#for me he never did it because of discrimination | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marcyvamp1re-blog · 4 months ago

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SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

Chapter Guide! Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

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midnightcrw · 11 months ago

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Provocative

Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader

Summary: Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he sees a good friend he hasn't seen in a long time.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of discrimination (this is fluff, by the way)

a/n: This is my first time writing for Alastor and anything related to the Hazbin Hotel, so I hope you all will like it. Please tell me if there's anything in this one shot that might offend anyone, and I'll do my best to change it or clarify my thought process.

Charlie was walking around in circles because of the fact that her dad was going to come over to the hazbin hotel for the first time.

And while everyone seemed quite unbothered, she couldn't calm down while Vaggie was currently helping Sir Pentious put up the decorations.

"You have been walking around in circles for the last fifteen minutes, darling," your voice was heard as you put a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

She stopped abruptly as she felt the weight on her shoulder and turned her head slightly to look into your eyes, "It's just been a while since I've seen him and I really want this to go well."

Her usual optimistic tone was much less energetic and confident as she started to look around, clearly avoiding your eyes.

You let out a sigh, a small smile finding its way to your lips as you cupped her chin between your thumb and forefinger, "There's nothing to panic about. I'm sure everything will go perfectly."

Your words seemed to calm the blonde down a bit as she gave you a slight nod, "I hope you're right," she muttered as you let go of her chin.

With that, Charlie made her way over to Vaggie to look at the decorations she had put up with Sir Pentious.

You just smiled at the sight when you suddenly heard a low static behind you, "She's been all over the place since the call," Alastor mused, his sharp grin never leaving his face.

Rolling your eyes at him, you opened your mouth to speak, "Let her be, she's trying her best."

"Oh, I know, my dear. I want the best for Charlie too," Alastor's words made you shake your head, knowing there was more to it, but even with you, he wasn't eager to share that information.

If you had known that you would be bound to him even in hell, you would have run as fast as you could in your mortal life.

But your 'lovely' husband had a way with words even then. Even if the two of you didn't marry for love, there was definitely something there.

Back in New Orleans, Alastor had a hard time because he was half Creole. He was always at a disadvantage because he did not fit into the standard, even though he tried his best to somehow blend in.

But radio was really the perfect solution and a passion of his. It even helped him because no one saw his face and only had to listen to his voice, which even he had forced to sound different, his usual deep tone becoming much higher to fit into the society.

And once he became famous, he even started to change his appearance. His usually dark brown wavy hair was straightened by him, while he also started to dress like the rest of the crowd.

But even then it never seemed to be enough. His tan complexion was still striking to some, as people began to gossip about him from time to time.

The prejudices against him never stopped, as people even started to question him because he wasn't married, making him out to be a cruel man who couldn't even find love, and that's where you came in, to get rid of at least one of the many talked about topics about him. At least then the people of New Orleans would know that Alastor really was a lovable man.

You really couldn't have cared less about the standards and the gossip that had made its way when Alastor started to pursue you back then. Even though he did not even reveal his intentions at first, you could still tell that there was more to it than just love in itself.

And even after he revealed his true intention behind a marriage, you accepted it. You didn't really have anything to lose anyway, and his charming words seemed to sway you somehow.

However, getting married and playing the role of a happily married couple had been a struggle. Both of you being at each other's throats, but never really being able to truly hate each other, was definitely odd.

But leaving that aside for now, there were more important matters at hand as you let go of your thoughts of the past.

"Just don't ruin this for her," your stern tone was obvious and with that you went over to help Niffty with cleaning up.

A few minutes passed and everything seemed to be perfect now, but not for Charlie.

"What if he hates the way the hotel looks?" She asked herself, her hands pulling tightly on her hair.

"He won't. You don't have to worry. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you at all," Vaggie said in a reassuring voice as she put an arm around her girlfriend's shoulder and gave her a small kiss on the forehead.

That little gesture made Charlie blush as she leaned against Vaggie, trying to calm herself, and when she felt ready, she made her way to the door.

"Okay everyone, it's showtime!" She said with a smile on her face, looking at everyone as the door was suddenly flung open by Lucifer, who said his daughters name and hugged her tightly.

Standing near the door, Alastor looked at the two of them with a crazy glint in his eyes and his never-ending smile showing his teeth.

And that's when you knew that this wasn't going to end well.

As Lucifer looked around the hotel, Alastor didn't seem happy at all, angry at the fact that he was being ignored.

"It's got a lot of character... What in the unholy hell is that?" Lucifer asked in a disbelieving tone, as a frown made its way onto his face.

Already knowing that Alastor wasn't going to hold back now, you let out a heavy sigh as you rubbed your temple.

"Just some of the renovations we had done. Adds a bit of color, don't you think?" Your husband's voice was heard as Lucifer then proceeded to ask who he even was.

And with the blink of an eye, Alastor is now at Lucifer's side. "I'm Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure," he replied as he wiped his hand on his coat.

You were about to slam your head against the wall when you felt someone tugging at your dress. "He's a bad boy," Niffty said in an excited tone, staring at the King of Hell while you just felt a shiver run down your spine in disgust at your friend being lusted upon.

"You might have heard of me from my radio broadcast," Alastor said with a sinister grin on his face as he held his microphone. Knowing him, he loves to be acknowledged and it didn't look like Lucifer was going to give him any of that.

"Nope, I guess that's why Charlie called it the Hazbin Hotel," Lucifer said, emphasizing the 'haz'.

"Hahaha! It was actually my idea!"

"Hahaha! Well, it's not very clever!"

"Haha! Fuck you!"

Hearing that, you immediately made your way to Alastor as you and Charlie interrupted them, earning a look of shock from Lucifer.

"Is it really you?" Lucifer asked, his eyes wide as he looked at you. And before you could even answer, he threw himself at you, nearly crushing you to a second death and leaving you breathless.

"It's been years!" The King of Hell shouted as he let go of you to examine your face. You let out a chuckle, "It has indeed been a long time."

The interaction between the two of you naturally caught everyone's attention, as they all had a confused look on their faces, except for Alastor, who seemed to be losing his patience by the second.

Not even letting you two continue reminiscing, Alastor put an arm around your waist, causing you to gasp in surprise, as he wasn't usually the one to show off your relationship, especially to Overlords and anyone above that position.

"From where do you know him, my love?" Alastor's static-like voice was heard loud and clear as he pulled you even closer.

Before you could answer, Lucifer interrupted. "My love?!" He asked in disbelief and disgust.

"Oh, yes. 'My love,' the beautiful woman I'm so smitten by," Alastor was really putting on a show as he even planted a small kiss on your temple.

Your arm made its way around your husband's back as you pinched his waist in annoyance, eliciting a small static screech from Alastor.

"You really have some nerve, don't you?" you whispered in a caustic tone as your face came closer to his, wanting only him to hear it.

But even with that, the man dressed in red didn't shy away to take it completely somewhere else, "Just a few minutes, my darling. Then we'll have some time alone. Oh, and how she loves it, almost shameless, isn't she?" Alastor went on talking while you cursed him in your head.

You knew he was only doing it to rile Lucifer up, but of course the rest of them didn't know that.

"So Freaky Face does fuck," Angel Dust mused with a grin on his face as Husk slapped him on the back of the head.

"You sleep with that?" Lucifer asked in a disgusted tone as he ran towards you, pulling you out of Alastor's tight grip as he took a few steps away from your husband.

"Are you sure this is what you want for your future? Are you even sure it is worth of dating?" The short man asked you, almost even praying for you.

You apparently forgot to mention that you and Alastor have been married for decades, but you definitely wouldn't tell him that right now.

"It's a he," you simply replied.

"Well, I couldn't care less about it."

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor fanfiction #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fluff

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jar0fhoney · 5 months ago

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PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW) - PART 6 - PART 7 (NSFW) - PART 8 (NSFW)

Your family did fine. You were more comfortable than some, but not so comfortable that you could sit idle. The crops had started to bud, and the shop was filled with all manner of pickled vegetables, fresh eggs, and flowers. You counted the coppers and silvers in the little lock box under the counter. Business was the same as usual, but your brow still furrowed.

Mother was getting tired. The decades of tilling, sowing, reaping, and harvesting had started to toll on her. Especially after your father left. The bastard. Your mother labored at home with an aching back and bad knees. Before long the crops would flourish and need tending. It was more than enough work for two, unfathomable for just you alone.

Jeering came from outside the shop. A band of orc hunters with their catches. They were a threatening bunch. Hard and strong. One orc could have the strength of two men. In the great cities they faced more discrimination, but out here someone either hunted for their meat, or payed other people to do the hunting for them. And the orcs… they were masterful at what they did. And so they were welcomed.

