off the hairdryer, and set it aside. Caleb didn’t rise. He was still sitting in between your legs, head low to his chest. One of his hands had found a firm grip around the back of your ankle. It traced your Achilles heel. You dragged your nails through the hair on the back of his neck. It was cropped short, and had a fine texture that tickled your palms. Caleb’s body shuddered, and he made a little sound like a whine in the back of his throat. You paused your movements, concerned.

“Caleb? Did I hurt you?”

He looked up at you, a slow raise of his head. His face and ears were flushed red – from the heat of the dryer, you figured. He licked his chapped lips.

“No, baby. Don’t worry. Your hands were just makin’ me feel really good.”

His words went right in between your legs. Your mind conjured images of your hands in other places, making him feel really good. You retracted your hands, and put them in your lap, lest they try something else. You were reminded that someday, likely soon, someone else would be making him feel good. You averted your eyes from him. Caleb tilted his head, putting himself back in the line of your gaze.

“What’s going on in that noggin’ of yours? First you treat me like a prince, then you go all shy on me.”

You bit at your lip between your teeth, weighing the value of telling him the truth.

“I was just thinking that,”

You shuffled a socked foot against the ground.

“Someday soon, you’ll find someone. You know, a real girlfriend. And we won’t be able to do this kind of thing anymore. You said I could practice having a boyfriend with you, right? So maybe we should...”

You stared at your hands in your lap. The pictures of Caleb half-naked swam in your mind. Maybe they were intended for someone. Maybe someone had already seen them. Someone who wasn’t you. Your hands felt heavier than ever.

“Practice before you can’t anymore.”

Caleb was quiet for a long moment. Too long. You opened your mouth to brush it off, ask him to pretend you hadn’t said anything, you were just kidding around – but Caleb was back to spreading your thighs apart, still kneeling between them. His hands were much closer to your hips, now. Too close. He squeezed, hard.

“You know I won’t date anyone else. I’ve told you that.”

You tried not to let his phrasing give you false hopes. Anyone else, he said. As if you were actually dating. 

“What if I start dating someone, then? You won’t help me practice?”

You nudged his thigh with your foot.

“Or should I get someone else to do it?”

It was a low blow, but one you knew would work on him. You weren’t an idiot – you knew Caleb’s possessiveness ran deeper than the still waters he tried to make it appear as. Even if his feelings weren’t romantic, he was still your brother in every sense but blood. You could push his buttons just as easily as he could yours.

Caleb’s eyes were hard, but he was still smiling up at you. He stood without a word, and you were lifted off of the bed from underneath your armpits, like you weighed nothing to him. He switched your positions – he sat on the bed, and you were deposited in his lap, your back against his broad chest. He leaned his head over your shoulder, big hands on your waist. You realized, then, that you were directly across from the dorm room mirror – the image of yourself sitting between your brother’s legs, wide eyed, staring back at you. Caleb’s voice was soft in your ear. You watched as his lips almost brushed the shell of it in the mirror.

“Sure, I’ll help you practice. Why don’t you start by introducing me as your boyfriend? Go on.”

Caleb gestured to the mirror. You had introduced yourself to others as Caleb’s girlfriend boundless times, at this point. But introducing him was something else altogether – nevermind while faced with your own reflection in the mirror. As you watched, Caleb watched you, too. You could feel him slowly harden underneath your ass as he eyed your reflection. His sudden bullying incited you to do the same to him. You nodded, as if you were going along with his whims. 

“Okay,”

You took a breath, as if winding up for it. He stroked your sides with his thumbs. His skin practically brimmed with his verve.

“Hi, everyone. I’d like to introduce you to my big brother, Caleb…”

Caleb’s dick twitched underneath you. His lips set into a hard line. He nosed your ear delicately, despite the look on his face.

“Be nice. Don’t make me say it. Why don’t you be a good girl and try that again? Otherwise, I’ll have to put you in the air for a minute as punishment.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his threat. It was hardly a punishment at all to be suspended in the safe net of his evol, surrounded by the weightlessness of his very life force. You started again.

“Okay, okay. Hi everyone. I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Caleb…”

Caleb twitched underneath you again. His hands squeezed at your waist, rubbing up and down the span of your ribcage and hips. You squirmed, because it tickled. Caleb tried to hold you still, to little avail. His voice teased your ear.

“Was that so hard?”

You pretended to try to escape his firm grasp. His voice lowered to a dull rasp. It cracked over his curse.

“Don’t squirm around so much. Shit.”

And then you were lifted into the air, not by Caleb’s hands but by his evol. It set you down next to him on the bed, instead. You blinked at him, crossing your legs over each other. He chuckled, a little breathless, but he didn’t speak. He rubbed his hands over his muscular thighs, like he had energy that had nowhere to go. You nudged him with your foot, and he took it into his lap. Right next to his obvious hard-on. You resisted the urge to press your foot against it, to see him react to you like you wanted him to, instead of pushing you away. He squeezed the arch of your foot, rubbing it absently. To your eyes, it seemed as if he had momentarily forgotten the point of all of this.

“I don’t just want to practice introductions, Caleb.”

You flexed your foot in his grasp. He turned his head to look at you, and tilted it, questioning. There was something barely restrained in his gaze. An appetite, starved. 

“What are you tryin’ to say, baby? Use your words.”

You scooted closer to him, feeling emboldened by his earlier reactions to you. 

“There’s other things real couples do, right? Like…”

You trailed off, struggling to make the word kissing come out of your mouth. Instead, you pressed your index finger against Caleb’s full lips. His eyebrows rose a fraction, and then another. He grasped your wrist, and pressed a kiss to the side of your finger before pulling it from his mouth. His fingers wrapped all the way around your wrist, easily.

“Liiike…?”

He was going to make you say it, wasn’t he?

You felt yourself losing steam. Maybe his lack of acknowledgement was an out for the both of you. Maybe you were an idiot for thinking he might actually kiss you – even just for practice. You drew your foot and wrist away from his grasp, and Caleb’s hands hovered in the air in their absences. You backed up against Caleb’s pillow, and supported yourself against it. Caleb’s body followed after yours, crawling on his hands and knees until he was hovering over you, his knees on either side of your hips, supporting himself by his hands next to your head. He was so big, especially like this. There was nowhere to escape to. He leaned down, and spoke into your ear again.

“Were you going to say that you wanted to practice kissin’ me? You want me to kiss you. Like I’m your boyfriend. I’m right, right?”

You shoved your hands against his chest, trying halfheartedly to dislodge him from your personal space. He didn’t budge, not even a fraction. His necklace hung between you. It clinked with your efforts, like some sort of consolation prize for trying. You scowled at him. 

“Stop screwing around, Caleb. You’re obviously not taking this seriously.”

Caleb’s face above you had become serious, along with his tone. His eyes darted around your face, like he was committing something memory. 

“I’m not screwing around. If you were my girlfriend,” his knuckles drifted over your jaw, his touch feather-light.

“I’d be very serious about you. I am serious about you. So,”

His face hovered closer to yours. You felt his breath fan over your face, smelled the heat of its sweetness. His voice lowered to a rough whisper.

“Want me to kiss you?”

You lay very still. Your body felt heavy, like if you moved anything besides your head, the moment would shatter, and be lost to you forever. Caleb would change his mind, and you would never get this chance again. You nodded, almost imperceptibly. Your nose brushed against Caleb’s. Not a moment after you had given your silent permission, his lips were on yours. It was soft at first, firm but gentle. You hardly had the wherewithal to react, initially. But his mouth insisted, and you gradually met him in kind. Caleb was breathing hard through his nose, and he leaned in closer to you, bending at the elbows. Emotions you normally ignored bubbled up in your chest. Emotions you shouldn’t have towards your brother. Slithering, crawling things that wouldn’t scatter no matter how much you chased them away.

 Your hands naturally found their way to his bare chest, feeling the warm planes of his pecs, and sliding down to his abs. He tensed underneath your touch, and moaned softly into your mouth. The sound made heat curl tightly in your belly, and you lifted your stomach up against him, where his dick was hard in his sweats. His hand slipped behind your head on the pillow, and fisted your hair. He pulled your mouth away from his, and lifted his face. His chest heaved, and his lips shone with the mix of your saliva.

You thought he was about to say something, but he merely looked for a moment, before he switched your positions. The gentle caress of his evol lifted you into the air, and he lay down underneath you, setting your body neatly down across the large span of him. You propped yourself up on your palms, and straddled him. His dick pressed hard in between your legs, underneath your skirt. You hardly had a moment to get your bearings, because his big hand was pressing on the back of your head, fisting your hair again, guiding you back to his mouth. His free hand had a too-firm grip on your hip, his thumb hooked underneath the waistband of your skirt. You wanted him to pull it down, to pull it off of you. To put his dick inside of you, instead of just against you.

Caleb’s tongue was in your mouth, teaching you the feel of him, imprinting his taste on you. You knew, then, that you never wanted to taste anyone else. You had already known. Caleb sucked your tongue into his mouth, and then offered you his to do the same. You lapped at it, then sucked. Caleb’s hands pressed you hard against his body, roaming everywhere except where you wanted him. He rutted up against you as he sucked, and his body shuddered underneath you. A strangle of a groan came out of his throat, and he cursed into your mouth. Then, he was still. You pulled back from him, and peered into his face, confused. 

There was no misconstruing what was unsaid in his gaze. Want radiated from his eyes, from his swollen lips and red face. He chased after your lips once more, kissing you again, and then on the side of your mouth, your cheek, your ear. His palm swatted your ass gently. 

“Get up for just a sec. I’ll be back in two shakes.”

You peeled yourself off of him, feeling yourself deflate at his unceremonious leave. You sat up on the bed, and Caleb hurried with an unusual quickness to the restroom. The sound of the faucet covered whatever other sounds he was making. You stared blankly at your own face in the mirror across from the bed. You were red to your ears, your hair a mess from Caleb’s grip on it. Your clothes were rumpled. You quickly averted your eyes, and adjusted yourself back as best you could. Caleb returned not a moment later, and sat back onto the bed. He pulled you into his arms, not giving you the option of going elsewhere. His embrace was near crushing, and he looked down at you. 

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t want to leave you, even for a second. How do you feel? Was it fun to practice with me?”

You struggled to find your voice, and cleared your throat. Caleb’s thumb was tracing over your lips. He tugged at them, and appeared to be inspecting your teeth. The reasoning for his short disappearance trickled into your mind, and you felt your face become hot all over again. Momentarily, you debated teasing him for it, but thought the better of it. The thought that you had elicited such a strong reaction from his body was something you tucked away for later. You spoke around his touch with some difficulty.  

“It wash fun. I like prachticing with you. Can we…prachtice some more?”

Caleb chuckled, a funny, strained sound. He tugged at your lip with his thumb once more before releasing your face. The air felt cold on your teeth.

“As long as you promise I’m the only one you’ll practice with, we can do it whenever you want. Promise me.” 

His voice had a tinge of strained helplessness that you couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of. Caleb lifted his pinky, and you lifted yours in kind, wrapping it around his much larger one. His finger squeezed yours. You swore you could feel his pulse, there. Maybe it was just your own.

“I promise. Cross my heart, and hope to die.”

[murmiss]

A sketch about Price's neglected daughter!y/n, and the kidnapper! Konig.

The living room was flooded with soft light. There were three people sitting on the sofas covered with burgundy plaids. Price was the first to take the most comfortable seat, sitting in his masterly manner. Next to him sat his faithful friend and comrade, Joshua, and the third person sat on a separate small sofa, wrapped in a plaid blanket-it was Megan, Price's oldest daughter. On the terry mat in front of them sat a girl of about five, the youngest daughter, who was playing concentratedly with a doll. She didn't seem to hear or react to anyone else

The girl, sitting in a separate seat, answered Joshua's questions with the same pride: "Yes, when I grow up I'll be a doctor, a surgeon! Or a-- A lawyer!"

Her father's soft laughter reached the children's ears, and the youngest daughter raised her head as well. Unconsciously, she smiled hearing her father's laughter. Joshua smiled as well, carelessly leaving his arm on the back of the couch and looking in front of him, directly at the youngest. He grimaced.

"What do the investigators say? "Mr. Brix caught up with his companion in one of the corridors of the police station. Price was pale, his hair was dirty and greasy, and there were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. John's eyes were cloudy and he was clearly out of it. Not immediately reacting, Price mumbled something inaudible. Joshua stopped and tugged on his friend's shoulder to stop him. Josh's words sounded like warm encouragement, and his voice was confident: "We'll find her, buddy." Price only nodded in response.

But time only goes by. A day goes by, two days, a week, a month...Almost half a year your sister, Megan Price goes missing. Then the world turns upside down, or maybe-- And nothing's changed? You honestly don't know.

The days are monotonous and empty and the future is clouded with hopelessness. "Who am I?" is the question that keeps popping into your head for hours on end. "Who am I?" a person. "What am I for?" To live. "Who needs me?" I don't know.

