#comments/reblogs appreciated

[fateisfiction]

Okay, ok, I write little original fiction/no character mentioned, reader-insert blurbs too. I swear I saw a prompt on my dash that inspired this yesterday, but now I can't find it. If I do, I'll link it (or if you know what I'm talking about, please drop a link for me).

Angsty with a bit of fluff. You broke up 6 months ago but he keeps finding reasons to drop by.

~2100 words

You broke up six months ago, but every week, like clockwork, he stops by your apartment on date night. First it was his phone charger. He spent at least an hour going through your bedroom trying to find it, but in the end, he came up empty handed.

He apologized and offered to order takeout for bothering you. When it arrives, you're both sitting on the couch engrossed in whatever was on TV. You don't even look at him when he hands you your usual, chopsticks already in the container for you to eat and settles back down on the far side of the couch.

When he's done, he leans in to give you a kiss on the forehead before heading for the door and letting himself out. You don't think anything of it at first. Just old habits.

Then he comes back the following week looking for his watch. He needs it for some work event. Normally he would have asked you to be his date, but you broke up. He's a little heartbroken when you don't even ask who he's going with. He's going alone, of course, but he expected you to at least ask.

Another week passes and he's at your door again. This time he brought you dinner from your favorite restaurant. "Habits," he insists. You really don't mind. He watches you sit down on the couch to eat, all wrapped up in a blanket. Now that he thinks about it, it's kind of cold in here, isn't it? He checks the thermostat and it's definitely colder than it should be.

"Heat broken or something?"

"Yeah. Called the landlord yesterday and he hasn't fixed it yet."

"I'll stop by tomorrow morning with my tools."

As promised, there he is, bright and early with a bag of tools over his shoulder and a couple of hot coffees and pastries from the cafe on the corner that you used to beg him to take you to. He takes a look and a few hours later, your heat's back on. Only he forgot to grab the hoodie he left you with the night before to keep you warm.

This time you have to reach out to him. He just fixed your heat, didn't he? You're standing in front of his apartment door, deciding whether to knock or just leave his hoodie and head home. Before you decide, he opens the door. His shock quickly turns into a smile and he invites you in, even though he's clearly heading out. He tells you to make yourself at home, taking off his jacket and making you a cup of tea.

"Heat still works?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Let me know if it happens again. You still have my number, right?"

He teases you, leading you over to the couch where the two of you have spent many nights entwined in one another's warm embrace. Talking about your plans for the future; dreams a little house of your own someday, publishing your first book, and then your second, getting a dog or a couple of cats. The memories come flowing back and you can't do this. It hurts too much. He's not entirely surprised when you run for the door, just a little sad. He cancels his plans and ends up staying in that night, holding his hoodie, the hoodie that now smells like you.

He figures you need a little time after that, so he doesn't stop by the following week. Instead he sends you a text to check outside your door, and you find a little box of cupcakes. You look for him, but he's nowhere to be found. You almost miss his weekly visits, but then you remember you broke up. It's over. That this isn't normal for him. This only started after you broke up with him. You start stewing, left alone with your thoughts. Do you really miss him? Or do you just like how he's treating you now?

The next week when he stops by for a forgotten baseball glove, he catches you on your way out the door. He has to stop himself from staring. Where are you going? A date? You look nice, all dolled up in that little black dress and kitten heels he couldn't wait to get you out of that time you wore it to your friend's engagement party. You leave him there without a second glance, telling him to lock up when he's done getting whatever it is.

When you return a few hours later, more than a little tipsy, with a guy from the bar, he's waiting there for you. The guy's hands are all over you, inching your dress up as the two of you barely manage to make it in the door. The guy you took home is confused, slurring out a “Who the fuck is he?”

“Her boyfriend.”

“Shit, dollface. Thought you said you were single.”

“I am. He’s my ex.”

You give your ex a pointed look, eager to get back to what you were doing. He’s having none of it though. He kicks the guy out helping you get undressed, showered and ready for bed.

“Damn it, babe. You should know better than to take trash like that home with you.”

“I'm not your ‘babe’ anymore,” you mumble, beginning to doze off.

He spends the night. You wake up the next morning in his arms, both fully clothed with a small bit of drool on his chest where you were resting. It doesn't dawn on you until a few minutes later that this isn't the man you took home, but instead your ex and you promptly wake him up and kick him out.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm going.”

He’s at your door once again the following week looking for something yet again, this time carrying an oversized duffel.

“What's that for?”

“Camping.”

He's still hurt from you rushing him out the week before. You didn't even let him make breakfast.

“With who?”

He pauses. Are you jealous?

“Friends.”

You watch him this time. For having broken up with him a couple of months ago now, he sure did seem to leave a lot of stuff behind. He asks you to check the closet by the door while he sneakily scatters a few more reasons to come back around your room.