The rusted hinges of your shop door creaked. “Did you miss me?”

Any desire to feign positivity drained from your person. You didn’t even try to hide the sour look on your face. Milo was a repugnant leech that had been stalking your family for years. He had tried courting each one of your elder sisters, losing them each time to men better than him. And now you were the last sister on the list. Unmarried. And running out of time. The latter fact he was quite aware of.

”How is Celina?” You never liked how he called your mother by her first name. It was too familiar. You don’t bother to look up from your coin counting. “My Mother’s wellbeing is none of your concern.” Milo sauntered up to the counter, “y/n-“

You slammed your fist, sending a few coins into the air. “When will you get the idea that my family wants nothing to do with you?” You still couldn’t look him in the eye. He sighed, picking up one of the coppers from the floor, “You would rather your mother toil in the field? You would rather surrender yourself to the life of a shopkeep? It’s a waste.”

You had no answer for him. Because he was right to question your choices. Yes you truly enjoyed running the family shop, but you couldn’t possibly keep this up for long without your mother. She deserved peace and rest. But he was just… a nuisance at best. Frightening at worst. His family owned half the town, and how easy it would be for them to blacklist you and your mother from ever doing business in their marketplace again.

”Anyways…” He dropped the coin down onto your counter with a clank, “Winter will come. And will you be prepared? If your mother cannot help you work the fields…”

”Are you trying to give me an ultimatum?” You had pushed the idea of next winter out of your head the second the ice started to melt. But he was right, what would you do? He didn’t entertain your question with a response. No… it wasn’t an ultimatum. It was a threat. A threat that when winter came you would get what was coming to you. He made his way out the door, the rusty hinges screeching. “You should really fix that.” He gave a nasty grin and let the door slam behind him.

You pushed all the thoughts of worry from your head. It was something you had grown skilled at doing. Gods be damned if you let him spoil such a lovely morning. You threw the windows of the shop open, arranging bouquets from your flower garden for the street to see.

At night when you and your mother pray over dinner, you beg anyone listening for an eternal spring.

Two weeks pass uneventfully. You sell many bouquets of flowers to well-to-do ladies, and your mother’s special pickled red onions fly off the shelves as usual. In the early morning you sit counting your coins, listening to the soft bustling of the market just beginning to wake up.

”You know you can pickle these eggs right?”

You keep your eyes trained on the coins, trying not to lose count. There is a long pause, but you can tell the man hasn’t walked away, “We don’t sell any here.”

“You should.” You raise your head to cock an eyebrow at him. You try to stifle a gasp from your chest. An orc man with olive green skin is leaned slightly through the window of your shop. You had never had an orc approach your little shop. They always had bigger and better things to sell and buy.

”We don’t sell those here.” A more rational person would have thought twice before talking back to an orc hunter. But you were tired of men questioning you. A young lady entered the shop, eyeing the orc man still leaning on your window sill. The door squealed unpleasantly, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Fine,” The orc smirked and shrugged, exiting your window.

The next day, there was a basket waiting for you on your shop’s doorstep. You groan. This wouldn’t be the first time Milo left gifts for you to find. You take a peek into the bracket and… what was this? Spices? Salt? Garlic cloves? Underneath the goods were two silver coins.

You yelped at the sound of fingers rapping against the window pane. You reeled around expecting Milo. But… it was the orc man. The orc man from the day before. He pointed at the little latch holding the window closed. You were sure he could punch his way right through the window if he really wanted in. “I don’t want any trouble!” You yelled at him through the window.

Another smirk crept onto his face, “I bring no trouble with me, Miss. I just thought you might like a chance to make some more coin.”

What this lecherous orc seriously propositioning you for pay? Before he could say another thing, you hurled an egg at him. You hoped it would have just broken against the window to frighten him off. But to your horror it crashed through the glass, making a direct impact with his face. “Fuck!” You heard him fall on his ass in the street.

You rushed to the window. The orc was splayed out on the cobblestones, his forehead bleeding from the broken glass. He lay motionless, and you started to panic. Oh Gods. Oh Gods no. You just assaulted an orc. A big strong orc man who kills things for his living. Not even Milo or his family’s status could protect you from the wrath of an angry orc. You threw open the screeching rusted front door. Oh gods he was huge. He knew where you worked. He could follow you home. What if he brought his fellow huntsmen with him? What if they hurt your mother as well?

You couldn’t stop any of the thoughts racing through your head. You were worried about making it through winter… now you might not even make it through the summer. You bit down on your fist, trying to keep composure.

”Got a hell of an arm…” The orc grunted, pulling you out of your trance. He sat himself up, bringing his fingers to the drops of blood running down his temple. “Ha!” He guffawed and made his way to stand up.

”Please… please.” You weren’t sure if you were praying to a high power or pleading to him. His eyes met yours but there was no rage, or fury. There was a look of annoyance, maybe a bit of mild amusement. Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck he said, “Miss. I only meant… you should make pickled eggs. There are a lot of orc boys out here far from the motherland. They would pay a premium for a taste of home.”

You were nearly speechless, “I- I don’t know how orcs prefer their pickled eggs-

“That basket has everything you need.”

“Oh… okay. Very well. Sir.” Your voice wavered and he could see how clearly frightened you were.

The orc groaned, wiping more blood off his face. “Sorry about this. See you around.” You hoped that wasn’t a threat, but with that he jogged his way down the street.

Blasted pickled eggs.

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obsessedwithceleste · 10 months ago

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Fighting Fate (It’s a losing battle)

Theodore Nott x gn!reader

Inspired by, and dedicated to @musingsofahufflepuff

Summary: soulmate!au in which everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Bold of fate to assume it can tell you what to do.

word count: 3.1k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Ever since your first day at Hogwarts, you’d been told that you were lucky. A one in a million chance. Exceptional. Because as soon as you’d been sorted, and the sorting hat had been lifted up off of your head, your eyes had met his, and the world had burst into color.

It had been wildly disorientating at first- you almost fainted from the visual overload as the banners over each section of students burst into bright color. As you went to take your seat, you got strange looks from several students, but you never felt his eyes leave you.

You’d always thought it was rubbish. Even at the ripe old age of eleven. Your mother had first explained the idea of soulmates to you as a bedtime story. You remember her explaining how everything looked bland and colorless now because you hadn’t met your soulmate yet. But once you did, the world would come to life.

“When will I meet my soulmate?” You’d asked.

“Well, that’s the catch isn’t it? It’s different for everyone. Some meet their soulmate very young. At school even. But some, some will never meet their soulmate. They can be anywhere in the world, fate doesn’t discriminate.”

You’d scrunched your little nose up in distaste.

“That’s stupid. Why do I have to listen to fate?”

Your mother had only laughed, tucking you in and kissing your forehead goodnight. But the sentiment had remained as you grew up. How could someone really just be meant for you? Ridiculous.

Theo had known that you were going to be his soulmate before fate did. He’d watched silently from his seat on the train as you boarded, a nervous grin on your face as you waved goodbye to your family. You were perfect, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. At least until Mattheo swatted his arm.

“What’re you staring at, mate?” He’d asked loudly, gaining the attention of the other boys in the carriage.

“See them, there?” Theo asked, pointing to where you were boarding. “That’s going to be my soulmate.” He’d announced proudly.

“Yeah, okay mate,” the other boys had laughed, quickly moving on to the next topic.

But Theo didn’t take his eyes off of you until you disappeared through the train doors and off into some unknown compartment.

The next time he saw you was at the sorting ceremony. He watched as you confidently made your way up to the front, the smile never leaving your face as McGonagall lowered the hat onto your head. It only took a few moments of deliberation before the hat was being lifted off of your head and Theo’s eyes met yours.

It was like the wind was taken out of him as the room sprung to life, colors swirling around his vision as his eyes raced around the room in awe.

By the end of the night, all of Theo’s friends had been sorted into Slytherin with him. Mattheo, Enzo, Draco, Blaise. Even Crabbe and Goyle.

“I was right on the train. About them being my soulmate,” he’d announced proudly, pointing out different objects and describing the different colors to his friends who wondered in amazement.

You on the other hand, didn’t speak a word of it to anyone until you accidentally let it slip to your mother over break that you could see the pretty colored ornaments strung up on the tree.

She’d been thrilled of course, wanting to know every detail about this soulmate of yours. What did he look like? What house was he? Had the two of you spoken.

You answered each question with less enthusiasm than the one prior, and eventually she got the point and stopped asking.

As soon as the news slipped that Theodore Nott, a child of the sacred twenty-eight, and son of Tiberius Nott no less, could see in color however, it didn’t take long for people to start noticing you. Telling you how lucky you were to have found your soulmate. To be able to see color. As if you wanted a soulmate at eleven years old.

