#changes and youre all judgemental assholes

[yandere-fics]

I had an idea for Selene.

What if Selene's darling turns out to be her rival. Someone she fought a lot in the war and they're usually always at each other's throats at meetings.

How would Selene and the Darling react to that?

♡ Selene's Darling Is Her Rival ♡

You were not well liked by the gods, not to the extent of Selene but after the war they'd had it out for the both of you, you the only human god remaining who had been toying with humans for some time before you had to stop due to treaties and Selene the cause of the war anyways. Of course they wouldn't just shove you together if you weren't compatible, even for their revenge it would be a bit extreme but they found it funny how you were always at each others throats despite how in other circumstances you'd probably like each other so not only did they force Selene to allow you onto her territory since you had no where else to go after the war and made you mates with the addition of neither of you being able to find out for some time. Give you both time perhaps to get over your differences or tear each other apart, they didn't care, they just wanted you both punished.

You weren't happy having to stay anywhere near Selene and neither was she so she basically doled out a small area you could stay in without her touching and then proceeded to forget you were there at least until she was reminded of you at the yearly conferences where the both of you fought nonstop until the boss made you shut up. It only got worse as things progressed with you finding Selene disgusting for sleeping around and her finding you overly judgemental and a pest in her territory.

Unlike Selene though, you'd learned from your punishment and had truly changed, enjoying your life in the small town she'd ditched you in, the other gods finding you even pleasant to be around now despite you still bickering with Selene whenever you were seen together. They almost felt bad they'd done this because it probably was not at all helpful to you understanding each other or growing a positive relationship and so they ended the curse before you could grow to resent each other anymore. They told you first because since you were a human god they didn't want you caught off guard, you were pissed needless to say. Despite you having been a massive asshole before, you felt it was unjustified being stuck with Selene. You even vowed not to speak to the other gods again though you doubted you'd make good on that promise once you calmed down. Selene took it even worse, she'd shown her mate literally only the worst parts of her, she would have killed them if that wouldn't have ended with her immediate death.

They decided to force you both to be separated again to adjust, only allowing Selene to have a weekly date with you which pissed her off cause she needed her mate and pissed you off cause you'd rather they just kill Selene cause she sucked. Turns out though, the both of you had a lot of sexual tension because of your years of fighting and so after a night of sleeping together neither of you could even come up with words to say, both of your minds completely blown. The other gods were shocked when at the meeting next year, both of you were completely silent for once.

[femmefaggot]

hi

block/unfollow us if you care about "syscourse" we dont think anyones level of trauma is anyone elses business and are too blurred to know our origins for all you know and for all we are willing to share, we are an endogenic system for the love of everything and anything read the carrd. it says this.

[suiana]

I'm thinking about a yandere! secretary who's an absolutely manipulative piece of shit❤️

you hired him because his resume was impeccable and you thought he'd be a perfect fit for the empty position.

which... he is.

but the fact that he's younger than you by a decent amount and can be quite unprofessional at times does throw you off. is it something younger people like doing? is it normal to visit your employee's house with no one else around?

"hey boss, I'm thinking of inviting you over to my place tonight? just the two of us? we can drink and eat fried chicken together❤️"

"my dear, that is rather unprofessional don't you think?"

"what? no of course not. you're thinking into it too much."

it doesn't help that you're sort of a people pleaser and give into his demands easily.

you just want to see all your employees be happy! is that so wrong of you? of course not! and all your other employees (excluding your secretary) all appreciate and treat you with respect. and as you know by now, your secretary is an asshole who makes use of your easily swayed personality to get you to do... things in his favour.

but you don't know that! you just think it's because of the age gap that causes you not to understand his actions and words! surely he's not trying to love you right?

"boss~ don't you think i should meet your family? your parents? you met mine the other day didn't you? oh my parents absolutely loved you! they thought you were so sweet and-"

"w-well... that's only because you got a raise and you suggested i should inform your family about how well you were performing during work... there's no reason for you to meet my-"

"boss, be serious. do you hate me?"

"no of course not! i-"

"that's settled then! we can go and meet your family after this!"

"...yes, my dear."

with that said, he's also an excellent actor and knows how to play things to his advantage. by the time you realize what's going on, you'll already be trapped in the palm of his hand.

"my dear... i am so sorry. we shouldn't have slept together, nor gotten together. it was a severe lapse in judgement and I'm sorry that i crossed the line between personal and professionalism."

"what are you talking about darling? don't worry your silly head over all that. professionalism? who needs that? all the other employees think we look great together, and your family loves me! plus, I'm your boyfriend that you love, yes?"

"i-"

"now stop speaking about stupid things. you don't have to worry about that anymore. just listen to me. it's normal to date your secretary. it's what the younger people are doing nowadays! I'm already 26! so don't worry..."

and it's not like you can just fire him either. like i said, he does an excellent job at being your secretary. also the fact that he practically controls HR and influences them into thinking every other potential employee is subpar. so when you hold a meeting about whether to fire him everyone protests against it. but that's not important.

besides, he won't let you do that. why would you want to get rid of him? you only need him don't you? he's perfect for this job! you don't need another secretary. you don't need anyone else.

just him. only him.

and you two will be happy together as long as you listen to his words and don't try getting rid of him. after all, you might be older but times are changing! you need the hand of a younger and more knowledgeable person. he'll help you bring the company to greater heights and bring in more revenue for you!

so stop talking about how it's wrong. it's not. it's the way of the new generation! and he just.. loves you very much. way too much.

[no-144444]

chapter two: driver no.4- ln4

summary: lando norris was a preppy asshole in secondary school, and you were the girl he despised. years later, you're a hot-shot sports lawyer rewriting the rules of the sport he calls home, and your paths cross, whether you want them to or not.

pairing: lando norris x fem! lawyer! reader

a/n: anything in orange and bold is the past

𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝

You stared at the floor as you waited for him to come out of the cool down room. God, it was strange. Everything that had surrounded you for the past year of your life had been his world. Motorsport. His sport. It was maddening. You hated how, at every corner, you saw his stupid fucking face. You hated how he was praised for being a whiny little bitch. You hated how he got special treatment from the British press (like all other British drivers). You hated his stupid smirking face, and unfortunate mullet. 

You hated how much you remembered from school, the most. 

He burst through the door, dripping champagne, trophy in one hand, bottle in the other, and a smug smile on his face. 

You continued looking down, this time taking out your notepad. 

“Congratulations,” you said, deadpanned, heading your page with ‘Driver No.4’. 

He stared at your page. “I think we’re past numbers,” he chuckled. You didn’t. 

“How was your race today?” you asked using your best customer service voice. He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. 

“Good,” he nodded, and you scribbled something he couldn’t see on the page. Will walked in and closed the door behind him. 

“What happened to his brakes?” you questioned. 

“Well they just started-”

“I wasn’t asking you, No.4. I was asking Will,” you told him, your voice void of any and all judgement. Just simple and clear, I’m not talking to you. He scoffed, pulling off his boots as Will went into a long-winded explanation and you furiously wrote. He’d never understand how you wrote and typed so fast, it was like… magic. Next, he pulled off his shirt, and next his suit, leaving him only in his boxers. He snuck a glance at you as he changed, but you were busy writing. Writing, writing, writing. He wondered if you did anything else. He pulled on a new race suit, his own shoes, but kept the fireproof off, just wondering what you’d do. 

“No.4, do you feel that you were unfairly penalised by the FIA or stewards at any point during the race?” You asked, turning your attention to him.

He shook his head as Will left the room again. The calm atmosphere left with him. “No, for once.”

You nodded, continuing your writing. God, the sound of that pen against paper, it drove him crazy. “And did you feel that anyone else should’ve been penalised where they weren’t?” 

“Why won’t you look at me?” He questioned. 

“I don’t need to look at you to know who I’m talking to,” you answered diplomatically. “I know who’s room I walked into, and I know exactly who’s in front of me.”

“You know my voice that well?” He teased. Your grip on your pen tightened.  

“You seem to like the sound of your own voice, and I just so happen to be around to hear it often,” you said, your tone short. Subtle dig from you, but he smiled all the same.

“I think Charles should’ve been made to come in and change his wing,” he answered after thinking about it for a few seconds. More writing. 

“And why is that?” 

And he was silent, feeling the way your hidden disdain for him emanated from you with every syllable. He enjoyed this, getting under your skin. He just wished you got under his skin less. 

He wanted you to look at him, and Lando Norris got what he wanted. 

“I asked you a question, Driver 4,” you sighed. “If you need a few moments to yourself I can step outside-“

“I want you to look at me,” he repeated. “You haven’t looked at me once since you came in here.”

And the request was set. The tension in the air dissipated for a moment, but you huffed, and it was back. 

“I seem to need to repeat myself, Driver 4, I said that I didn’t need to look at you to know who I’m speaking to.” 

Driver 4. That stung coming from you. He had a name, a name you knew well. A name you used just days ago. 

“What do you call the team bosses?” He questioned. 

“Are you unable to answer my questions, Driver 4?” You shot back. Your voice was so plain, yet so cutting. He hit him deep in his chest that he was just another number to you, another statistic. He couldn’t be, not after your history. He refused to be.

“Can you answer mine?” 

“Only if your questions are relevant to the race today,”you explained everything like you thought he wasn’t smart enough. He knew he wasn’t smart enough for you, he’d always known. But he missed the pitying looks and offers of help. He missed when you cared that he was helpless. 

“Why won’t you look at me?” He demanded. 

“Is that information to do with your racing experience today-?”

He hated how easily you put on ‘the face’ for him. You were supposed to be finding this as difficult as he was. You were supposed to be suffering like he was. “Do you call Toto ‘Mercedes Petronas F1 Team Principal’?” He gritted out. You were quiet, just rolling your eyes (not that he could see). “What do you call Zak?” 

“What I call my other clients is none of your business No.4 -” 

He then slammed a hand down onto his desk. “You know my name!” He raised his voice. The power had shifted, you were in control. As always. “Y/n, you know my name.” 

You finally looked up from your notes, not because he’d asked you to. Not because you particularly wanted to either, but you knew how he’d react. You saw the way his eyes widened, the way he couldn’t look away. “I do. But all I care about is your racing experience, now please sit down, No.4,” you gestured to his seat, and he did what you asked. 

Not particularly because he wanted to. But because you asked. You asked him, and he did it without question. The way your eyes followed him made him gulp. Maybe he should’ve put his fireproof on. 

“Do I need to repeat my previous question?” You asked, your eyes blaring into his. 

He shook his head. “I think it was reckless to be driving with a broken front wing.”

“Is that all?” You questioned, going back to your notebook. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

“You do understand that while we will be taking your answer into account, we will also be extremely aware of the bias you carry when speaking about other drivers in the grid. We understand that it is your job to win, but we are wanting the most unbiased answers. If it had been you, would you have wanted to be penalised for driving a race with a broken front wing?”

“I wouldn’t want to be, but I’d understand if I was,” he explained, gripping onto the edge of his chair like his life depended on it. You were so… commanding. It entranced him.

You stood, gathering your things and his heart dropped. “Thank you for your time, No. 4. I’ll be in touch,” you shook his hand. 

And time stood still. 

Your hand in his, your eyes on his, and his entire body lit up. He could feel his hand burning where you’d touched him. He knew you felt the way his breath caught. He knew you pretended not to care. He was busy hoping it wasn’t pretend. 

“Congratulations on today,” you smiled briefly before leaving him in his empty driver’s room.

And he breathed properly for the first time since you’d walked in. 

𓆝 𓆟

“Where have you been?” Lando asked Oscar, who just walked out of his room, finally changed. Lando had been part of the celebrations for a whole 20 minutes since his interview ended. 

“The interview thing, with the lawyers,” he explained. “Did you forget?”

Lando frowned. “Why did it take so long?”

“She had like 40 questions dude, it was torture,” he sighed, flopping down beside him. 

“Y/n asked me like… 5, or something,” he shrugged, pretending it didn’t annoy him. 

“Yeah, I’m not shocked,” Sierra smiled, joining their conversation. “Gasly, LeClerc, and Hamilton might be disqualified, and she’s so busy with the quarterlies and the team bosses that she’s barely leaving the office nowadays,” she chuckled. “That woman works so hard.” 

Lando felt a sense of pride blossom in his chest. He wasn’t sure why, but hearing others praise you made him feel… good. Unless it was Liam. Fucking Liam. Lando had gone full FBI stalker (with the help of Max and Pietra) on Liam, and his entire instagram was full of pictures of you and the team. He seemed like any regular law bloke, so uninteresting and uninspired. You could do so much better. 

“Oh great, we have a meeting with all the drivers now,” Sierra announced, looking at her phone. “Follow me,” she smiled up at the men. 

Lando followed behind her as she led them to the briefing office, where you sat at the top of the room, Liam beside you as some FIA officials hovered over your shoulder. The room was set up like a courtroom. You were writing viciously as Liam read your points over your shoulder. Charles, Pierre, and Lewis’s buddies were all busy doing the same thing, looking slightly nervous as he realised what was going to happen. 

You turned to the drivers who were walking in. “Hello all, please take a seat,” you smiled pleasantly. “We know you’d all very much rather be on your way home now, but we wanted to show how our system would work, should the FIA choose to implement it,” you explained.  

Liam interjected, smiling beside you. “So please, just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!”

You chuckled beside him, playfully nudging him. Lando scoffed. No need to be so obvious. 

What followed after was a fucking masterclass in sports law mediation, headed by you, of course. Lando watched in awe as you spoke, completely in your element. You won the case for the FIA on each driver (though LeClerc and Gasly were pretty easy, since they were actually underweight), while all of your trainees fumbled to argue against you. It was hot, though Lando wouldn’t ever admit it. 

Yet you still called him ‘Driver 4’ while you spoke to the room. Everyone else had a name. Everyone else held weight on your lips. But he was just a number. 

𓆝 𓆟

He ran to catch up with you as you were leaving the paddock, the sun setting on the day. 

“I don’t want it to be like this,” he admitted, breathless, as he grabbed onto your arm. You stared at him for a moment. 

“Be like what?” You scoffed, pulling your arm back. 

He did a double take. “What the fuck do you mean?” He cursed. “We used to be friends, Y/n. I want you to be fucking normal with me-“

“I’m being perfectly professional, Driver 4. If you have an issue with how your case is being conducted, you can go to our HR rep, Liam Davidson, or you can ask to switch buddy,” you rattled the words off as you walked, throwing them away as if they meant nothing. 

“I don’t want to switch buddy-“

“Then what’s your problem?” You asked. “Is it something I can help you with?” 

He stared at you for a moment, seeing nothing he recognised in your eyes. You looked cold. You looked strange. You looked wrong. He just wanted you to be normal. That girl he annoyed in Biology. The girl who’d never do anything to hurt him. 

That girl was gone. 

“No,” he answered, his voice coated in emotion. You dropped his hand. 

You looked him over again. You saw the way he wouldn’t look at you, and you saw that tiny kid you knew so well. “Congratulations again. You drove a brilliant race.” 

He nodded. Drove a brilliant race. He took a deep breath.

And he walked away.

𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟

twists and turns masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[tryingtofindava]

some of the creeps with a cannibalistic reader? :> if thats okayy

── 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫*ೃ༄

(Includes: Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Ticci Toby, Masky, Hoodie, Nina the Killer.)

: ̗̀➛Back to source

>>Part 2

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

He doesn’t hide the fact AT ALL that he thinks it’s absolutely disgusting

And he’ll always make that clear to you.

Onetime you were in the woods after killing some poor camper, eating away at their flesh while cooking it with their fire.

And Jeff came by because he was on his way back to his hiding spot from the world.

He watches and mocks you the whole time, because he’s an asshole.

“Y/n, that’s so fucking fucking gross. You’re nasty.” (he scoffs while being covered in like 7 different peoples blood…)

Anyways lolz he doesn’t support you :3

But, that doesn’t stop him from having a morbid interest in you tendency to eat people.

And will ask about what parts of the body you prefer, and also if you’ve ever ate someone’s testicles. Sorry not sorry.

╰┈➤ 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤

Unfazed. The man eats kidneys. You’re in good company.

Whether you’re a cannibal by choice or forced to be like him, he feels a weird connection to you in that way.

I’d be a liar if I said you two didn’t bond over the fact that you both have the taste for human flesh. (Which is like, a BIG deal for Jack since he isn’t the most social Creep out there.)

He may even share his little human organs with you, and it may as well become your guys usual hang out plan.

After being alone for so many years after the events of the sacrifice, having something in common with another being is very important to him.

Being around you makes him feel a little better about what he has become since you choose do live this way, and he’s forced to eat people.

It makes him feel less disgusted with himself, because compared to you, he’s better since he doesn’t want to do this to other people.

He has to if he wants to survive.

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

I’m actually sure he was supposed to be cannibal but was changed later on by Kastoway since it was too similar to EJ’s story and stuff. So it was set that he only ate some parts of his victims on rare occasions.