It's like a dark abyss, a dragging slime or quicksand that slowly but surely drags you down. You don't feel anything, and you don't know if you've ever felt anything.

Where's mom? Where's your sister?

Nothing again. No information, no word or picture from your father, and only childish resentment.

Kindergarten. Parents pick up their children, hurriedly put on their shoes, and adjust their clothes before leaving. It's evening, but the father is still gone. Anxiously you look out the window, wishing you could see a native silhouette, but nothing but an old crow pecking at the garbage near the tank.

Lonely. Like always.

John forgot to pick you up, or more accurately, he was just with Maggie at her school's Young Poets performance. Omit that the performance ended early, and Price was just taking his daughter and her friends to a coffee shop to celebrate.

It's getting dark, and, the tutor calls Price, who arrives almost immediately. At first, he's embarrassed: gosh, he forgot about his kid! But then he seems to Forget Again, listening with fatherly warmth to Megan's newly composed poems. Sitting in the kitchen, with everyone else, you feel like you're in a family circle, with your own people, not noticing that the eyes are never on you. You babble happily, distracting your sister, "And me! Me too. ". But before you can finish, John says with a smile, "Good for you." You giggle happily in response.

But he didn't hear you.

As you get older, you notice an unfair difference: for some reason, Megan has always been treated a little more reverently. Why was that? The answer is the same. You don't know.

"Do you want a strawberry ice cream?" a gruff, wheezing voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up and see Konig standing in front of you, immediately regaining your senses.

"Yes"-you answer briefly, and seemed to fall back into your thoughts, remembering Megan.

"She's fine," Konig brings you to your senses again. He smiles like a serpent, and there is no mask on his face. His face, covered in battle scars is open for all to see, but he doesn't care.

You nod.

Konig was an acquaintance, a friend of Price's, an old-school man with a strong temper and oddities, you thought. A handsome face with strong features, but covered with scars.

When Megan disappeared, Price became completely estranged from you. Desperate, he left the service six months after she went missing, couldn't take it anymore. He was like a robot, perpetually pale and embittered, almost never speaking to you. You often feel the emptiness, wondering involuntarily: what if this is him? When once again your father walks by with glazed eyes, you call out to him, "Father?"

There is no answer.

After about a year, he almost comes around, maybe talks to you more than a couple times a week or, on rare occasions, a day. And then... He just... Notices you?

Returning after school, Price greets you with the table set. He smiles, genuinely talking to you, discussing his day. Everything seems so nice. You eat an entire plate, not immediately noticing the catch. And even noticing it not that day, but towards the end of the week, when your father happily informs you that he has enrolled you in the poets' circle.

Why poets? Oh, yeah. Megan.

He's trying to recreate Megan in you, ignoring the fact that you're a human being too. With your own opinions, desires, morals and dreams. You didn't want to go to medical school just because when Megan wanted you to, you didn't want to go to dances and poetry clubs and perform on stages like she did.

You just want to be yourself.

Megan's gonna come back like thunder in the middle of the day. Just-- Coming home after a damn 1.5 years with no explanation. She smiles adorably as her father kneels like a slug, hugging her as tightly as if she might run away. He sobs, stroking her hands gently. Not that you like being a substitute, but... The slightest bit of attention attracted.

Things get worse, and Price is like a man possessed. He drives Megan every day to the university you're already attending together because John wanted you to follow in your big sister's footsteps. Now he really forgets. He just doesn't see, even worse than when Megan disappeared. In Price's eyes, it's just the image of his oldest daughter, his pride, that's all.

"must it really be lonely?"-The voice rumbles again. You look up. You see Konig again. He's wearing a medical mask. Is he afraid of the coronavirus?

"What?" you ask after a couple seconds.

"Get in the car, I'll give you a ride home." He nods nonchalantly at a maroon car. Definitely not his, but maybe a new purchase? Or not his? Oh, but you don't care, you just hop in his car, not wanting to wait for your dad or the bus. Either way, Price doesn't care when or who you're with.

Which becomes his mistake.

"Where are we going?" you mutter as the car starts to shake over bumps and the woods thicken.

"to your new and loving home, princess."

Konig's plan was perfect from start to finish, until a damn girl got in his way: Megan got caught at the worst possible moment, completely ruining all his blunders.

Then he kidnapped her, finding no other way out of this shitty situation, and locked her in his cozy basement, which was carefully built under his house, enlarged and arranged for you. All to make his Liebe Maus, you,feel herself cozy.

Megan wasn't you, she was noisy, annoying, and that's when Konig changed his plan, day in and day out setting Megan up the way he needed her to be, and when he did, he let Megan go, determined to never, ever expose him. That day she had purposely distracted Price by calling him to a newly opened café so that Price would forget to pick up his second daughter, giving Konig every opportunity.Megan acted to Konig's advantage, and if necessary, she would help confuse everyone so that his sun would never be found.

(Just a random sketch from the notes, possible errors, quick description. at the end of the text, the main character is an adult.)

[welcometololaland]

apologies in advance for the extremely long rant but i woke up this morning with such mixed emotions. on the one hand, i feel so much satisfaction for the way these characters had their stories told. on the other, there is sadness that there's no more of that story to tell (at least, in canon. long live fanfiction!)

and i was thinking mostly about episode one and The First Meeting and That Honky Tonk Scene and how much tk and carlos have grown since that point. and even though canonically speaking, carlos was serious about tk from the very start, how could either of them possibly have known what their lives would become from that very first dance?

tk in the rain was lost and deeply hurt. he was guarded and pissed off about the world and distant and covering up the festering wound of loneliness with a prickly exterior and casual sex. but i think it's obvious that deep down, he craved acceptance and love and BELONGING and affection. this is the same man who proposed to save a relationship! he's always been an incurable romantic in my eyes. one thing i always ruminate on when it comes to tk is his passion for caring, and how that contrasts a little with the occasionally caustic attitude he has in season 1. i think in fic we often cast carlos in that caretaker role (which he is), but i think tk (through his career, his dedication to jonah, accompanying his dad (and later) tommy to their medical appointments, his love for random animals) also has a deep need to care for others and be cared for. i see tk in the pilot as someone who has all these aching, unrelenting and unfulfilled needs, who has decided that the world has shown him he isn't worthy of them. it's someone who has recently been on the precipice of giving up. it's someone who is so tired of being let down that he's decided the best thing to do is to simply stop caring. and he has NO IDEA how much his life is going to change, how committed his future husband is going to be, and how much meaning his life is going to have, both in a caretaker sense, as well as being cared for.

carlos also carries so much pain in the pilot, but i think the interesting thing about how carlos' story is told is that it's not obvious from that episode (whether by design or simply...that rafael silva was criminally under-utilised in season 1). slowly, through the seasons, we begin to unpack carlos' complicated feelings towards his upbringing and his father, his deep respect for, and loyalty to, his parents, his need to exceed everyones' expectations (highly relatable content). i think it eventually becomes obvious that carlos has so many ideas of the person HE NEEDS TO BE in a relationship, but so many times, he finds himself completely out of his depth (the loft purchase, the secret marriage) because tk never represents the picture-perfect love story that carlos perhaps envisaged but actually something tangible, real, messy and yet perfect in its own way that not only fulfils him but CHALLENGES him and leads him to this extraordinary personal growth. carlos, to me, represents the picture of what a supportive and loving relationship can represent - not only happiness and fulfilment and deep affection for someone else, but finding a new way to love yourself. i bet if carlos had a crystal ball in the pilot, he wouldn't have characterised all the challenges that he and tk will eventually face as the idealistic relationship, and maybe would be uncomfortable with the mistakes that both of them make in that journey, but i don't think carlos in the rain could ever have imagined how deeply fulfilled he will feel with the life he ends up having.

i know this isn't perfectly expressed but im in my feelings and this is my blog and you get my stupid word vomit. tarlos are the epitome to me of the greatest power of love - the love you CHOOSE, the love you commit to, and the love that irrevocably changes you.

did i use a twilight reference for the last line? you can't prove it.

x

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

Early Supernatural Sam Winchester.

Dean's over-performance of masculinity is a cover for being bi and the result of somehow never being manly enough to Make Dad Proud™. Sam's performance of masculinity is the result of desperate button-mashing, like if someone slapped that Ratatouille rat into a jaeger and told him to go fricassée god.

Dean's meltdowns are usually because too much was asked of him too young, and his stunted sense of being held to an unfairly high standard to which he can still never articulate an objection. Sam's meltdowns have the distinct flavor of someone who made the mistake of wearing a red shirt and khakis to Target, is being berated by a customer for not being able to unlock merchandise for them, and still hasn't realized why this is happening.

There's also a lot of interpersonal awkwardness that probably started life as a "deeply traumatized homeschooler" note from the showrunner but very easily turns into not having the words for "deeply excited to make out with this hot chick, but not in a guy kind of way" or "deeply ambivalent about positive feedback for accidentally performing masculinity correctly."

There's an episode where Sam has to get like thirty minutes of therapy in return for intel about a haunting. The last thing the audience sees is some variant on "Let's talk about your brother," and then you see Sam stagger out looking like it was pure torture.

Is thirty minutes long enough to slam into "I love him, and he's a good brother, but he's always on my ass to nut up and bro down and be a man, even when it's just the two of us. And for what? Nobody likes being a fucking guy! Being a guy fucking sucks! Nobody would be a guy if they didn't have to be a guy!"? Is that stunned-mullet look because the therapist gently told him that, food for thought, most men do in fact like being men?

There's also an episode where Sam gets called Travis Bickle in a skirt, which is otherwise a completely inexplicable insult. But if every nascent "what if?" gets smothered by a look in the mirror at a jacked six-foot frame and the scars from a kill-or-be-killed life and the feeling that well, it's not like anyone's ever going to see you as anything else, is it?, that's a pretty sick burn.

If you believe 'who you are' is incompatible with 'what you do,' and you tried running away and doing something else when it got to be too much, and all that did was make everyone you loved before stop talking to you and get the new love of your life killed, then it's 'who you are' that has to go, isn't it?

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 12

Synopsis: You send Jason home, but he’s still worried about you.

Note: Last filler chapter for a minute. Reader and Jason have lost all sense of what normal platonic touching is but it’s fine.

Masterlist

Jason did stay another night. He had offered to sleep on the couch this time, claiming your bed was too small for the both of you. You had just rolled your eyes and said he would be sleeping in your bed with you, claiming that it would be like a sleepover (it gave you more sense of security if he was close). Secretly, he was grateful for your insistence. He hadn’t slept the night before, like at all. He spent the night next to you worried something else would happen, despite knowing nothing would. You seemed worried about the same thing, mumbling in your sleep, face scrunching and relaxing randomly. You woke a few times, a terrible look of terror on your features. But Jason was there. He’d pull you close, petting your hair and murmuring to you about how you were safe, and you would drift back off into a fitful sleep. He’s not sure you even remember it.

He had checked in with the family first thing in the morning after he found his phone full of spammed text messages and phone calls. Mostly from Steph, shockingly. She seemed extremely concerned about you like you were friends. That’s when she told him that she had also been visiting you at work, a kinship forming from there. She’s not just yours Jason, you have to share, she had messaged in complaint. He scoffed at the statement but conceded with keeping everyone posted after that. He had one text from Bruce. We need to talk. No doubt about how the news was broadcasting that Red Hood was back in his murder phase.

After you had woken up, you looked worse for wear but less terrified. He enjoyed having you close, it seemed you need it just like him. You would relax against him, and he would stare at you, like a creep. You seemed less fitful in your sleep on the couch. He kept his touch on you, your legs, for your peace of mind, not his. At least that’s what he told himself. Jason liked taking care of people, it's why he protected Crime Alley and the surrounding areas the way he did. It’s what he’s known since he was young, with his mom. She was so out of it most of the time, what else could he do but take care of her? He likes to think that his mom (the one he rarely met when she wasn’t hyped up on drugs) would have liked you.

At the close of the evening, only 7 o’clock, you dragged him to your room and shuffled into your bed, apologizing that you didn’t have any clothes that would fit him more comfortably to sleep. He shook off the notion and settled on top of the covers like the night before. You were on your side watching.

“You know you can sleep under the covers. I won't mind,” especially because you won't do anything. You add mentally because if Jason wanted something sexual from you, he would’ve taken it last night when you were barely conscious of what was happening around you. You want him to be comfortable while you keep him trapped in your home.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Sweetheart.” He crosses his arms as he settles on his back against his pillow. You think he almost looks like a mummy.