The first few years it was easy to avoid. Being only eleven or twelve, Theo was content admiring you from a far. Third year was when the boy finally got the courage to really try and talk to you for the first time. Sure he’d said hi a few times over the past couple years, but nothing you’d found particularly note worthy. Especially not for someone who was supposedly your soulmate.

“Are you any good at charms?” A voice asks, startling you as you look up from the essay you had been finishing up in the court yard. It was a warm, cloudy day, with only a light breeze, so you’d thought it would be the perfect day to take your studies outside.

You stare up in surprise at the brunette boy in front of you, watching silently as he takes a seat across from you.

In the past, you'd played the avoiding game, quickly scurrying off if you saw the boy or his friends approaching. This year, you hadn't been taking the same precautions, and it seemed Theodore was taking full advantage.

“I’m alright,” you reply hesitantly.

That was a lie. Charms was your best subject, but you were hoping the boy might go away. He didn’t.

"I know that you're top of the class," he responds, staring intently at you with a sly smirk.

That afternoon you begrudgingly helped Theodore with his charms homework, and he happily helped you with your DADA essay. There wasn’t a whole lot of interaction between the two of you, but he wasn’t horrible you supposed. At least he had brain cells to rub together.

After that he kept popping up sporadically throughout your third year.

At quidditch tryouts he'd insisted on partnering with you for several of the drills. You both were offered a place on the team. In the Great Hall he'd seek you out to ask about the homework assignment he'd missed after skiving off of class with Mattheo. The fact that you gave him your notes each time meant nothing. Obviously. And every so often, between the shelves of books in the library, you'd see a flash of soft brown hair, and intense eyes gazing at you before they disappeared as if you were imagining it.

With each increasing encounter, the both of you made idle conversation as you kept the boy at an arms length. It was nothing personal really. In fact the more you thought about it, he seemed perfectly alright. But something in your stubborn thirteen year old self just wanted to stick it to fate. So you continued to ice the boy out.

Theodore however, was nothing if not determined. He knew from the moment he saw you that he was meant to be yours, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers. Thirteen year old Theodore was a stubborn bastard and he knew he was willing to play the long game.

Things grew a bit more complicated in fourth year when you became friends with some of the Slytherin crowd.

It had been an accident really. You’d been reading down by the Black Lake when Daphne Greengrass had stumbled upon you, followed closely by Pansy Parkinson and Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Oh!” she’d said in delight, seeing the book in your hands, “I love that book!”

The two of you ended up talking enthusiastically about the novel for almost an entire hour with Pansy and Enzo butting in every so often to add their thoughts.

“Wait, you’re Theodore’s soulmate aren’t you?” Enzo asks, eventually recognizing you.

You eye the boy cautiously as you nod slowly, suddenly feeling self conscious.

Pansy just wrinkles her nose.

“Sorry you got stuck with such a tosser.” She says.

The four of you are quiet for a moment before your laughter breaks the silence, the other three following shortly after.

After that, you’re integrated into their little group seamlessly. You’d always been a bit of a loner. Sure people would wander up to you often enough to chatter about what it was like to see colors, but that was really all people wanted to know about you. Like it was some trivial party trick.

It was nice having your own friends to study with and wander about Hogsmeade with on the weekends. It was nice to have people who liked being around you simply for being you. Not because some magical force had decided to bind you to a whole other human and grant you the ability to see color.

It didn’t take long for Theo to notice you hanging about more frequently. How could he not? You were so pretty. So smart and witty. So perfect. He was just so happy to have you around more often. Even if it wasn’t to spend time with him specifically.

He reveled in any little morsel of information that he could scrape up from your friends. Your favorite color, your favorite sweets at Honeydukes, your class schedule. Theo was willing to admit the last one was a bit weird, but he was really just hungry to learn anything he could about his elusive soulmate.

Soon enough, it didn’t become unusual for Theodore and Mattheo to join the four of you on your little excursions. Popping up at the Black Lake, or meeting up with you at the Three Broomsticks. He was just always there. As if he was making a point of it. And begrudgingly you began to let him in.

A friend of your friends was okay you thought. Wouldn’t hurt to get to know him a bit. That wasn’t crossing any lines.

For Theo however, this was huge. He was finally getting somewhere. Even if you weren’t ready for any sort of romantic relationship, he was going to be the best damn friend you’d ever had.

By fifth year, there was simply no denying it. Theodore Nott was your best friend. You weren’t really sure how it had happened. The two of you just fit so well together. He had truly wormed his way into your life.

It had started with the study sessions.

"Remember when you helped me with charms in third year?" He'd asked. "I got top marks on that assignment."

As those became more frequent, it had turned into afternoons by the lake with both of you deep in your own novels, but sharing the comfortable silence.

Then it had morphed into weekends at Hogsmeade. Your friends thought they were being subtle when they consistently slipped away, leaving you and Theo to wander about the village. You couldn't find it in yourself to mind though.

You’d tried to keep him at an arms length. You really had. But Enzo couldn’t make you laugh as hard as you did with Theo. And Daphne just wasn’t the intellectual match that Theo was. And Pansy always made sure you let loose sure, but being around Theo was just- freeing.

You still weren’t sold on the whole soulmate thing though. Sure Theo was great. Perfect even. But you just couldn’t shake the icky feeling of blindly trusting fate to decide your life.

Then it happened. No one was expecting it. Especially not Pansy. But you and Pansy and Draco and Theo had all been working late on a potions assignment before dinner, and on your way back up from the dungeons, Pansy ran smack into a certain platinum haired Ravenclaw. You’d later find out that her name was Luna Lovegood. As soon as their eyes met, Pansy stumbled, leaning into you for support. You already knew what was happening as her eyes darted around wildly.

“Oh. I suppose we’re soulmates then aren’t we?” The girl said, a dreamy look overtaking her.

It all seemed too easy for them after that. It was like a flip had switched and the two were just mad for each other. A picture perfect example of what soulmates should be.

You found it to be slightly horrifying how blindly trusting fate could severely change a person and their relationship with an essential stranger.

Theo however, couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. He had what? Almost five whole years on Pansy, and was lucky to get a friendly hug out of his soulmate. Yet Pansy and Luna were inseparable after only a few short weeks.

Not that Theo thought he was entitled to your affection necessarily. But it would be nice if you’d at least acknowledge the bond you two shared he thought.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” Daphne asks one night.

It was one of those rare nights where it was only you, Daphne, Pansy, and Enzo huddled together wrapped in thick, warm blankets inside Daphne and Pansy’s dorm room. Salazar knows where Millicent was off spending her night. A bottle of shared fire whisky sat between you and packs of chocolate frogs littered the floor.

You blink in surprise at your friend’s question. You didn’t talk about soulmate stuff much.

“I do believe in them,” you say with a simple shrug.

“Yeah but you don’t really believe in them, ya know? Why?” She pushes.

You pause again, glancing at Pansy who was looking back at you intently.

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t like the idea of someone deciding to be with me, just because they’re supposed to.” You say finally.

“I suppose I know what you mean.” Pansy murmurs after a moment.

You look at the girl in surprise and can tell the other two are shocked as well.

“Don’t get me wrong. I adore Luna. Really. I always tell her that I’m so glad that fate put us together. But then sometimes I wonder. If it weren’t for fate, would I have even given her a second glance that day I bumped into her in the corridor?”

There’s a silent lull as your group mulls over Pansy’s words before slowly drifting off to a new topic.

In another dorm, not so far off, Theo lay on his bed staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Think they’ll come around soon?” Mattheo asks, sensing his roommate’s building tension.

“I dunno. But I’ll wait,” he replies, closing his eyes and letting images of you flood his mind. “They’re worth it.”

That night as you’re leaving to return to your dorm, Enzo catches your arm, pulling you off to the side.

“You can never tell Theo that I told you this, but the first time I met Theo, we were on the train waiting to leave for Hogwarts and he pointed out the window to a someone and said ‘they’re going to be my soulmate’. Then, at the sorting ceremony he got all dizzy all the sudden, and when we got to the common room, he said that he’d been right about who his soulmate would be. You. Just thought you should know.”

And with that, he’s gone.

It’s after that that you really begin to see Theo. You’d never really given him a fighting chance. But now, you kind of wanted to.

It’s the beginning of sixth year when Theo finally notices the shift. Notices you actually seeking him out on purpose, not flinching away when your hands brush, eyes hovering on his lips a bit too long for it to be accidental. And to say that he is ecstatic.

Meanwhile you were silently kicking yourself for taking so long to get over your petty bullshit with fate. Sure you still didn’t love the idea of it all, but after spending enough time with Theo, you could really, truly see the appeal.