I’m also pretty sure it’s canon that the way he got the gash on his cheek is because he literally gnawed it off because his gloves prevented him from eating away at the skin on his fingers.

So yeah… he’s probably unphased by your desire to eat people.

Not that he’d give a shit in the first place, he’d probably just tease you sometimes about it.

Maybe even on his missions he’d take some human parts from his victims for you to scran on.

Like Jeff, he also has a morbid interest in your hobby. Just doesn’t ask questions in a mocking tone like Jeffery would.

He’d share what he likes about eating people, you share what you like about eating people. Like a really fucked up version of 20 questions.

╰┈➤ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞

Again, another two who find it repulsing-ish.

BUT!!

They don’t make it as obvious as Jeffrey does about finding it disgusting.

Though you can still sense their vibe being off when they are around you. The two have been working for the operator for many years now and they have seen some pretty fucked up shit. But you and your cannibalistic ways? You take the cake…

Sometimes when you eat in the woods they may come across you and watch, though you can’t see their faces from their masks you know that they are silently judging you.

It repulses them. And you’ll always feel their judgemental stares when you’re eating around them.

╰┈➤ 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

This girl is already unhinged, and depending on how you play it, she might find that trait either terrifyingly hot or deeply concerning but oddly thrilling.

“WAIT! WAIT!! WAIT!!! Like… people? Actual people??? Like, the kinky way or the literal way??”

She’s stunned, mouth half open, eyes wide like you just told her you like pineapple on pizza but in a super cursed way.

A whole internal debate plays out in real time. Do I freak out? Do I kiss her? Do I ask if she’s wanting me to slash someone up for a midnight snack rn???

Another one with morbid curiosity and it kicks in FAST. She’s weirded out, but also really wants to know what made you like this.

Her love language is gift giving, and acts of service, so like Toby she definitely brings you humans to munch on.

You want them raw? Okay!! You want ‘em fried? She’s getting the pan out now!

Lowkey turns it into a power couple thing once she wraps her mind around it.

“I kill, you snack. We’ve got a system.”

Will 100% make cannibal jokes if anyone flirts with you in the mansion. “Careful. She bites. And swallows.”

She loves getting her hands dirty for you, and feels no regret what so ever when she ends an innocent person to bring you your dinner!! :)

She sees it as part of your twisted charm, and honestly, she’s more into you than she is worried about your ‘diet.’

Half of this was me babbling lolz

[phossiii]

Would Monsters!Y/N ever learn about Phosphorus’s criminal background? I don’t just mean for relationship building and such, but also learning that damn Pimp get-up he wore at one point🤣🤣🤣 Just so Y/N could stare judgementally at Phosphorus, who may have been indulging in drugs at the time as well given Thorne also ran a drug business.

｡𖦹°‧⭑ melting

synopsis: phosphorus doesn't take kindly to disrespectful business partners... especially when they disrespect you.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, takes place within the monsters universe.

"I've got to say, Señor Fósforo," Esteban grinned, rakishly, as he surveyed the club, eyes gliding over girls and party-goers alike. "You certainly don't fail to disappoint. This is the best get-together I've been to in a long while."

Amused, Phosphorus out a hearty chuckle, using his thumb to light the end of his cigar.

Damn well better be...

The amount of money he shelled out for this little shindig was enough to make a duke sweat.

Most, if not all, of the big name players in Gotham's criminal underworld were there, dining on gourmet hors d'oeurvres and puffing on premium smokes.

All to get "re-acquainted".

"You flatter me, Esteban. Five years and nothing's changed," Phosphorus sighed, leaning back against the cushions of the booth as he released a smooth stream of smoke. "But now that we've got the pleasantries out the way, I think it's time we get down to business."

His light-hearted demeanor switched quickly, turning sharp and poignant.

"I take it my business in the East End is going well... given your solid gold watch, that eyesore you've got parked out front... and the blow you've got on your nose."

Eyes wide, Esteban quickly wiped away the evidence, swallowing thickly as he adjusted the collar of his dress shirt.

"Better than ever, Señor. B-But of course we are fully prepared for you to resume your position."

"On the contrary," Phosphorus sighed, looking down at his scotch. "I need you to continue running the East End."

Esteban raised a brow.

"Huh? But why?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Phosphorus reminded sharply, before allowing his eyes to drift over to your form on the dance floor. "But I need some more time on my hands... I've got... other things to tend to."

You flipped your hair over your shoulder with a carefree grin, laughing with a few of the other mobster girlfriends you met as you all danced like nobody was watching.

When, in fact. everybody was watching.

Phosphorus bit the inside of his cheek, fighting off an invisible grin at the sight of your happy expression.

You were thoroughly worried when he broke you both out of Belle Reve, afraid of the wrath of Batman more so for his sake than for yours.

But he assured you that everything would be fine, and encouraged you to have the time of your life—all on his dime, of course.

So, when he said you both had a party to go to that night, you accepted the little black card to his offshore account and went ham at the stores for the first time in your life.

Which brought you here, cutting a rug under the strobe lights of the club.

"Diablo Mami..." Esteban gasped, having finally noticed you through his fear-filled, coke-laced haze. "Qué hermosa!"

Your silvery laugh rang through the crowd as you swirled your hands around your body, your fire drawing intricate designs in the air.

Using your power, you outlined your hips in rhythm with the music, accentuating the curve of your dips in the tiny, black dress.

'Goddamn...'

Not a day went by without Phosphorus thanking his lucky stars you gave an asshole like him a chance.

An asshole... who just registered Esteban's words.

With a painful quickness, he snapped his head over to the Colombian drug lord, eyes sharpening like daggers.

"What was that?"

"La diablesa..." Esteban marveled, gaze raking over your every inch. "Horns... And a tail, too... I've never seen someone like her before... So sexy..."

Phosphorus's jaw ticked as he watched the man looked at you, his expression displaying his thoughts clearly as he practically undressed and fucked you with his eyes.

In an instant, the cigar hanging out the skeleton's mouth went up in flames, completely burning up right to the bud.

But Esteban was too enraptured in you to notice.

"I'm a little parched, Señor," the drug lord grinned, rising from his seat and adjusting his blazer. "I think I'm going to get a tall drink of wa—"

He wasn't even able to finish his sentence before an irradiated hand grabbed him harshly by the neck, hoisting him up in the air and completely knocking the table over in the process.

The shattering glasses of scotch grabbed the attention of everyone in the club, along with the screams of nearby women as Esteban choked and gurgled, blood slowly leeching from his every orifice as Phosphorus cooked him from the inside out.

"On second thought... your employment is no longer necessary."

Many watched with horror as he melted the man in his grasp, refusing to let go until Esteban's head was completely liquefied, leaving only his body intact.

From the dance floor, you watched with a tired sigh, crossing your arms over your chest with disapproval.

"This is what I get for leaving him alone," you huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Leaving the terrified mob girls behind, you strutted off the dance floor, moving to go yank your boyfriend out of his mess.

"All right, nothing to see here," you barked, scanning over the room with a side-long glance. "He's a dead man. I'm sure we've all seen one before."

With a flippant puff of fire, you ignited the man's body with hellflame, cremating him in a matter of seconds.

"Let's keep this party goin', alright? Back to your business."

Murmurs of agreement rumbled throughout the room before the music cut back on and the attendants returned to their partying.

"As for you," your voice sharpened, brows furrowing as you grabbed Phosphorus by his tie. "We need to talk... Alone."

"Is this a talk or a talk talk? 'Cause I wouldn't be opposed to the former," he cooed, tenderly sliding his hand down your side to rest over the curve of your ass.

But the glare you fixed him with said otherwise.

"Ah... the latter."

"What did I tell you about the melting, my love?" you sang from your seat on Phosphorus's desk, softly caressing his jaw as you held him in between your legs by his tie.

Even though your words were sweet, they were not without an underlying, scolding tone.

"Only do it if absolutely necessary," he grumbled, as if he were a child.

"And was it absolutely necessary?"

"...Yes."

"Alex."

Your grip on his tie tightened, eyes glowing a faint yellow.

"It was! Honest!"

"Oh, yeah? What did he do?"

"He was eyeing something that belongs to me."

His voice dropped an octave, eyes gliding over your face with a possessive glint.

(You couldn't see them, but you'd become so perceptive with his body language that you might as well have)

"Yeah, well, that something's about two seconds from skipping town."

"What?!"

"I told you the moment we stepped into Gotham that we needed to keep a low profile. Parties are typical of the nightlife, but melting is not!" you sighed out of your nose, reigning in your volume just a tad. "If Batman catches wind that you're out, he will not hesitate to drag you back to Belle Reve and throw away the key. And then what am I supposed to do? "

You released him, your arms coming up to hug yourself as you looked away.

"With my record clean, they won't take me with you. And I'll never see you again..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, doll, that's not gonna happen," Phosphorus quickly shifted, his hands quickly rising to cup your face and turn you toward him. "I assure you, I'm being careful. Everything's being delegated to my lieutenants. I'm as far removed from the business as possible."

Glancing up at him, you searched his face for insincerity.

"Promise?"

With a small smirk, he placed a soft peck on your lips, running his thumb over your cheek.

"Promise."

At that, you grinned, pulling him back in by his tie and pressing your lips into his neck, much to his amusement.

He'd have to make promises more often...

"If that's the case... whaddya say to a little more one-on-one time?" you softly whispered into his ear, punctuating with a little nip to his jaw.

The timbre of your voice sent a shiver down his spine, forcing the man's hands to reverently grasp at your hips.

"Whatever you want, doll... whatever you want..."

[lostinlovingrevery]

Audience

Worst Wolverine X F! Reader

You put yourself in a dangerous situation and Logan didn't appreciate it

A/N: This is just a silly lil fic, it was originally planned to be smth else but I changed my mind but didn't want to get rid of what I had!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Marvel cameos, blood mention, Reader having no survival instinct lol, Logan gets mad at reader, fluff at the end! suggestive ending ;)

You’re not quite sure what happened.

You were just enjoying a simple afternoon at your favorite coffee shop. You got your sweet treat, a caramel cider, and a strawberry donut - delicious. It’d been a nice day, sunny, warm, so you sat outside at one of the little tables offered out there. Took the day off from work- just because. Someone complimented your new dress! 

The only bummer was that your boyfriend couldn’t make it. Logan called, his voice being more unusually angry than it is on the phone, told you he wouldn’t be able to make it to your planned coffee date. Said that something came up- you swear you heard Wade in the background during this conversation. Decided to not ask why, if it involves Wade, you don’t wanna know. Logan promised he’d make it up to you, and knowing him, he will.

So you enjoyed your solo coffee date, while you did miss Logan, it was quiet- rarely do you get a moment to yourself. Then you heard the sounds of fighting- a few screams, and people running away. You stood up from your chair, eyes searching for the supposed chaos that was happening. All you saw was people running, some looking more disheveled than others. You caught one woman by her arm, 

“What’s happening?”

“A bunch of those-..UGH! mutant freaks are fighting it out!” She shakes her head, escaping your grip and continuing to run. 

Mutant-? 

Oh.

Against your better judgement, you had to confirm her words. You ran against the crowd, people shoving you to the side but you ignored it, too curious- wanting to see what was happening. If it’s what you think it is, you couldn’t miss out. 

You reached the corner, an intersection. When you looked left, that’s when you saw it. Cars tossed on their side. Multiple police cars, police barricades, a few swat trucks. 

A really big dude with a helmet on, a guy with a metal arm- 

no, not that one, the other one, 

a familiar asshole in red spandex, a second guy in re- holy shit, is that Spiderman? 

The scene was chaotic. Some of the costumed heros you didn’t know, all of them fighting against the big dude, and if you knew your lore right- you could guess that it was Juggernaut. When Wade would go on his drunken rants about his adventures with a groups of misfits, he mentioned that he had no clue what happened to Juggernaut after he was well…You rather not repeat how Wade described it. 

You saw a flash of yellow, and you recognized it as your man, and you were quickly vexed. You knew better though, this was dangerous- you should leave. 

As you turned to run down the street, you heard a commotion, and then a car landed right in front of you- inches from your face. You couldn’t even let out a sound. You way was a bit….blocked, so you opted to hid yourself behind a street tree and watch the fight go down- and see Logan in action. 

The fight was intense. Juggernaut was strong, fast. You watched him power through multiple cars and barricades, tossing various heros aside as he charged after Logan. His stomping rumbled the ground below you, and your heard the windows of the apartment building behind you shake with each step, threatening to break.

You gasped as he reached Logan, but instead of Logan getting pummeled to death, he holds his own. Snarling with gritted teeth, he threw the first punch. The metal clang the echoed through the street sent made you wince, putting your nerves on edge.

Logan may have metal bones but that could not have felt good. 

A few punches are thrown at each other- both taking them well. Logans claws came out, as he roared. One leap and hes on Juggernauts back, stabbing his claws into the giants shoulders. Spiderman (woah!) comes swinging in, using his webs to wrap around his legs, knocking Juggernaut down to the ground. 

You really wanted to cheer- but decided that you should probably keep your mouth shut since you don’t believe anyone has spotted you yet, best to be kept that way. Logan probably wouldn’t appreciate you putting yourself in a potential path of danger just because you wanted to be a fangirl. 

The victory didn’t last long. Spidey’s webs quickly torn as the Juggernaut pulled Logan off and tossed him to the side- which he landed into the side of the car, creating an ginormous dent into the metal and breaking the windows. He lunged after spiderman, who jumped away. Wade charged after him next, sticking his katanas into his side. Juggernaut- seemed unaffected, grabbed Wade and-

You looked away, not wanting to see his arms be torn off. Again.

Logan snarled again, having removed himself from the car, he lunged onto Juggernauts back once as he drops Wades limbs to the ground. You watching his arms hooks around his shoulders, locking his arms from being able to grab Logan again.

You couldn’t deny, seeing Logan fighting- way hotter than it should be. You’ve seen him fight before, typical bar fights, usually ones where he gets pissed because some guy had the nerve to check you out right in front of him.

While you didn’t believe the fighting was neccessary, you did love Logan defending your honor. 

This time though, there was something particularly attractive. Maybe it was the suit. You never saw it on him completely- Only the pants and the cowl. The first time you met, he and Wade had walked by your apartment as you were leaving, looking like they came out of hell. You didn’t even know Logan got his suit repaired, a suspicion that Wade was likely behind it.

Either way, Logan looked damn good with that suit. 

Logan seemed to have frozen for a moment, and you watched with confusion as he hold on the Juggernaut loosens, who eventually grabbed Logan and throws him across the street, right next to you.

 He slams into the brick of the building, creating a divot in the wall, as pieces crumbled around him. He groaned, cursing under his breath and his head lfits up- and sees you staring back at him with wide eyes. 

You smile awkwardly, and gave him a small wave. 

“Hi baby-” 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He snarls as he pushes himself out of the building. Stomping over to you, pieces of brick and dust fell off his shoulder. You cowered, like a child being scolded. In the background, Spiderman, Cable, and a few others attempt to fight off Juggernaut. Wade was spinning around- armless, and blood shooting out, he was thrusting his shoulders forward side to side as if he was throwing punches with his arms, abandoned nearby.

“Well I- I was just in the neighborhood and I saw you-” 

“You should not be here!” His voice turned low and angry. You press your lips together.

“Well-” You stammered, trying to think of an excuse, gesturing to him and the fight happening besides you both on the street. “What about you- You canceled our date for work?!”

He stares at you incredously. You sigh, dropping your shoulders, “That’s not gonna work.…”

He stuck a finger in your face. “Go home. We’ll talk about this later.” He sneers, but honestly,it only turned you on more. The anger, just barely concealed by his mask with his lips curled back and his teeth bared, the way he towered over you. The suit stretched over his muscles…

You noticed his nostrils flare, but before he could say anything, a large piece of debris was thrown at you both, in which he grabbed you and dodged it, careful to make sure no harm came to you.

“You need to get the hell out of here-” He says, concealing you from the fight. He looks around, searching for a safe and quick escape route for you. Just then, Spiderman had landed next to the both of you. “You-” He pointed at him, waving him over.

“Oh- Yeah? Mr.Wolverine sir?”

“Just…Wolverine.” Logan shook his head. “Take her home.” He motions to you with his hand. 

“I can get home by myself-” You stopped, and looked at the spider hero with confusion. “Are you a teenager?” You ask, upon hearing his slightly higher pitched voice. 

“No!”

“You couldn’t even stay away from a fight!” Logan snaps at you. You put your hands on your hips.

“Lo- Wolverine- Don’t you talk to me like that!” You snapped back. 

“Uh so what am I doing?” Spiderman says awkwardly, clapping his hands together and bouncing on the heels of his feet. 

“She lives on Elm street.” Logan says. Actually, you both live on Elm street. You were going to correct him- for no real reason, but was interrupted.