“Jason,” your voice is stern in a way he isn’t used to, “get under the covers.” Not a question, not an offer, but a demand. He glances over at you and finds a serious look on your face, no room for argument. It makes him smile. You had seemed out of it still throughout the day, but he was happy to see some notion of your old self showing. Your eyebrows lift like this is some challenge and who is Jason to say no to that? He shuffles under your covers, worrying briefly if he’s a blanket hog, or a bed hog simply because of his size. You don’t seem worried about it all as you curl against him like you had the night before, holding his arm and pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

Then you start talking. You complained momentarily that you should have brushed your teeth before you had gotten into bed and apologized if it smelled like the Chinese you had ordered for dinner. Then you complained that you hadn’t washed your face and done your skincare. Jason was about to offer to do it for you, but you kept going. You rambled on about the Gotham weather and how it sometimes felt bone-chillingly cold even in summer, and you thought maybe Gotham was cursed or haunted. You started talking about Jason, about how pleased you were that he liked romance movies and musicals. You would have to show him La La Land, even though that movie made you cry every time. You didn’t say why it had made you cry but you cried when you had finished The Notebook earlier in the evening, so he didn’t question it. Instead, you followed a tangent about how La La Land was a tragedy but not like Romeo and Juliet. Then you followed a tangent about Shakespeare.

The rest of the evening was like that. You would follow a random line of thought that would form into another and another. Your voice stayed soft, only speeding up and getting just a little louder if there was something that excited you before toning back down again. You would pause for a moment before going back to a thought you had left unfinished. He wondered if you were blocking, trying not to sleep out of fear of what you might find. He knew that feeling, woken up by nightmares of that stupid clown and dirt engulfing his lungs. If this gave you peace of mind, then it gave him some peace of mind. He liked your voice. The cadence of it, the way you lilted some words, and how some of them slurred as you got drowsier and drowsier. Soon enough, your pauses became longer until you stopped mid-sentence. He waited, thinking you would start back up again but after a while, you didn’t.

He glanced down at where your face was pressed to his shoulder. At some point, your hand had moved from curled around his forearm to lacing it with his hand, he can feel your fingers twitch as you sleep. Your features were relaxed, lips parted slightly, soft even breaths escaping you. He leans over and presses a too long kiss to the crown of your head; your hand tightens subconsciously in his own. Jason decides to be selfish, just for tonight. He turns on his side to face you, carefully slipping your head from his shoulder to your pillow. He pulls the covers up and over both of your shoulders. His hand slides to your back and pulls you close. His other hand lightly pressing your face to his neck and he just holds you. A sigh escapes you and your arm slithers over his own waist, hugging in your sleep. Your warmth bleeds into Jason in a way he’s not used to.

You were right about Gotham’s perpetual cold, like a ghost breathing down your neck. But here, holding you like this, the cold didn’t exist. Only warmth and deep breaths do. For the first time in years, Jason’s body genuinely relaxes. Every alarm, trained into him by Bruce, the league, and his own self-preservation, shuts off. He just focuses on your breathing. In and out, in and out, steady. He presses another kiss on your head and makes an internal promise. He would tell you the truth, sooner rather than later. He’d tell you everything, about Red Hood, about his feelings for you, even if it meant you would hate him. He was going to tell you but first, he’d wait for you to get back on your feet, back into a normal rhythm of life. With that thought and your body closed, Jason closes his eyes and falls asleep. Nightmares don’t haunt him, only you.

Jason slept the hardest he had ever slept before. You woke up before him and he didn’t even know it. You’d like to say that you got up and piddled around your apartment, but that would be a lie. When you woke up, you were still pressed against Jason. You had somehow wrapped yourself around him like a deranged koala, or a squid. One arm haphazardly tucked under his head and wrapped around his neck, shoulder aching from the placement. Your other arm was wrapped around his waist, a leg thrown over his hips. You were quick to pull your leg back, feeling it was a little promiscuous should he wake. You take the opportunity to stare at him, closer than you usually would.

For the first time since you’d known Jason his skin was smoothed over, no worried wrinkles. He was relaxed and you hadn’t realized how wound up he usually looked until this moment. Usually, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world, and you don’t know why or what caused it. You just know that it lightens when you can get him to laugh or talk about something he enjoys. Once you had asked Steph about it, sitting at her table one slow afternoon. She said it wasn’t her story to share but that there was some serious trauma along with a mountain of familial issues that didn’t help. You understood that having been there yourself. It's why you moved to Gotham in the first place. You never asked Jason about it because he never asked you what you were doing in Gotham. Your mind comes back to keep staring at him.

You get distracted staring at his lips longer than you’d like to admit, following the soft curve and pout there. Your thumb gently swipes over the small scar there absentmindedly, your hand already on his face without you realizing it. You feel a puff of air against your thumb, and you freeze as Jason’s forehead crinkles for a moment before relaxing again. God, you were such a loser. Staring at him while he slept, touching his lips. You needed to get a grip, and it was not going to happen in this bed. You take your time to peel out of his hold, his grip on you stronger than you anticipated. You pause once your feet are on the ground, letting him reorient himself until he stops moving. Bodily functions are taken care of in the bathroom, and you move to the kitchen starting the kettle on the stove for some tea. You stand there staring at the kettle while you wait, ignoring the headache forming behind your eyes.

A surge of upset overtakes you as you set two mugs on the counter with your usual tea. With a moment alone, with your tea, you think about Red Hood. You know it's dumb, but you still feel right to be mad at him. Between the kidnapping, which was his fault, and his abandonment, you understand now that he couldn’t have stayed, you think that anger is valid. But now, two days later, he hadn’t checked on you at least. You know Jason had been here but there was no note or any sign that he had been on your fire escape. You’ll admit to waking up, sneaking out of bed, and standing by the window waiting. It wasn’t for long, ten minutes, because you could cold without the space heater sleeping in your bed. He never showed himself.  You thought he cared but now you were questioning everything about your strange friendship with the vigilante.

“Tea?” a deep voice says. Your entire body flinches and for a brief moment you wonder if you’d summoned Red Hood by thinking about him but when you turn, you find Jason with a guilty look on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You press your hand to your chest, trying to make your heart slow down.

“You're so quiet.” You say with a deep breath. You know you were kind of lost in thought but you heard the usual sounds of your apartment easily. The creaking of the fire escape, the whistle of air from the window that’s not sealed right, and the whine of the ceiling fan. You hadn’t heard Jason moving at all.

“Part of the job.” He says with a shrug. You nod even though that doesn’t really make sense. What do security systems have to do with being quiet? The kettle starts to whistle. You turn off the heat and decide to ignore your usual tea habit for some hot chocolate. You put the box back into the cabinet and swap it for the box of hot chocolate. Once the hot chocolate is made you bring the mugs to the island. Jason is giving you a curious look.

“Oh, I’m sorry I should’ve asked if you want tea instead.” You say guiltily. He shakes his head.

“It’s okay, I like hot chocolate.” He takes the mug. He doesn’t drink it just yet only looks at you in that analyzing way.

“Why do you do that?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Do what?” he responds confused.

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Jason,” you say sternly. You think he knows exactly what you're talking about it. He innocently shrugs and picks up the mug. You see the start of a smirk as he brings the mug to his lips. You roll your eyes.

“Whatever.” You round the island to look at the papers left on your dining table, and you hear Jason shift in his seat.

“Why do you have a cup of water on your window seal?” He questions. Your brows for furrow and you look up to see the cup he’s talking about. The real reason you had crawled out of bed in the middle of the night was because you were thirsty. You’d stood by the window while you sipped on it.

“I was thirsty in the middle of the night.” You leave it at that. You hear him move and then see him out of the corner of your eye moving towards the window. He pauses and looks at your window locks for a minute before picking up the glass.

“You should’ve woken me up I would have gotten it for you.” He walks past you taking it to the kitchen.

“I’m not helpless you know.” Honestly, in your half-asleep state, you had forgotten Jason was there until you were climbing back into bed, snuggling up against him.  He’s standing next to you again when he speaks next, voice soft.

“I know you’re not, but it doesn't hurt to let someone take care of you.”

You don’t look up from you skimming of the papers, but you feel a warmth in your chest.

“Next time I need a glass of water and you’re in my bed; I’ll be sure to wake you.” You say with a hint of a smile.

Jason's heart does a little jump at your statement. He knows you're being facetious about it but the idea that you would let him stay in your bed again… It’s a nice thought, especially if it is under different circumstances. You look up from your skimming and meet his eye with a small smile.  You look over his face.

“You should go home.” You say softly. Jason's internal jumping falls to the ground. So, you don’t want him here?  You must see the confusion on his face because you put down papers you were reading to hold his face. You tip his head this way and that as your thumb swipes just above his jawline.

“You're growing a beard,” you finally say, “Not that I think it would be a bad look for you, I just assume you don’t like it.”  Jason's own hand comes to feel at his skin. You were right, a coarse stubble where his hand is. Jason wants to laugh at your statement. The few times he hadn’t shaved consistently, usually on a long mission with the outlaws, his alleged beard would grow out patchy and uneven. Not a good look like you apparently think. He had complained about it one time to Bruce (it was a weird family bonding activity that was unrelated to the conversation) and Bruce had said it was because Jason was still young, that in a few years it would even out. Jason feels your hands leave his face and he tamps down the urge to pull them back. Your smile sweetly at him making it easier to reign himself in.

“I can’t keep you hostage forever.” You add. Jason does laugh at that; two days is hardly forever. You could keep him for a month and he wouldn’t complain.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and you roll your eyes at him. He hadn’t asked how you were feeling today but he got the feeling you might kick him if he did. You seem to be in higher spirits but your apparent venture in the middle of the night worried him. The window was unlocked, and it had to be because of you. He had checked every lock in your apartment before he let you drag him to your room the night before. The window had been locked. Nothing was out of place in the apartment, so not a break-in. Red Hood was him and he was already there, so that wasn’t it either. You were the only option left. He didn’t tell you that though.

“You know, I have lived my entire life without you. I think I’ll be fine for a couple of days. Besides, you’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days.” He glances at his current apparel. You had good reason to be concerned about that. They were part of his Red Hood suit and he’s thankful you hadn’t made a connection yet. Black cargo pants and a black T-shirt. His armor and guns dropped at the garage he got the car from. His clothes weren’t exactly clean when he picked you up at the warehouse, already sweaty from a few hours of patrol. And now two days later, yea, he should go home.

“Fine, if you're kicking me out, I’ll leave.” You blink at him in disbelief, and a smirk works its way onto his lips.

“I am not kicking you out.” You say defiantly. Jason rolls his tongue between his teeth to keep from laughing. He puts his hands up in defense.

“Okay, okay, you’re not kicking me out, but I leave you alone. You let me know if you need anything, anything at all, okay?” he says. Your eyes widen and you shake your head.

“No, not yet.”

“What?”

“Stay til lunch” you pause, eye imploring, “Please.” Jason understands now.

“You don’t have to say please, sweetheart. I’ll stay for lunch.” You seem pleased with his response, nodding with a contented smile. The morning proceeds with you cajoling him into another movie and by noon you were both quietly eating leftover Chinese from the night before.

“You’ll call me if you need something, right?” Jason asks around some sweet and sour chicken. You’re sitting at the island together, your ankle hooked around his.

“You know, I think you’d make a great dad.” You say, while picking through your food for the perfect broccoli. Your statement throws Jason off-kilter and must show on his face because when you look up you laugh at him.

“I will let you know if I need anything, please don’t worry about me. I get the feeling it might drive you crazy.” Jason’s mind is still running through what you meant by your previous statement. A great dad? Was there a purpose in that statement? Were you thinking about him like that? He checks back in registering what you just said.

“You're right about that.” Which is why he already had a plan ready for when he left your apartment. He’s positive that the only reason you’re asking him to leave is because you feel guilty and that you're still not ready to be alone. So, he was going to make sure you weren’t alone. The rest of lunch is spent quietly, feet randomly kicking at each other under the island. He attempts to wash the silverware you’d used but you stopped him, threatening to stab him with your fork. You drop the fork before he can concede in the battle of the dishes. A haunted look crosses your face for just a second before you hide it with a smile and start to shuffle him out your door.

Jason knew that look in an instant, he did not want to leave you alone for any amount of time. But he didn’t want you to feel bad about keeping him here. You help him collect his things which amounted to just his phone. You do a quick scan of the hooks by your door, clearly searching for a coat he hadn’t worn when he picked you up. A worried crease shows between your brows when your eyes settle on the Red Hood jacket next to the shock blanket. You glance between Jason and the jacket and just for a second he wonders if you know. You’re smart, he wouldn't be surprised if you did, but then you shake your head and pull him into a hug.

He’s a little startled but not as much as he would have been last week. The past two days of constantly touching each other in some manner made it easier for him to relax in your touch. His arms easily circle around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head without thinking. A pleased hum escapes you and you squeeze him a little tighter. You pull away just enough to see his face.

“Thank you for everything, Jason, really.” He nods and watches your eyes; you look like you’re struggling with something, and he waits to see if you’ll talk about it. After a few seconds of nothing, his hands moves. One squeezes at your shoulder and the other tucks some hair behind your ear, hand resting on your cheek. You lean into it just slightly.