After that night in fifth year, you began noticing how Theodore was one of the only students who could keep up with your academic prowess. He could always sense when you were tired, or stressed, or simply in a mood, and always did his best to subtly cheer you up. He was always there. Even after all the years you had put him through the wringer, he remained by your side. And that’s what really convinced you.

It’s also what landed you here, at the top of the astronomy tower, with your head in Theodore’s lap as his fingers raked gently through your hair.

It had become a usual meeting spot for the both of you. Theo had brought you up here a week into the school year starting. It was his safe place. His getaway when everything got to be too much, or when he just needed space to think. When those words had left his mouth you had melted. He trusted you. You had meant so much to him for so long, and you couldn't be bothered to give him the time of day.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, eyes gazing out at the swirling navy sky that seemed to stretch on forever.

“For what, amore?”

“Dunno. Making you feel like you weren’t good enough, or makin you feel like a bad soulmate.”

Theo looks down at you, and you meet his steady gaze.

“I knew I was good enough, amore. We wouldn’t be soulmates if we weren’t perfect for each other.” He replies.

You perk up at this. “You think I’m perfect?” You ask, a dopey smile appearing on your face.

Theo just rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he laughs. He'd grown used to your antics. Just another piece of you that he'd grown fond of.

“I said that we’re perfect together. But you’re perfect too I suppose.”

It hadn’t taken nearly as long as you had expected to reach this point. It seemed that Theo had just been waiting for the word to switch on boyfriend mode. All it took was one spontaneous, heated make out session in his dorm room, and you had the boy wrapped around your finger. (He already had been for years, but you didn’t need to know that.)

“Alright. Wrap it up love birds. You better be fully clothed,” Pansy calls, head peeping up from the top of the staircase leading up to the tower. “You two have been up here for hours, and you can’t have them all to yourself Theodore. They were our friend first.”

“Yeah! Time’s up lover boy!” You hear Enzo call.

Theo groans, head falling back as he rises lazily, offering you a hand up.

“I waited five years for this, can’t you guys let me have my moment?” He calls back.

“No!” The chorus replies.

With a laugh, you grab onto Theo’s hand, tugging him towards the stairs.

“C’mon. If we get Mattheo and Enzo drunk enough, they won’t notice if I spend the night,” you say with a cheeky wink.

“I heard that!” Enzo’s voice rings out.

“You wouldn’t say no to me anyway,” you shout back.

With a smile, Theo follows you down the stairs after your rowdy friends, hand wrapped tightly around yours. It had taken him five long years, and he certainly wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

I'm a sucker for soulmate aus

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #harry potter universe #slytherin #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #theo nott #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #daphne greengrass #theo nott x reader #slytherin boys fanfiction #soulmate au #soulmates

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thebestsetter · 5 months ago

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He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #bnha x reader #jjk angst #bnha angst #megumi x reader #gojo x reader #itadori x reader #inumaki x reader #nanami x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #kirishima x reader #aizawa x reader #hawks x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo angst

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klemen-tine · 1 year ago

Text

White Whale

Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Male!Deaf Reader

First Batfam post... this obsession for DC and specifically the Batfam has come out of nowhere and has me by the throat.

But here you guys go.

Thoughts

Sign/Morse Code

Speaking

TW: Hints at past attempted rape, disability discrimination

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Things have been quiet, but at the same time hectic, in the Wayne manor as of lately. Almost everyone was there, sharing the same space and eating the same meals. Almost. The third oldest brother, Y/N, was missing. It stung to say, but the truth of the matter was that he had run away. Leaving behind the external processor of his cochlear implants, and only taking a backpack of clothes. He had left behind the credit card Bruce gave to everyone, only taking out a large sum of cash the day before and booking it.

Only one note, ‘I’ll be fine.�� All the trackers left in a straight line on his bedside table, some still covered in blood from when he must have dug them out of his body. It made some of the family members wonder if Y/N had always been aware or if he had found them by chance.

It’s been three months, and everyone was about to go crazy. How could they not? Y/N, for how independent he was and capable, was deaf and has only known the Manor. Jason, the closest to Y/N, has been more vicious on the patrols and was constantly pacing back and forth in the library. Reading and rereading all of Y/N’s favorites (even though he hated them), and sometimes even just sitting in Y/N’s room. Taking in what he had left behind, barely taking any clothes, none of his electronics (his phone was still here), and one of his favorite books that he always kept in his room.

Jason’s going to put a tracker in that book once they get Y/N back.

Nevertheless, sometimes he just sits there. On Y/N’s bed, and takes in the room, sometimes he’s alone and sometimes he’s with a sibling. Every now and then he’ll see Bruce in here, thumbing through Y/N’s journals.

When Jason closes his eyes, could feel the ghost of Y/N’s touches, the feeling of Y/N’s smaller and thinner body resting against his as he read. Thin fingers gently pressed against Jason’s throat to feel the vibrations, picking up when Jason spoke in a higher or lower tone, laughing when he made an obnoxious voice for a character he absolutely loathed. Cold hands gently cupping his face under the sweaty red helmet, grounding Jason to the present.

Dick, as the eldest child, prided himself in being in-tune with his siblings. He would bend and twist himself to keep himself available and aware of his siblings' emotions. He was the guy everyone went to when things were wrong or they needed advice. So, he wonders what he did wrong for Y/N to leave without saying anything. Their third older brother never hinted at anything being wrong, or even any sign of him wanting to leave. There was no change in his moods, no change in interests, no major cash withdrawals besides the night he left.

His older brother instincts were stressed and have been stressed since his little brother had disappeared. In his hands, he fingered a silver stud that Y/N had left behind. Smart of him, because a small tracker was placed underneath the tourmaline gem. The blue hiding it wonderfully while also looking beautiful on Y/N’s skin. Decorating his ears that he had pierced himself (he can still hear Alfred’s outrage whenever he is reminded of that), and being the only piece of jewelry that they wanted him to wear.

Still, Dick had wished he had taken them. He wonders if Y/N knew about the trackers in these earrings, or the trackers in the pairs of shoes he left. If he did, the other did a great job in not letting anyone know. However, if he didn’t, then it made this all the more frustrating. How could their deaf, non-combatant, and to be frank average intelligence, brother get out of this heavily monitored manor? Tim had spent years upgrading the systems, making it stronger and stronger each time.

So, how? More importantly, why?

Dick couldn’t wrap his head around the reason why Y/N would want to leave. He’s fed great food, he has a nice bed, he can read great books, and he’s always surrounded by family. It’s not like they limited his time outside, he can basically come and go when he wants.

As long as he was back in the manor by nightfall, Y/N could go anywhere.

What sucked even more was that none of them had the slightest clue where he could be. Y/N could be dead for all they know.

Dick subdued that thought, having faith that the self-defense they had drilled into Y/N would keep him safe until they found him. However they all intimately know how unfair and unkind the world can be. Y/N, sweet and defenseless Y/N, was all alone somewhere in the world. The worst outcomes kept reappearing in his mind and playing on Y/N’s past traumas.

Why couldn’t his brother see that he was safest here? Everyone praised the Lord that Y/N expressed no interest in being a vigilante, and that his career of choice was instead choosing to be an editor. He took a gap year this year, which everyone rejoiced over. Y/N was a hard worker, and was someone who fully dived into things without taking a break. Like Tim.

Still, Dick wished Y/N would see what they saw. Y/N needs them, just like how they need Y/N. Dick flopped into the couch, thumbing through his photos and finding one of him and Y/N. When they do find him, they’re going to have to remind him where he belongs.

++++

Y/N took in the sun rays with a content smile. His once pale skin now has a slight tint to it, and his hair now lighter due to the sea water and sun. The white beaches reflect the warm rays and the blue waters look like familiar eyes. It took him a while to get used to being on his own, which was proof that he needed to do this. Never in his life has he felt so free.

The wind tossing his hair and the view of waves crashing on the shore had him smiling. The Moby Dick in his hands as he reread the pages, noting the post-it notes he had in it, jotting down his thoughts and musings. The Dominican Republic beaches were already something to die for, but here on the hidden beaches, where only a handful of people knew of its location, were worth killing for. Y/N looked back at the small bungalow he was renting, paying in cash to keep his name off the lease and only staying until March before he will leave for Europe, and smiled. A cute little thing that looked like it could topple at the slightest storm. The electricity was powered by a generator and there was no hot water. Maybe warm, but never hot. Which Y/N was shockingly fine with. It wasn’t like it was cold here like how it was in Gotham.

His biggest stressor was cooking. Which furthermore proved how he needed to do this. Out of all his brothers, he is the only one who doesn’t know how to cook. He can make the basics, like mac-n-cheese, ramen, rice, and basic pasta dishes. However, when his landlord had given him a fish to eat, Y/N stared at it with great embarrassment.