“You-” 

Juggernaut lets out a yell, and starts charging towards you three. Logan snarls, getting into position to fight.

“Take her!”

“Right!” Spidey, grabs onto you, “Hi ma’am!” 

He shoots a web, and you’re before lifted off the ground just into time, as Juggernaut slams into Logan and the fight continues. You’re screaming, clinging to the young hero in fear as he swings from building to building. 

“So, like- are you and Wolverine a thing?” He asks amidst your screams. 

You’re back home now. You’ve been anxiously cleaning, doing laundry, even cleaned out the fridge. Waiting for Logan- and the inevitable scolding he was going to give you. You were preparing all sorts of arguments. Like, why didn’t you tell me you were going back to superhero business? 

Which you were a tad butthurt about. He canceled your date, that doesn’t upset you- but he could have been honest about why.

Just as you sat down, thats when the door to your apartment opened and Logan stepped in. He was still wearing his suit and cowl, although it was a bit torn and dirtied up now. 

You stood up from your chair, fiddling with your hands nervously as you looked at him. He stepped inside, a frown on his face as he slammed the door shut behind him. He turned, making sure to click the lock shut. 

“Logan-”

“Save it.” 

He walks over to you, and you made yourself smaller to him. Looking up at him with big, innocent eyes. You pout your lip. 

“Don’t make yourself cute.” He shook his head. “That was stupid. That was really fucking stupid. You could have gotten killed! What if I wasn’t there? The others couldn’t stop him! What if he went after you, you-” He stopped himself, a small shake of his lips, a flare of his nostrils- you could see he was trying to calm himself down.

“I-” You opened your mouth to defend yourself, and closed it. Surprised to see so much emotion coming from him. “Yeah, I know.” You looked down, with a dejected tone. “I was originally going to leave and then this car got thrown at me and-” 

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t have been there.” His tone becomes less angry, and more firm. “What was the point? Huh?” 

“Well I….” You bit your lip looking away. “I just, I guess I wanted to see you in action. Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?” 

He stares at you, and lets out a sigh. He pulled down the cowl, so you could see him completely. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s dangerous.” He says. “Everyone….Everyone I knew that was apart of this stuff. They….”

You stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his chest. “I’m fine Logan. Aside from that terrifying trip with Spidey-”

“Spidey?” 

“He’s a pretty sweet kid actually.” 

Logan sighs. “I could smell you. While I was fighting, and it fucking terrified me. I didn’t know how or why you were there. Didn’t even know where you were till I finally saw you.” 

“When the fighting started I ran to see what was happening. I thought maybe it was Wade pulling his usual antics, or the X-men. I actually didn’t expect to see you.” You explain. “It was kinda cool to see you in action though…”

“Bub, listen.” He puts his hands on your arms, pulling you closer. “You can’t be doing that shit. It’s dangerous. You could get hurt, or worse. I can’t have that.” 

You looked at him, hearing the sincerity of his voice, the concern. It’s not something you heard from him before. Logan was always a bit gruff, had a bit trouble talking about his feelings but you were okay with that because you were always willing to put in the effort to make things work. Slowly, you nodded.

“Lo?” You say his name softly.

“Yeah?” 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask. “I thought you said you were done with the superhero stuff. After everything you’ve been through.” 

He was silent. Not answering initially, You could see he was thinking in his head what he wanted to say. You half-expected a bullshit excuse, or him blaming Wade, dragging him into it or something.

“You.” He says. “I’m doing it for you. To be better.” 

You took in his answer, and once processed, you didn’t hesitate to kiss him. Your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He immediately returned the sentiment, wrapping his around you tightly. His lips moved eagerly against yours, before nipping at your bottom lip- eliciting giggles from you. 

“Still pent up huh?” You muttered against him. 

“Want to find out?” He grumbled, pulling your hips against his. 

“Mm…I love the suit by the way.” You hummed. “Mister Superhero.”

“Ah- Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, Wolverine.”

“Better. Much better.”

[kirain]

Wall of the faithless isn't canon in bg3. They changed alot of things actually. So no Gale isn't "scared" he's just an obsessed asshole who doesn't learn from his mistakes.

Oof...

There's really nothing I can say except: you're wrong. The City of Judgement and the Wall of the Faithless are canon to BG3. If you don't like Gale, that's fine, but you don't have to make things up or completely disregard the lore to do it. Larian Studios literally hired people from Wizards of the Coast—the company responsible for all the canon lore, characters, and campaigns in D&D—to help them with the story. It took them five years, I believe, to fully study and understand the lore. They constantly conferred with the team to double, triple, and quadruple check every slice of content they added to the game, and parts of the game are now considered canon to D&D 5E.

As for Gale "not learning" from his mistakes ... when you first meet him, he literally admits he made a mistake with Mystra. Though personally I don't see it as the "power-hungry" move people seem to think it is. Gale simply wanted to be considered an equal to his partner (really his groomer), which is a perfectly healthy and normal desire for anyone in a relationship. Your partner should treat you like an equal, but Mystra very clearly saw Gale as a pet. A trophy. A worshipper. Subservient. Beneath her. A silly mortal with delusions of grandeur (which she cultivated), which is really rich when you learn she was once mortal herself. Mystra is a hypocrite.

Gale tried to prove himself worthy of equality by trying to bring Mystra what he thought was a piece of her missing Weave. For anyone who doesn't know, the current Mystra was torn to pieces by Cyric and Shar, then put back together by her Chosen. Though back to full power by the events of BG3, she's still technically missing pieces of herself, and Gale mistook the Karsite Weave for one of those pieces. Instead of simply telling Gale it was corrupted Weave, she let him go on believing it was hers. Personally I think that's because she was tired of him (maybe he got too old for her 😒) and was hoping he would do something that, in her mind, would justify abandoning him—but I admit that's full conjecture on my part. What is true is that she knew the orb wasn't hers, but for some reason she let Gale think it was. Even after she abandoned him and left him to die, she never told him. Not until she realised she could use him.

In Act 3, while the argument can certainty be made that he's thirsty for power, Gale ultimately becomes fed up with the gods because, as he knows better than anyone, they treat people like commodities. While I have no intention of ever ascending him myself, it looks like he actually makes good on his word. He doesn't threaten or toy with his followers, he inspires people to walk their own path, he only asks for prayers as payment (as without some form of devotion, gods in D&D cease to be), and if you romance him ... he ascends you into godhood as his equal. Mystra could have done this for him, she just didn't want to. And if you don't want him to ascend, it's genuinely so easy. I don't understand what people are complaining about. It takes one conversation with zero checks to convince him to completely abandon his ambitions. One. If he was truly "power hungry", it wouldn't be that easy.

Again, I would argue that Gale's true goal isn't really power, it's freedom, and divinity gives him that freedom. He has many conversations where he makes it clear he doesn't want to live under the gods' thumbs anymore; which, in a world like Faerûn, is extremely understandable. As I said in my Wall of the Faithless post, he's scared. Eternal torment for a simple mistake, one of which could've been avoided if Mystra told him the truth or treated him like an equal? When your partner is a goddess, how can you not feel inadequate? And if you convince him to give up the crown, he's perfectly content with Mystra's forgiveness. Even in the Early Access, that's all he really wanted.

Gale's far from perfect. He's arrogant and overconfident and insecure and he can be prone to emotional outbursts (most of which he apologises for, however), but he's nowhere near the heartless, power-hungry monster the haters seem to think he is. He is, in fact, one of the most compassionate companions in the entire camp, to the point that he accepts everyone, including Minthara. He votes for Astarion to stay when you find out he's a vampire. He gets mad at you if you surrender him to the Gur. He's one of the only companions who will openly marry/stay with you if you become a mindflayer. He's willing to sacrifice himself to save the world, and willing to damn himself to be with you. He loves every act of kindness, while hating every act of cruelty. I understand that the bugs from launch ruined a lot of people's perception of him ... and unfortunately some of those glitches are still present even now, but he is a good man.

[agneslovestheinternet-blog]

FUCK YOU, don't leave me

Part Two: Three Weeks (Part One, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five)

Gally x Fem!Reader

3 weeks have passed since the incident that took your feud with Gally to fiery new heights. Apologies have been exchanged, wounds are healing, and you’re trying your very best to move on despite Gally’s recent bout of strange behavior. In the midst of his mounting distraction and your continued efforts to return to business-as-usual, you receive an order from Alby that has you questioning your enemy’s motives like never before.

Genre: enemies to lovers, spice (very briefly it’s mostly plot)

Word Count: 3K  Read Time: 12 Minutes

Warnings & Info: very light very brief sexual content, language, had to change the POV for this one it’s omniscient, movie!Gally, only Glader slang is shank, not the only girl in The Glade, nonessential OC’s added

Author’s Note: At first I thought this fic was gonna be a oneshot, then two parts, and now it’s honestly looking more like four. Hope y’all enjoy reading this one as much as I’m enjoying writing it; it really heats up in the next part (there’s smut lol);)

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

It’s been 3 weeks since the bonfire incident and every one of the days within them has been grueling for you. 3 weeks of apologies; to Alby, Newt, Elsie, Thomas, Ben, Lierale, Chuck and anyone else that had the misfortune of being near the bonfire that night. 3 weeks of waking up stiff from a night of sleeping in The Pit (Alby’s punishment). 3 weeks of evacuating the med-hut everytime Gally needed a check-up. 3 weeks of busy work and late shifts, trying to silently repay Clint and Jeff for their services that night by doing all the jobs they hate doing. 3 weeks of doing your own wound care. 3 weeks of staying out of everyone’s way and trying but failing to avoid the stares. And hardest of all, 3 weeks of having to come to terms with the fact that you’d finally gone too far. 

You had always prided yourself on only fighting Gally back in a defensive manner; only pushing back as much as he pulled you. But this stunt had thrown that streak out the window. Though it didn’t change the way you felt about him, you had to admit that scarring him permanently with an alcohol-fueled bonfire was hardly an appropriate punishment for slut-shaming and verbal harassment. 

For the first 3 days after the incident you were only let out of The Pit to go to the bathroom and shower. Alby had agreed to let you return to normal duties, if you continued to sleep in The Pit every night and didn’t socialize outside of work. But the main condition of your parole, (and the hardest one to fulfill), was an apology to Gally. It had taken place behind the Map Room, (a neutral location), and Alby had invited himself, Minho and Ben to keep the peace. Despite the countless apologies that had flowed from your lips like a never-ending tap, this one seemed to all but dry you up.

You had found it hard to meet Gally’s eyes at first, choosing to scan the bandages wrapped tightly around his strong arms, which were crossed in front of his chest. Your eyes finally settled on the prominent veins on the top of his left hand as you struggled to choke out the words.

“I’m sorry Gally,” you’d started, devoid of emotion. You lifted your head to meet his eyes. 

“You’re a dumb asshole…” Alby, Minho, and Ben moved in closer. “...but you didn’t deserve that,” you finished earnestly. 

“I am sorry that I hurt you. I hope it makes you feel better that I am also very hurt,” you continued with a dryer tone, motioning to the bandages wrapped around your chest and hands, a small smile tugging at your lips. Gally had returned it, against his better judgement. He looked to Alby, who gave him a reassuring nod.

“I’m sorry too, Y/N,” he said with a blank expression on his face.

“You’re the worst shank I’ve ever met…” Minho rolled his eyes. “...but I shouldn't have called you a slut. It’s not your fault all the guys around here only think with their dick,” he finished, using a softer tone that didn’t suit his defensive stance.

“And it does make me feel better, by the way,” he shrugged, nodding his head at the bandages poking out of your shirt.

“How about you shake on it?” Alby suggested cooly.

“No way,” you stated bluntly, your eyes narrowing as they never left Gally’s.

“Fuck no,” Gally scoffed, still staring at you. “The apology was painful enough,”

“Alright fine,” Alby conceded. “Get back to work. And if either of you come anywhere near each other, you’ll be living in The Pit until the next greenie comes up, am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Gally replied, finally turning his eyes to Alby’s face. You nodded slowly. Alby looked suspicious, but he waved his hand to dismiss you both. You both turned abruptly and took off walking in opposite directions, you towards the Med-hut and Gally towards his construction site. The three makeshift peacekeepers turned the corner to enter the Map Room.

“That was an apology?” Ben asked, scanning Minho’s expression for a hint of the same shock he was experiencing. 

“If I had nearly blown up The Glade, seriously burned someone and then tried to apologize to them like that, I think Alby would throw me to The Maze and lock the doors,” Minho just shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s the best we’re gonna get from those two. I’m just glad they didn’t try to kill each other on sight,” he countered, relieved it was over. After this apology, you and Gally had resumed your persistent yet unspoken agreement to never find yourselves near each other and any vague plots of revenge had died quickly, much to everybody’s relief. But it wasn’t exactly business as usual for Gally.

His 3 weeks have gone by a little differently than yours. 3 weeks of changing drainage-soaked bandages. 3 weeks of constant jokes about your outburst from his crew. 3 weeks of being watched like a hawk for any lingering retaliation plots. 3 weeks of being interrogated by his friends about his feelings on the matter. 3 weeks of daily check-ups in the med-hut by Clint & Jeff. 3 weeks of an extremely early curfew & a laundry list of extra chores set in place by Alby, who assured him that his role in the incident would not go unpunished. But he can deal with all of that.

The thing he’s having a harder time dealing with is how distracted he’s been. It’s so obvious that something’s bothering him that his crew has taken notice, his friends are concerned and even you can tell something’s not quite right. And that’s the thing that’s really been bothering him these last three weeks. The racing thoughts that are so out of character, Gally would rather fight a Griever barehanded than tell anyone about them.

The thoughts crept in slowly, like the beginning of a fever. He knew what he saw in the Med-hut that night and he knew his reaction. Arousal, obviously. He didn’t try to deny it to himself; that would have been pointless. But he did come up with a million justifications for it, each one weaker than the last.

I was drunk. 

He’d repeat to himself like a mantra. 

I was drunk and in pain and not in my right mind. 

He’d repeat with less confidence.  

I’m a repressed teenage boy who’s spent 3 years in a prison, most of that time with only other teenage boys. 

He’d continue, committing this list of contingencies to memory. 

That’s just a normal reaction for a boy to have when seeing a girl shirtless. It’s got nothing to do with feelings; it’s just human nature.

He’d think, coming up with some bullshit biological, animalistic, purely knee-jerk reason for the way his cheeks flushed while looking at you. The way he suddenly felt dizzy and not from the pain. The way his eyes widened and his thoughts immediately derailed into an X-rated movie.

I can’t fucking stand her. 

He’d always save this justification for last as it seemed to bring a finality to the matter. That just because he’s a warm-blooded male with the same instincts and needs as the rest of his species, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the worst shank he’s ever met. So that was that. His mind had found an uneasy peace with it. Until the dreams started. 

They would come in flashes, just sensual tableaus that came right out of every abstract fantasy he’d ever come up with in the shower or late at night in his bed. Your lips on his neck, your hands gripping the coarse sheets of his bed, the feeling of plush skin beneath his hands, soft moans filling the warm air around him. He’d wake up breathless, all the warmth from his face draining to his boxers.

The fever was rising in pitch.

It was after these dreams that he’d thank the gods that his Keeper status got him a private hut so he could…take care of himself before heading off to work. But the thoughts would follow him throughout the day, spiking his body temperature each time they interrupted him.

“Watch it Gally!” a blonde-haired Builder hissed, ducking out of the way of the lumber he’d had slung over his shoulder that became a beheading hazard when he’d turned too fast. This was more than a week after the incident and Gally’s head had been preoccupied with the image of you on your knees, instead of his surroundings.

“Sorry sorry. My fault,” he’d mumbled back, trying to conceal the flush in his cheeks and cursing at himself under his breath.

“Gally the wall!” Newt had exclaimed five days later, pointing to the newly erected wooden structure that Gally had failed to notice while shoving his nose in the newest blueprints he’d drawn up. His head hit it with a hollow thump.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dropping his papers and massaging his forehead with his palm. Newt dropped his gardening hoe and jogged over.

“You alright mate?” he inquired lightly, trying to conceal the concern in his voice. If the ever-unflappable Gally had gotten to the point of literally running into walls, then there was definitely cause for concern.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Gally grumbled, shaking his head and trying to come to his senses. Unfortunately this accident had taken place in the middle of the day in one of the most trafficked areas of the Glade. And so the whispering had started. The strange glances his way during meal times, the ever growing mountain of well-meaning questions from coworkers and friends alike. The sentiment that Gally was for some reason, losing his mind, had even floated all the way into the med-hut, where you overheard it from Clint and Jeff.

“Yeah I don’t know, it's just weird. The shank’s a drill sergeant and now all the sudden he’s letting everybody off work an hour early?” Clint stated incredulously, wiping down a table that had been used to stitch up a nasty cut on a Builder’s arm a few minutes ago. The boy had come in an hour before sunset and Jeff had marveled in awe that he’d managed to convince Gally that a cut was enough of a reason to leave work early. The boy had responded, wide-eyed and with a hushed voice, that Gally let everyone out of work early, not just him.