“If you need anything-” he starts, and you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“I’ll call you. Stop worrying about me and go take care of yourself.” you pull out his hold and all he wants to do is drag you back. He stares at you, and you give him an insistent look back.

“I don’t want to kick you out, but I will if I have to.” You say with a dramatic huff. Jason laughs at the picture that conjures.

“Alright, I’m gone,” he unlocks your door and with one foot out he turns back and adds, “but if you need-”

“Get out of my apartment!” You demand with a giggled screech. He grins at you and finally shuts the door. He waits, listening for you to lock it. Once you had he heads down the hallway to the elevator, pulling out his phone. In the elevator, he hits Steph’s contact. It rings for a few seconds and then loud voice rings through the speaker.

“Is she bored of you yet? I wanna see her.” Jason pulls the phone away from his ear with a wince. He doesn’t answer her question.

“I need you to come stay with her.”

“So, she is bored of you.” She exclaims

“Stephanie”

“Jason”

He huffs, “Please”

The line is silent for a minute and Jason wonders if the call dropped in the elevator when the doors slide open, and he steps out.

“You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?” she asks, quieter than normal. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

“Stephanie, will you come stay with her? She doesn’t need to be alone.”

“Does she know you’re asking?” Jason sighs already tired of this back and forth as he pulls a ticket off of the parked borrowed car. (Bruce’s Problem)

“No, and she’s not going to find out I asked.” He tells her.

“I’m going to bring Cass with me.”

“Steph” Jason grumbles as he slides into the car.

“It would be weird if it was just me showing up at her apartment, trust me. It’ll be a girl's night.”

Jason sighs again, “Just promise to take care of her?”

“Promise. This going to be so much fun!” Steph must end the call cause the line goes dead. Jason wonders for a moment if this is a good idea, but he doesn’t have a lot of options and you didn’t need to be alone.

Additional note: Shout out to the lovely person that talked about Jason actually getting good sleep. I loved it and I think its going to become a reoccurring thing for both of them. The next chapter is all Steph and Cass and some conversations about the family our girl has not had with Jason. She is going to basically be adopted into the family, it’ll be great. Thank you for reading. Please comment!! The good, the bad, and the ugly are all welcomed.

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog

[windixie]

black sheep *ೃ༄ actor! gojo x guitarist! reader

gojo quickly lands a role as the main character in an upcoming film. only problem? you’re his costar and he has to film a sex scene with you and he ends up falling for you.

ⓘ gojo is mean, filthy smut, reader is hinted as being alternative, public sex, creampie, smut smut and smut.

actor! gojo is thrilled to be informed that he landed the role to an upcoming movie. he wasn’t surprised at all to be honest. his father is one of the biggest movie stars of all time and it was gojo’s time to shine.

actor! gojo who arrives on set to get to know his costars. he has no problem wooing the females leads with his muscular build and charming personality.

guitarist! reader arrived a bit late due to not finding your tuner for your guitar. you quickly apologized to the director as well to everyone.

actor! gojo who’s blood ran cold. it was you. the lead guitarist and singer to his favorite band. and you were going to be his supposed love interest in the film.

actor! gojo watches from afar on how to carry yourself with talking to others. he can’t help himself but approach. he prepares his cocky personality.

actor! gojo who asks how he can’t believe they decided to risk the movie by including your face in it. he was joking of course! but

guitarist! reader wasn’t having it. you quickly shot back how the film was at stake for having a nepo baby as the main role. you said as you looked back down to correctly tune your guitar setting it on the side since it wasn’t needed yet.

actor! gojo who was taken aback but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. he took a seat next to you saying how most of the industry relies on nepo babies and what not but you just weren’t listening!

guitarist! reader has seen some of actor! gojos films but you thought they were boring and worthless. simply because he was in it.

actor! gojo soon realizes he actually hates you and your pretty face.

over the next few weeks of filming you and actor! gojo did not get along at all. the director was nervous to see how the sex scene would play out if you two didn’t even get along!

actor! gojo sighs as the day arrives that he has to fuck you in front of everyone else. he didn’t understand why they couldn’t just fake the sex but the crew just wanted the scene to be raw and real.

guitarist! reader who has to quickly change into lingerie after filming your singing scene. the frilly pink panties and bra exposed your body.

actor! gojo eyes widened as he took sigh of your body. you both were explained on how the scene would play out and gojo didn’t even need to take anything to get hard. his body completely covered yours. “don’t think I want to do this with you”

“I’m sure you don’t. you’re rock hard I can see how wet you are” you grinned.

actor! gojo was about to shoot something back at you before he heard the booming voice of the man yelling “3..2..1 action!”

he threw you into the bed making you moan as he made you look at him. “performing while wearing that fuckin short skirt huh? you slut, you want another man’s attention?!” he ripped off the lingerie immediately with a sound that made you cringe. “no michael just want you!” “shut up”

actor! gojo was so excited to fuck you already. he teased you before slowly entering you. the sweet sounds that fell from your lips sounded so real.

because they were. his cock was long and it kissed all the sensitive areas. “Michael..!” you moaned out as you scratched at his back which made actor! gojo groan out his speed picking up just how the script said it had to.

guitarist! readers back arches as you whined underneath him. you were so dumbed out by Gojos cock you understood all his other costars from his past movies now.

actor! gojo who’s eyes widened as you moaned out his name. not his characters, but his. he pounded into you harshly. “take my fuckin cock” you whined at his speed.

the director was about to cry tears of joy at how the scene was playing out. everyone watched carefully and some were even flustered.

with one final thrust, actor! gojo came in you. the camera zoomed in to see the cum drip out of you before his fingers pushed it back in. “take all of it”

that definitely was not on the script.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

True Vampire

Astarion x Y/N - Drabble - 642 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, cute little fic

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

“If I just had a little blood…” you heard Astarion mumbling to himself.

You stuck your arm out to him as you walked up to his tent. He raised an eyebrow, looking at you with confusion. 

“Drink” you said, looking at your wrist once more. 

Astarion kept his eyes on you as he sank his fangs in, noting how you didn’t even wince. He drank for a while before finally pulling back.

“Are you alright?” he asked, expecting you to be woozy.

“I’m fine.” you smiled.

“Why does your blood taste like that?” he asked as you turned to walk away.

“Like what?” you asked.

“Honey.” he said. This wasn’t his typical flirting, you could see he was being genuine.

You smiled brightly at him exposing the fangs you had kept from everyone at camp. You had all gotten this far, what's one more vampire?

“You’re a vampire spawn?” he said, sounding completely baffled. 

“Please, spawn wish they were as cool as me.” you smiled with a slight bow.

“Not a spawn? How old are you?” his face was rather amusing, covered with confusion and disbelief. It was the first time you had seen him look so shocked.

“Older than you.” you said, enjoying watching his brain stutter at the new information. 

“Right… how long have you been a full vampire?” he asked.

“A while.” you said.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are breathtakingly vague?” he quipped at you.

“Breathtaking? Yes. Vague? Only when it suits me.” you smiled.

“I hate you.” he sighed grumpily. 

“You hate that I can best you,” you corrected. “But I’ll be merciful just because you’re so cute all confused. I’m 327 years old. I’m not a spawn. I became a full vampire immediately after I was turned.” you answered all his questions. Planting your hands on your hips you waited for more to flow out of him.

“Immediately? How?” he asked, his eyes full of shock.

“Unlike most I know how shitty most vampires are. I pledged allegiance to him before he turned me, then ripped his throat out as soon as he did. I’m no ones to command but my own.” you said. You watched his face fall a little at the end, reminding him of his own enslavement. “And soon,” you interjected, “you will be just as free, and just as full a vampire.” you cautiously reached out to hold his face in your hands. You saw his features relax for the first time in ages, possibly since you started traveling together. He was always thinking about something. 

“If… I become a full vampire.” he mumbled.

“When.” you said sternly, “There is no other way. I will ensure it, I promise.” 

“You’ve never met a vampire like Cazador, he is ruthless…”

“You’re saying this to the person who ripped out the throat of their maker. We are twice as ruthless as Cazador could ever hope to be.” you smiled at him reassuringly as you thumbed over his cheek bones. His red eyes were big and soft and for a moment, he put his hope in you and your promise. “Plus, you’ll need me afterwards.” you said.

“Excuse me?” he said with disdain but also amusement.

“Who else is going to teach you how to become a bat or how to spider walk?” you asked genuinely, thinking back to how long it took you to learn how to do all that a vampire can do. “That's the thing about being a vampire, Astarion, it takes a really long time to learn how to do all the cool shit.” 

“I’m sure I can adapt quite well, thank you.” he said in his typical posh voice, the vulnerable moment dissipating behind his wall that you broke down momentarily. 

“Of course darling.” you said with a chuckle, licking up the dribble of blood on your hand.

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

Naboo's Note:

Still alive!! Life really beat the shit out of me for a hot minute but I'm trying to get back to it, thanks for sticking with me ya'll. XOXOXOXOX

[yay855]

And the thing about fascism is that it's inherently unsustainable. It promises the moon, blames all the world's problems on (usually poor) minorities, then does absolutely nothing to actually help the few citizens it supposedly cares about. Nazi Germany was running its economy into the ground after a major economic depression, promising the rich whatever they wanted in exchange for immediate support; a lot of American companies like IBM, Kodak, and Ford directly supported the Nazi regime because they were promised the moon, same as everyone else- but the truth was that the Nazis had no actual plan for stabilizing their nation. They ransacked whoever they could to desperately pay off the debts they incurred from their ransacking, and as the war went on Germany's infrastructure crumbled and its people became fed up with the Nazis' false promises. "Nazis were bad but at least the trains ran on time" is propaganda, their trains didn't work half the time, let alone actually stick to a strict timetable.

And the thing is, these new Nazis aren't just recreating the originals' plots, they're running it on an accelerated timeline. It took Nazi Germany about 12 years to collapse, six of which were before they started invading everyone- and now Trump is trying to push the US into going to war both conventional and economic with at least four different countries while the average wage relative to the cost of living is at an all time low (something he is making worse by trying to take away social programs like the ACA and firing so many government employees), the actual level of support for the minority he's trying to target (transgender people) is far higher than the public support for Jews was back in 1933, and most of the US government is still intact and fighting him. Congress is too spineless or complicit to do anything half the time, but the courts are very much fighting back, and so are people; there have been big protests across the country on the 5th of every month for a bit now, even if the news organizations aren't covering them or anything else about how people hate Trump.

Nazis have always been extremely incompetent; they're not successful or brilliant, they're just aggressive and hateful enough to get enough people riled up to steal power. Because the simple fact is that every single representative government is built on the idea that those in power will at least pretend to act in good faith, and those who won't can't get in a position of power. But that's simply not true, the people who seek out power are almost always the ones who can't be trusted with it, and they're also the ones willing to lie and cheat and steal to get their way.

Their entire shtick is demanding everyone respect and obey them until there's nothing left holding them back. Refusing to cooperate is how they're stopped.

[jaxon-exe]

Back at it again with the dp x dc prompt

(If u want to do something with it, feel free)

So this is set a looooooong time after the show. Sam and Tucker r now ghost (they do look like teenagers but wether that’s bc that’s how they want to look or if they died young is up to u) and while Danny is still a halfa he spends more time dead than alive these days since everyone he cares about is long dead.

Anyway, after several centuries they finally manage to get through the mountain of back logged paper work from pariah’s time as king (and yes, technically Danny, as the king, was the only one who had to do that but he guilt tripped the others into helping) and they decided they deserved a vacation!

More than that they deserve to have fun!

So they come up with a bet,

All three of them would each choose a villain to be the sidekick of. Which villain they choose is up to them but it has to be in the same city. The goal? Get ur boss arrested without blowing ur cover!!

The rules:

The villain can not suspect ur working against them

The Heroes can not suspect ur helping them

Avoid civilian casualties as much as possible (their morals r a bit skewed after being dead for centuries but they would like to avoid a pissed off ghost is they can)

Ur time start as soon as they split to find their new bosses and ends so soon as the villain is caught.

U r allowed to escape from jail/police custody/the heroes if ur boss isn’t caught yet

Once the villain is caught u have to hand urself in and wait for everyone else to be done

The first person to get their boss caught get bragging rights

The last person to get their boss caught has to explain any time line fuck ups they might have caused by doing this to clockwork

With the rules set they just have to find the right city and hey would u look at that, there’s a mass brake out in Arkham right now. Gotham is really the best place for the game bc not only does it have a lot of villains it also has a lot of heroes so it’s more even since they will all have at least one hero gunning for their boss at all times.