It’s not like he had a phone, or even the internet, to google it.

He had almost set the kitchen on fire but that’s something he’s not going to tell his landlord about.

Thankfully, despite how well-hidden this bungalow was, the community around was strong and well-receptive to him. When he first told them that he was deaf, which was completely by accident, he started getting free food and notepads to write on. However, no one treated him differently. He wasn’t coddled, besides once again the free meal every now and then but he’s positive that also has to deal with how frightened he looked when he was asked to help out with cooking one time, nor was he pestered.

As much as he loves his family, the Wayne family could be… a lot. Always around him, constantly monitoring him, coddling him like he was going to break at the slightest hint of him facing a struggle. Some of them unknowingly, or unintentionally, use his deafness against him as a reason why he couldn’t do certain things. He is grateful to Bruce for giving him his hearing somewhat back, the cochlear implants truly made life easier, but Y/N was curious about the part of him.

He lost his hearing at the age of 10, a gradual process that started when he was 8. The nerves in his ears deteriorated to the point not even the sound of a building explosion could be heard by him. Being deaf in East Gotham as a 10-year-old was basically a death sentence. It didn’t help that Y/N was naturally curious, meaning there were a lot of things he stuck his nose in that he shouldn’t have. It is only because of Jason that he is alive, which the other will always deny but Y/N stands by.

Jason and him had met when they were both 6, being neighbors with similar living conditions had made them close. Jason was with him when his hearing started to disappear, and he was with Jason when Catherine had died from an overdose. The two of them took to the streets and set up a small base in an abandoned building.

He was with him when they decided to steal the Batmobile's wheels, clinging onto Jason’s red hoodie when the local vigilante had lifted him up by the collar of said hoodie. Those eyes that peaked through the mask drifted from defiant blue eyes to terrified E/C eyes.

They had become twins, brothers with different last names and different birthdays, but twins nevertheless. Inseparable and always joined at the hips, only leaving each other when Jason went on patrol as Robin and Y/N chose to stay behind with Alfred. While Jason learned how to kick someone’s ass, Y/N learned how to treat them when their own asses got kicked.

He cried when Jason died. Sobbed and deteriorated as he slept in Jason’s room, and sobbed some more when he tried to read some of Jason’s books. He let Dick comfort him, taking him on daily excursions to the beach and riding on the back of his motorcycle. Bruce had read to him, just how Jason used to, and while it wasn’t the same he appreciated the man trying. Alfred continued to be the emotional support they all relied on him to be, and constantly patted his shoulders and baked him his favorite treats.

Y/N screamed at Bruce when he brought Tim back, stating that he was the new Robin. He made it clear he wasn’t mad at Tim, but Bruce. He gave the man the cold shoulder for weeks while making sure Tim was accommodated for. He cried again when Jason came back, hugging the other and cupping Jason’s older face between his hands. He rested a hand on Bruce’s shoulder when Damian showed up, feeling for him and showing emotions that Bruce could not.

Y/N loves his family with everything in him, and he knows that he is loved back. However, the love from one person was different from the love of multiple people. Y/N knows, is intimately aware, that their love is the type disguised as golden necklaces and stained glass windows. When in reality, they are chains and the gold bars of a cage. He knows they kept him dependent on them for life necessities, such as food, money, and a place to sleep.

He was never allowed to get a job. When he tried he was rejected or never called back. He was allowed to cook, but only the basics, as Alfred didn’t want him hurting himself. His curfew was before nightfall, meaning in winter 4:30 was when he had to be back inside the manor.

They gave him his hearing so the silence would continue to be deafening. It is why he left the external processors. Whether Y/N liked it or not, he was deaf. He is a part of that community, and it is about time he got used to that part of himself.

The young adult knows his family loves him, and wants to care for him, but as an adult he knows that he needs to learn some things about life on his own.

Bruce taught them all well. Alfred taught them all well. His older brothers and younger brothers taught him well. Y/N is ready for this. He has been for a while.

Closing his book, marking the page with the bookmark, he watched a sperm whale breach for only a moment before disappearing under the waves. Unable to hear the sound it made, but the sight of it was enough. He set the book down on the towel and made his way to the waters.

++++

It was an accident. It truly was. However, it was a happy accident that had everyone packing and getting ready for the trip.

One of Tim’s classmates had just returned from vacation, and she was showing photos of the sperm whales that gathered. Tim looked because it was shoved in his face, and he nearly snatched her phone out of her hand. In the back, dressed like a local, he was there. His eyes focused on the breach sperm whales, but Tim would recognize him from any angle in any get up.

He asked what beach she was at, and she said Playa Rincon, Dominican Republic. Y/N was in the Dominican Republic. But for what? Y/N has never shown any interest in the tropics or even the ocean in general. Sure he loves the beach, but that was it. Never has he expressed his desire to go to another country to experience it.

So, what could have been there that would draw Y/N in? With the amount of money he withdrew, he could have bought a plane ticket anywhere in the world, and he chose the Dominican Republic. Without a doubt using a fake idea, a fake name, and he was probably using a different name to either rent a place or buy a house.

Sure, they can all just go over, but if they do they would have to tear apart the country to find him. They work fast, but words can travel faster.

There has to be a reason why Y/N went. Something there that would at least narrow the search.

Tim looked around Y/N’s room, searching for anything that would give him a hint. Anything.

He glanced at the bookshelf where the only book missing was the Moby Dick. A book about how a group of whalers get bested by a giant sperm whale that is believed to be a god. It is a book about a Captain that has a self-destructive obsession with the white whale called the Moby Dick. Based on a true story of a crew on a ship called the Essex.

“I’ve always felt bad for the whale.” Tim raised an eyebrow, staring at his brother who was stroking their youngest brother’s head as Damian slept on. The book In the Heart of the Sea in between his thin fingers as he met Tim’s inquiring gaze.

“There is no proof as to why the whale rammed into the Essex, but many believe it was due to a mistake. The hammering in the hull of the ship sounded like another whale.” Tim signed, ‘But why do you feel bad?’ Y/N smiled, “Because, not only were they being hunted but now a book written about how this one whale is the reason a reputable Captain goes mad really does paint them in a bad light.”

‘Whaling has been outlawed.’

“Still, I bet this book only increased it for a while.” Tim watched Y/N bookmark his page, closing the book before returning his hands to Damian’s head.

‘Do you like sperm whales?’ Y/N beamed, “I do. They really are such an amazing animal, I hope I get to see one in person.”

Tim stood straighter, pulling out his phone and doing a quick Google search. The Dominican Republic is the only place where sperm whales stay all year.

“There’s no way.”

“What.” Tim brushed past Damian, rushing down to the Batcave and ignoring the glare the youngest sent him. It didn’t take long to find whale sighting information. It took even less time to find the pattern. Series of reds, blue, yellows, and green decorating the waters around Dominican Republic. The red dots were where the most recent sights were, and he stared at the location his classmate was at when they saw the whale. Where Y/N’s photo was accidentally taken.

There is only one spot that the red dots haven’t reached yet, and if the pattern stayed true, they had about two to three days.

Tim fished out his phone, calling Bruce, “I know where Y/N is.”

+++

Bruce loves his sons. He would risk himself for them and would do everything in his power to ensure they are safe. Yes, they had been Robins, yes Jason had died, yes his and Dick’s relationship was still rocky, but damn did he love them.

He stared at a photo of when Y/N and Jason were 13, 6 months freshly moved into the manor, and it was him and Dick standing on opposite sides of them. Jason grinning brightly, holding a more timid Y/N’s hand who was holding onto Bruce’s jacket. Dick was crouching next to Jason, laughing at something the other had said before the picture was taken. Y/N, when they first moved in, had been terribly shy. He always hid behind or stayed next to Jason, and watched Bruce and Alfred with hesitant eyes. Jason on the other hand was outspoken with his mistrust, but willing to comply with their rules for some things.

Bruce remembers when Y/N first helped Alfred dress their bruises and scratches. Alfred taking on a more unruly Jason, while Y/N helped with the minor stuff on Bruce. He had rubbed Y/N’s head with his ungloved hand afterwards, and he watched as those E/Cochromic eyes widened before a large smile took over his young face. Bright and happy with little care in the world.

He had wanted to keep that on Y/N’s face forever.

Bruce will be the first to admit that he didn’t do a great job in that. All his failures hung in front of him, and Y/N and Alfred were reminders that those failures didn’t affect just him. Yet, Bruce watched Y/N power on. Continuing to keep his chin up and shoulders back, taking on the new day with more determination.

Y/N had learned to be strong on his own, and while yes, Bruce is extremely and undeniably proud of him, he is also worried. Terrified. Something he shared with everyone else. The world is unkind to people who are different. It’s unkind to people in general, but to add in something about yourself that you cannot control and that is different from everyone else, it is terrible. Y/N, for how normal he pretends to be, is far from it.