“Maybe he’s sick. Maybe he’s been stung and this is the first phase of The Changing.” Jeff countered with a grin, emptying an armful of bloodied gauze into the fire.

“I hope not. Gally would make one hell of a Crank,” Clint scoffed and Jeff chuckled in response. You stopped pretending to go over the injury logs for the week behind the half wall that was obstructing your view of your coworkers, who you were shamelessly eavesdropping on. You rounded the corner quickly, intent on butting in.

“Gally let everyone out of work early?!” you asked dumbfounded. Clint and Jeff jumped slightly at your question and scanned your face for any trace of an outburst forming.

“Uh, yeah. It’s weird huh?,” Clint answered uneasily, still unsure of your motives. You weren’t exactly sure of your own motives so you gave a subtle nod of approval at his rhetorical question.

Why the hell would Gally let everyone out of work early? You’d seen him around the Glade with a dazed look in his eyes and you’d heard from Newt that he ran into a wall last week, but you couldn’t fathom what would be making him so distracted. You weren’t given much time to mull over the possibilities, as Alby suddenly appeared in the open door of the Med-hut, rapping curtly on the wooden door.

“Y/N, do you have a minute?” your leader asked calmly.

“Of course,” you responded quickly, trying to keep the panic flooding through your body at bay.

“Walk with me,” he motioned with his arm. You crossed the hut and followed him out the door, running through the list of everything you’ve done in the last several weeks, trying to find the discretion you were sure Alby was about to scold you for.

The sun was setting on The Glade, and it cast a distinctly romantic feeling into the air. You admired the orange and pink hues reflected onto the green grass and drank in the warm air that was punctuated by the excited chattering of your fellow Gladers in the distance, who were setting up for tonight’s bonfire. Your chest tightened at the thought. You knew you’d be the talk of the night and that everyone with a thirst for chaos would be hoping for a round 2 of your pyrotechnic prowess.

“So it’s bonfire night,” Alby broke the silence with a matter-of-fact tone.

“Yeah I know Alby. Don’t worry, I just need to clean up in the med-hut and I’ll be straight off to The Pit before it’s even dark,” You tried to get ahead of his warnings. But Alby was taken aback by this statement; he didn’t have any warnings to give. In fact quite the opposite.

“No Y/N, I want you to be there tonight,” You stopped dead in your tracks, your ears ringing slightly.

“What? Why?!” Alby tried not to be affected by your shock and continued with his well-rehearsed speech.

“I’ve spoken to Gally about this. If you two don’t go, the excitement about your incident from last month will only continue. It’s already all anyone will talk about. I know you’ve noticed that all eyes have been on you two,” he stated with a concerned look on his face that finally confirmed to you that he wasn’t joking.

“Of course I’ve noticed Alby, people call me “Firecracker” more often than my name. But if we go, it’ll be chaos,” you countered, your voice hissing slightly at the pronunciation of what was rapidly becoming your least favorite nickname. Honestly, you’d do anything to go back to your earliest days in The Glade, when a particularly cruel sect of boys started calling you “Suzy Swallows” after you’d eaten a banana at the breakfast table with a little too much gusto.

“If you both go and you both keep your temper in check,” Alby glared at you, “and you both stay sober,” he raised his voice slightly, punctuating the last word, “and everyone sees that nothing happens tonight then it will all blow over. If you don’t go, the gossip will only grow and we’ll just have to deal with it twofold next month. It’s better to rip the bandage off,” 

That last sentence was more to reassure himself than you. The Glade has to move on from this. It needs order to function and a female arsonist is the direct antithesis to that order. It’s bad enough he can’t seem to get a large sect of the boys to keep their hands off the very few girls; god forbid they all start thinking the best way to deal with that conflict is to set the place on fire.

“Is this an order, Alby?” You couldn’t think of any other protests at the moment. Alby did have a point; you and Gally not being there would almost certainly ensure that no one would be talking about anything else.

“Yes it is,” he retorted quickly. He quickly softened his tone. “Besides, you deserve a bit of a break, Y/N. You’ve been doing really good this past month. If everything goes well tonight, you can sleep in your own bed again and be free to do what you like after work,”

The sound of his praise elicited a sigh of relief that washed over your tense body like a wave of warm water. Alby knew you weren’t inherently stupid or destructive; just prone to bouts of occasional drunkenness and pigheadedness like the rest of the Gladers. He felt that your punishments had more than compensated for your crime and frankly he was starting to feel guilty every time he saw you timidly navigating your day to day activities with the demeanor of a kicked puppy.

“Ok. Let me finish up in the med-hut and get changed, and I’ll be there. Thank you, Alby,”

“You’re welcome,” he paused, a conflicted look on his face, as he pondered if he should mention one other detail of this arrangement. “You might want to thank Gally too. When I brought up this idea to him, he offered to stay in his hut and let you go tonight, but I refused. It seems despite your feud,” the corners of his mouth upturned in a slight smile, “he thinks you deserve a break, too,” Alby continued in the direction you’d both been walking in, still wondering if it had been wise to divulge that fact to you. He wasn’t sure if it would soften your anger towards Gally but he was confident it couldn’t make it any worse. You had remained frozen in place, bewilderment setting in rapidly.

What the fuck??

Gally had offered to do something…kind for you? He’d offered to sit out bonfire night, the one night a month in which he can let off steam by beating the shit out of greenies and getting his friends drunk, for you? You turned your head slightly, wondering if you were about to watch The Glade freeze over or The Maze come crumbling down, as the likelihood of those things happening seemed higher than the likelihood of what you’d just been told. You shook your head to clear the confusion and started half-running, half-walking to the Med-hut, finally letting the excitement of getting to do something fun for the first time in a month swell in your chest.

You never thought you would ever feel the sentiment that came to your mind next. It went against every instinct you had and all the history you’d established in your time in The Glade. But you couldn’t help it, the warm feeling of gratitude spread through your chest quickly and you found yourself muttering a very unusual string of words as you approached the Med-hut doors.

“Thank you Gally,”

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Tags: @katie-tibo @my-little-universes @vaille123

[igotanidea]

Strictly professional: Peter Sutherland x reader

A/N: I am so - so - SO sorry for not writing the previous request, but this story has been stuck in my head since I've finished reading "the night agent" book and since I've had a literal dream about as follows!

***

He had read the case.

He had memorised the whole case, letter by letter.

And what was nothing short of shocking was that nowhere in the whole file appeared the name of the person who he was assigned to protect.

Being thorough as he always was, Peter immediately started thinking that this was suspicious, but despite his better judgement, decided to let it go. At least for the moment.

For the very short moment that took getting from the office to the so-called crime scene.

And then it all became painfully clear.

They knew.

Of course they knew.

That was why they wiped out even the single letter of her name from the documents.

Y/N.

Never in his wildest dreams, he wouldn't think that such a blessing (or a curse, or maybe both) will happen to him.

Y/N. his Y/N. The one who got away. Or - more likely - the one he let slip through his fingers despite having such intense emotions about.

Sitting in the ambulance, shaking a little from the shock, with a blanket on her shoulders and being tended to by the paramedics.

Peter was rooted to the ground, keeping the distance until he would be able to keep things professional, but even from afar he could see the scope of her injuries.

Bruises on the cheek, a shot wound to her shoulder, scratches on her arms and some cuts and minor bleedings on her legs.

At that moment, agent Peter Sutherland stopped being a pacifist.

Though he could not stand in the bushes forever.

"Agent Peter Sutherland. I will take it from here." he flashed his badge towards the paramedic but truly, it did not make the impression he was hoping for. At least not with the medic.

"Peter?"

"Y/N."

"Didn't know you''d be here."

"Well me neither. Funny huh?" it sounded way harsher than intended, definitely lacking the humor, and he flinched involuntarity as a flash of hurt reflected in her eyes. She's been through hell and he was acting like an asshole.

"Well, let the record show I did not do this to get your attention." Despite the circumstances she was still able to produce a sarcastic joke.

Peter cracked a crooked half-smile.

"It's good to see you though. In spite of -" she didn;t have to finish that sentence, and to be honest, neither of them wanted to hear the other half of it.

"How bad does it hurt?" he kneeled in front of her, cupping her chin to take a close look at her face, using one of manipulating skills to prevent her from trying to fool him. She was capable of messing around with people's heads, but he was the exception to the rule.

"I've had worse-"

"Y/N."

"I'll live."

"Not what I asked about."

"God, you didn;t change a single thing. still so dramatic--"

"How bad?"

"6/10."

"You're coming with me."

"What-- wait, what?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we are not done with --" the paramedic tried to intervene but his will of fight suddenly decreased when Peter stood up towering over the little man.

"From what I see, she is all patched up. And from what I can judge, the last thing she needs is a fuss being made over her. I'm taking her with me."

"Peter, what-"

"Seriously, Y/n/n, we don;t have time for this. Now, are you coming or would you rather expose yourself to the FBI vultures who are just waiting to pounce on you asking for details of the events?"

"Aren;t you the FBI vulture as well?"

"No."

"No? So you won;t be asking me every detail I might have noticed?"

"I will. But with me, you won;t be locked in the deposition room."

"Tempting."

Peter barely held back from rolling his eyes.

"Ok, enough, you jokester. Up."

"You cannot command me and - Peter!"

"Sir! Careful! her injuries-"

"I got her."

He picked her up effortlessly, like a kid and carried back to the black SUV, placing on the passenger seat, fastening the belts, letting his fingers linger by her waist for a moment too long.

"So much for being discreet, right?"

Peter did not respond, taking the driver's seat and kicking the engine. His eyes were focused on the road and the surroundings making sure that whoever hurt her - whoever stalked her - was not in sight. The only sign of emotions buzzing in him were slightly clenched jaw and hands squeezing the steering wheel.

"Peter-"

"Don't.

She sighed. So many unspoken words were filling the space between them that it became almost crowded.

But what was to say?

Nice to see you? I missed you? We made a mistake?

God knows they both did miss each other, but admitting that out loud was way too dangerous given the circumstances.

It was like giving the greatest asset out to the enemy, whoever the enemy may be.

"Where are we going?"

"My place."

"Your place?!"

Mistake. Her little outburst made him turn his eyes on her and just for a second she saw a little too much than needed and wanted. Just for a brief moment, before his eyes lost the vulnerable, adoring gleam and became sharp and focused again.

"Yes. You got something against it?"

"What? No, no, not a single thing. Good as any other place, right?"

It wasn't like every square inch of this apartment was filled with memories of them.

This was going to be a long, long night.

And a long, long time since this case would be over.

but this was not a romcom.

It was scrictly professional, with no feelings involved.

At all.

to be continued

[inotakumagf]

look out for the little guy

✶ jason todd x gn!reader

word count ✺ 6.8k

summary ✺ there are three times you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, and one time that Red Hood is late.

warning ✺ blood, death, murder, corruption, etc etc in a level that is appropriate for Gotham. Jason is in vigilante limbo here. soooo angst heavy, you might hate me. there’s hurt/no comfort & character death so proceed with caution. also Gotham is in NJ i will die on this hill

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Your mother always tells you that your nose will lead you right into trouble. You’ve always been too curious as a kid, and that hasn't changed at all as you got older. It’s worse, even, because you’re a journalist in Gotham of all places. There’s always trouble brewing just under the skin of this city, and the corruption, the evil…it all drives you crazy. Every rich asshole in this city has their teeth dug into some drug ring or money laundering scheme or world-ending villain plot. And it's personal, because one of those rich assholes is the reason why your family fell apart. 

They’d wanted to bulldoze the apartment that you grew up in to turn it into some million dollar project and your mother had been adamant that you stay put. Rich people don’t like taking no for an answer, and they’d made it their mission to tear your family to shreds, like you were ants under their gold-plated boots. No one cared, no one ever stepped in to bring justice to your family, because the corruption ran so deep. It pushed you to journalism, so that you could document and show people the truth. It’s not your fault that the stories you were chasing went from regular corrupt assholes to superpowered and Arkham-worthy ones.

Like the story you're pursuing now, about the uptake in missing person reports across Gotham. The pattern of the kidnappings has been…weird, and—as your contact at GCPD was hesitant to reveal to you—it’s left the detectives stumped. But you’d been studying the disappearances and the victimology, and you think you’ve tracked a lead. Really, it only took a bit of effort—effort that the GCPD can’t bother to spare. Rather than hand this information over to the very incompetent and lazy police department, you’d decided that you were just going to find out what was happening to these people on your own. 

An evident similarity between all of the kidnappings is that each missing person had reportedly last been seen on fairgrounds or in parks, and you’d found similar missing reports out-of-state. In your research you’ve discovered a travelling circus group that had very conveniently travelled and performed at these locations, and it explains the pattern in which these people are going missing. And the circus leads right back to Gotham, because all things do. The Circus of Strange is very illusive on Google, but you’d found one name in association with the group. The owner of the circus, Lazlo Valentin, owns a boarded up beauty parlor right in Gotham, and—against your better judgement—you’re going to do some sleuthing.

You stare up at the sign that’s falling apart, that claims that this building is the Pretty Dolls Parlor. You take an unconscious step back. This building looks like it walked right out of an R. L. Stine book, and you’re starting to regret your “run in now, ask questions later” mentality.

“You look lost.”

You jump, fumbling with the pepper spray in your coat pocket. “Get back, or I swear I’ll…oh. It's you.”

Red Hood is a terrifying sight, and you should be more scared, but he’s kind of reformed? Maybe? It’s shaky territory, but between the creepy building and an anti-hero/vigilante/Bat-associate, you’d prefer to stay on his good side. 

“You sound very excited to see me,” he says in a deadpan. “Is there a reason we’re standing outside Stephen King’s wet dream, orrrr…?”

You straighten your back out. “Actually, I’ve been tracking the missing persons case that the GCPD has been neglecting, and I think it has something to do with this building. Lazlo Valentin…does that name mean anything to you?”

“Might,” he says. “How did you connect him to those missing people?”

You explain your theory to him, and to his credit he listens to your whole spiel, even though you’re totally rambling. When you’re done, you spread your hands out to the still-very-creepy building. “Ta-da! That brought me here. You know what, your timing is actually perfect, ‘cause this place is really freaking me out.”

He huffs and steps forward towards the building. “That’s great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a deranged scientist to stop.”

He gets up to the entrance before he notices that you’re trailing behind him. “What are you doing?”

You give him a side-eye. “I’m coming with you.”

He turns so that he’s facing you head-on. “Uh, no the fuck you’re not. Look, I don’t know if you’re looking for a thrill or if you think you’re Sherlock Holmes, but you are most definitely not coming with me.”

You frown. “I’m a journalist at the Gazette, and this is my story. Everyone thinks I’m making this up, but if you’re here then that means this is real. I want to help.”

He sighs. “You can help without putting yourself in danger.”

“But I need to know what happened to those people. If I walk away now, I’ll never find out. Please, I’ll be so quiet, you won’t even know I’m with you.”

“Not happening. But,” he says over your sounds of protest, “if you give me your contact information, I’ll give you my report of events. How does that sound?”

You want to argue, but that actually sounds like a good deal. You get your story and you don’t have to go into the creepy building? “Deal. Here.”

You dig through your wallet and pull out one of your business cards. “This is my email. And I swear your source will stay anonymous. Scout’s honor.”

He nods in appreciation and pulls off the wood plank that keeps the door boarded up. “You should head home now. Oh, and before you go…”

“Yeah?” You ask.

“Stay out of trouble.”

You grin and give him a two-fingered salute. “No promises, but I’ll try.”

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

You do try to hold yourself to his request. Especially because the report that he’d emailed you had been flawless, and it had gotten you a stand-out story. Terrible for all the people that had been turned into Valentin’s deformed puppets, but at least it got the GCPD to get up and do something. Although it had really been Red Hood that brought him in to Arkham. So, how else do you thank a vigilante that you’ll never see again, other than ensure that you never have to bump into him while following a sketchy lead?

Well. 

You swear you did try. But sometimes...life happens. It’s not like you were trying to get caught in the middle of a robbery.

You were minding your business grabbing some crappy late night “dinner” from your favorite bodega, when some guy decided that this was a great time and place to interrupt your very precious schedule to rob the store at gunpoint. You’re tucked behind in the candy aisle as this is all going on, and you can probably sneak right out the back if you had a pinch of self-preservation. But this is your favorite store on this side of Gotham,, and you'd feel really bad if you just left Angel to fend off the robber by himself when he always turns a blind eye if you're a few cents short.

You sneak up behind the guy as Angel is emptying the register into a pillowcase for him. “So…are you expecting me to roll all these coins? Because it'll take forever if I do. And this has already made my day ten times worse.”