Starting the clock the three set off. Sam, immediately, chooses Poison Ivy, for obvious reasons. Tucker chooses Riddler, he knows tech to well it would be easy for him to sabotage any death traps without it looking like sabotage. Danny on the other hand is torn. He was originally thinking to go with Dr Freeze bc ice core but he kinda sympathises with the guy. He just trying to save his wife and as a protector spirit, he can respect that and would feel awful to sabotage him. He than thinks maybe two face because he is also a guy with two faces but comes across a similar problem of sympathising with the guy (again, morals have been skewed after being dead for so long)

But there is one villain he has no sympathy for. One villain that isn’t just no matter ur morals and to boot, his whole shtick is something Danny hates with a burning passion.

That’s right, Danny picks Joker.

With bosses picked and sidekick roles achieved. The game is on!!!

Later that night sees shenanigans a penalty, a couple jail brakes on Danny’s parts (Joker stops thinking it’s funny after seeing his incompetant new sidekick cheerily runs up to him after the third jail brake) and the bats slowly loading their fucking minds wondering who the hell these kids r, where they came from and how tf does the Joker kid keep escaping????

[not-magdi]

-little protector / ben shelton

Warnings: none

Words: 663

Reading time : 2-3 minutes

Request: Hello :) could you do an imagine where reader have a younger brother (like 2/5 years old) and he is jealous when Ben gives affection to the reader cus that’s his sister and they bicker please ?

Thank you so much for requesting, hope you love it ! <3 MASTERLIST

The cozy hum of laughter and conversation filled your family’s living room, the scent of your mom’s famous lasagna wafting from the kitchen. It was one of those rare weekends where everyone was home, and the house felt alive with warmth and noise. You sat curled up on the couch next to Ben, his arm casually draped over your shoulders, thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles on your skin.

But someone else in the room wasn’t having it.

From across the room, your four-year-old brother, Noah, was glaring.

Tiny arms crossed over his chest, his little lips pushed out in a pout, and his big brown eyes locked onto Ben like he was the villain in a superhero movie. The second Ben leaned in to whisper something in your ear, Noah let out an exaggerated huff, stomping his foot for extra drama.

You bit back a laugh, glancing at Noah. “Hey, buddy, you okay over there?”

Noah didn’t answer. Instead, he marched straight across the room with all the determination of someone twice his size, stopping right in front of you and Ben. He stared up at Ben with a fierce look that was more adorable than intimidating.

“You can’t sit next to my sister,” Noah declared, his voice high-pitched but filled with conviction.

Ben raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Oh yeah? And who says so, little man?”

“I say so!” Noah shot back, planting his feet firmly like he was ready to square up.

Ben chuckled, leaning down so he was eye level with Noah, his face full of mock seriousness. “I don’t know, champ. I think your sister likes me sitting here.” He gave you a playful wink, which only made Noah’s frown deepen.

“No!” Noah stomped his foot again. “I sit next to her!”

You couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore, covering your mouth to hide the grin spreading across your face. “Noah, Ben’s not stealing me, I promise.”

But Noah wasn’t convinced. He turned his glare back to Ben, pointing a tiny finger at him. “You go over there,” he demanded, gesturing to the empty armchair across the room.

Ben laughed, leaning back on the couch with a smug grin. “Sorry, buddy. I’m pretty comfy right here.”

Noah’s face scrunched up in frustration. Without another word, he climbed onto the couch and squeezed himself right between you and Ben, using all his strength to push Ben’s arm off your shoulders.

“There,” Noah huffed, settling in your lap and wrapping his small arms around your neck possessively. “Mine.”

Ben’s eyes widened, and then he burst out laughing, ruffling Noah’s hair. “Alright, alright, you win—for now.”

But Noah wasn’t done. He shot Ben another suspicious look, like he was daring him to try anything.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to Noah’s cheek. “You’re my favorite little guy, you know that?”

Noah’s pout softened slightly, but his arms stayed firmly around your neck.

Ben leaned closer, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Don’t worry, Noah. I’ll share her with you.”

Noah shot him a glare. “No sharing!”

Ben threw his hands up in surrender, laughing. “Okay, no sharing. Got it.”

But as the evening went on, Noah’s fierce jealousy began to waver. After dinner, Ben challenged him to a game of Connect Four, and Noah—despite himself—started to warm up to the idea of having Ben around. They bickered back and forth, Ben pretending to lose a few rounds just to hear Noah’s triumphant little giggles.

By the time bedtime rolled around, Noah was curled up on Ben’s lap, his earlier scowls replaced by sleepy yawns.

As you tucked Noah into bed later that night, he clung to your hand, blinking up at you sleepily.

“Do you… do you have to like Ben?” he mumbled, his voice soft now, the fight finally gone.

You smiled, brushing his hair off his forehead. “I do, buddy. But you’re still my number one, okay?”

Noah gave a tiny nod, his eyelids drooping. “Okay… but he’s kinda funny…”

You chuckled softly, kissing his forehead. “Yeah, he is.”

When you stepped back into the living room, Ben was lounging on the couch, a smug grin on his face.

“So,” he teased, “do you think he’s finally accepted me, or should I expect another duel tomorrow?”

You laughed, plopping down beside him. “I think you’ve won him over. But don’t get too comfortable—he’s still watching you.”

Ben pulled you closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders again. “Good. I like a challenge.”

And as you leaned into him, the warmth of the evening still lingering in the air, you realized that Ben wasn’t just winning over your little brother—he was winning over your whole heart, too.

------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !❤️

[lunaatthezoo]

The Light Between Sin & Salvation: Chapter 19

A zoloft-powered gift, from my depression to you 🙂‍↔️💖

Chapter 19: Rest

Summary: Az passes the ultimate SJM husband test. Mostly fluff, humor, and a little bit of depravity.

CW: Blood, heavy-ish drinking, smoking of both legal and illegal (depending on where you live) substances.

This one is for those two people who voted for this plot point weeks ago @murkyrealms @ydubbu iykyk. Also I'm just going to keep endlessly thanking @elrieldreamer for being a literal goddamn ANGEL and always willing to talk through/provide advice for plot to help me get out of the holes I have written myself into you are a true gem and a blessing.

Preview:

Az awoke, naked and sated, to glowing morning light pouring through the curtains of their room. He turned his head to see Elain, also naked, face-down on the bed beside him, her arms resting on either side of her head. Her beautiful golden brown curls cascaded down the ivory skin of her back. Nyx was curled up on the other side of her, having ended up meowing at their door last night to be let in once everyone else went to bed. 

Az pulled his arm from under the blankets to pet him, but halted when he saw his fingers glistening with- blood.

Common sense faltered and every possible worst-case scenario tore through his mind. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was throwing back the covers and calling Elain’s name, convinced he would find a knife through her back. 

[niemensch]

My slightly different, but very much inspired by this, take on how this escalation into (very) dirty laundry reveal might go:

Shang Qinghua introduces it in a desperate attempt to stop the tensions in the peak meetings. Nervously laughing as he explains about a fun, strategic game he has discovered on his travels, that supposedly helps one relax.

SQQ? At first: Doesn’t give a shit about this idiotic, inane game of his.

One game later, losing miserably to everyone else: He’s the Peak Lord responsible for the defense and strategies of the sect, can anybody blame him for instinctively honing his skills in psychological warfare in this game? Obviously, he is more motivated now, him losing first was part of his strategy to figure out everyone’s play style, stop being ridiculous, Wei Qingwei.

YQY? He’s about to reject, tired after the meeting wrangling the Peak Lords into some coherence of order, just wants to try to convince SQQ to drink tea with him later. Looks to the side to do so, seeing SQQ ready to ignore him the second the meeting ends, packing his scrolls already, smiles good-natured and gently and proceeds to wrangle everyone into staying for the game with subtle guilting and jabs at their empty calendar for this day for the shameless (SQQ and LQQ) ones.

LQG? He’s a natural. Wins the first round so fast even Shang Qinghua does a double take. He’s just vibing, full laser focus, enjoying it. At some point ‘Why is everyone so emotional about me winning?’ when Wei Qingwei slams down his tea cup so hard it shatters after LQG makes him take more cards and proceed to win immediately after. Starts winning the next round. The next one too. The Peak Lords start working together to defeat him.

Tensions start to rise, their head disciples attempt to convince them to leave the game, hesitantly, use the wrong words, immediately aggressively shut down by the now defensive ‘I can win’ of every Peak Lord.

Shang Qinghua suddenly attacks with stacked UNO card attacks and absolute chaos breaks out.

SQQ loses his entire mind about it, accusing SQH of being a slimy vermin who only knows to use underhanded tricks. SQH doesn’t expect to get insulted like that, snaps back at him about how SQQ’s the slimy one - sabotaging the sect’s arts fund to pay for prostitutes (it’s actually SQQ paying the brothel workers there who are part of his spy network).

The Peak Lords can’t believe it at first, exception Qi Qingqi lol, then see SQQ’s defensive face when he is questioned. YQY tries to intervene, makes it way worse, gets shut down by an enraged SQQ, who taunts him for his cowardice and inability to be honest.

Cue SQQ turning to SQH back in anger and revealing how he’s the one that’s been using LQG’s peak’s funds for literature to start a clothing business that’s miserably failing. (It’s actually SQH paying his demon spy contacts + networks with the business as cover-up lol)

LQG on the side: My peak has a literature fund??

….ending here cause length ( that’s also why the other Peaks didn’t get their moment here sry) but I think my general outline of events is communicated with this? Didn’t include the Play or Die dynamic here but it definitely would work with this too imo.

Someone put a Uno game cards in Cang Qiong's monthly Peak Lords meeting. Please. PLEASE. Instead of a fuck or die, a play or be locked in forever or something like that. Definitely everyone would uncover all the dirty laundry of EVERYONE PRESENT just because of that game. Please. I NEED IT

[geowrites03]

A Part of the Family

Part 1 ~ Getting Adopted

Batfam x Fem!Orphan!Reader

Summary: Y/n is just another kid left out on the harsh streets of Gotham, all having to fend for themselves. She however had a friend in low places. But, what will happen if this friend gets sent to Arkham Asylum? Who will she have to save her from the dangers of this god awful city?

“Waylon!” I called out as I stomped on the manhole cover to get his attention. He usually came by now, I hope the Bat didn’t get him again. But much to my shitty luck.

“It’s no use kid, Batman got him last night.” I look over to see Selina there. She isn’t wearing her Catwoman suit which is surprising because of how late it is.

“You probably helped him somehow, too.” She looked at me quizzical. “Everyone knows that the Cat and the Bat got something going on.”

“Okay, but what if I say that, I didn’t help him?” She came closer and wrapped her arm around me so we could walk to somewhere else because she noticed a small group of sketchy guys walking towards me.

“Then I guess I can… Share some of my food? I usually split it with Waylon, but…” She laughed and shook her head.

“No I was kidding, I don’t want anything. You can keep all the food to yourself tonight.” She stopped walking and put each of her hands on either of my shoulders. “I take that back, I want one thing. You to stay safe, Waylon won’t be back for awhile ‘cause he always takes forever to escape, so please, stay out of trouble.”

I nodded and gripped one of her hands for reassurance. “I promise.” She smiled down at me, then got a message on her phone.

“I have to go now. Bye, and I mean it, Stay Out Of Trouble.” I nodded again as she ran off.

I looked around to see if the group of guys was still following us but it looks like we lost ‘em. Now all I have to do is find a place to eat my food.

Deciding that up on a hard to get to roof would be best, I put my food in my backpack so I don’t drop it. I climb up onto a dumpster, jump to a ledge and climb up a pipe. It wasn’t that hard to onto which made me a little uneasy but nobody would be that desperate to jump from a dumpster to a skinny ledge and then climb up a single, small, water pipe for 5 stories.

I get my food out of my bag, I got what I always get. A cheap burger and a small, curly fries from a small take out shop. But tonight, because I can’t give Waylon his and I already bought it, I get double that, besides the fries being a large, and some nuggets. I was feasting tonight.

I couldn’t eat all of it though, I still had the extra burger, some fries and some nuggets left. I put them back in the takeout bag and into my backpack. I slide down the pipe and jump to the ground from when it ends. When my feet hit the ground I’m met with a voice I wasn’t planning on hearing tonight.

“What were you doing on a restricted rooftop?” The latest Robin’s voice called. I looked his slightly lean figure up and down, rolled my eyes and walked away from him.

“Look, why don’t you go deal with some actual crimes, rather than someone just trying to find a safe place to eat.” He scoffed and started walking the opposite direction. I decided to be extra bitchy, not caring who I’m talking to, even though I could most definitely out run him. “And thanks for putting Croc away too.”

“Why are you sarcastic about me putting away a villain that deserves it? Shouldn’t you be relieved that a threat is off the streets?”

“A threat? Waylon was the only person looking out for some of us kids living on the streets who can’t protect themselves. Those random ‘defenceless’ guys that kept showing up in the ER nearly scratched to death? That was him protecting us. Now some of us have noway to protect ourselves.”