It stresses Bruce out. He is constantly worried for him, constantly double-checking and ensuring that Y/N is okay. Bruce doesn’t want to admit that he is softer to Y/N because he is deaf, because that is not the complete truth. If anything, Bruce knows he is more controlling of Y/N because of that. Always having to know where he is, who he’s with, what he’s doing and whether it is safe enough for him or not.

A helicopter parent that the child cannot hear.

So when Tim had told him of how Y/N had somehow managed to get to the Dominican Republic, and was most likely living there, Bruce wanted to flip a table. All for some whales. He was more stressed than impressed over the fact that his son, who had no experience with Robin or anything illegal, managed to not only get a fake passport, a fake ID, and then live in another country for three months.

“Oh that kid?” One of the locals recognized who Bruce was asking about, a smile on their face as they recalled what an excellent free diver he was. The man grinned, pulling out a camera that had Bruce raising an eyebrow, “I’m an underwater photographer. That kid is a natural in the ocean.” Bruce stared at the photos, and even he could admire just how in place Y/N looked amongst the coral reefs and deep blue. Long legs looked fluid, and his body lithe like the fish he swam amongst.

Y/N looked free.

“Pleasant to talk to as well. It's a shame he’s deaf, he’d be a great teacher for other free-divers.” Bruce wanted to deck this man across the face for stating that Y/N couldn’t do something because of his lack of hearing, but that would be hypocritical. How many times has he used Y/N’s disability against him?

According to Tim, this area is the next stop for whale sightings, meaning Y/N has to be somewhere around here. The family has split up, asking the locals and looking around the tourist areas.

“Did he say where he was staying?” The local shook his head, “No, didn’t ask either.” Bruce wants to break the man's fingers just to make sure the other doesn’t know. The local, as if sensing the dangers he was in, gulped, “But if I had to guess, he most likely lives near coral reefs.

“Somewhere he could free dive constantly without having to go out on a boat. Afterall, for how short of a time he’s been doing it, he’s extremely impressive. A lot of this sport takes practice.”

Bruce nodded in thanks. It is the Brucie Wayne smile now on his face, “Thanks, and how much for the photo?”

Y/N stumbled back to his place, his cheeks flushed and a giggle on his lips. In his hands was a bottle of homemade tequila from one of the locals he had just gotten done partying with, and the taste was thick on his tongue but he couldn’t deny that the heat in his belly was addicting. Stumbling into the tiny bungalow, he set the bottle down on the kitchen table and resisted the urge to take another sip.

Doing a quick stretch, he watched the waves crash against the beach, the full moon illuminating the waters and the white sand.

Only one more day and the sperm whales should be at this side of the island. Maybe they’ll be here tonight. Scratching the nape of his neck, Y/N released a pleased sound before making his way to his room to grab stuff for the shower. He moved in the dark, knowing where everything was and not needing to add to the electricity bill.

The room itself was nice, probably the most grand room in the entire space. Above the bed was a large window that allowed for natural light, constantly illuminating the room. In the soft light of the moon, Y/N navigated his room with practiced movements. The fire in his gut making him stumble sometimes, but nothing serious or even alarming. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes landed on the book on his bedside tables and something else.

Furrowing his brows, Y/N walked to that part of his room, and his eyes turned hazy momentarily as his fingers brushed over the external processor of the cochlear implants, thumbing them and feeling the cool metal under the pad of his thumb. Fond memories of when he first got his hearing back, if only somewhat, and the way the world burst into noise.

He chuckled when a memory popped up of him and Jason arguing, and Y/N had taken off the processors and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see or hear Jason’s argument. The fight dissolved into laughter, Jason hugging Y/N and the both of them landing on the carpeted floor.

They were the external processors he left behind when he left the Wayne manor. Decorated in small stickers that Tim and Dick jokingly put on them, and the small scratches from when Damian had accidentally dropped them.

The processors he left behind to start this new life figuring out how to cope with silence.

The processors… he left… behind…

His E/C eyes widened and he made a quick sprint for the door, dropping his clothes on the floor. He has to go outside where there is open space and where he can hopefully be seen by a local. His family of vigilants excelled in close-combat and combat the needed tight spaces. It wasn't like Gotham had a lot of room to begin with.

He had to get out of here. Y/N has to leave, or at least give himself a chance.

When he threw open the door, he almost collided into the broad chest of one of his brothers. His eyes glanced up and he met the crazed and desperate eyes of his twin. The red helmet off of his head and exposing the bags under his eyes. Guilt crushed Y/N’s chest, and he wanted to cup Jason’s cheeks within his hands. He wanted to assure others he was safe, that he was fine, and that he was ready to do this.

But they would never get it.

He took a step back instead. Jason followed, and Y/N nearly screamed when he felt the floor creak beneath his feet. 4 other pairs of feet moved, making the wood creak and vibrate under his feet and alerting him that they were all in his home.

‘Ready to come home?’ Jason signed, and Y/N felt the wood creak. Y/N shook his head, never taking his eyes off of the man in front of him. Jason's facial expression changed.

‘Too bad.’ Y/N dodged a pair of hands that were behind him and barely side-stepped another pair. Jason stood in front of the door, ensuring that Y/N could not leave through it. He remembers just how slippery the other could be, and he was not risking it.

Y/N raced to the kitchen, grabbing the handle of the tequila bottle, and holding it like a bat. In front of him was his family, Damian, Tim, Dick, Jason, and Bruce. None of them were dressed in their vigilante outfits, and that is because Y/N is not a criminal that needs a suit to fear. He is their brother who needs guidance from his family.

“C’mon Y/N, vacation is over.” Dick said, and Y/N had difficulty reading his lips but he understood it.

“No.” Dick’s jaw clenched and he could see Tim grab something from his pocket.

“Y/N. If you wanted to see the whales you could have asked.” Y/N scrunched his nose, and tightened his grip on the bottle, “Put that down, and let's go.” Y/N shook his head, “No. I want to stay here.” Dick’s lips pursed and Damian scowled, “Why? You have no hot water, you can’t cook, there is literally nothing here other than those whales.” Y/N’s face must have made a terribly pained expression because Damian looked like he had been the one to be chastised.

“I want to learn how to do things on my own.”

“That's so stupid Y/N. Come on.” Y/N shook his head, “No! No, I-I want to stay. I am the only one who get tre-treated like glass. Not even Babs gets treated like me!” Jason glared, “That is different Y/N, and you know it.”

“How?! She is in a wheelchair, and I am deaf. We are both handicapped, but when she wants to do something you have little complaint but when I want to do something you have an entire novel!” It's not fair. Y/N shouldn’t be mad at Barbara, because it is not her fault. But even he couldn’t stop the feeling of resentment building in his chest when he sees how free Barbara is compared to him.

Y/N doesn’t hate Barbara. He couldn’t hate her, because she’s his sister just like everyone else were his siblings. But he is frustrated. So undeniably frustrated. He spent an ungodly amount of nights laying awake and staring at his ceiling as he thought about it. Trying to find the reason why he is treated like the slightest gust would send him stumbling. He wanted a valid reason.

“I am deaf. I am not stupid or-or incapable of taking care of myself!”

“That is not why we are doing this!” There’s no point in yelling because he couldn’t hear it, but Y/N could see the way their throats flexed and mouths opened wider. Y/N shook his head, “I am not glass! I want to learn how to be inde-independent.” He had to slowly say that last word, but he got it.

“I. Am. Staying.”

This is exactly why Y/N left. This is why he left the way he did. Why he had too. They don’t get it. They’ll never get it. How could they understand? They have always been able to make their own decisions. They have always been able to do things that Y/N only wishes he could do. They had such a stangle-hold on his life that the slightest hint of wiggle-room, they only tightened their hold even more. It was suffocating and painful.

It was even more painful because Y/N still loves them, and he knows they love him. That this was just a version of their love that was unfortunately, or fortunately for everyone else, reserved for only him. A chain and leash meant for only him. A cage for him. With intricate gold bars that looked beautiful, but still kept him trapped.

He missed Bruce’s signal, but he watched how Damian was the first to move. Y/N isn’t too sure how he dodged Damian, the little gremlin he was, but he also knows that they weren’t going hard on him. He knows they are not treating him like a criminal, but as a brother. Which means, Y/N was somewhat at an advantage. Bruce and Jason had made sure Y/N knew the fundamentals to self-defense and how to use his surroundings.