The guy is getting impatient. “I don’t care, just put the money in the damn bag.”

You can hear Angel grumble his complaints as he complies, and that’s the distraction you need to tip toe behind the robber. Once you’re close enough, you jump onto his back. You take advantage of the loose grip he has on the gun to smack it away. It clatters as it lands somewhere near the entrance. The guy turns, trying to knock you off. Aside from getting the gun away from him, you hadn’t really thought this far. He almost knocks you off balance, and you have to tighten your arms around his neck. You kick and bite and scratch where you can, screaming up a storm. 

You and the robber tumble to the ground as he loses his balance, and you roll around so that he’s face down and you’re sitting right in the middle of his back, facing Angel at the counter. He tries to push you off, but you’ve finally pulled out your pepper spray, so you give him a taste of it to placate him. You huff and puff, trying not to look as much of a mess as you feel. Angel is already on the line with 9-1-1, and he shakes his head as you stare up at him. 

“Man, you’re fucking crazy. You sure you’re not one of those circus freaks that are always swingin’ around this city?”

You laugh. “If I was, I think that would have looked a lot cooler.”

The bell rings as the front door is pushed open. You can hear heavy boots stomping your way. 

“Wow. GCPD actually showed up to an emergency, and we didn’t have to wait an hour. Got any lottery tickets for me, Angel?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” a strangely familiar voice says.

You turn your head. Of all the vigilantes to intercept this call on the police radio, it had to be Red Hood. Goodbye to that lottery ticket.

“Oh. Hey,” you try for a casual greeting. Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

“Was I talking to the air when I told you to stay out of trouble? Or are you crazy?” He walks around so that he’s right in front of you. He disarms the robber’s gun and tucks it away in a quick movement. He crosses his arms, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s disappointed in you.

“That is not fair, man. I didn’t ask the universe to put me right in the middle of a robbery. Do you think I do this to myself for fun?” You’re still sitting on top of a pepper sprayed robber, so you don’t exactly sound sane right now. 

He extends a hand down to you, and you take it. You let him pull you off the guy, and Red Hood is quick to handcuff his arms behind his back, leaving him on the ground to groan and moan about your roughness. 

You peer up at Red Hood. “Look, I wasn’t just gonna sit back and let him rob the place. Also, he was taking change. Do you know how stupid that is? I really don’t think he was going to do serious damage.”

You don’t wait for his response, grabbing the microwave dinner, the can of Arizona, and a few snacks that you had left on the ground and placing them on the counter for Angel to ring up. You drop a few crumpled bills on the counter to pay, but before you can grab your things and head out, Angel stops you.

“You’re short a dollar seventy-five.”

You look down at the counter and wince. “C’mon, Angel, cut me some slack here. I just saved your ass.”

He snorts. “You call that saving? You looked like a cat getting sprayed with water. Besides, I’m already gonna be on thin ice from this, I don’t need to give my boss any other reason to nag me. Sorry, kid.”

You groan and dig through your bag for some more change. You grin when you find a handful of quarters in a pocket, but a very muscled arm reaches in front of you as Red Hood places a folded 5 dollar bill on the counter.

You open your mouth to thank him, but he grabs the plastic bag that Angel has placed your things in and guides you out of the bodega. 

“It was nice knowing you, kid,” Angel calls out as you leave. Very funny.

“It doesn’t matter if you thought he wasn’t gonna hurt you. You can’t throw yourself into danger based on what you think someone will do. Especially not in Gotham.”

He hands you the plastic bag, and you take it hesitantly. “Isn’t that hypocritical, though? You jump into trouble all the time.”

He shakes his head. “I’m trained, and I know what I’m getting into. You either have a death wish, or you think none of this can touch you.”

“I…,” you trail off, not sure what he wants you to say. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to wait for the GCPD to do something. I just knew that if I didn’t do anything, it would be my fault if Angel got hurt.”

Red Hood’s shoulders drop, and he lets out a soft sigh. “It’s not your fault when people like that do what they do. Just…don’t put yourself on the line like that. That’s what I’m here for.”

You laugh. “Well, you can’t exactly be everywhere, can you?”

“You never know. C’mon, let me take you home.”

You let out a low whistle. “Woah, how ‘bout you buy me a drink first?”

But you tell him your address anyways, and he walks with you the whole way back. You spare glances at him every now and then, straightening your head forward when he catches your eye.

“So,” you start, unable to stand the silence, “why do you do this? I can’t imagine it pays well to run around in spandex.”

He snorts. “First of all, I don’t wear spandex, I’m not a freak. I’m…I’m not the kind of person you think I am.”

You roll your eyes. “This is where you tell me you’re a dark soul and you hurt everything you touch. I’ve had enough ex-boyfriends, I don’t need that speech from you too.”

“This isn’t a joke. I’m not a good person. I don’t do this because I think I can change Gotham. Everything I do is out of anger and spite.”

You shrug off his words. “Well, yeah, I did report on your…debut as Red Hood. It was pretty fucked up. But I also wrote about your impact on Crime Alley. I’ve interviewed people that live there and in other parts of Gotham that rich assholes won’t go near. Whether you like it or not, people do look up to you. We—they see you as a symbol.”

Red Hood stares at you, shaking his head. “A symbol of what? That murder is always the answer?”

“That we can—should fight back. Maybe not to such extremes, but you’ve shown us that we don’t have to roll over and beg when rich men tell us to. I think that counts for something.”

“I don’t know if you're the best judge of character, trouble. Not if you think there’s any good in me.”

Your face scrunches up. “Trouble?”

He laughs. “That’s what you are. I think it's a fitting name.”

You grumble, but you can’t exactly argue against his point. You get to your apartment building then, and you turn to Red Hood one last time. “Thank you for walking me home. I’ll try not to run into any burning buildings or chase after cats in trees.”

He nods in approval. “That’s a good start. Let me see your phone.”

You comply, and he spends a few minutes on it before handing it back. “I added a number you can reach me at. It's a secure line, but if you share it with anyone I will know.”

“Oh, you like me so much you had to give me your number, huh?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing tone. “If you think you’re about to do something stupid that I’ll yell at you for, just call or send me a text, and I’ll handle it, okay?”

You blink up at him. His shoulders are tense, and you get the feeling that he’s being very vulnerable right now. “Thank you. I’ll be sure not to abuse it.”

You scurry off into your apartment building, clutching your phone like a lifeline.

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

A part of you hopes that you never have to contact him, but this is Gotham and you’re a journalist. Without intending to, you sniff out trouble like a bloodhound. You keep your messages to Red Hood as professional and concise as possible, laying out just the most basic information so that he doesn’t get annoyed with you. And you know he takes everything you say seriously, because you either write or hear about his activities all the time. 

It makes you happy to know that he takes your words and your concerns seriously. You haven’t had a lot of that all your life. 

Over time, your messages to Red Hood allow yourself to get more casual with how you message Red Hood, and as the months go by, you get to know him a bit better. His favorite book is Pride and Prejudice, though Frankenstein is a close second. He grew up in Gotham, and he’s spent almost all his life here. And the most surprising thing you’ve learned is that he likes to cook. You’d learned that accidentally. 

The first time he’d returned to your apartment since your initial meeting, he was injured and he’d hesitantly asked if you could help patch him up. After making sure he wasn’t going to die on you, you were reluctant to say goodbye. You’d just finished making your first actual meal all week, and you invited him to join you. You hadn’t expected him to say yes, but you’re glad he did. Because now, he stops by to make dinner with you every now and then. He still occasionally stops by for the purpose of getting your subpar medical attention, but most of his visits are specifically so that he can hang out with you. Red Hood might deny it, but the two of you are friends now.

You tell yourself that you’re friends, at least, because sometimes you don’t think you can chalk up how you feel about him as platonic. You stare at him far longer than is polite, but he doesn’t ever make fun of you when he catches your eye. And sometimes, he sits or stands so close that you think he might lean a little bit closer, before he realizes your proximity and pulls back.

You never thought you’d ever be close to one of Gotham’s vigilantes, least of all Red Hood. But despite all of his self-loathing, you see the sweetness that he hides under all that gruffness. He cares so much about this city, and it kind of scares you to see how much of his heart is laid out so plainly. To you, his anger and violence are evidence of how much he cares.

It makes you feel more guilty for what you’re about to do. You can’t get his face out of your head as you research and plan your current story.

You’ve heard chatter about something that the power-hungry billionaire Max Shreck is planning. It’s been very tight-lipped, especially to someone like you who is so far removed from what concerns Gotham’s elite. But you’re good at blending into backgrounds unnoticed, and billionaires sure get talkative at all the galas and charity events they attend. It sounds exactly like the kind of scheme that Red Hood would tell you to stay away from. If you bothered to tell him the hole you were digging yourself into. 

You should tell him what you’ve heard—that Shreck is working with the Penguin to drain Gotham dry. You don’t know enough about what they’re planning, but you know it will hurt regular Gothamites the most before it touches the rich parts of this city. And Red Hood would definitely take your concern seriously if you told me. But he would never in a million years let you be involved, and you won’t be able to walk away from this without doing something to help. People like Shreck are the reason why your childhood was so unstable, and you don’t want to stand by and let it happen again. 

Shreck visits the Iceberg Lounge every Thursday evening, and tonight is as perfect an opportunity as ever. Red Hood is busy dealing with an outburst from Condiment King, so you’re not worried about getting caught. 

The queue to get into the Lounge is long, and by the time you get to the front, your shoulders are shaking anxiously. You straighten out when the bouncer gives you a look over.

“Sorry, can’t let you in tonight,” the man says dismissively.

You falter for a moment before putting on your best condescending glare. “You can’t be serious. Do you know who I am? The Valestra family supports your boss quite generously, and I would hate to weaken our ties.”

But the bouncer just shakes his head. “I understand. But there’s business to be taken care of tonight at the Lounge, and we can’t let just anyone in.”

You gasp. “Just anyone? Who do you think you are? This is utterly ridiculous, and I–”

There’s an arm around your shoulder, and it distracts you enough that your entitled rant trails off unfinished. You stare at the man that has joined your side. He looks familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize that this is Thomas Elliot, the head of one of Gotham’s richest families.

“This is my guest for the night,” he says smoothly, pulling you closer to his side and walking through the entrance. He doesn’t even wait for the bouncer to let him in, he just…does what he wants. Is it that easy for people like him?

He gives you a sideways glance and a vicious grin. “You’re a pretty little thing aren’t you? Valestra, you say? Are you one of Salvatore’s pups?”

It takes everything in you not to shrivel at his words. “Third cousin actually. Sal promised me I’d have a grand time at the Lounge, and he said I must try the drinks here. If you’ll excuse me, I want to–”

The hand at your shoulder holds you close. “No need. I’ll get us a table, and the help will bring it to us. Come.”

He all but drags you to a table with velvet-cushioned seats. You curse your terrible luck for leading you right into deep shit, again. You look around for an exit from this ego-inflated idiot, but everyone is so wrapped up in their own worlds. You can see Shreck standing on the mezzanine above, having a very intense discussion with Cobblepot himself. You look away before they can notice you. 

Elliot draps a soft hand over your own as you wait for a waiter to bring over some drinks. “So tell me, dear, do you live in Gotham?

You laugh as obnoxiously as possible. “Oh, please, I wouldn’t be caught dead living in this rat-infested city. No offense, darling. I have a penthouse in Metropolis. I’d much rather be home, but you know how it is with Sal.”

He nods absentmindedly. “Hm, yes. Valestra has always been a sentimental man hasn’t he? I can’t blame you for not wanting to stay in Gotham. It's good land, yes, but as you said the rats make it so hard to enjoy it. Always complaining about their lives as if they haven’t dirtied the streets with their crimes. It’s disgusting, what they’ve done to this city.”

Your fist clenches under the table. Your vision goes white with anger, but you let out a breath to calm yourself down. You try to laugh with him, but it comes out half-hearted. Thank god, your drinks arrive, and you immediately lift the flute to your lips.

Elliot leans forward, running his finger along the rim of his glass of whiskey. “You know, you might actually be able to move back to Gotham soon.”

You smell an opportunity. “Oh? How so?”

He glances up at the pair still talking on the mezzanine. “I shouldn’t tell you, but…Salvatore’s a friend. Shreck’s investing in a pipeline through Gotham. It’ll get us a lot of money. And all those rats?” He chuckles.

He leans in closer, a weird, sultry tone in his voice. “They’ll do what they do best, and scurry far, far away. It’ll be impossible for them to afford even an inch of this city. Gotham will go back to what it was meant to be.”

Your heart thrums. You know that Elliot’s view is very misguided, because this city could never thrive without the working class. And with Arkham so out of control nowadays, landlords couldn’t afford to raise their prices. 

Still, building a pipeline through Gotham is worrisome, especially with all the toxic waste that has already been pumped into this city by the Joker and Scarecrow. The city couldn’t survive another biohazardous disaster. You need to know more if you’re going to tell Red Hood.

“Oh, that’s a relief. So this pipeline…”

You don’t continue, because a large shadow dwarfs your figure. You don’t know if you should be relieved or worried to see Red Hood standing over your table, beefy arms crossed over his chest in intimidation.

“Hood–”

“We’re leaving. Now.” He is pissed. So, worried it is.

Elliot tries to stop him, but he doesn’t stand a chance. Red Hood nudges you out of your seat. Before Elliot can protest, he places a gloved hand between your shoulder blades and guides you through the busy room until you’re out through a side door.

You try to say something, but you can feel his seething look through his mask as he holds a hand up and jerks his head towards his bike. He tosses a helmet to you, and you climb on behind him after securing it to your head. The entire ride is silent, and you know you're in for a lecture. But your mind is still so focused on what Elliot had told you. 

Red Hood lets you brew in your thoughts until he’s led you up into your apartment.

“What,” he seethes, “the hell were you thinking. Scratch that—clearly you weren’t thinking, because you were in the Iceberg Lounge. Are you serious? Is this what you call staying out of trouble?”

You try to calm him. “Hood, come on. I was fine.”

“Fine? The Penguin was there tonight. If he knew you snuck your way in—if he knew why you were there—he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you. And if I hadn’t been there–” he cuts himself off to shudder out a breath.

“This is my job, Hood. You can’t ask me not to follow a lead like this! The people need to know this, and if I can get it published in the Gazette–”

“No. You’re done. I tried to guide you away, but clearly you’re not going to stop. You will never stop putting yourself in danger.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I? I must be doing okay.”

He stares at you in disbelief. “And how long are you going to be okay when you’re acting like this? Do you know what they’ll do to you if you publish that story? They will find you, and they will tear you apart. I can’t lose you!”

You try to shrug off his confession. “This is my choice, Hood. You do what you do because you want to help people, and this is how I help people. You can't ask me to stop.”

He hesitates for a moment. “You’re right, I can’t ask you to stop. But I can make you, if you’re fired.”

You recoil, like he’d slapped you. “What? You can’t do that.”

He can’t even look you in the eye. “Wayne Enterprise owns the Gazette, and Bruce Wayne happens to owe me a favor. I can. But I don’t want to do that. I’m begging you to drop the story, to stop putting yourself in danger. Or I’ll be forced to make you stop. Please.”

You scoff. “Get out of my apartment.”

He calls out your name softly, taking a step closer to you. 

“Get the fuck out! Or I’ll call the police and tell them you broke in.”

“Thought you said the GCPD is useless.”

“They are, but I’m sure there are a few vigilantes who want to bring you in. You’re still a criminal.”

His hands hover before him, and he clenches his fists tight at your words. You hate to even say something like this to him, but you want him to leave, and this is the only way you can think to make him. 

He walks over to your window, pulling it open in a quick motion. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Please just tell me you’ll drop the story.”

You turn away from him to hide your tears. “I never want to see you again.”

He doesn’t say anything. When you turn back, the window is sealed shut and he's nowhere to be seen. It's like he was never here.

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

GOTHAM, NJ — The Martha Foundation raises a startling 3.5 billion dollars at last week’s charity gala. Mr. Bruce Wayne, the Foundation’s primary benefactor, has spoken with the Gazette about where these funds will be invested. Notably, a large portion will be used to repair the Gotham Public Library, which was destroyed in a recent explosion that has left all of Gotham shaken. While authorities have yet to confirm the source of the explosion, rumors indicate that

You groan and backspace the entire paragraph. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Everyone knows who caused the explosion, but you can’t go around accusing people in the paper, not unless you want your head on a stick. Red Hood was right, you just can’t stop looking for trouble, can you? 

The thought of the masked man makes you lean down and press your forehead against your desk. You haven’t seen him since you kicked him out of your apartment, and you can feel the loss of his presence. You can feel the pang in your heart every time you think of him and remember how you ended things. You know you don’t have the right to, because you were the one to push him away. Still, it hurts to think of him, and you want nothing more than to see him again. Maybe you’re petty for not seeking him out, but you can’t bring yourself to call him. Next week, you promise yourself. Next week, you’ll apologize and promise not to do anything stupid ever again. 