The next week when he comes by, you’ve already ordered pizza. Interrupted from the movie just starting, you joke that he probably should have just kept his key since he spends so much time here. There's a bit of a bite in your words, because he knows you don't mean it.

He takes his place on the couch, chatting with you through the movie as the two of you eat.

By the time the credits roll, you're asleep, curled up beside him. He contemplates carrying you to your bedroom, but decides against it. It didn't go over well the last time he spent the night, and he knew that if he sets for in your room, he’s not going to be able to leave. He misses waking up beside you, and his insomnia has been acting up lately. Sleeping next to you was the only cure he ever found for it.

You open your eyes as the door clicks shut and you realize that maybe you do miss him.

The next week, you expect him again, but he doesn't show. You have half a mind to text him to see where he is, and you have to remind yourself that he's not your boyfriend anymore. Scrolling through social media to keep your mind off of him, you see a mutual friend posting pics of a night out and you see your ex there with him.

Your ex is in the background, drink in hand and that flirty smile on his face that convinced you to go home with him that first night. Three photos later, you find that same smile directed at a girl and you have to put your phone down. This was not how you saw tonight going. Cold takeout on the table, you end up throwing out his usual order. You can't believe you were actually considering giving him another chance.

He pops by the next morning with coffee and pastries and you don't even answer the door.

“Go away.”

“Was just bringing you coffee. What's wrong, hun? That time of the month?”

You could kill him. Stomping away to your bedroom, you slam the door behind you. He knows he fucked up. Forehead pressed to the door of your apartment in resignation, he leaves the coffee for you and sends a text in apology.

Coffee’s outside. Let me know if you need anything else.

God he was infuriating sometimes.

There's flowers and chocolates on your doorstep the next day. He didn't even knock. Just a text.

Got u smthn.

The next week he brings you dinner again. A new place you had told your friend you wanted to try. You couldn't be sure she didn't tell him, but he did get your order right at least. And he brought wine.

This time he asks if you want him to stay and you reluctantly let him in the door. He picks the movie while you grab glasses and silverware.

By the time you finish, the movie is still going strong, not even halfway through. You're well into your second bottle of wine and he's joking around. He always gets a little touchy when he's tipsy.

You stop him when his hand rests a little too comfortably on your thigh.

“Did you take her home?”

He has no clue what you're talking about.

“Last week. The girl at the bar giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes.”

He visibly pales. Of course he didn't take her home. He spent most of the night trying to turn her down. But how did you know?

“What, were you there or something?”

He chuckles uncomfortably, trying to pass it off as a joke. Wrong choice. You're clearly upset.

“What, so when I bring someone home it's a problem, but it's totally fine when you do? For fucks sake, we broke up.”

“Woah, there. What are you-”

“I brought a guy home and you were here waiting to scare him off when I got home!”

You're yelling. He’s trying to calm you down but you're not having any of it. You're on some rant about having needs of your own, and he’s such a hypocrite, and maybe he should just and he stops you with a kiss.

“Of course I didn't bring anyone home. I spent half the night turning her down and the other half wrangling our drunk friends. Just ask, I was the designated driver.”

“But you were drinking in the photos!”

“Virgin daiquiri. You're the one who made me try them, remember?”

You're far from calm, but at least you're not kicking him out. And now he knows why you were so upset the week before.

“You should go.”

And he does, but not before making sure everything is okay between the two of you.

The pattern continues, week after week. He stops by with an excuse, takeout is ordered, movie is watched, he leaves. It’s been six months and you feel, for the first time in your entire relationship, that you’re actually dating. The only problem is that this is your ex.

Ever since the incident where you tried bringing someone home from the bar and he waited to scare him off make sure you got home safe, you haven’t been tempted to seek out a companion for the evening. And ever since you called him a hypocrite, he’s started enforcing his own little policy of only going out with friends if you’re going to be there. Maybe there were a few murmurings within your friend group about how neither of you were ever going to move on if things continued. Maybe neither of you really cared.

And all that led to tonight.

Dinner still in the bag, cold on the counter. You under him. Chests heaving.

He sits up, pulling you forward to fall into his chest, holding you close as you catch your breath.

“So.” You draw out the word, letting it hang in the room before finishing your thought. “What was it this time?”

His brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Your excuse. Every week it’s something new. What did you forget this time?”

You feel more than see the soft smile spreading across his face. He leans back into the couch, arms holding you a little closer to him. “You.”

[justcuriouspolls]

(i have a feeling this poll will get way more views than some of my other ones so I am once again asking you to fill out https://forms.gle/66bRngwjD2fzWX7p6 if you know anything about the character)

[acid-ixx]

ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three

read until the end for an author's note.

*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.

i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.

why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.

is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.

i don't want to pray anymore.

so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—

i hate you."

"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."

you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.