His biggest downfall however, was him focusing on Dick and Damian, and forgetting that one of them technically could still intervene. Tim, with whatever he was holding didn’t join the fray and Jason was too busy guarding the door as a just in case. Which is why when a large hand gripped the wrist that was holding the still intact tequila bottle, twisting the joint in a way that had Y/N dropping it, had him crying out in shock. His short fingernails digging into the callused skin of his adopted father, Bruce Wayne.

The man stared at him with a heated glare and Y/N fought off the urge to shrink under the heavy gaze. However, he threw his weight back, trying to dislodge the grip around his wrist. Bruce used his other arm to immobilize Y/N’s upper body, stopping him from throwing an elbow or scratching his hand. Trapping Y/N’s body and making his already racing heart nearly burst in panic.

“No! Let go!” Y/N wanted to stay. He has to stay. His foot stomped and he released a cry, and when he looked down he wanted to cry. The tequila bottle had shattered, and Y/N was the only one who was barefoot. He could feel the glass cutting into the skin and the sting of alcohol entering the wound.

‘Shit!’ He grit his teeth, trying to push aside the pain and get Bruce’s grip off of him. Only, someone was touching his feet now and he didn’t mean to panic but he kicked up. Memories from Crime Alley filled his mind as large hands gripped his ankles, and Bruce’s grip changed to better accommodate someone who was no longer standing.

His throat closed up and he began gasping as he tried desperately to ground himself. His eyes blown wide and tears now streamed down his face as those hands were replaced with others. The darkness of the bungalow now shifted to the darkness of Crime Alley, and the way the counter and island now looked like the buildings of the Alley way had Y/N screeching. Thrown back into the past with painful shove and memories that clouded his vision.

“Jason! Jason! Help, help they’re touching me.” Another pair of arms replaced the ones around his arms, and the hands around his ankles let go, but it did nothing. Y/N was effectively back to the past where it was only him and Jason. Those strong arms encircled around him, keeping his own arms pinned and secured, and they began to rock.��

Tapping on his skin and Y/N’s mind began translating it. There was no ASL or Morse Code in Crime Alley, but when Jason and him realized he was going deaf they made their own. One that is unique to them.

One Y/N still remembers, and so does Jason.

‘It’s okay. It’s okay, no one is doing anything. It’s just me and the family.’ Y/N shook, and he struggled to catch a breath. There is a hand on his chest, trying to ground him, and he wonders if that hand is the one that is gripping his lungs and making it so hard to breathe.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay. You are here. You are safe. We’re safe, and we’re going home.’ Before Y/N could process that, there was a sharp prick in his neck, and before he could shout once more a hand covered his mouth, and his body tried to escape the grip. His thrashing only got weaker and weaker as whatever drug was given to him.

His eyes grew blurry and the last thing he saw was Jason’s face.

++++

Waking up was hard. His head felt heavy and his limbs couldn’t move. Opening his eyelids seemed impossible, but when he did he groaned. The light was too bright and his limbs too heavy to do anything other than to continue groaning.

A hand rested on his forehead, and Y/N was too exhausted to try and shake it off. He could hear some shuffling and he furrowed his brows. He took off his external processors a few months ago…

That night returned to his memory full force and Y/N groaned from the headache. The hand on his forehead moving to massage his temples.

“Shh, I know. You had a crazy time.” It's been a long time since he heard Bruce’s voice, but it was still deep and gravelly just how he remembers. Y/N turned his head with difficulty, and met those blue eyes that have been staring at him intently.

Y/N opened his mouth, but closed it. The argument he had with everyone was still fresh in his mind, and he couldn’t help but to continue feeling bitter. Bruce, sensing his son’s thoughts sighed exasperatedly, “Y/N, I admire your drive for wanting to be independent, I really do. But pulling a stunt like that is exactly why we worry.” Y/N scrunched his nose, “You don’t trust me.”

“That’s not-”

“It is. If you did trust me you would let me stay out later than nightfall and would be okay with me traveling without a babysitter.” Bruce removed his hand, and stared down at Y/N. His expression is painfully neutral, “Y/N.”

“You, and no one else in this household, trust me. Then you sit here, listing out everything I do that makes you lose your trust in me, but it’s hard to lose what I never had,” He was voicing his opinion, an opinion that he has had for a while but has never said anything about because he didn’t want to interrupt the balance.

More importantly, he didn’t want to admit it to himself. They always called him trustworthy, but they never did trust him. He trusted them though. He trusted them with his life, with his secrets, and his insecurities. Then they throw all of that back in his face and expect him to continue making the same mistakes.

Bruce sighed, as if he was talking to a child that has needed to be told multiple times why they can’t put a fork in a toaster. He met Y/N’s E/C eyes, staring into the irises and seeing the truth behind his words. One of his fingers gently touched one of the external processors, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I don’t trust other people. This world is awful to people who are different.” Y/N scrunched his nose, and Bruce continued, “You still panic when your ankles are touched.”

“That’s not fair! That was a stressful situation and you all just made it worse and then-”

“I know. I know. Dick knows and he is sorry about that, but you stepped on glass.”

“You made me drop the bottle.”

“You shouldn’t have been dri-”

“I’m 23. I’m legal to drink in every country.”

“Y/N-”

“I was fine.” Y/N wanted to cry. He had a taste of freedom and then it was taken from him. Forcefully so.

Bruce stood up, almost knocking the chair back as he did so, and Y/N flinched. He was unable to move still, because whatever drug Tim had given me must have been a muscle relaxant as well. He watched as Bruce schooled his emotions, quickly swallowing them down and then sighed.

The man leaned down and pressed a kiss into Y/N’s H/C locks. His hand now cupping Y/N’s ear and external processor, “You are grounded until I say otherwise, Y/N. You will stay within these Manor walls until I believe you have learned your lesson.” He ignored Y/N’s face of exhaustion and disappointment. Not at himself, but at Bruce. The man made his way to leave, but before he closed the door, he looked back at his son. His son who had turned away from him and was taking note of the bars over the windows.

Bruce closed his eyes, feeling his disappointment in the situation and shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it.

_________

THIS WAS SO LONG!!!

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fandomluver-101 · 11 days ago

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Talking with friends has made me realize something. I'm likely one of a small few that never liked Caitlyn way back in season 1. The moment she told Ekko "it's a misunderstanding," I hated her. Telling him he was wrong about how the Enforcers treat the people of the Undercity, how they're in Silco's control as well?

There is no defense for such naivety, not when she's ventured into the Undercity and seen what the place looks like, seen a glimpse of their suffering. "This city needs healing," but she had no issue POISONING the city because one person killed her mother. Caitlyn took her mother's work and used it for PURE EVIL. She proved exactly why Piltovans are irredeemable to me.

All of Piltover's progress is built on the lives of Zaunites, their castle is held aloft by corpses. Caitlyn's privileged lifestyle was only possible because of that and the moment she has an excuse, she adds to the pile of corpses with not a HINT of genuine remorse.

But oh, feel bad for her because she was betrayed (after SHE betrayed, abused, used, and discarded someone else)? Have her saved by the very people she saw no issuing brutalizing, poisoning, and oppressing when it suited her mood? Act as if this is a GOOD and TRIUMPHANT thing!?

The writers' idea that Piltover and Zaun are both wrong and set aside their differences against Noxia pisses me off the most. Please note that at this point, Zaun is not ZAUN - they are still Piltover's "undercity." They struggle to breath because of Piltover, they die enmass from lack of basic necessities because of Piltover, they are wrongly incarcerated because of Piltover.

Piltover has always been the wrong party, the bad and morally bankrupt side - even compared to SILCO of all people (in my opinion), Piltover is just the worst and nothing can redeem the. That badass entrance of Jinx and the Zaunites SHOULD have been them decimating BOTH Piltovan and Noxian forces without discrimination. It's literally what Piltover deserves for their actions!

As I told my friends, Zaun literally has NOTHING to lose and EVERYTHING to gain war. Freedom does not come without a war, a fight, a bomb killing the council and a terrorist killing the faces of their oppression (Enforcers). Jinx becomes a symbol of revolution BECAUSE of this. We as viewers love her BECAUSE of this (and her being a complex and sympathetic character in general).

Piltover had everything to LOSE if Zaun was independent, that's literally why they snuffed out any rebellions and have Enforcers to begin with! There is no misunderstanding, there is no moral ambiguity, there is one side in the right and one side in the wrong. And Caitlyn, to me, is the embodiment of that WRONG - she claims to want the best for Zaun until it doesn't go her way and now she will enforce her will and wants on them because she CAN.

She doesn't deserve to be portrayed sympathetically and Piltover did not deserve to be saved.