When you spare a glance at your computer’s clock, you realize just how late it is. Your work day should have ended an hour ago, but here you are, wrapped in your thoughts. You save the scrap of a story that you’re working on and shut off the dingy computer. You’ll just work on it tomorrow. Or rather, you’ll write and rewrite it a million times over tomorrow. 

The streets of Gotham are strangely empty right now. Sure, people usually stay in when it gets dark earlier, but its especially quiet. It feels like the city is holding its breath as it waits for the ball to drop, and you don’t want to be out when that happens. After living in Gotham all your life, a person gets to know when something is undeniably wrong.

You don’t notice the men following you until you’re a few blocks away from your apartment. You knew, you knew something wasn’t right. And yet here you are, alone in Gotham at night. You ignore the sound of their fast approaching boots, staring straight ahead. But another man is walking in your direction, staring right at you. They pinch you in on either side, forcing you to stop at the lip of an alleyway. You know they’re from the Penguin. You’re sure you’ve been on his radar since Red Hood had to pull you out of the Iceberg Lounge, but also the penguin themed ski-masks kind of give it away. You hope it's not the last thing you see before you die, because that would really suck. 

You weigh your options really quickly. You wonder if you can make a quick escape. But a scan over the men surrounding you makes it clear that there is no way you can take a single step without getting shot in the back of the head.

“Hey, fellas. I’ve had a really long day, so if I could just be on my way–”

They step even closer. The man in front smiles at you with cruelty in his eyes. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about messing with the Penguin.”

Before you can think, say, or do anything, he shoots you right in the stomach. You gasp involuntarily, as if surprised that a bullet was actually able to hurt you. It's a sharp pain that starts suddenly and then just doesn’t stop. You press your hand to your stomach, flinching at the contact your hand makes with sticky, hot blood. 

One of the men kicks the back of your ankles, sending you down to your knees. You wheeze, staring up as the man in front steps closer. 

He snorts. “Let’s see if your Big Bad Wolf can save you this time.”

You don’t want to just sit here and take this. You want to scream, kick, or curse them to hell and back. But it’s too late. They’re gone, and you’re bleeding out in an alley of Gotham.

Your brain scrambles up enough energy not to give up right away. What had the man said about a wolf? No, not any wolf—your wolf. Your Red Hood. You pull out your phone, trying to ignore how badly your hands shake. You find his contact on autopilot, heart clenching at the contact photo you have set of his brooding mask.

It rings once. You worry for a moment that Red Hood won’t answer, that he’ll ignore you like you did him. But he picks up after the first ring.

“Trouble?” You hate to hear the hope in his voice. You hate that you’re going to rip it away from him again.

“Red,” you say, trying not to choke on your own breath, “I need you. I can’t–”

You squeeze your eyes, trying desperately to block out your fatigue. You don’t want him to notice your pain. But of course he hears it.

“I’m coming. Where are you?”

You try to remember what street you were on, but all sense of logic has slipped your mind. You sob out, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, I’ll find you, just hold on for me, okay?” His voice calms you, and you lean back against the wall. You vaguely register that he’s speaking again, but not to you. You can tell, because his voice is now erratic and demanding.

After a moment, his voice returns to its soothing rasp. “Okay, I have your location. I’m only a few minutes away. Can you talk to me? I need to hear your voice.”

You nod, then realize he can’t see you over the phone. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause on the other side before he says, “Don’t. Don’t apologize.”

“But you were right, I should have listened to you. I was too stubborn.”

“Then apologize when you see me.”

“I miss you.” The blood loss must really be getting to you, if you’re admitting something like that so easily. But you do miss him. You wasted so much time being stupid, and you regret it so much.

“I’m almost there. Please stop talking like you’re gonna die. You’re going to be fine, you hear me?” He sounds so confident, and you desperately want to believe him.

You press your head back against the brick wall behind you. A light drizzle of rain paints your face, and you shut your eyes and pretend that nothing is wrong and that you’re not scared that Red Hood won’t come.

You don’t wait long, and it feels like only a second before a gloved hand is cupping your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, and you stare into familiar, blank eyes. Red Hood is crouched down in front of you, staring right at the hole in your stomach.

You cough, which only causes you to hack up more blood. You wince as it splatters all over Red Hood’s mask.

“S-sorry,” you gasp out. You reach a shaky hand out to wipe away the blood, but you’d forgotten the small fact that your blood is already stained on your hand. You end up spreading more blood over his mask. It makes you want to cry. “Fuck. ‘M sorry.”

You pull your hand away so that you don’t make even more of a mess, but Red Hood grasps your hand in his, keeping your palm pressed against his cheek.

“Don’t you dare apologize, trouble. EMS is en route, can you just keep your eyes on me?”

You shudder out a breath, but do your best to nod. “Please don’t leave. Don’t wanna die alone.”

You can feel his grip tighten. “You’re not going to die, I’m not gonna let that happen.”

The fervor in his voice makes you smile. “You’re my favorite person, Red.”

He dips his head low for a moment. Then, he does something you never thought you’d see. He unclasps his half-mask and lays it beside him. Next goes his domino mask. You study his face, brows furrowing at the pain in his eyes.

“My name is Jason,” he says softly, and the sound of his voice without the modular voice-changer makes you shiver. How you have the time to be lovesick as you’re bleeding out, you’ll never understand.

“Jason,” you repeat, trying the name on your tongue. “Thank you. I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your eyes crinkle at your own terribly-timed joke, but you regret it when his face falls apart in anguish. It is worse, to be able to see him laid out before you like this.

He shudders a breath and leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry.”

You run your palm over his smooth cheek, brushing your fingers against an oddly shaped scar that cuts into his lips. “It’s not your fault, Jason. You were right. There’s so much in my life that I wish I could change. But meeting you? I wouldn’t change that, even if it kills me. You are–”

You cough weakly. You’re so tired, and your body is begging you to shut down, to give up. But Jason asked you to stay focused on him, and you don’t want to take your eyes away from him. “You are the best thing that has happened to me.”

Tears flood your eyes. The thought of leaving Jason all alone makes your heart clench.

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me, okay?”

Your eyes readjust, finding his face back in your view. You hadn’t even noticed that your head had dropped. You feel the fight in your body drain. Your hand flails out in desperation. “Jay–”

He takes your hand in his carefully. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

When you don’t respond, he cups your cheek in his strong hand. “C’mon, talk to me. What was that book you were telling me about last month?”

He searches your eyes desperately. Your face has gone blank, and your eyes have glazed over.

“No. Sweetheart, please look at me. Please.”

He cradles your face between both of his hands before pulling you into his chest. He sobs without caring if anyone will see him like this, on his knees and hunched over your limp body. He mutters apologies into your hair, running a careful hand over your back. 

He can hear his earpiece crackle to life, and Babs starts speaking on the other line. “Red Hood? EMS is nearing your location now.”

He lays you gently against the concrete, making sure the back of your head doesn’t hit the ground harshly. He stands and retrieves his domino and half-mask shakily, making sure they’re secure before addressing Babs. “Oracle,” he gasps out. “Tell EMS it's a 10-45D. The coroner…the coroner needs to be here.”

Her keyboard stops clacking. “Ja–Red Hood? Are you…should I call in Nightwing? I’m going to–”

Jason turns his comm off. He knows she means well, but Jason cannot listen to her right now. He doesn't want anyone to see or speak to him. He just wants you. He kicks a discarded bottle of booze further down the alley, causing a pack of rats to scurry away. He screams into the air. He doesn’t care that it won’t achieve anything. 

Jason sinks to his knees beside your body. “I told you to stay out of trouble,” he says weakly.

There’s no comeback from you this time.

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

[peachsayshi]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ being wrapped in your arms feels like coming home ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 1,820

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: here is a little drabble in honor of toji's birthday! this piece was originally titled as "adoration" but I changed it to this instead. I'm taking a small posting break, but I'll be back to my regular schedule within a week! I'm sorry if I haven't been responding to tags or messages, but I will do so soon <3 I hope you're all having a wonderful time and I'm sending all my well wishes out to you! xo

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: widow toji; age gap (reader is 30 while toji is in his early 40s); a little angsty; toji attempting to break up with you but failing because he's oh so in love

toji overstayed his welcome which was only supposed to last the scorching heat of summer, but he found himself lingering through the quiet stillness of fall. winter came in with a brisk chill and gloomy skies, and that's when toji knew it was time for him to end things with you.

he’s lost interest far quicker in previous relationships. they served their purpose of healing over the wound in his heart, of soothing away the ache of loneliness. he oftens forgets that he was once a loyal, loving husband whenever he abandons yet another fling.

the difference, however, is he at least had the guts to verbally cut things off before.

fucking pathetic, he thinks as he scolds himself. he's been a coward, reducing his actions to disappearing before the sunlight peeks through the horizon, and avoiding any chance of waking you up. he ensures that he is never there to see the way your brows furrow with concern when your hand meets the cold pillow, because otherwise he would falter in his attempt to escape.

this has been going on for over two weeks now but last night was the first time you've actually snapped at his cold, detached behavior. he approached the argument with nonchalance to wither you down, shrugging off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and then walking out halfway through the fight.

he stayed at a motel thinking that maybe you have finally taken the hint that he's done.

he arrives back to his apartment only to be met with unfamiliar silence. the entrance of his home is dark and lifeless, and it's so quiet he can even hear a pin drop. there's a tightness in his chest, followed by a wave of disappointment that runs over him like a feverish shiver.

despite his hard headed decision, he's still anticipating on hearing your lovely voice to greet him as he walks through the door.

he knows it's selfish.

toji expected many things to happen after last night's fight. he figured the reaction to him leaving you (again) would be far bigger. a screaming phone call or a string of cursing text messages to call him out on his shitty behavior.

after all he deserves it for acting like an insufferable asshole.

he tries to swallow his guilt but it remains lodged in his throat when he acknowledges that this might actually be the end. 

the expression on his features falls.

it’s better this way, he consoles, dragging his feet across the floor to approach his kitchenette. he shrugs off his beaten up, oversized coat and tosses it over one of the chairs. he opens one of the cupboards, and grabs a mug to prepare himself a cup of tea.

she’s too young to settle for a guy like me, he continues. widowed with two kids who he barely sees anymore, working paycheck to paycheck just to make ends meet…

a deadbeat.

he exhales, swirling his brew in his ceramic cup. the aroma of sweet leaves dances up the spiral of steam to kiss his nose.

she deserves more than me.

he places the kettle down but stares at the cup mindlessly, losing all train of thought as his hands grip onto the edge of the counter. 

he can acknowledge that his insecurities are clouding his judgement on something truly special, even though this was only ever meant to be purely physical.

except, the sex was growing more intimate. the experience wasn't about pleasure for him anymore. he would find himself losing all focus to the depth of your pretty eyes, stealing kiss after kiss like your mouth was the source of where all his happiness belongs.

belonged.

belonged.

it’s over now, he thinks again. it has to be.

a faint patter of footsteps distracts him, prompting him to ease his hold on the counter as the muscles on his face relax. his heart steadies itself, and he draws in a breath when he feels two arms delicately twine around his waist.

“you’re...still here...” he points out in shock. 

he feels you press your forehead into his back. “of course, where else would I be?” 

he clears his throat to release the guilt then spins on his heel to face you.

"I thought you might have taken off," he bluntly states as he rests his lower back against the counter.

his heart swells, emanates flurries of golden sparks when he meets your gorgeous irises. the will to carry on with his decision crumbles when he catches the corner of your mouth tick into a slight grin.

"I thought about it," you reply casually, loosening your grip to place your palms flat on the side of his stomach. "but the truth is I'm worried about you and I just…want to talk things out…make sure you're okay...”

“I’m the one acting like a jerk and you’re worried about me?” he blurts.

you quirk your brow at the slip of his question. “so, you know you’re acting like a jerk?”

toji’s eyes widen slightly, a hint of pink tainting his cheek. “I asked the question first.”

you purse your lips playfully, aware of the crack that's been revealed and ready to swing once again with another blow.

“it’s because you’re acting like a jerk that I’m worried about you,” you explain, “you’re not yourself when you’re unsettled about something…”

his face warms, the hue of pink deepening into a stronger blush. the familiarity of pointing out his personal traits feels all too homely. seven months shouldn’t feel like a forever but in this bubble with you time ceases to exist.

you trail the pads of your finger tips up his torso, your hands clasping around the back of his neck as you press all your soft and sweet parts right up against the frame of his body.

the brush of your lips on his scar prompts him to flutter his eyes close. he fails to stop himself from holding you then, his firm hands reaching for the outline of your waist

“so,” you murmur with a tempting kiss as you return to your question, “you know you’re acting like a jerk then?”

please don’t make me say it, he thinks, please don’t make me unravel right in front of your eyes.

he squeezes your side, whispering a defeated “listen…”

“did I do something wrong?” you question, a hint of pain laced through every vowel which only makes his heart ache further. “did something happen?”

toji shakes his head.

“it’s not you,” he grumbles. “look, you asked me a couple of weeks ago if this thing between us was serious and…it shouldn’t be.”

you narrow your gaze, tilting your head with adorable confusion that makes toji want to kiss you right there on the spot.

he can feel you pluck at the fabric of his sweater nervously, “why not?”

toji drops his head and sighs.

“c’mon, doll, let’s be real. I’ve got nothing to give you other than a good fuck in this shitty apartment. you're better off finding someone else and I don't want to waste your time”

you press your mouth into a firm line. “your behavior…” you reply, nipping your bottom lip slightly as you gather your thoughts. “are you acting like this because you…want to end things with me?”

toji has never felt smaller. you’ve reduced him into a shriveled pea rolling around his scuffed up boot. “look, it’s better this way, alright?” he admits with a raise of his head, still refusing to outwardly say what you easily deduced. “it's better to move on before things get too complicated…”

the silence hangs heavy in the air, the tension so thick toji feels like he can’t breathe properly. his heart rattles with no restraint, and he finds himself suddenly lightheaded. an apology rests on the tip of his tongue, ready to take back everything he just bombarded you with but his throat simply tightens once more when your hands cradle his strong jaw.

“I like your apartment,” you quietly speak, “your bed sheets always smell so good, and you fixed the water pressure after I complained that it sucked…”

toji blinks back his surprise.

“I also notice that you burn the candle that I got you and that you switched laundry detergents when your old one gave me that weird rash,” you giggle and toji couldn’t help but huff out an embarrassed laugh himself. “the windows let in the best kind of sunlight, and it’s always so cozy in here…”

you press your lips against his mouth to leave a chaste kiss, “as for the company…” you add on, nuzzling the tip of your nose over his, “I consider you more than just a good fuck.”

toji can physically feel himself wilting underneath the heat of your gaze. “I’m just looking out for you, doll.”

"you can look out for me by making me breakfast instead of running away from me..."

he looks serious but his eyes are sincere, holding a level of tenderness that he only reserves for you. his palm moves to seek out your lower back, a hint of pressure pulling you back into his warmth.

your lover has stayed tight lipped about his past, but over his period with you he's found himself spilling out a few secrets here and there.

"I haven't done this in a long time," he vulnerably admits.

"I know," you reassure him, "but...the real question is, do you want this?"

he parts his lips ready to seal the last nail in the coffin, ready to give you the chance to walk out of his life for good. but you're gazing up at him from underneath your eyelashes, your determined stare an opening of your own mercy. your plush, supple lips summoning his cowardice into oblivion.

"toji?"

his breath hitches, his apprehension silenced by the urgency of his desire.

you're so lovely, he thinks. you feel like home.

"I want you," he reveals, his deep voice smoky and untethered, releasing enough sentiment in those three words that he can feel you tremble in his arms. "I just don't deserve you. I don't want you getting caught up in my bullshit..."

""you're a lot sweeter than you look, you know?" you run your fingers through the streaks of his black hair, combing it back to reveal his forehead. "you deserve to be happy, toji, and...and I think I can make you happy..."

your aura beams with delight when he flashes you a wolfish grin in return. a smile you've grown to adore so deeply. his apology comes in the form of a kiss, one that's gentle and slow. a stroke of fire burns up the back of your neck, making you quiver in places when he glides his tongue across yours. you hum softly into his lips while he releases a content sigh, the barrier he's been keeping up turns to ashes beneath your feet.

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 18 | Hangman x OC

Summary: It's hard for Jake to come to terms with the fact that Jessica thinks he's good enough for her. He doesn't want to doubt himself, but changing your habits is hard. Jessica feels like she's inching closer to getting tenure before Brian returns, and she allows herself a break from work to celebrate her boyfriend's birthday.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral, angst, language, mention drinking and driving, 18+

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake opened his eyes and groaned softly, snapping them closed again to shut out the warm sunlight on his face. 