"alfr-"

a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.

salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.

you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.

"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."

"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"

his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.

you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.

alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.

it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.

you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.

and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.

it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.

it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.

the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.

you pose secrets that speak of the underground.

he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.

you stared at nothing.

not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.

it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.

what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.

you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.

(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.

he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.

yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.

you were more like batman than you were bruce.

alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.

when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.

the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.

alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.

yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.

the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.

"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.

the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.

yet you do not display pain.

a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.

you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.

the world does not deserve someone like you.

alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.

through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.

even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.

you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.

another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.

"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.

a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.

the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.

alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.

you could only hear yourself.

"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"

you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.

"no—" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."

it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.

he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.

despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.

you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.

everything hurts, it truly does.

you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.

you at least try to stifle your sobs—

"happy birthday, master (name)."

— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.

you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.

it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.

though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.

"alfred?"

it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.

"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.

"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"

... (name) wayne was full of surpises.

even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.

you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.

but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.

except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.

when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.

it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.

he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.

alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.

"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"

alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.

"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...

— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."

alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.

you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.

but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.

it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.

it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.

but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.

and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.

alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.

he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.

"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.

"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."

alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.

he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.

and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.

he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.

in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.

alfred misses you.

does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.

but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.

it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.

yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.

for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.

even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.

it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.

before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.

bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.

in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.

his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.

that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.

he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.

he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.

"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.

"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.

but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.

bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.

it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.

if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.

he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.

"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.

"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."

huh?

"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"

"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."

... (name)?

ah, his... other child.

alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.

it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.

"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"

alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.

"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.

"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"

to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.

"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."

at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—

but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?

shit, what grade are you in?

why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—

"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"

"roughly six or seven months ago, master."

"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."

"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."

eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.

it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.

his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?

alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.

bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened

the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.

he denies himself of any relief.

"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.

so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.

"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."

if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.

but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.

and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.

bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.

also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)

[scarland-artbook]

🌸 The Art of Scarland is here!

60+ artists gathered together to conceptualize Scarland as a real theme park. The result is 181 pages full of care and detail, to show appreciation for Scar's passion project. Enjoy!

🔽 Dоwnlоad Link

▶ Do you want this to be a real physical thing in your hands right now? Please let us know by answering our Printing Interest Check form

[rusticfurnace]

some soap content because hes my little goober. my babym the light of my life. >:3

[foolishlovers]

Where a Canvas Blooms by foolishlovers

It’s an Arrangement. Aziraphale knows this. He knows a lot of things, and others he doesn’t, but the most important things, he knows. He knows that the cheeky redhead in his arms smiles and purrs when he runs his fingers through his hair, knows that Crowley’s hands are rough from working outside, knows the softness of his heart. Aziraphale doesn’t know he’s in love with Crowley until he does. But it’s just an Arrangement. Is it? Part 1 of The Cuddle Arrangement

word count: 3.8k rating: T relevant tags: Human AU, Trans Aziraphale, Trans Crowley, Touch-Starved Aziraphale, Touch-Starved Crowley, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Comfort, Pining art by the wonderful @omens-for-ophelia

[1-900-venusluvs]

Dreaming about how Miguel talks us thru our orgasm 🙊🫶

His hips keep thrusting harshly into your pussy as you whimpers are going muted from the pillow your head is stuffed in. His grabs your hips and pushes them back onto his cock. His head flies back at the pleasure of your tight pussy hugging him.

“..please let me cum baby..I-i love you miggy” you whimper out with your head still stuffed in the pillow wanting to have an orgasm. Now Miguel wasn’t mean oh no, he’ll let you cum after all because you’re his girl.

“I know..I know baby..can you hold it in for a bit longer? I know you can amor..” he spoke out still grunting in between words. His big hands hug your waist as he so isn’t gently thrusting into you.

“Alright can you cum for me now? You earned it..”he moans out as he rubs your clit, hoping that you’ll cum right away. You cum and instantly feel a wave of tiredness hit you like a truck and your body limps to the bed. Miguel takes out his leaking cock and lays next to you with his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest.

“And I love you more sweetheart..you know that” he says kissing your cheek. He takes note on how your sleeping and kisses your cheek yet again

“dios mío, your the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Here’s to my taglist💍: @lazyjellyfish300 @monstera02 @muchosbesitos @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @yournextbimbogf @blahblahblahblueslol @kerwin290710 @tojishugetiddies

And if you’d like to be on the taglist just dm me🫶!

MINORS DNI PLEASE 🙏

[neteyamssyulang]

♱ Wild Encounters ♱

♱ Easter special ♱

♱ Pairing: Adult Neteyam x Fem human reader ♱

♱ Summary: While on a late night walk in the woods, you immediately regret your decision.