~

After a mini dispute with Robin I was back to my usual activities of pickpocketing random people walking down the street, while keeping an eye out for quiet safe spaces to sleep for the night.

Just like most nights there weren’t really any ‘safe’ places so I decided to stay awake and moving all night. I sighed, I haven’t slept in 4 days and it was really starting to take its toll on me.

I was walking for a while when I finally caught onto a car that has been following me for awhile tonight. I subtly try to look at it to see if I could possibly identify it. I could, it was one of the orphanage coordinators cars. I also notice a police car behind it so I couldn’t try and run again. These bitches are really persistent.

I stop walking and the car pulled up next to me. The driver rolled down the window, it was one of the old and rude coordinators.

Bruce’s POV~

“Look Lee, I already said that I’m not currently in the position to take in another kid, I have enough on my plate.” I sighed talking to the woman on the other line. “As much as I would love to help a child in need, I just can’t at the moment, I’m sorry.”

“Please, Bruce she’s already gotten in too much trouble at the orphanage and is on her last strike.” The hospital where Lee works helps out the Gotham Orphanage by providing free health checks and regular check-ups, so she is often concerned about these kids. “She’s on a 5-strike system, but she’s already run away 5 times Bruce. This was the last straw before they kick her out, please. Even if it’s just for a little while to see how she’ll adapt.”

“Can I think about it overnight?” She agreed and I ended the phone call.

Y/n’s POV~

Here I was back in this horrendous room, just for one night though, they finally want me out. I put my small amount of belongings that were surprisingly still here in a duffle bag then climbed into bed.

I wondered where I would end up being sent, or if they even had anything planned for me at all. It wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep.

~

One of the coordinators, Jessie, woke me up with a harsh shake and ushered me out of bed and to get changed. She left as I was getting changed so I had the opportunity to slip a pocket knife into my bra, another in my pocket of my shorts, another in the inside pocket of my jacket, and one down my sock but not visible due to my shoe.

I gathered my two bags, had the duffle bag hanging off of one shoulder and backpack on the other shoulder.

“Oh. No, leave them there for now, you’re only going to meet with him.” She said when I opened the door.

“Him?” I asked confused while putting my bags on the bed that was most likely no longer mine.

“Yes him,” she nodded and ushered me out of the room. “He might adopt you, and if he doesn’t then I don’t even want to know where the head of the orphanage is going to send you.”

I merely nodded and followed her into an office where the head of the orphanage, Agatha, and Bruce Wayne were already sitting. Across the table from them there was an empty chair and another on the side of the table, that Jessie had already made herself comfortable in.

“Don’t be shy, y/n you can sit down.” She had said to me, I looked at her and sat down in the chair.

“Y/n this is Bruce Wayne,” she put on one of her big, wrinkly, fake smiles, and I rolled my eyes. Of course it’s Bruce Wayne, I don’t live under a rock, though I might have lived inside of one at the current state of this orphanage, “he might end up adopting you today.”

“Hi y/n.” He stretched his hand out to me for me to shake, I looked to Jessie. Then at his outstretched hand, then at his face. I shook his hand while looking in his eyes and let out a weak ‘hi’.

~

Meeting him didn’t go that well but I seemed to have made somewhat an impression, considering I was now on the drive to Wayne Manor. The drive was already too long and boring, he had stopped trying to ask questions, as I would only give him small mumbled answers.

I looked around the interior of the backseat of his car. I was distracted by something when he said, “I’m sure you don’t need a pocket knife on you, let alone four.”

I was shocked by his words and that he knew how many I had on me, and to be honest, I didn't know why I had four to begin with, it was definitely a little extreme to have that many on me, so I played it off with a shrug.

“I collected them.” I lied, “and I couldn't carry them out in my bag because it got checked by one of the workers, so I kept them on me.”

“You have a lying problem, kid, but you don’t have to lie anymore, you’re safe now.” Was all he responded with as he kept his eyes on the road.

Did he just guess that my lying was a form of protection? He wasn't wrong, but I was still surprised he caught on, how could a billionaire CEO be so perceptive? Was it because he had taken in other orphans and guessed based on their behaviours, or was there more to the story?

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Taken By Surprise

Request: Roy is always super careful to keep his eyes front and centre when passing the busy Richmond Ladies team dressing room. One day, he assumes it's empty, but it's not 🔥

Roy Kent x Reader

1.9k words (word count got away from me again, oops)

Warnings: Roy being a bit of a peeping tom for a minute, fem masturbation w/a vibrator, fingering, dirty talk

Sometimes, Roy found he really liked being the last person in the building. It was quiet and peaceful, free from the shouts and noises that usually filled the Dog Track. He appreciated the solitude, especially because it meant the women’s changing room would be empty.

He was a man, but he never wanted to be a creep. He always averted his eyes from their changing room, kept his gaze down or straight ahead as he strolled briskly by the always open door, ignoring the sounds of chattering and the scents of the different perfumes and body sprays the women used. And of course, doing his best to avoid the sight of the women in their sports bras and underwear, strolling around casually, not paying any mind when the men passed by. But while Roy respected the female athletes and acknowledged how incredibly hardworking and talented they were, he couldn’t deny how pretty some of them were. Especially one striker in particular.

So, to avoid any sort of temptation, Roy always either left with the group of Greyhounds who strolled out after training, pleasantly distracted by their conversations, or else sat around in his office until he was sure everyone else was gone. Tonight, because he wanted to spend some extra time looking over his lineup for an upcoming match, he chose the latter.

He hummed to himself as he walked out, pondering what he should pick up for dinner, when a peculiar sound caught his attention. It was… a buzzing of some kind. A weirdly familiar buzzing, actually. One that had an almost Pavlovian effect on the lower regions of his body.

He paused in the doorway, gulping at what he saw in what should have an empty changing room.

Your back was to him as you sat on the bench, covered only by the thin towel you wore, hair still damp from the shower you’d taken after training. From his spot in the doorway, he could see that your legs were spread slightly, and your head was rolling back leisurely as the monotone buzzing continued.

He should say something, he scolded himself. Surely, you thought you were alone; it was wrong of him to take advantage of your obliviousness just so he could indulge in a little fantasy. No matter how attracted to you he’d been since your first day at Nelson Road, he couldn’t just sit here, all slack-jawed and watching you pleasure yourself.

His stupid fucking principles won out over his wicked desires, prompting him to clear his throat, a louder, gruffer sound than he intended.

Your vibrator fell to the floor with a deafening clatter, continuing to buzz and hum as if you weren’t completely mortified. Even before you turned around with wide eyes, you knew exactly who had interrupted you. That growling voice filled every single one of your fantasies, including the one you’d been enjoying before the man himself interrupted you.

“Coach Kent,” you choked out, entire body burning with embarrassment when you finally remembered how to speak. “I, er, thought you’d gone for the day.”

He blinked at you, straining to keep his eyes trained on your pretty face instead of letting them wander down your barely covered form. “I kinda thought the same. About you, I mean. And everyone else.”

You tugged your towel closer around yourself, praying he couldn’t see the blush that surely covered every inch of skin. “Sometimes, I, um, stay late,” you tried to explain, doing your best to ignore the vibrator that somehow sounded louder the longer Roy Kent looked at you. “Do some…” You gulped, finally looking down at the traitorous toy. “… relaxing.”

Roy nodded slowly, wearing that pensive expression he often sported, the one where you swore you could see the cogs turning in his mind. “Relaxing,” he finally repeated, taking a tentative step into the changing room.

His footsteps echoed on the tile floor until he stood in front of the little purple object that started your abject humiliation. You winced, tightening your grip on what suddenly felt like a far too flimsy towel, watching the man who occupied way too many of your daydreams drop to one knee and pick up your vibrator and turn it off, silencing the changing room.

Still kneeling, Roy finally looked up into your face, raising those thick eyebrows at you as he handed you the toy. His voice was low, laced with hesitation and maybe some hope. “Need any help with your… relaxing?”

Your mouth went dry as you wrapped your hand around the vibrator, noting the way Roy didn’t quite let go. “Is that an offer, Coach Kent?” you breathed.

He nodded, the tip of his tongue sticking out to wet his lips. “If you want it to be.”

Oh fuck. Some voice in your head suggested pinching yourself, to make sure this wasn’t just a rerun of a dirty dream you’d had a couple weeks ago. But when his fingers brushed against yours, you were brought back to reality, a reality where Roy Kent was handing you a sex toy while looking at you with pure lust in those brown eyes.

“I’d appreciate some help,” you finally managed, a pulsing tingle spreading through your body. “Your help, that is.”

Roy glanced over his shoulder, as though making sure the two of you were truly alone. “Everyone from the men’s side is gone. What about here?”

Despite the embarrassment and lust fighting for priority in your chest, you let out a small giggle. “You really think I’d be doing that if anyone was around?”

The grin he shot you went straight between your legs. “Just let me lock the doors then. Don’t think we want to take any chances.” In a flash, he’d shut and locked every door he could find before turning his fiery gaze back to you. He strode back, oozing confidence now, and straddled the bench beside you. “C’mere,” he growled softly.

Your arousal overcoming whatever remained of your embarrassment, you did as you were told, scooching closer to the manager whose eyes bore into yours severely. With a grunt, he laid his hands on you, his grip firm but softer than you expected, and shifted you until you were sitting with your back against his chest, an intimate position that made your heart race so fast you were sure Roy could feel it through your towel.

“May I?” he asked, tugging at the only thing you wore. When you nodded, he hooked a finger under your chin and turned your face towards his. “Use your words, darling.”

Darling. Oh hell, when was the last time a man made you gulp like this? “Yes, please,” you managed to whisper, your eyes shifting between his mouth and those fiery brown eyes.

With a pleased little hum, Roy swiftly shifted the towel until your cunt was exposed. When you gasped at the cool air against your sex, Roy let out a little chuckle that rumbled against your body. “Someone cold?” he tsked. His fingers began flittering up your thigh. “Should I warm you up?” With that, he attached his mouth to yours harshly, letting his tongue glide against yours as his fingers found your cunt.

You moaned into each other’s mouths as he inched two thick fingers into you, the sensation filling you better than you ever could on your own. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he was savoring the feeling of your walls pulsing around his digits.

“You feel so fucking good,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Already so fucking wet. What were you thinking about before I interrupted you?”

Play coy, you told yourself. Don’t be so damn desperate-

But then his thumb found your clit with ease, rubbing it with a tenderness you never would have expected from Roy Kent.

“You,” you moaned, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. “Was thinking about you, Roy.”

A strangled noise rippled through his chest and throat as he inched his fingers deeper. “Me?” he asked in a thick honeyed voice. “What about me?”

No use trying to be cool anymore. “Was imagining you bending me over-” The feeling of his fingers curling upwards had you whining. “-over in the shower,” you finished.

Roy let out a curious little hum. “I’ll keep that in mind for later,” he teased. His mouth found your neck, planting rough kisses along your skin. A shiver flew through your body when he let his tongue glide over the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Oh, do we like that?”

Your only response was to widen your already spread legs, silently begging Roy to bury his fingers deeper in your aching cunt. He obliged, finding the spot that made your back arch. His wicked smile felt good against your skin as he chuckled darkly.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me,” he cooed as indecently wet noises filled the changing room. “Just the way I imagined you would.” His breath was hot in your ear. “And I’ve imagined you a lot,” he admitted in a low voice. He moaned when he felt your walls tighten around him, a sign of your approaching climax.

His free hand wandered up your body until he found your breast. Keeping up the rough pace he’d set in your cunt, he cupped your breast, roughly groping you and pinching your nipple until it hardened to his liking. He began squirming behind you, his obvious hardon pressing against you deliciously. His moans, his touch, his scent, his everything had you gushing around his fingers, creating soaked noises you didn’t even know were possible.

“Roy,” you panted, rutting against his hand. “I’m so fucking close.”

He nodded, returning his mouth to your neck. “I know, baby,” he groaned. A third finger slid into your sopping cunt. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Gonna feel so good around my cock after this.”

His dirty words had your head spinning. “I want your cock so bad,” you babbled, vision beginning to blur. “Please, Roy. Please fuck me.”

“After,” he promised. “Cum all over my fingers, and then I’ll fuck you all you want.”

Those magical words throbbed through your body, all the way down to your pussy. “Yes,” you gasped as the tension in your lower tummy threatened to snap. “Please, Roy, please.”

His fingers scraped along your walls just right, sending you right over the edge. All you could see were stars as you felt yourself soak his fingers, his hand, his wrist, the bench you sat on. Later, you’d realize it was probably the most you’d ever cum in your life; it would have been almost embarrassing if it wasn’t obvious that Roy Kent was nothing short of pleased by your orgasm. Your body jerked against his as he pumped in and out roughly, determined to leave you a sopping mess. His pants were painfully tight at the sight of you writhing and moaning, so desperate and beautiful, just for him.