"Good morning." The softly whispered greeting and the gentle fingers in his hair told him he made it to Jessica's place before he passed out. And now he had a hangover. He lost control of himself last night at the bar, and he drove himself to his girlfriend's place and went to sleep like some sort of asshole. 

"I'm sorry," he croaked, trying to swallow against his dry mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Jake felt her lips on his forehead, and he melted at the sweetness of it. He'd been terrible last night. Not at all the kind of man she deserved. "Do you want me to try to make you breakfast?" she asked, her lips skimming his ear.

"No. I want you to stay right here with me."

"Okay," she replied with a little laugh, and she let Jake hold onto her, tucking her head under his chin. Losing this now would be the worst thing that ever happened to him. "Did you have fun last night?"

He swallowed again. "I knew you were busy, and I didn't even mean to bother you."

The way she touched him was almost too much to handle. Her fingers were teasing along the shell of his ear as she played with his hair. "I'm not too busy for you."

Jake opened his eyes again to see Jessica looking up at him. She was actually perfect, and it hurt him to say, "There were some girls at the bar last night when I was with Bradshaw."

The puckered wrinkle that appeared between her eyebrows sent him into an immediate panic. "Oh." She started to pull away from him, but he couldn't let her.

"Jessica." His voice was just a harsh whisper. "No. Not that." She froze up in his arms as he said, "I just... I've never turned women down before." He felt absolutely disgusting admitting that out loud to her, but he had to. He kind of even needed to hear himself say it. "Last night was the first time. Because of you. Because of us."

Her posture softened incrementally as she asked, "What happened?"

It was more the way he felt about everything. "Nothing really happened," he replied, kissing her cheek. "Just me feeling like I'm not good enough for you. And then I drank too much."

She was quiet for a moment, and he braced himself for her judgement. Surely if he could see he wasn't good enough for her, then it must be glaringly obvious to Jessica too. But her fingers made their way back up into his hair. "I take it they flirted with you and Bradley? Tried to get you to buy them drinks? Touched you?"

"Yeah," he grunted. "Wanted us to teach them how to play pool. I had to aggressively tell them no. Then I sat at the bar with Penny after Bradley left to pick up his wife. I drank a little too much and then called you."

Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled in closer again. "Are you sure you don't want breakfast?"

He was completely taken aback. Jessica's fingers skimmed the hair at the back of his neck as she kissed his nose and cheek. "You're not upset? That I literally floundered over how to say no to someone? That I didn't even know how?"

She shook her head slightly. "Why would I be upset? You're handsome and funny. You're going to get hit on. Girls are going to flirt with you and touch you. Are you going to cheat on me?"

"No!" That was the easiest question he'd ever answered. Last night caught him off guard and threw him for a loop, but that was never a question at all. "Of course not."

"Okay, then," she whispered. "I think I understand how you used to be with women, and I'm not upset about it. I don't think you'd be as good of a boyfriend as you are if you weren't serious about me."

"I'm serious," he told her, tangling his fingers in her long hair. "I am."

She grinned and closed her eyes, before her smile faded a bit. "You didn't judge me when I told you about Brian."

Jake ground his molars together. "Because absolutely none of that was your fault, Baby."

"Well, you didn't do anything wrong either." But then she froze, eyes fixed on his face. "Wait. Did you drive yourself here last night?"

He swallowed hard. "I did."

"Jake!" she gasped, panic in her voice. "What were you thinking?!"

Jessica rolled him onto his back and straddled his waist with her hands on his chest, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. He rubbed her arms as he said, "I sat at the bar and tried to sober up first, but I needed you."

She actually sobbed. "Don't do that ever again! You could get hurt. Or hurt someone else. You could have called me for a ride." Tears fell from her eyes and slid down her cheeks, and it hit Jake right in the jugular that she was more upset about this than anything else. 

"Come here," he whispered, collecting her against his body. "I'm so sorry, Jess. I'll call you next time. Or I'll get a ride. I was so caught off guard without you around, I couldn't even think straight."

Her lips found his neck as she said, "Well next weekend is your birthday, so I'll be at your fancy Navy bar with you then."

"That'll be perfect."

She laughed softly. "But I'm used to the literal dive bar that is Chippy's, so I might not fit in."

"You will. And Penny has Sam Adams."

With another kiss to his neck, she sat up on him and wiped her eyes. "Breakfast?"

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

Jessica wasn't oblivious to the signs. She knew Jake must have been a bit of a playboy before. It seemed like maybe she was the first girlfriend he was serious about. And she was okay with that. Very okay with that. If he was trying to get his footing under him, then that meant he wanted this to last. 

He stumbled into her kitchen, half dressed with his hair sticking up everywhere and Jessica in his arms. "I'll make breakfast. You might never have to cook again."

"Oh, I love the sound of that," she giggled as he looked in her refrigerator with one arm wrapped around her waist. 

"Okay, you really need to go grocery shopping, Jess."

"What's the point? You've been spoiling me nonstop."

He just grunted, but he had a smile on his face, and a few minutes later, she was eating an omelette. Between bites, she asked, "What do you want for your birthday?"

"Nothing," he replied, taking a bite of his own breakfast. 

She smirked. "Maybe a quiet night in together?"

"I want that every day, Baby," he said as he inhaled the rest of his food. "Not just for my birthday."

If he really didn't want anything, she hoped he wouldn't be annoyed that she got him something. She had it all wrapped and ready to go by the middle of the week. 

On Wednesday morning, she was standing at the front of her largest lecture, organizing her notes, when she saw Dr. Rosenthal bustle in. He looked tired, and once again Jessica felt bad that there would be no way to really repay him for everything he was doing for her.  

She hopes this would be the lecture that really wowed him. She'd been teaching these topics since she was a grad student, and she was damn good at it. He was still getting his notebook ready when she was about to call everyone to attention, and that's when she heard it. Skateboard wheels on the industrial tile floor. Luca skated in through the lecture hall doors, and then he popped his board up into the air. It looked like he was still in his pajamas, and Jessica wanted to die from the look of disgust on Dr. Rosenthal's face.

"Luca," Jessica said, shooting him a pleading look. 

"Hey, Dr. Reed," he greeted. "Surf's looking good today, but here I am!"

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Maybe trying to relate to her students and find common ground with them during her office house wasn't the way to go after all. When she opened her eyes, Dr. Rosenthal was shuffling some papers around; he had all of her notes, including those regarding which students were passing and which ones were failing. He would see Luca's low grade any second now, and she hoped this wouldn't hurt her.

But Luca's grade was slowly but surely coming up in this class, and Jessica was actually really proud of all the work and effort he was putting in. And she immediately resigned herself to the fact that it would be more important for one of her students to be comfortable and confident enough in her class to get a passing grade than it would be for her to get tenure. Luca brought up a few wrinkled pages and handed them to her with a smile before taking his seat next to his skateboard. It was all of the extra practice problems she gave him during her office hours last night. He'd finished all of them in less than a day, and they looked to be correct at first glance. 

She nodded at him, set them aside and collected herself. She made a few announcements and ensured that everyone's attention was focused on her, and then she started teaching. Even though she knew Rosenthal was there, she tried not to look at him. Surprisingly, when she asked if anyone could answer one of the problems she wrote out on the board, Luca raised his hand. 

When Jessica called on him, he said, "I think it's like.... 200 meters per second?"

"Yes!" she replied, kind of surprised but very pleased. "Nice work, Luca." And honestly, that's why she was here. Even though she had to teach Brian's class which was outside of her wheelhouse later this afternoon, she would get more practice problems ready for Luca as well.

At lunchtime, Jessica decided to stop by and see if her friend was around. They wouldn't be able to talk much about the tenure review, but at least maybe they could eat together. Besides, her office was bigger and nicer, and the math hallways were quiet at this time of day.

Jessica could hear her friend's soft laughter before she saw her, and when her office door came into view, she was standing there with her husband. "I don't want to go back to work," he told her with a smirk on his lips and his big hand on her butt. "I want to stay for round two. Maybe sit in one of your lectures and be your top student." When she tried to sneak away unnoticed, Bradley called out, "Hey, Jess." His wife spun around with a smile, but he kept his hands all over her. 

"Hi! Did you stop by for lunch?"

"Yeah," Jessica replied, and she was sure her cheeks were flushed. "But you look busy."

Bradley kissed the side of his wife's neck and whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go wide, and then he was walking away as he told her, "I love you." He winked at Jessica and said, "I was just leaving. Have a nice afternoon."

Jessica held her little lunch container from Jake and examined her friend's dreamy expression. This wasn't the first time she felt like she was interrupting them, and she wondered how often Bradley actually stopped by for a few minutes at lunchtime. And then she felt her cheeks grow warmer. "Sorry I'm interrupting... again."

Her friend laughed. "You're not. He interrupted my lunch."

"Yeah," Jessica whispered. "But he brought you dessert."

Both of them were laughing hysterically as Jessica followed her into her office.

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

Jake knew Jessica was busy, but he always felt better when he was with her. He'd been avoiding her office hours so she had time to keep tabs on the new students she'd absorbed from Brian's class, but that also meant he didn't get to have a mid week sleepover. On Friday night, he caved and called her when she was probably on her way home from campus. Tomorrow was his birthday, and he'd been hoping to have her sleepover, but he wasn't about to invade her schedule at the moment. He stripped off his undershirt and collapsed on his bed as the phone rang and rang.

"Jake!" she gushed when she answered. Even the sound of her voice made him a little dizzy. "How's the birthday boy?"

He chuckled. "That's not until tomorrow."

"I know," she said, "but it's really a celebration all weekend long, right?"

"If you say so, Baby."

"I do say so," she replied. "I'm just getting in my car now."

He hummed as he thought about her in one of her little skirts and sweater sets and high heels, and almost instantly his cock responded. "You're getting in your car?" he repeated, picturing her sliding across the soft leather interior. 

His hand slipped inside his black briefs without him even thinking about what he was doing. It had been more than five days since he'd fucked his girlfriend, and he was starting to ache. He had no idea how he'd ever be able to handle a deployment now as he wrapped his hand around his cock. 

"Yeah, but there's a road closed, so it's probably going to take me forever," she mused as he heard the engine start up.

Jake grunted. "Just as long as you get home safe, Baby. You want to tell me about your day?"

"It was so good!" She sounded really upbeat and excited, and Jake tried to listen to every detail with his hand just sitting there, but it was impossible. Her voice was too sweet. She was the only one he ever wanted. He started stroking himself when she said, "I was thinking about you all afternoon. I taught the same problem that you answered correctly in my back to school mini lecture. You know... the night we met."

He moaned. "Best night of my fucking life." He pulled himself free of the elastic and stroked himself slowly as he said, "Imagine, a hottie with a PhD offering to buy me a three dollar beer."

She giggled which left him groaning. Then the line went quiet. "Are you... what are you.... it sounds like you're touching yourself?"

"I am," he replied. "I just started. Your voice is too sweet, Jessica."

"Oh," she sighed. "Guess what I'm wearing."

"Fuck. You're making it worse," he complained playfully. "Are you in one of those little skirts?"

"You know, I think I might be."

"And high heels?"

"Always."

"And one of those soft little sweaters?" he moaned.

"Yes, my green one."

That one was his favorite. It was the same shade of green as that lingerie set he loved. He was a mess, looking down at his cock, unsure whether he wanted to rub this out quickly or make it last. "I wish you were coming over tonight, but I know you're busy as hell."

"Jake, of course I'm coming over. I'm already most of the way there. Don't you want me to?"

He let out a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Jessica. I need you. Yes, I want you to come over."

She laughed and asked, "Are you going to keep touching yourself until I get there?"

He took a few deep breaths. "If I do that, then I won't be any fun when you get here and I only last three minutes."

"Maybe that's true... but I'm sure you can muster up what's needed for round two. Right?"

"For you? Absolutely," he promised as he eased his hand up and down his length. 

"I'll be there in five," Jessica said before ending the call, and Jake stood and tried to walk around his condo. His dick was rock hard, and he occasionally stroked himself to relieve some of the need, but he wanted to wait for his girl. 

"Damn," he groaned through gritted teeth. He hung out of the top of his underwear and bounced with every step he took. Then he finally heard the knock on his door. He opened it without even checking to make sure it was her, and Jessica gasped when she saw him.

"Hi," she said as her wide eyes and parted lips gave way to a little smirk. She was wearing the little outfit he'd been able to picture just perfectly, and her hair hung around her face in soft waves. "Want me to take care of that for you, birthday boy?"

"If you wouldn't mind," he replied, closing the door behind her, and much to his delight, she tossed her bag aside and dropped right to her knees. His cock was inside her warm, wet mouth immediately, and he was being treated to the luxury of her tongue drawing lazy circles along his length. "Jessica."

She hummed as she took him deep and started to suck, and he knew it was absolutely a lost cause. He just smoothed his hand along her hair before taking a fistful at the back of her head and let himself enjoy this. He grunted softly at the perfect feel of her as she bobbed along, looking up at him with crooked glasses. 

"Fuck." He came as soon as her fingers grazed his balls, and he watched her sputter and swallow all of him down. Her movements started to slow, and he was almost twitching from overstimulation when she finally withdrew him with a little pat on his hip. 

She was smiling up at him as he released her hair. "Shit, Jessica. What was I thinking? You shouldn't have been walking around alone after dark, Baby."

She kissed his thigh, and then he started to pull her to her feet. "It's not that dark out yet, and besides, a very nice man with a knife walked me inside from the parking lot." When his eyes went wide, she cupped his cheek and said, "I'm only kidding."

He groaned and kissed her, tasting his cum in her mouth which just made him feel even more protective. In a lot of ways, he was still getting used to being in a relationship, but he really didn't want to fuck this up. "Next time, even if it isn't quite dark yet, I will come down and walk you inside."

"Even if you have an erection?" she asked, snuggling up in his arms. 

"Especially if I have an erection. It'll scare off the guys with knives," he whispered, making her laugh. The words were right there. They were always right there. He realized it after the fact that he almost told the girls at the bar last weekend that he was in love with his girlfriend. He kissed her forehead and said, "I wasn't sure if you were coming, so I only have leftovers."

Jessica moaned. "Jake Seresin leftovers are still peak gourmet, and I'm starving."

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the kitchen and set her down on the counter before he tucked himself back in his underwear. She was all smiles as he opened the refrigerator and started naming what he had in there. "Surprise me," she whispered, and he started heating up a huge bowl of chili to share with her. 

When he pulled out two forks, he kissed her cheek and said, "Why don't you tell me all about your week? And then I'll take you to bed."

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

Jessica thought about saving his present for later, but right at midnight, she kissed him and whispered, "Happy birthday." He smiled even though his eyes were closed where he lay on the pillow next to her, completely sated. He'd done a fine job of unwrapping her, kissing every inch of her legs before removing her skirt. Tasting her everywhere while she modeled her green lingerie for him. Fucking her nice and slow until she was practically begging for more. 

When she started to climb out of bed, he reached for her hand. "Where you going?" His voice was raspy and sounded a little tired. 

"To get your birthday present."

"I only wanted you," he replied, and she just looked at him and wondered how he could be so sweet. She loved the way he really seemed to care what she was doing and wanted to be involved. He'd been sweet through the fraternity fundraiser and even through everything with Brian. Honestly, the little wrapped box inside her overnight bag didn't contain much, but she hoped it would convey how she felt. 

"Well you got me and something else, too," she whispered, kissing his hand before slipping out of bed. She could feel his eyes on her naked body as she rooted around for the gift, and then she returned with it. She handed it to him and slipped back in bed next to him. "You can open it now since it's officially your birthday."

He just looked at the black and green striped wrapping paper for a few seconds, and then he set it down and turned toward her. Jake kissed her with so much feeling, it knocked her breath out of her lungs. "Thank you," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers as he stroked her cheek with his rough thumb. "I can't even remember the last time I got an actual birthday gift. Even my mom and dad just send me a gift card every year."

She kissed him this time before she said, "Well maybe you should lower your expectations a little bit." But he just shook his head as he picked up the box and started to unwrap it. 

"Jessica," he whispered when he held the framed print of a Super Hornet in one hand. "This is so cool."

She smiled as he examined it closely, taking in all of the hand drawn lines and detailed markups. "It's kind of like the top secret F/A-18 schematics that you let me look at."

He turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. "Baby, I stole those for you."

She could feel her cheeks heat up as she buried her face in his neck. "I know," she whispered. "And I thought this would always remind you of me."

He gently set the frame down on his nightstand and pulled her on top of him. "Everything reminds me of you. And I think about you all the time."

But she still felt embarrassed for no reason even though she was basking in his words. She kissed his neck softly and reached up to run her fingers through his hair as she whispered, "Same, birthday boy."

She was starting to doze off when he said, "In the morning, will you help me decide where to hang my gift?"

"Of course."

"And we can make waffles again? And if you're a good girl, I'll eat your pussy again."