♱ Warnings: Dom Neteyam, Sub reader, Neteyam in rut, Dub-con?, P in V, Size difference, Creampie.

♱ Translation(s): Tawtute -> Sky person, Tìyawn -> Love.

♱ Word count: 653 ♱

♱ A/N: Happy Easter my darlings!

♱ Tagging: @teyamshuman @ikeyniofthetayrangi @itchaboi-itchyboy @aria-tempest @anemonelovesfiction @loaksulluyswife @kia-wolfie @tallulah477 @kariz-stark

When you decided to go for a late night walk through the forest, this is not what you had in mind.

The air was temperate, the breeze was cool, the bioluminescent moss lighting your way though the endless forest. It felt good to be out here, so perfect and free.

Tonight felt different though, like someone was watching you from the shadows. Whenever you turned around however, there was nobody around. It was like pandora was playing a prank on you, making you feel crazy and on edge.

Glances over your shoulder now and then would ease that nervousness inside of you a bit but it would never fully go away. A twig snapping behind you made you turn around instantly, only to be met with, him.

You've heard stories about the omaticaya prince from humans that went back and fourth from the village, yet none compared to what is infront of you right now.

His eyes, normally described yellow like honey were green, with slits for pupils. His skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and a noticeable tent was in his tewng.

"Such a pretty little tawtute" he purred, stepping closer towards you. Instinctively, you took a step back making him growl.

In an instant, you found yourself laying flat on your back with the huge na'vi hovering above you. He was so large compared to you, having to bend his back a bit to bury his head into the crook of your neck.

"Please, don't do this.." you begged him, unfortunately your pleas fell on deaf ears as he ripped off your shorts, along with your panties and shirt.

"You do not tell me what to do, little girl" he hissed, moving his loincloth to the side. His cock slapped against his stomach, beads of pre-cum already oozing from the tip.

Holy mother he was huge, that would never fit inside you. No way, no how. "That thing will ne- ahh! oh shit!" Your cut off as he immediately rammed his cock inside your tight pussy.

"Fuck.. so tight..so good" he moaned, with no preparation the stretch felt unbearable to you. It was like he was tearing you in half, literally.

Tears streamed down your face as you dug your nails into the palm of your hand, leaving small crescent marks. Without warning, Neteyam pulled out only to slam back inside. A noticeable buldge could be seen from your stomach where his cock was buried.

Neteyam hovered above you, his large frame making you feel even smaller compared to him. His arms caged you in as he started rutting into you like a rabbit in heat.

The forest was filled with the sound of his hips slapping against yours, along with the lewd sounds he kept pulling from your lips. You've never felt so full in your life, not even the toys you had could make you feel this way.

"That's it" Neteyam purred, coiling his tail around your ankle. He leaned down, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

You whined, clawing at his shoulders as you felt your climax approaching. Neteyam groaned, picking up his pace "Is the little human gonna cum for me? Hm?"

Leaning back up, he gazed down at your flushed face. You nodded frantically, desperately wanting to cum already. Neteyam smirked,"Cum, be a good little slut and cum.on.this.cock!" With each word he delivered a hard thrust, his tip kissing your cervix.

A choked out sob left your lips as you came hard, squirting onto his lower abdomen and thighs. Neteyam hissed feeling your walls squeezing around him tightly, with one last thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside, painting your gummy walls white.

Panting heavily, you gazed up at him, his green eyes slowly turning back to the warm honey ones you heard so much about.

"Your mine now, pretty human" he murmured.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #138

Damian decided he wanted to be a veterinarian in his spare time so after high school he applied to Gotham University and moved into the dorms. Alfred and his Father highly encouraged it something about getting that college dorm experience and they were pushing him to make a friend or two. He also didn’t know what to expect from his roommate Nightingale, something was off about him and Damian was determined to find out what that is.

Danny just wanted to get his engineering degree. Unfortunately his new roommate seemed curious about him. After he ran away from home he decided he’d try to make it on his own. He didn’t even try to tell his parents about Phantom, their prejudice about ghosts wasn’t going away soon and the sooner he got away the safer he’d be. He had to think about the infinite realms now and keeping their king, well himself, safe was the best option at the moment. If only the Observants could stop appearing in unexpected places to beg him to return to the realms.

[pleaktale]

"Thought ol' Jamesy 'ere found us a mermaid..."

IT'S DONE! *Everyone cheers.*

Yes, I know I forgot about his chains and necklaces but I was too far gone in the rendering to add it, sorry my lovelies... 🥺 I'll make sure to add in the next ones! 🤭

Anyway, this is BDAS! Hobie, made by @the-kr8tor

(PLEASE CHECK IT OUT IT'S SOOO GOOD!!) Extra version bellow the mark!

Just him being the most handsome men to ever exist.

That's it! See you soon!