When you finally began to come down from your high, he pressed a kiss to your temple and carefully removed his fingers from your aching cunt. He brought his fingers to his mouth, holding your gaze as he licked the dripping juices you’d left him with.

“Delicious,” he moaned, throwing his head back. “Could taste you all day, gorgeous.”

The sight had your pussy throbbing again, begging him to make good on his promise.

“You could do more than taste,” you reminded him coyly, leaning back into him, desperate to feel that bulge closer to your still needy cunt. “A lot more.”

He nodded, returning his hand to your folds to massage you gently, earning a loud moan from you. “Someone mentioned something about being bent over in the showers?” he teased. “I think that could be arranged.”

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

The Island: Entry 3

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

A Lost AU

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Gore, Violence, Swearing, Death, Alcohol, Plane Crash, Various Inaccuracies, Just Gross Things in General.

- Entry 2 Here -

———————————

18+ Only

———————————

You, Bradley and Bob made your way into the dense thick jungle tucked under the looming mountain. Immediately you were hit by the stench of blood that had begun to bake in the intense heat, mingled with the smell of leaf rot and… something else you couldn’t quite place but vaguely knew you’d smelt before.




You covered your mouth and nose in the crook of your arm as you tried not to gag.




Bob lead you and Bradley, a few steps ahead as he retraced his earlier steps.




“It was through here somewhere.” His eyes scanned the treetops for the 6 airplane seats he’d previously come across.




“There.” He said, pushing through a thicket to get to a very small clearing.




The sunlight pushed through the sparse leaves and glistened against a muddy puddle of blood at the centre.




You scanned the trees and surrounding area in confusion, the airplane seats were not close to the puddle, so they couldn’t have dripped blood from their place in the trees. They must have made their way down to the centre before they all disappeared.




“How many people do you think were up there, Bob?” You asked.




“It sounded like at least 2 or 3, could have been more.”




Bradley followed the bloody foot prints in the mushy soil to the edge of the clearing. “Hey guys, there’s 2 different sets of footprints here, but they’re both barefoot.”




“I don’t see any shoes, unless they came off as the plane tore apart, what are the chances of both having lost their shoes though?” You murmured as you bent down to inspect the clear toe indents.




“Unlikely, if everyone on the beach still has their shoes, not impossible though.”




Bradley pushed through more bushes and trees as he walked further in the direction of the foot prints.




“Bradley, wait!” You called out as you chased after him, “We need to stick together, just in case.”




He turned back to grin down at you, quirking an eyebrow, “Why, you worried about me, Doc?”




You were taken aback by his sudden confidence, you guessed this was what we was really like when he wasn’t dizzy with pain.




“I’m worried about everyone, kind of an occupational hazard.” You quipped back and bit your cheek to stop from smiling.




Bradley leaned forward and closer to you, “Then why have you left Bob behind?” His voice low, his cocky grin still present.




You scoffed, lost for words. “Bob… let’s go this way.” You spoke up, eyes not leaving Bradley’s.




Bradley straightened slowly, smiling down at you, a cocksure expression plastered across his features, and you felt a buzz of excitement flash through you for a split second.




Bradley turned back around and you and Bob followed him further into the jungle, swatting at bugs the size of your fist that threatened to take chunks out of your skin.




After a while, the air suddenly got really quiet and still, almost thick and palpable.




“Do you guys smell that?” Bob coughed, suppressing a gag.




You were already covering your mouth and nose, you eyes watering as the stench grew stronger and you got closer to the source.




You reached another clearing and Bradley turned around suddenly, blocking your view.




“We gotta go back.” He said urgently, his hands on your arms as he tried to turn you around.




“Why? What is it?” Your damn curiosity again. You pushed past Bradley and let out a choked gag, your eyes watering.




You finally realised what the smell was that you couldn’t quite place. It was death. The smell of decay accelerated by the stifling humid heat.




“Is that… a fucking Effigy?” Bob gagged from behind you.




The towering structure of human parts stood dead centre in the middle of the clearing, something you had only read about once before in a book on New Guinean Cannibal tribes.




You began to step back, wanting to get as far from the grotesque creation as you could, when you caught movement at the back of the clearing. A pair of eyes watching you from the deep jungle.




You stumbled backwards quickly, crashing into Bradley. You turned, panicked.




“Run!”




——————————




Jake had tied Adrian to a tree and had Reuben guarding him as he inspected suitcases for any other weapons that somehow may have made their way through.




He imagined the guns may have been transported in a secured case or box in the hold, but he was having a hard time locating anything to prove that theory to be true.




It was starting to get dark out, and the last thing he needed was anarchy.




Rifling through cases and debris, Jake thought he heard something from the jungle. He stood to his feet and looked past the smouldering hull into the tree line.




Nothing.




He turned to Reuben, “Hey Payback! I think we should gather some wood and make a fire. It’ll be dark soon and God knows what kinda animals are out there.”




Reuben nodded, standing to his feet and brushing sand off of his legs. “Yeah I’ll get some of the others to help.”




He went off to ask for help gathering wood and Jake went back to inspecting suitcases, when he heard the noise again, louder this time.




He stood and strained his eyes, scanning the tree line as far as he could see.




“Go go!” He heard Bradley’s voice, faint but clearly enough to know it was him.




“Bob!” He heard you scream.




“Leave him! I’ll go back for him!” Bradley’s voice again.




Suddenly you both tumbled from the jungle, scrambling to get momentum under your feat, pure fear on your faces evident even from that distance.




Jake pulled the hand gun out instinctively, anticipation and concern filling his bones.




“Go! Run!” Bradley was behind you now pushing you in front of him through the sand, which felt sickeningly soft under your feat, slowing your momentum, your legs turning to jelly.




Jake raised the pistol, readying himself just as something tall, thin and pale stopped just short of the tree line. It lingered at the border and stared Jake down, as his hands began to shake.




“What the fuck…” he breathed to himself, and fired a shot over your head.




The bullet missed, but the creature backed up, and disappeared back into the trees.




You collapsed onto the sand as you reached the edge of the water, your lungs and limbs burning as you gasped for air. Your whole body shook and your ears rung from the gunshot.




You could just about make out Bradley’s voice.




“I gotta go back, man. Bob’s in there!”




Jake held him back with a palm to his chest.




“Are you crazy? Did you see that fucking thing?”




“Yeah and they took Bob, what don’t you fucking get?” Bradley yelled back, a crowd forming around the three of you.




Bradley swatted Jake’s hand away, pushing through the crowd to make his way back into the jungle.




“No!” You cried, struggling to your feet. You ran after him on aching legs and grabbed his wrist as soon as you were close enough.




“Bradley please, don’t go in there, not alone…” you pleaded, your grip as tight as a clamp.




Bradley stopped and turned, looking at you with trepidation. “I have to, Y/N… he’s one of my best friends.”




Bradley gently pried your hand off of his wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze as he back away. “I’ll come back, promise.”




Bradley smiled at you before he took off back up towards the jungle. Jake cursed and chased after him, and you clasped your hand over your forehead as you watched in horror and they made their way back towards danger.




Reuben ran over to you, dropping his collection of firewood at his feet.




“Hey, what the hell happened out there?” He asked, concerned for the safety of his friends.




You turned to look at him, your lip wobbled as you tried hard not to lose it.




“We need to make a big fire.” You ignored his original question, “And we need to make it now before it gets dark, they’re coming.”




——————————




The bonfire blazed powerfully in the middle of the beach, a little way away from the now cold hull of the plane which had long since stopped burning. Everyone surrounded the flames and huddled close, terrified to take their eyes off of the tree line to get some sleep.




You sat next to the injured man as he slept, blissfully unaware of the chaos that had unfolded, and you kept a close eye on his breathing throughout the evening.




It had been 6 hours since Bradley and Jake had disappeared into the jungle, and it was now early hours of the morning, maybe 1 or 2am, and pitch black darkness crept in around the edges of the gentle light of the fire.




It was eerily quiet apart from the crackling wood, and the odd chirping of crickets somewhere in the brush.




You were very on edge but you were also physically exhausted, struggling to keep your eyes open as your rested your head on your arms against your knees.




Every pop and hiss from the fire made you jolt awake, scanning the darkness for tall humanoid creatures coming to drag you to your death.




The man groaned as he stirred awake, and your hand shot out to squeeze his arm, letting him know you were there.




“Hey, be careful. Don’t move too quickly.” You said softly.




The man motioned to his lips.




“You want some water?” You asked, reaching for your bottle.




He groaned again, still unable to speak from all of the swelling.




You unscrewed the cap and carefully tipped a small amount of water into the man’s parted lips. You waited for him to swallow and then gave him some more, until he motioned with his hand that he’d had enough.




You put the bottle back down and watched as the man panted, just the simple action of trying to sit up and drink water was exhausting for him.




You felt so bad for him and wished you could just fix him.




“Hey… we found your bag, and your insulin and things. But we can’t find your phone, do you have a Glucometer or anything we can use?”




The man groaned again and you thought you saw him nod. His hand shook as it went down to his pants pocket.




You looked at him and then at his pocket. How had you not thought to check there?




You unzipped the cargo pants pocket and much to your relief was a small case, inside was the small machine and some test strips.




You had used this before, your great aunt having been a diabetic her whole life and she’d been more than happy for you to practice your “medicine” on her.




You took out a lancet and quickly pricked the man’s finger. He didn’t even flinch, and you wondered whether it was because he was so used to it or because he was in far more pain everywhere else to even notice.




You dripped the blood onto a strip and put the strip in the machine.




You waited a moment for it to do its thing, and the machine beeped with a reading




“You’re 5.8, is that good for you or do you need something?” You asked, and the man’s shaky hand raised to give you a thumbs up. You breathed a sigh of relief.




There weren’t many strips left, maybe 15, and the insulin depending on how often he used it would probably last 2 weeks, but you had hope you’d be rescued by then, and so when the man fell asleep again, you felt relaxed enough to allow your eyes to close for longer than a few minutes, eventually drifting to sleep.




————————




Deep in the jungle, Bradley and Jake treaded carefully towards the mountain, following the footsteps that lead from the Effigy site.




Jake had cursed loudly and gagged at the gruesome sight, his hand tightly wrapped around the gun on his hip.




“What are we walking into here, Rooster? Is it even safe to go any further?” Jake had drawled, an arm draped across his mouth and nose.




“We have to, you know Bob would do the same if it were either of us in there.”




“He could be dead for all we know, it could be a trap.” Jake argued.




“Yeah but what if he’s not?” Bradley snapped back, standing straight and tall, angry at the fact that Jake would even consider leaving a friend behind.




“Fine… ok yeah you’re right.”




And they had continued through the thick undergrowth as the sky darkened considerably, heading towards the mountain that loomed ominously over them.




Eventually they could no longer see the footprints and had no choice but to stop for the night, the darkness closing in like gloved hands over their eyes.




Cold, damp and hungry, the men huddled together defiantly and eventually sleep found them. As Bradley drifted off, his last thought was that he really hoped something else didn’t find them first.




—————————




The morning sun poured through the treetops and birds chirped cheerfully in the new light of the day.




Bradley threw an arm over his face to cover his eyes, inadvertently slapping Jake in the face.




“The fuck is wrong with you Bradshaw?” He groaned as he elbowed Bradley and sat up.




“Sorry.” Bradley mumbled as he adjusted, rubbing his eyes and looking around.




“I guess we better get a move on.” Jake sighed as he stood and dusted the leaves and dried grass off of his clothes.




Bradley looked around, confused.




“What now?” Jake groaned.




“Shh!”




“Don’t tell me to shush-“




“No! Listen… is that the ocean?”




They stared at each other for a second as they listened.




“Fuck off, that cannot be possible. We’ve been walking towards the mountain, it’s been in front of us the whole time.” Jake stormed towards the source of the noise through a few trees, and sure as day his feet hit the sand and he was back on the beach.




“Rooster…” he breathed.




Bradley walked up behind him and his eyes widened. They were back on the exact same beach they’d left, the rest of the survivors now making their way about the beach collecting items.




“We’ve gone in a big circle… I’m not sure how but… we must have.” Bradley rubbed his face in frustration. “We need to go back.”




“Listen, man… we’re exhausted, starved, we need water. Let’s just get refuelled and rest and we can try again, alright?” Jake made a good point, and Bradley’s body ached so badly.




“Yeah… alright. We’ll go later.” He nodded and they made their way back to the beach.




You were busying yourself making piles of any food and water you had collectively found, and trying to come up with a way to split the food fairly in a way that would also last you long enough to either be rescued or figure something else out.




You were so distracted that you hadn’t noticed Bradley walking up behind you.




“Hey.” He said softly, and you jumped out of your skin, knocking bottles of water off of the neat pile you’d created.




You clutched at your chest as you stared at Bradley with wide eyes, and he stared back, holding back a laugh.