She giggled. "If that's what you want for your birthday breakfast, then sure."

He let his hand trail down her back to squeeze her butt. "That's absolutely what I want for breakfast. A real culinary treat." She rolled her eyes, but he didn't seem to be kidding. "And then tomorrow night, I'll take you to the bar and show you off to all my friends."

"And you'll buy me a Sam Adams while I cheat on Chippy."

Jake barked out a laugh. "What Chippy doesn't know won't hurt him, Baby."

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

The birthday boy better buy her all the Sam Adams she wants. And I just know for a fact Chippy will be able to tell she went to another bar! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 19

@blahehblah

@sotalife

@desert-fern

@furiouspiespytaco

@rosiahills22

@daggerspare-standingby

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-joyride

@theharddeck

@withakindheartx

@roosterscockpit

@whatislovevavy

@hangmanbrainrot

@neferpatra

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@averyhotchner

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@mygyn

@hoyaharper

@tallyovie

@gennyanydots

@callsign-magnolia

@whisperofsong

@seriouslyseresin

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@katiebby04

@anotherr-fine-mess

@supernaturaldawning

@chassy21

@tylerjones98

@captainjaspenor

@gigisimsonmars

@fanboyswhore9

@angel-w0nderland

@abaker74

@idontcare-11

@isaebellaa

@bringnattolife

@xoxabs88xox

@djs8891

@hufflepufftruffle

@cottagecori

[aimedis]

STILL MAD AT ME, SWEETHEART? - MILO GREER/SWEETHEART

i said i'd write a fanfic from @stupd000 's post milo “you still mad at me?” greer sooo here it is. this is more of a drabble though 😭

(this one's for you @annahxredaxted 🫵)

cw - aftermath of an argument, snippet of the argument as well, tooth-rotting fluff, milo being milo

wc - 0.5k

Sweetheart rouses back to the waking world to the feeling of a hand cupping their cheek. Their eyes squeeze together before they flutter open slightly to see Milo standing in front of them.

"Sweetheart... hey," He whispers, an ever-present smile on his face.

They hum, closing their eyes again, "Good morning.."

Milo grins even wider, "Good morning. Sleep well?"

Sweetheart makes a noncommittal noise and they shift away from the edge of the bed, patting the pillow Milo would've been sleeping on had he not been on an overnight security gig.

Milo doesn't hesitate to slide into bed with his mate, having already changed into pyjamas. He doesn't move to hold onto them as he usually would, trying to tread carefully after last night's argument.

Milo sighs into the phone, "Listen to me, Sweetheart, it's literally not that big of a deal."

Sweetheart's voice comes in frustrated, "Yes it is, asshole. You always do this."

Milo scoffs, "No, it's not and I do not."

Sweetheart groans, "Yes it is. And you always say you don't."

"I do not!"

"You do! You don't have to cover for everyone all the time."

"Damn hypocrite. Seriously, do you hear yourself speak sometimes?"

They huff, "This isn't fucking about me, Milo. I'm just asking you to relax. This is the fifth time."

He raises an eyebrow, "And when I tell you to do the same thing, I'm in the wrong?"

"That's different-"

Milo laughs humorlessly, "It's fucking not, Sweetheart, and you know it. Stop acting high and mighty and go to sleep already," He raises his voice slightly against his better judgement, "You're being so difficult."

Sweetheart goes quiet for a moment on the other line.

Asher gives Milo a worried look, going to open his mouth when Milo waves him off.

"You're so damn annoying, Milo, you know that?" Sweetheart grumbles.

Milo sighs again, "Yeah, I know, you too. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

They breathe a hollow laugh, "I know. I don't wanna fight on the phone. Come home safely, okay?"

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too."

However, Sweetheart reaches over to wrap their arms around him, their eyes still closed.

"You're so damn far.." They pout.

Milo hums, a smile still playing on his lips as he wraps his arms around their waist, "My bad, baby. You still mad at me?"

Sweetheart opens their eyes to look at their mate.

He looks beautiful, as he always does. The sun that filters through the curtains settles on his face and reflects off his eyes, making him look angelic. And his hair is messy from how he continuously runs his hands through it when he doesn't sleep enough. Even with the subtle bags under his eyes, he looks gorgeous. As much as Milo loves getting dressed up to the nines, Sweetheart has a special appreciation for a less put-together Milo. A Milo that's a little more comfortable breaking down and being vulnerable. A Milo that only they get to see.

"Furious..." they whisper even as they get lost in his eyes.

Still, Milo laughs, leaning forward to kiss their forehead, "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Just keep your ass in bed," Sweetheart says as they snuggle closer to him, pressing their face into his chest.

"Ohhh yeah?" He smirks, "What are we gonna do in bed, huh-?"

"Go to sleep, Greer."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

blah blah milo sweetheart asher mention eyeroll eyeroll kiss innuendo sweetheart baby milo werewolf cuddles greer mwah mwah i love you sleep and post

[teacupwrites]

Angel Dust, Husk, and Alastor with Cannibal! Reader

Angel Dust

After the extermination/battle between hell and heaven, you decided to simply just stay at the hotel, after getting Rosie’s permission

It was nice there anyway, and she didn’t mind your departure so why not?

Everyone there welcomed you with open arms, and you were giddy to have a new home 

Angel of course flirted with you the moment you both met, and usually brought in your claws and sharp teeth into said pickup lines

Though after a few threats of eating his fingers, he eased up on it

Angel didn’t fully trust you, sure, he liked you and your presence, but not enough to open up to you

He also wasn’t the most delighted with your diet, and was quite disgusted whenever you chomped down onto some demon legs or ribs

But he tried not to be judgemental, and never made any comments about your food choices

Though his trust changed one day

Angel and Vaggie had an argument, and you were picked to go chase after him

He was being jumped by some random demons, and you watched from afar until one of them brought out a gun

Within a split second, the malicious smiles and laughs were cut off into screams

Angel watched in mixed shock and admiration as you ripped off one of their limbs, and chased them off

Though you weren’t too close to Angel, he was your friend, and you weren’t going to let some assholes hurt him like that

Then, you turned back to Angel with an innocent expression coated in a cherry-red blood

You basically became his bodyguard since then, per Charlie’s request

Angel kept you by his side, other than when he went to work

The two of you had grown close, after he realized you had gone into danger just for him, and he wanted you as far away from Valentino as possible

You were Angel’s best friend, he last thing he was going to let happen was you getting found out by the Moth Overlord

Your his arm candy now, you don’t get a choice

But on a serious note, he cared for you dearly, and kept you close

Angel glowered down at the shark demon who eagerly dug into his pockets, forking out dollar bills with gritted teeth. “Listen here, bitch, I’ll even pay you overtime,” he growled, stuffing the crisp 20s into his gloved hand, whilst the spider rolled his eyes

“I told ya buddy, I ain’t in the mood,” he quipped, propping a hand onto his hip as he quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Now would you fucking leave?”

The shark brought out more money, sneering and spitting onto his boots as he continued to ramble at Angel. Then, he reached into another one of his pockets, bringing out a revolver

But the moment he did so, he froze, and paused, the gun dropping from his shaking hands. 

Angel smiled as he heard low snarling from beside him, clawed hands reaching around his waist and gently bringing him closer to the growling cannibal behind him. Your void gaze pinned down the shark demon, who sputtered and quickly snatched his weapon and darted away.

You watched the shark skitter out of sight with a sharp-eyed gaze 

Angel exhaled, turning up to you as your furious and vicious expression immediately dropped into a gentle, wide eyed gaze.

Like this lmao-

“Heh, thanks dollface,” he greeted, his frown also turning into a smile.

“Anytime, Angel,”

Husk

When Husk first saw you, he thought you were no good

Alastor had brought you into the hotel to work at the front desk, so Charlie and Vaggie could do other things

You had sold your soul to the charming Radio Demon long ago, and yet Husk had never heard of you before he brought you up to be the receptionist

You were cheery, a bright smile adorning your lips wherever you went, and he despised it

You were too bright and smiley for him at times

Though he was neutral to you, and just gave into your giddiness

And then the extermination came around, and you were all preparing for battle

With the risk of death, you opened up, more truthfully than just sharp-toothed smiles

And then the battle happened

You fought tooth and nail beside your fellow cannibals

Despite the threat of the angelic weapons, you fought well, and killed Angels left and right

But then, an exterminator swooped down, and pinned down Husk, with their spear pointed at his throat

Of course he was horrified, squirming and writhing as he tried to fend off the Angel, but he was vulnerable

Husk was about to accept his death, when you popped up out of goddamn nowhere

Teeth bared, blood stained claws, black eyes blazing

You had seized the angel, grabbing the base of their wings and tearing them from their back, and then sinking your teeth into their neck, killing them off with one final stab to the chest

He was petrified, even after the battle ended

You were cold-faced now, standing by your people with the heart of a lion

But he had a new respect for you

Husk would listen to you whenever you needed it, and you stood up for him as his personal bodyguard

Especially when people would get drunk at his bar and would try to A. sexualize him, B. attack him, or C. demand for more drinks

“Need a drink?” he inquired, continuing to try and clean and wipe blood from his matted and tangled fur. 

You shook your head, sitting down at one of the barstools. You both were soaked in red and gold gore, but you were a lot less bothered about it. You were used to it of course, in fact, the golden blood tasted quite sweet on your tongue.

“Hey,” he called quietly, making your black eyes pop open

Husk paused, his gaze shifting as he tried to distract himself, grabbing a well-worn rag and beginning to clean a glass that was already shining

“Are you alright? You’re not injured or anything?”

Considering you were a hellborn cannibal known only for your diet, you were quite surprised to see the grumpy bartender of all people caring for your well-being.

You paused, taking a moment to register his low-octaved words

“I’m good…”

“Thank you, Husk.”

Alastor 

Probably one you’d get along with pretty quickly

You were the quiet seamstress of Cannibal Town, sewing, remodeling, and fixing up the old-fashioned clothing that your fellow cannibals adorned

Though there was one customer you always enjoyed to see

Alastor was quite the gentlemen, and a had a soft spot for the hellborn women in Hell

First of all, despite being a murderer himself, he appreciated the purer people, (totally doesn’t get off at seeing them descend into madness)

He came to you every once in a while, and adored your politeness whenever he came to get his coat fixed

During his earlier days, when his hands were much more commonly bloody, he visited you much more often

But when he suddenly disappeared- your shop dimmed and the lively cheer that once graced the insides vanished

When Sir Pentious tore his coat, and he was forced to come to you once more, Alastor wasn’t expecting to come in and have himself seized and violently shaken by you

To say you were pissed was an understatement

You babbled and yelled at the Radio Demon for hours, which took the others by surprise when they came looking for him

Alastor, an Overlord was being sat in a chair as a hellborn cannibal seamstress scolded him like a fretful mother as you fixed up his jacket with quick yet skillful movements

Alastor took it like a champ, and even apologized for keeping you worried for seven years

You forgave him- eventually

Even when not in search of your services, he visited you quite commonly

During earlier morning strolls he’ll buy you some tea or coffee whilst he gossiped about the other Overlords

Sometimes when he visited Rosie he would invite you over

And Rosie was overjoyed of course

The hellborn Overlord was very fair, and even offered you advice when you needed it

While everyone was on good terms with Rosie in cannibal town, you and her were just closer

Alastor also takes you over to the hotel when you so pleased

While the others were disturbed by your diet and the way you ate, they were quite welcoming and were pleased when you offered to help fix their clothes

Not only were you a seamstress, but you also designed clothes

You were ultimately the one who created employee uniforms for other demons after the battle with Adam-

And oh shit- were you enraged at that

You fought alongside your cannibals in the battle, and you witnessed first-hand what happened to Alastor

And you were the one to tend to him

Honestly, you, Niffty, and Rosie were probably the only ones he trusted with stuff like this

Alastor hissed in pain as you carefully worked milk-white bandages around his torso, covering up the bloody wounds along his ribs and chest, bright eyes glaring

“Careful darling, please,” he protested, only for you to narrow your eyes down at him.

“Perhaps if you weren’t so cocky out on the battlefield maybe you’d be more than half-alive,” you quipped, gently completing the wraps and patting his back with a gentle sigh. “I’m lucky you even let me help you.”

The deer demon’s ears pinned to the back of his head, eyes narrowing slightly at your motherly glare

“My dear- I told you I’d be fine,” he protested, quick to stand up and reach for his shirt, though you were quick to pull him back down and plop him into your seat.

“No you wouldn’t have,” you replied, propping your hands on your hips. “Now relax, and let me get Niffty to get you some food.”

…

“Thank you, dear.”

A/N: I apologize, I feel like these were really short, but I hope you enjoy! xox 💋

[oneshlut]

SORRY! i originally asked on the wrong post! My bad!

Hello!!!! I have no idea if this is the right post for requests, but i reqd your overjoyed headcanon and absolutely adored it! I love your writing style already! I originally had two requests, but for now ill go with one, with the Amazing Didgital cricus blowing up, i found favoritizim in the mean purple rabbit, i was wondering for some Jax crush headcanons? I loved your other one, and if its no trouble, id love to read it! Have a lovely day/night!!

A/N: omgomg!! it warms my heart hearing that people are enjoying my writing! thank you so much for the request, i hope you don't mind that i sprinkled in some confessing headcanons in there.. enjoyenjoy!!

Input Feelings (Jax x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General Jax crushing and confessing headcanons

Nothing irritates Jax more than someone new. Sure, a new fella to add to the prank list, and yet, another re-do of the theme song. So seeing you spawn into existence, scrambling around fearfully, made him feel both amused and annoyed. Let's just say he started out with mixed feelings for you. Mind you, these are just judgements. He hasn't even met you yet. Rude, I know, but it's Jax.

Meeting you went way better than he thought! You actually didn't find him annoying? That was a change of pace for him. Of course, not like he minded. Not at all! Looks like he'll have a new sucker to prank after all.

Although Jax was amused by you, you sure weren't. Not on the second day, at least. You had been talking with him earlier that day, and he wouldn't shut up about insects. Weird, you'd think of all people to be ranting about insects, it would be Kinger. Until later that night, or at least you thought it was night, you opened your door to find spiders in your bed.

And thus, you became Jax's main target for pranking! Hooray..! Yes, you liked his company--he was actually pretty fun to be around! But, uh, you prefer your outfit to not be soaked from a water bucket by the end of the day.

You two became frenemies. Sometimes, days went by where he wouldn't prank you. Shocking, I know. Jax just didn't wanna be too harsh on you, y'know? Which is weird, because Jax doesn't go easy on folks very often.

On days where he wouldn't prank you, you would sometimes receive notes from him. It was a good spirit lifter to go to your room at the end of a long adventure and see the corniest dad joke ever written on a piece of notepaper with crayon writing, sitting there on your bedside table. And on good days, you'd even write notes back for him!

One day, Jax gets either asked or teased about how he's so fond with you, and so rude to everyone else. He either makes some dumb excuse or tries to raise suspicion on the person asking, like the asshole he is, but it gets him thinking. He doesn't like to think. He's a man of action. But you were a.. different scenario.

Before, he was this complete asshole. And that's it, really. But you did something to him, something that he had no idea what to do with. Caine's gotta be messing with his coding, right? Maybe he input feeings in his code just to be mean. But being mean was his thing! God, what have you done to him..?

You, at the time, had no idea you were stripping away all of his confidence. As far as you knew, he has just been a bit nicer recently. Which was good! Right? Right. The notes would've been obvious proof he was getting better. Well, first, he was sending more notes rather than.. bugs.. but second, the notes started getting nicer and nicer. Some were just straight up compliments. That's when you noticed something was off. Jax never complimented anyone. Though, you didn't mind some of the compliments...

It's not like Jax has never been in love. He knows he had some sort of love life when he was in the real world, but he was left with just wisps of what it actually felt like to love someone. To care for someone. Though, now, he's finally able to remember.

You noticed how his teasing significantly decreased the more you spent time with him. You kinda missed it, but you're not one to complain.

Jax, on the other hand, was on edge all the time around you. He hated that you washed away his confidence facade, he hated how soft he was around you, how vulnerable. But that smug smirk wasn't gone just yet. He had one more "prank" to pull.

Ha, he wishes it was a prank. It really wasn't. This was actually the most serious he's ever been. He stared at the crudely drawn purple heart on a piece of scratch paper, only now doubting everything he's ever done as butterflies arose in his digital stomach. Standing outside your door, he suddenly felt all the nerves coming back to him he never thought he'd have to feel again. Jax swallowed down his nerves, but still couldn't hide the flush look on his face--or the fact that his pretend-guts were being tied into a bow.

Inside the small homemade card was an admittance to something he never thought he had to admit. Something he'd rather admit in person. Instead, since every inch of his confidence was gone at this point, he confessed in horrible handwriting, written with crayola twistables.

Jax took one final breath before sliding the heart under your door.