[linkbetweenlinksau]

The Mark - part 1

Part 2|| part 3||

[webdollzz]

hear me OUT. hobie brown mutual marking/branding smut@?11!1?1? pic this:

basically whole premise is reader writing "[names property]" on hobie after they've had sex as a silly wake up prank and taking a pic of herself writing it on him, while unbeknownst her hobie's WIDE awake

So he turns the tables and just fucks her dumb again and writes "[hobies property]" right above her pussy and takes a pic so they're even

sorry this idea is so random i just HAD to get this out my system!!

a/n🌟anon, I love you. here's ur fic + the tallys you added! ur ideas are GORGEOUS. this is quite hobie hand focused ngl...n i kinda don't like this??

warnings!: fem!reader x dom!hobie choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, slight mocking, slight mean hobie but gets soft at the end. use of y/n once                                                 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

his grip on your sweaty body loosened, a sign that he had fallen asleep after sex. he always did — he was out like a light everytime. you didn't mind, you enjoyed the sleepy cuddles. but you weren't that tired this time. you were still led ontop of him, puffing small amounts of air from your lips as your eyes drifted to the sharpie he used to sign autographs, immediately smiling at your little idea. you snatch up the sharpie, gently sliding down his body and writing 'y/n's property' along his hip bone with a cheesy grin.

with the remainder of your smudged lipstick, you kiss right next to the writing for affect. you giggle, grabbing your phone, pushing his boxers band down to make sure the writing was clear. You snap a picture of it, staring at it for a couple seconds before moving your phone away. you let out a yelp of surprise when you see hobie staring right at you, a very unimpressed and unamused look on his face.

"Fuckin' hell! I thought you were asleep." You gasped, your hands on his lower abdomen now as you sat on his lap.

"Yeah, can fuckin' see tha'. The bloody 'ell do y'think you're doin'?" He grumbled, sitting up and gripping your hips, sliding you closer to him, your breath hitching as your panty-clad cunt brushed against his already rehardening cock.

"was jus' having some fun." You shrugged. he rolled his eyes, placing his hand on the back of your head to brace you as he flipped the both of you over, your back now hitting the mattress as he flipped your positions, glaring at you from above. he pulled down your panties once again, making you shiver.

"we just finished." You grunted, your lips parting softly as he ran a finger through your folds, gathering your slick from previous rounds.

"so? should've thought 'bout that before you started tha' shi." He huffed, grabbing your hips and yanking you towards him, placing his head between your thighs. he kissed up them, nibbling softly on occasion, smirking at your impatient whimpers. he dug his fingers into your skin to make you stop squirming.

"hob — quit it." You whined, your legs attempting to close around his head to stop him but he forced them open.

"naw." He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, making you jolt with a moan. he smirks, putting your legs over his shoulder. in no time he started devouring you like you were his very last meal, like you didn't finish fucking approximately half an hour ago. he was insatiable. give him a ten minute break and this man can go another couple rounds. you shudder around him as he eats your cunt like he never will again.

"yeah? you like that, doll?" he murmured against your pussy, making you mewl with a nod.

"mhm! don't stop, please." you begged, your hands finding their way to his wicks, tugging him closer to your cunt. he hummed lowly, sucking on your clit as his free hand that wasn't holding your down snaked between you two, his middle and ring finger prodding at your entrance before sinking in and immediately curling to your sweet spot. you gasp shakily, whining as you tug harder on his hair.

"Hobie! fuck, m'gonna cum." you cried, the overstimulation from earlier on still lingering, making the build up painfully good.

"c'mon ma, cum f'me. you got it." he cooed, pulling away to let his fingers to the rest of the work, leaning down to drink up your cries in a messy kiss you can barely reciprocate. as you gush around his fingers, he didn't slow his movements, prolonging your orgasm until you push his hand away, muttering a "t'much.." he kisses down your neck, humming softly.

"open up, good girl." he grunted, making you suck your own slick off his fingers, your tongue lazily swirling around the digits, making him groan and his cock throb. whilst you sucked on is fingers, his other hand pulled away from your hips to grab the marker. he put it between his teeth to bite the cap off, spitting out onto the bed next to you. you frown, wondering what he was doing, but before you could pull away to ask his slender fingers pushed deeper and made you gag and grab his wrist. he grinned cockily at your gag before leaning down to your inner thigh to draw one simple line. a rally, if you will. he pulled his fingers away from your lips, nodding towards the black line on your thigh.

"think we should keep addin' onto i'?" he rhetorically asked, his answer already being yes. his large hands grabbing your hips, flipping you over with ease and pulling your ass into the air. you yelp, your hands flying back to grab his arm. he tuts, shaking his head.

"c'mon, baby. be a good sport." he mocked with a shit eating grin, pushing your head further into the mattress. "hobie..s'not fair." you whined, but pushed your hips back to grind your ass against his dick anyway.