Eventually you let out a chuckle and a deep breath, “You nearly gave me a heart attack, Brad. Jesus…”




“I’m sorry.” He grinned, picking up bottles and placing them back on the pile. “I see you’re still a little on edge…”




“A little?” You scoffed, “Barely got a wink of sleep last night between that, worrying about you and the guy I’m looking after… I’m glad you’re okay.” You smiled softly, reaching out to touch his arm.




“Yeah… we didn’t find Bob though, we’re gonna try again later.” He sighed, sitting in the sand next to you.




You handed him a bottle of water to drink, “Maybe I should come with you this time.”




Bradley shook his head as he swallowed a big gulp of water. You felt too hot as you watched a drop of condensation fall onto his exposed collarbone and trail down through his chest hair and onto his t-shirt.




“It’s not safe. Plus they need you here, in case anyone gets hurt.”




“I think the main risk is over, Brad.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, as you were sure those who had quite literally fallen out of the sky and survived could handle a scratch or a bump, the beach not being much of a risk in your eyes.




Bradley looked at you for a long while, “No.” he finally said, standing up.




“No? I’m not being funny but it’s not exactly up to you is it?” You were getting quickly frustrated, the lack of sleep and hunger getting the better of you as you stood to follow Bradley.




He turned back to face you again, “I can’t risk something happening to anyone else on my watch, Y/N.”




“I can handle myself.”




“I’m sure you can, but I need to be clear headed when I walk into that jungle!” Bradley rubbed his face, frustrated.




“What’s that supposed to mean?” You took a step back.




“Nothing. I just… I need you to stay here, please?”




You stared at him for a long while, chewing your cheek, before you nodded. “Fine.”




Bradley sighed and watched as you went back to your meal count. He was exhausted and the last thing he wanted was to argue with you, one of the few people on the island that he actually liked and trusted.




“Doc, I’m sorry… I just really need to know you’re here, safe.”




You looked up at him and sighed, your expression softening slightly. “Yeah, we’ll I’d like to be sure you’re safe too, and I can’t do that from the beach.”


You stared at one another for a long moment, and you could tell Bradley was about to open his mouth to speak again, but he was interrupted as the kind young woman who was helping you with the injured man ran over to you, her movements urgent.




“Are you ok, Megan?” You asked, stopping what you were doing.




“Come quick! It’s the man, he’s talking.”




—————————

- Entry 4 Coming Soon -

Taglist:

@randomfangirlof @scarletseresin @halflifejess @bradshawbaby @leather-n-velvet

[in1-nutshell]

Last one I promise (I love all your work so so so freaking much I have so many ideas and I’m trying not to send in too many) but. BUT.

What would the TFP memory loss back to Orion Pax arc with Maxima be like? How would Megs try to spin this in his favor?

Or! Following the nutshell summary ficlet where Maxima loses her memories, what would Megs do to her? Would he try and turn her into a weapon for the Decepticons, knowing what a skilled warrior she is, or would he keep her close by, like he did with Orion?

And what about Optimus! Did he lose his memories and become Orion Pax, or is he still Optimus Prime, and has to deal with his daughter getting taken from him, maybe even turned against him? (We already know that Maxima considers the Matrix to have taken her father from her, would those feelings still linger for Megatron to use???)

Thank you for all your wonderful writing and for sharing those skills with us!

This has been a writing I have been putting off on the sole reason that there are too many outcomes that could come out of this change alone. Decided this one was going to be the main one.

Hope you enjoy!

Maxima looses her memory

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Mention of injury, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Maxima felt like her helm was being pulled in so many different directions at once.

From getting over the fact the Earth was Unicron.

To wanting to dropkick Optimus for even considering going to fight him ALONE!

To nearly having whiplash hearing that Megatron was coming through the spacebridge.

At this point Maxima swore she was going to punch him just because of how many times she heard his name today alone.

She made sure to stand in between Bumblebee and the kids when the Warlord came through the groundbrigde.

A harden glare bore into Megatron’s helm on realizing who else was in the base.

Megatron: “Well, if it isn’t Prime’s daughter. A fitting reunion, isn’t it?” Maxima stays silent. Raf suddenly comes from his hiding place to stand in front of Megatron. Maxima nearly felt her spark leave her chassis as the other humans came out to get him. She was thankful that the adults managed to get Jakc and Raf back. Miko on the other hand… Miko: “If you even think about going anywhere near her this will be the last thing you will ever see! You can double cross anyone but mine is the face you’ll never forget! Never!” Maxima swiftly scooped her up and held a defensive position, as if waiting for him to make the next move. Megatron: “Ha! It seems as if some training I instilled still remains. Tell me, how many times you have used this exact position on the very bots who have taught you.” Maxima: “Don’t flatter yourself Megatron.” Megatron: “It is simply a complement from a former teacher to a former student.” Optimus then stands in between Maxima and Megatron. The subtle protective stance that had not gone unnoticed by the others. The two leaders stare at each other in silence. Megatron: “Such a waste of potential Prime. She would have made one of the finest Decepticons in my rank. She still can.” Maxima was glad that she managed to carefully cover Miko’s mouth, even with a furious muffle noise coming out of her. Bee whirls in anger now trying to get in front of Maxima while Optimus shifts himself, so he is covering more of Maxima. Optimus: “We did not bring you here for this Megatron. You are only here to assist us in subduing Unicron. That is all.”

Soon enough it was time for everyone to go.

Maxima remembered patting everyone on their heads.

She remembered promising to them that she would keep on optic out for their guardians.

Bumblebee had rhetoric back that he would be watching her back.

Maxima just smiled and fist bumped him.

The monster truck never like caves, especially underground ones.

There were too many dark spaces and unknown depths and rocks around.

Too much like…

No, no time on thinking about her, there was some fighting to do!

Just as Bumblebee had promised, he watched her back.

Bumblebee: “Bep beep! (On your left!)” Maxima easily slashes a bot with her twin axes. Maxima: “Bee on your right!” She blasts the drone on his right. Bumblebee: “Boop! (Showoff!)” Maxima: “I’m not showing off. They are!” Maxima points at Prime and Megatron effortlessly fighting off the enemy in sync. Bumblebee: “Beep. (Yeah, you’re right.)” Maxima: “Always am.” Bumblebee: “Beep! (Hey!)”

The side-by-side fighting doesn’t last long though.

Bumblebee had gone to help Bulkhead and Arcee while Maxima had bolted to Prime and Megatron.

And why wouldn’t she if she saw them both going into a secluded area.

She was not going to let Megatron get any advantage of offlining her father if she was around.

Maxima could make out bits of what Optimus was saying through all the noise in the area.

Soon enough she found herself fighting back-to-back with Megatron.

Maxima shoots a drone in the helm. It was heading to Megatron, key word ‘was’. Megatron flashes her a smirk. Maxima: “Don’t mistake this for me joining your side Megatron. We need you alive for now.” Megatron blasts his fusion canon right by her helm, destroying another drone behind her. She barely flinched. Megatron: “Why my dear, whatever gave you that thought? On your right.” Maxima swings her axe to the right and punches the drone. Megatron: “Your form needs to be more guarded and strike quicker.” Maxima: “The day I ask you for fighting advice is the day I join the Cons, which news flash Megatron, isn’t happening anytime soon! Down!” Megatron sucks down giving Maxima a clear shot to the drone.

Did it feel good to fight alongside her uncle again?

…She would never admit it out loud.

The sound of whirling made her look over to the Prime.

Maxima’s movement staggered a bit at the sight of the Matrix of Leadership.

Too many memories started flooding into her processor.

For once, she was glad to have Megatron’s voice ground her to the battle.

But a sudden harsh tremor shook everyone and everything around.

Two giant rocks had knocked both Megatron and Optimus unconscious as Maxima was barely managing to dodge the falling rocks.

She ran over to Optimus, making sure he was alright.

The Matrix shown bright in his limp servo.

Maybe she could…

Oh, this was a terrible idea, but the only one she had right now.

Maxima grabbed the Matrix from his servos and jumped over the fallen rocks until she reached the front of the core.

She prayed to Primus that the Matrix would open, if no for her, for her family, friends, and everyone who would be affected with the wakening of Unicron.

To her surprise the Matrix opened easily and its energy humming through her and sent a beam straight to the core.

Soon everything went quiet, and Maxima fell, the Matrix bouncing off some rocks near Prime.

Megatron hefted himself up noticing the numerous rocks around and how quiet everything had gotten. He noticed Optimus unconscious a couple feet away. This was his chance! The Warlord hauled himself up and started to his enemy, getting his blaster ready. Another painful groan caught his attention. Maxima was struggling to get up. He watched her sit up, a look of confusion clear as day. She looked over at him with… confusion and relief? Maxima: “Uncle Megatronus? Where are we?” …what…? She tried standing up but let a painful hiss holding her pede. Maxima: “Megatronus what’s going on?” Megatron powers down his blaster and walks to her. He helps her to her pedes while hoisting most of her weight by the waist. Megatron: “We will be alright Maxima.” Maxima takes a closer look at him. Maxima: “Uncle Megatronus what happened to your faceplate? Why are you so pointy?” BLAM! Maxima shrieks and holds onto him like a lifetime. Team Prime was slowly pouring in as Optimus was slowly waking up. Maxima stared at the blasters. Maxima: “Who are they?” Megatron: “They are our enemies! Soundwave activate the groundbrigde.” Maxima: “Soundwave? Where is he? What’s a groundbrigde?” The portal appeared behind them surprising the injured bot. Megatron: “Can you run?” Maxima: “I think so?” Megatron: “Go. I will give us cover.” Maxima looked at him hesitantly before starting to limp and run into the portal. Optimus was conscious enough to see Maxima run through the portal. He struggled to get up with fury in his optics. Optimus: “Megatron! What have you done!” Megatron: “Until we meet again next time Prime!” And with that Megatron ran into the portal.

Optimus has no idea what in the world just happened.

One minute he was holding the Matrix, the next he woke up to see the Matrix a few feet away from him and Maxima looking scared in Megatron’s hold.

According to Bumblebee, she looked scared and confused.

As if she didn’t know who they were.

Optimus retrieves the Matrix, noticing it felt much lighter than usual, and heading out with the rest of the team.

At first the humans were happy to see the guardians alive but quickly turns to confusion and worry when they notice a particular monster truck was nowhere to be found.

Ratchet is the first to ask where Maxima was.

Optimus has a heavy spark when he retells what happened in the cave.

Meanwhile with the Decepticons.

Soundwave had been listening in on Megatron’s open coms the second he was alerted that he was down.

He was the first to greet Megatron and Maxima.

Maxima’s optics went from fear to utter joy when she saw Soundwave.

She ran up to him, grabbing his servo and asking so many questions it left him a bit dizzy.

Many Vehicons were nervous when they saw Maxima on the ship.

He notices them reaching for their weapons and loudly states that Maxima was the latest recruit.

Maxima is confused.

The Con’s are confused.

Soundwave has a feeling he knows what’s going on but needs more context.

Megatron leads Maxima into another room.

Now time for stage two, the backstory.

Megatron goes on a detailed story about the rise of a false Prime and how his side had brought a horrid civil war that ravaged their planet.

Megatron turns to Maxima. There is a look of distraught and fury in her optics. Like father, like daughter apparently. She stands up straighter and smirks at him. Maxima: “Where do I sign up Uncle Megatronus?” Megatron smiles back and places a servo on her shoulder. Megatron: “First thing is first; you will address me as Lord Megatron in front of the others. Second, you are to follow my orders, do not question them, Maxima.” She nods. He gently pushes her to the exit. Megatron: “You will get patched up by our medic, Knockout as well as get the Decepticon insignia.” Maxima: “Decepticons? No offense Megatronu—I mean Megatron, but that makes us sound like the bad guys.” Megatron: “That is a discussion for later.” Maxima: “Wait! You never told me what happened to Orion?” Megatron stopped in his tracts. Oh, Primus he had completely forgotten about that. Maxima’s voice quivered a bit. Maxima: “Megatronus… please tell me he is still online. Please…” Megatron: “…He is offline Maxima. He has been for years now.” Megatron is caught off guard by the sudden tears and hugs. She had done her best to muffle the sobs in his chassis, but it could only do so much. Megatron looked around and hesitantly hugged her back. Maxima: “He can’t be gone… he just can’t…” Megatron: “He is gone Maxima… I am sorry.” He stayed like that until most of the sobs had left her frame and both quietly walked to the med bay for repairs and branding.

Megatron was thankful that Maxima was tired enough to not ask too many questions.

As much as he wanted to place her on the field, he was not going to risk Optimus getting his servos on her.

She would do as the Chief Archivist and decoding relic glyphs for the time being.

The youngling could still decipher the readings almost as quickly as her father.

Good enough to give the Decepticons an edge in finding the rest of the relics.

After enough time passed and loyalty stable, was when the training and missions would start.

As Megatron had said before, Maxima would make a fine Decepticon.

And under his guidance, a fine one she would be.