"aww, it's not fair?" he repeated as he reached down into his joggers to pull out his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up with your entrance. you meet him half way, pushing back until you're buried to the hilt. you both let out a moan, before hobie slid his hand to the middle of your back and pushed down to deepen your arch. his other hand remained on your hip, gripping the flesh there hard enough to bruise.

"go on, then. fuck ya'self on my dick like a good girl." he urged, watching how you rocked your hips back and forth slowly, nearly moaning at the sight of him sliding in and out of you, your slick coating his dick. "oh god, feels s'good, hob." you mewled, nails digging into the sheets so hard they might as well rip them apart.

he hummed knowingly, both hands now holding your hips. he took over, not liking the slow ass pace you set. his thrusts were deep and rough, each one making a small ah! ah! ah! sound spill from your lips and into the fluffy pillow.

"fuck, such a slut fo' me, hm? yeah, you like having your lil' cunt pounded everyday." he said between his teeth. it was hardly a question anymore. you did.

"mhm! mhm! fuck, faster, please." you cried into the pillow, your already pre-smudged mascara wiping off onto the white pillow case. he went faster, one hand sliding up your body and wrapping around your neck. he yanked your body up to meet his chest, still thrusting unforgivingly into you as his veiny hand gripped your neck firmly.

"faster? fo'real? can't ever ge' enough, can ya?" He teased, his breath brushing your ear as he hovered by your neck, just being able to see your fucked out face through the corner of his eye. strained whines and whimpers fell from you, the hand on your neck making your head spin so good.

"I asked ya' a question." He scoffed, slowing his thrusts. you shake your head, your hand flying back to try and make him resume. he loosens his grip on your throat so you can speak.

"no! can't get enough. m'sorry, please. don't stop. don't stop." you panted, voice sounding like you're on the verge of sobbing as your nails dug into him to try and make him continue. he smirked, realising how pathetic he makes you. it was adorable to him, gave him an ego boost the man definitely did not need.

"since ya' begged so nicely, doll." he mumbled, giving you a quick kiss on the side of your head before his hand slid from your neck to your hair, gripping it tightly to force you down again. you moaned, your arms attempting to force yourself upwards but he wiped them out with his free hand before it went to your hip. he resumed pounding into you, the sound of skin meeting skin, your moans and mewls, and his breathy groans filling your small bedroom.

your orgasm was building quickly, his hand tugging at your hair, his tip practically hitting your cervix and bruising it — it was all too much. "h-hob! m'gonn-" you barely got the words out before your orgasm crashed over you, making your entire body tremble and a loud cry fall from your puffy lips. you coated his dick with your release, and he released your hair.

"good girl, tha'sss it. jus' like that." He praised, leaning down to kiss your shoulder as he grabs the pen he tossed aside earlier, marking your inner thigh once more. that makes two tallys. "can ya give me one more, ma?" He whispered, kissing your back and shoulder. you whined breathily, shaking your head a little before he pulled out and flipped you over.

he reached over to your bedside table, tapping your jaw gently as he raises the glass full of water to your lips. "open. take a drink, doll." He whispered softly, his free hand tucking your hair behind your ear. you smiled gently, putting your lips to the glass and letting him raise it slightly so you could take a couple sips of the water, the coldness easing your dry mouth and sore throat. he smiled softly, putting the glass back down on the side table.

"good girl. such a good girl, hm?" He muttered, kissing your lips softly a few times, and it almost made you not notice the way his hands went to grab your thighs. almost.

"he-hey! what're you doin'?" you mumbled, looking up at him with fluttering eyes. "well, you're a good girl, righ'? a good girl can give me one more." he cooed, pushing your legs to your chest, admiring the way your cunt drooled for him. you huffed, but nodded nonetheless.

"mhph. one more." you warned, but your tone failed you as it turned to a whine half way through as his dick prodded at your entrance.

"yeah, just one more, baby." He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your calf before sinking himself into you with a groan from him, a mewl from you. his thrusts were slow but deep, making you feel every inch of him sliding in and out of you.

"oh — oh — oh!" you moaned each time he hit that sweet spot inside you, your nails clawing marks into his back. "tha's it, ma. you got it. jus' relaaaxx." he drawed, kissing your nose softly before looking down to where you're connected.

"look a' her...takin' me so well, pretty." he praised, feeling you clench around him. your moans were breathy, your eyes fluttering closed as you gripped onto him.

"m'so close, m'god." you whined quietly, your back arching slightly. "s'okay, baby. you got it, cum f'me." he whispered, kissing your calf again softly, the coldness of his lip piercing a stark contrast to your hot skin.

you let out a high pitched, long moan as your legs shook against his hold as you came around his dick once more. your orgasm triggered his, making him groan softly as he filled you to the brim, softly pulling out a few moments later and muttering an apology when you wince. he laid your legs softly back onto the bed, kissing your body a few times as he tucked himself back into his boxers.

you were half asleep at this point, all fucked out and tired. he took the pen once more, gently writing 'hobie's property' right above your cunt. he grabbed his phone, snapping a quick picture of his n yours cum spilling out of your used cunt and the markings, grinning to himself. he then tucked his phone away, standing up to go to the bathroom and wet a flannel. he came back, carefully cleaning you up so he didn't disturb you, avoiding the now slightly smudged tally marks and his marking, before tossing the flannel to the side. he put your panties back on, grabbing one of his shirts from your floor and muttering a quiet — "cmon, help me out." as he slid it over your head, your arms going into the sleeve before you went back limp.

he curled up next to you, tucking you into him and kissing your head.

"i love you, sweetheart."

"love you more." you mumbled before falling into a deep sleep.

© WEBDOLLZZ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[postazkabansiriussupremacy]

Surprise. Pt. 3 Post Azkaban!Sirius x Mom!Reader

You and Sirius have a chat.

Part One. Part Two.

Taglist: @box-of-kinderjoy @projectdreamwalker @goldenharrysworld @navs-bhat @sagestack

You aren’t sure what you expected Sirius to look like after more than a decade in Azkaban, but this is much worse than you pictured. The dirty, malnourished, manic-looking man standing in front of you is a far cry from the healthy, handsome Sirius you once knew. The sight of him in this horrid state is enough to grow a lump in your throat.

You always had complex feelings about Sirius after he was sent to Azkaban. It was easy to be angry at him for betraying everyone and causing the death of James and Lily, but you were more than angry. You were devastated, to say the least. It’s impossible to say how many nights you cried yourself to sleep. Even knowing what he’d done, it was hard to imagine the one you loved rotting away in Azkaban.

The first few years without him were hell on earth. It wasn’t long after he was incarcerated you found out you were pregnant, and whilst everyone in the wizarding world was partying and celebrating the downfall of You-Know-Who, you were curled up in a ball sobbing and wondering how in the world you were going to do this all on your own.

It was difficult, but you managed. As the years went by and Estelle grew bigger, things got easier. You were able to push Sirius out of your mind and go on without him, but not without continuous effort. With every life change and new milestone reached, you couldn’t help but wonder how differently things would be if Sirius were there too.

For Estelle, you tried your very best to make sure she never wanted for anything, but your heart ached at the thought of her never knowing the love of a father. Estelle used to ask about him (“Why don’t I have a dad?” “Where is he?” “Is he dead?”), and you were never sure what to tell her.

You aren’t proud of it, but as her questions persisted, you lied to her. You lied and told Estelle you don’t know who her father is. She stopped asking about him after that.

You don’t know why you lied. It would’ve been much simpler to tell the truth, but maybe a small part of you wanted Estelle to blame you rather than blame Sirius for her lack of a father. It felt a little stupid, but you didn’t want Estelle to hate the idea of her father. You supposed it would be easier for her to accept her father doesn’t know she exists, rather than to accept her father is a mass murderer in prison for life.

Then you got an owl from Remus Lupin—someone you hadn’t heard from in over a decade—asking to have lunch and talk. You were surprised but receptive. You assumed he met Estelle at Hogwarts and he wanted to know of her lineage under the guise of catching up, and you were half right.

After having Estelle in class and putting two and two together, Remus decided to get in touch with you to tell you the truth about Sirius.

After taking in all of the new information, you felt numb. It’s a lot to take in—learning that Sirius is innocent, and Peter Pettigrew of all people was the one to cause all of this pain.

You came home, politely asked Estelle how her day was, and barely heard her as she told you about the stray dog she found today. Too lost in your thoughts, you ‘listened’ to Estelle’s rambling for about ten minutes before realizing she was talking about Sirius’s animagus.

It had to be Sirius. Why else would there be a giant, wolf-like black dog hanging around your house?

You pretended to Estelle that you’d never seen the dog before, and maybe he belongs to some of the muggles that live further up the road. You carry on your evening as normal, quickly changing the subject anytime she began to talk about the dog, and had her go to bed at a reasonable time.

Only when you were sure Estelle was asleep did you come outside.

You suppose you’ve been staring too long as Sirius speaks up first. It’s hard to read his expression, and his voice is deeper than you remember. “I’d ask how have you been, but clearly you’ve been busy.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, urging yourself not to cry. After meeting with Remus and immediately coming home to Estelle, you haven’t had any time to process the information you’ve been given.

There were so many times you’d asked yourself “What if Sirius were still here?” and then immediately pushed the thought away, reminding yourself he’s a horrible man. A traitor and a murderer.

Only he’s not. He’s none of those things.

He’s suffered terrible consequences that he’s done nothing to deserve, and that’s heartbreaking. The last thirteen years of his life were ripped away from him and he was sent to live in horrid conditions, just because he and James chose to trust Peter with something they shouldn’t have.

A heavy weight of guilt drops into your stomach. Sirius had done nothing wrong and yet everyone—including yourself—thought he got what he deserved by being locked away. You hardly even thought to question whether he was truly guilty or not.

Your throat tightens and your lip quivers, and you step forward to wrap your arms around his waist. You can feel the bones underneath his skin, and you sniffle, feeling a couple of tears escape from your eyes.

Sirius takes a moment to respond, a little shocked by your sudden hug and crying. He supposes it’s not unwarranted though.

He reciprocates your hug, one dirty hand cradling the back of your head and the other wrapped around your torso. It’s almost strange how natural it feels. He rests his chin on the top of your head and faintly smiles. You smell good, and it’s wonderful to get such an unexpectedly warm welcome.

Although he has Remus to thank for that. If Remus hadn’t reached out to you first, Sirius imagines this meeting would be going a lot differently.

After a few moments of letting yourself cry into his chest, you finally speak, your voice cracking a bit as you do so. “You smell like shit.”

Sirius gives you a tight squeeze and chuckles quietly, “You live in a cave for a year and we’ll see how you fare.”

You purse your lips and feel more tears forming. He’s been living in a cave? Your throat feels tight as you breathe, “I’m so sorry, Sirius… For everything.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done.” He responds immediately. There was no way for you to know the truth, and even if you did, it probably wouldn’t have changed anything. “…Did you know you were expecting when it happened?”

You shake your head. “No. Didn’t figure it out until a few weeks after you’d been gone.”

“I-… I can’t find the words to tell you how sorry I am.” Sirius whispers. His adam’s apple bobs. “I can’t say when, but I promise I’ll come back to the both of you.”

“I know you will.” You say quietly, nodding. You knew from the beginning he wouldn’t be able to stay, but it still hurts nonetheless. New tears fall onto your cheeks and Sirius’s prisoner robes.

You cry less for yourself and more for him. Even though he’s successfully crawled his way out of Hell, he still can’t rest. Sirius hasn’t known peace in over a decade, and there’s no telling if he ever will again.

Sirius is the first to pull away. Trying to remain strong for your sake, he clenches his jaw as he looks down at your tearful face. He uses his thumbs to wipe the tears off your cheeks, then he pulls your face forward for a kiss. You waste no time reciprocating, your hands moving to the back of his head and tangling in his greasy hair.

Once again Sirius is the first to pull away, ending the kiss too soon for his liking, but knowing he needs to go. He’s been here far too long. He kisses your forehead. “I love you, and I love Estelle.”

“I love you, Sirius.” You reply, looking into his eyes. They’re the same eyes you see every time you look at your daughter.

“This isn’t goodbye.” He says kissing your forehead once more. He steps off your property and out of the confines of the anti-apparation wards. He gives you one last look, then winks. “You look absolutely stunning, by the way.”

You scoff, a stupid grin forming on your face as he disapperates.

You stare at the spot he left from, wiping your tears away.

Realistically, you don’t know if Sirius will be able to keep his promise. You may never see him again. There’s no telling if his name will ever be cleared, but you hold onto hope, and you will wait for him.

[luminlunii]

can we please get Clown Rocky and Clown Ivy juggling

I adjusted their clown outfits :D

You can find the original designs here and a silly drawing I did of them throwing pies at Mordecai

Whoever reblogged it saying Rocky looks like he just got out the club, just know I see you. I find that hilarious as hell lmao

Ko-fi | Patreon

[mel-loly]

-Thank you to everyone who is still here liking, commenting and reblogging my content, even though I'm not posting much “fandom stuff” anymore, you're still here! And I really appreciate that.. (and that makes me so happy, that as I showed in the “comic”, it moves me, so- thank you, really!!) :]💛

Also- a tip: there are also many other blogs that don't post fandom stuff, but when they do, they get more likes and reblogs than the original/other content.. So also give love to those people who have your original content, reblog, like, comment, because that's what they need! Recognition for your original content! And I know you won't regret it, and it won't hurt you to do what I said! In fact, you will be doing good and giving such love that many wanted and deserve.

A big kiss/p and a hug! Even for those who only like it when I post fandom stuff, I still love you so much, and I won't stop making this type of content, ok? I just want to give more voice to what I have to give as original, because that's what makes me happy and well ^^

-Melissa, Designer.

[foolishlovers]

Tales of Turning Pages (E, 73k, complete)

Every Tuesday, aspiring romance novelist Anthony J. Crowley pays a visit to his local library and the charming angel working there. Every Tuesday, Aziraphale Fell finds himself more and more intrigued by the curious stranger who turns his orderly life as a small-town librarian upside down.