#anti caitlyn kiramman #arcane #arcane critical #arcane criticism #arcane critique #i hate this crap #and theyre going to do the same crap with demacia #fuck riot #there is no moral gray theyre OPPRESSORS #anti piltover

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itsonlyjoseph · 2 months ago

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Make Me Bleed || Eddie Munson x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N wants to find a way to thank Eddie

Warnings: some angst

Word count: 4.3k

Part 1

You had been trying to wrap your head around the interaction with Eddie all day, the next day. You hadn’t yet listened to the Walkman Eddie gave you or the tape he left with it.

You wanted to, but you were nervous. Nervous for what exactly, you weren’t sure. But nervous nonetheless. At school, you had planned to leave a note in Eddie’s locker, asking to speak privately with him. You were going to say thank you for replacing your Walkman but that you needed to know why he hated you so much. But he wasn’t at school. Again.

You wanted to ask Eddie’s friends but they were even scarier than he was so that was out of the question.

You decided to cut your losses and just forget out it until you saw him.

Later that day, after school, you were laying on her bed, curled up like a fetus with your headphones over your ears and Eddie’s Walkman sitting next to you.

You were listening to the tape he gave you as well.

It definitely wasn’t your kind of music, but in a weird you kind of liked it. Kind of like Eddie. He was the same. You just couldn’t bring yourself to hate him.

By the time Saturday came around, you hadn’t seen Eddie in a few days.

You knew that he played guitar in a heavy metal band because gossip flew around the school like crazy, plus you’d seen him carrying a guitar case out of the Hideout once.

You were probably way out of line but you decided to best course of action was to go watch him play tonight and then hope to speak to him afterwards. It was probably a bad idea for many reasons. You had no idea if Eddie would even give you the time of day and the bar was pretty sketchy on a good day.

It almost 9 pm when you decided to get ready and cycle over. You didn’t really dress up. This was just meant to be a conversation and a quick thank you for the Walkman. Nothing else.

You’d arrived at bar almost 40 minutes later. The street was dark and dungy and there were some questionable people around. Most older, tatted biker dudes and a plenty of old groupies that would have been beautiful 25 years ago.

Walking in, the air was stale and smokey, making it hard to see and navigate around. The bar was decently packed as well. After all, the Hideout was the only bar in town that allowed all kinds of people in. It definitely didn’t discriminate the way some of the nicer cocktail bars in town did.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. It was obvious you didn’t belong here and it was obvious that your anxiety levels were through the roof.

You saw the stage. It was small and covered in carpet and had a lonely drum set and amps and guitar stands but no band members. You had no idea if Eddie even played on Saturdays but you figured you’d take your chances since the last time you saw him outside the bar, was a Saturday.

You excused yourself to no one in particular and tried to find the bathroom to freshen up and try to loosen your mind.

It was covered in graffiti and stickers and the mirrors were cracked but it offered some muffled silence. Looking in the mirror, your anxiety’s were sky rocketing. You didn’t dress like the people here or do your hair and makeup like them. You looked like a sheep amongst wolves, and it felt like they were waiting to tear you apart.

Walking back out into the main bar area, you decided to just go home. You’d never felt more out of place and suddenly your plan was sounding more and more stupid.

As you walked out towards the front door, you noticed that the band was making their way onto the stage. Eddie’s curly hair caught your eye and you stopped in your tracks. He wasn’t smiling or anything but he seemed for relaxed that usual. He seemed at peace.

The band started playing and Eddie lost himself in the music. And he was good. Very good. He was so good that he probably could’ve been a professional or famous.

They played several more songs as the night wore on and granted, it wasn’t your kind of music but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. His bangs stuck to his forehead and his arms glistened with sweat.

It was making you question why you came here.

It almost 2 am when they finish up their set. You didn’t realise just how much time had passed until you looked at your wristwatch. The crowd cheered as the band members made their way off the stage.

Now that the prospect of talking to Eddie was getting closer, you decided to test your luck at bar and order a shot just to calm yourself. You hadn’t really ever had alcohol besides a few sips of your dad’s beer and half a wine at Christmas.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked. He could probably tell you were underage just from your body language but something told you this wasn’t the establishment that cared too much.

“Uh, just a shot of… uh..” you tried to squint your eyes at the shelf behind him. “Uh, that one.” You said pointing to a miscellaneous bottle of clear liquid.

The bartender chuckled humourlessly before grabbing the bottle and pouring a shot to place in front of you.

“Here, first one’s on the house.”

“Oh, well then I want another.” You said, quickly downing the shot. It burned more than you thought it would and tasted terrible.

You slapped a five dollar bill on the bar and downed the second shot. That one burned even more than the first one.

Considering you’d never really had alcohol before, definitely not like that, you felt a little dizzy. And hot. This wasn’t a nice feeling and why people actually did this for fun, you didn’t understand.

You saw Eddie’s mop of hair walked over to him. He was turned to you, chatting to someone with a beer in his hand when you tapped his shoulder. Eddie turned, ready to tell whoever to fuck off. He didn’t expect to turn around and see you standing before him.

“Y/N?” Eddie muttered, confused to see you.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Eddie’s large hand gripped around your elbow and yanked you into the hallway that lead to the bathroom. It was significantly quieter with far less people.

“What the hell are you doing here? This isn’t the kind of place you should be.” He said, clearly frustrated.

“Uh, I wanted to see you.” You mumbled, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Eddie paused for a moment.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I wanted to speak to you. I-I didn’t really get a chance to say thank you for apologising and for-for the Walkman.”

“Yeah, well you just did so leave.” He huffed.

“Why did you? You didn’t have to give that to me. I was gonna save up for a new one.”

It almost seemed like Eddie didn’t know what to say. Like he didn’t know the answer himself.

“Thank you, though.” You said. You figured Eddie wouldn’t say anything else.

“That’s the only reason you came here?” He asked and you nodded.

“Uh, I guess I’ll go now. You played really great. I recognised some songs from that tape you gave me.”

As you turned to leave, Eddie called out to you one more time.

“You don’t have a car.” He said to which you simply shook your head. “So you rode that bike here?”

You said nothing.

“You can’t ride your bike home at this hour. Especially not in this part of town.”

You hadn’t thought about that but he was right. Biking home after work was scary enough, let alone at almost 3 am.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be okay. I can’t really call my dad. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s okay Eddie, you should stay with your friends.”

“No, I’ll drive you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

What Eddie had said made your tummy drop. You didn’t really know if he meant here or just in general but you chose not to question it.

You followed Eddie out to the parking lot. It was still warm enough and there was a light breeze in the air.

Eddie drove a van, you knew that much.

“Wait, I thought your uncle said you lost your license again?”

“Like that’s ever stopped me.” Eddie mumbled, opening the passenger door for you.

Once you were sat in the van, Eddie stopped and looked at you. “Listen, just stay here for a sec. I need to get my guitar and then I’ll take you home. Okay?”

“Okay.” You smiled softly. He didn’t return it.

Eddie walked off, back inside the bar and you sat back, taking a breath.

The alcohol was wearing off and the fatigue was setting in. You never stay up this late and felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier until you drifted off into a relaxing slumber.

Eddie returned moments later and loaded his guitar into the back of the van, making his way into the drivers seat.

“Okay, so where do you li-“ Eddie began to say but stopped himself when he saw your eyes closed and your lashes gently resting against your cheeks. Gentle snores were coming from your mouth and Eddie couldn’t bring himself to wake you up.

He didn’t have enough gas to just drive around until you woke up and he didn’t want to sleep in the van so he did the only thing he could think of.

He took you to his place.

He wasn’t sure how you’d react when you woke up in the morning but he’d try his best to not scare you off.

It wasn’t long until he pulled up to the trailer park, parking next to Wayne’s truck.

Eddie opened the passenger door and took a deep breath, hoping you could chew him out later. He unclipped your seatbelt and picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the steps and into the unlocked trailer.

Wayne was inside, snoozing on the couch. He didn’t work weekends and took that as an opportunity to actually sleep at nighttime.

Eddie carried you down the hallway and into his bedroom, careful not to hit your head on the door frame, and gently placed you down on his unmade bed.

You unconsciously curled up into the pillow as your mouth fell open, those gentle snores coming back. Eddie looked down at you and sighed. He really was sorry for all the things he’s said to over the years. He probably didn’t mean them. Or maybe he did and he’s just a terrible person. It wouldn’t surprise him. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.

Eddie knew that it wouldn’t be right to sleep in the bed next to you, especially without your knowledge, so he wondered over to his desk and sat down. He probably would’ve slept on the couch if Wayne wasn’t out there. Eddie felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier until he laid his head down on the desk and drifted off to sleep. Luckily for him, it wasn’t the comfiest sleeping position so he was tossing and turning all night, meaning he woke up before you when the sun was out.

He lifted his head with a groan, his neck feeling much tighter than the night before.

Eddie turned and looked over at you, laying in his bed sound asleep. You looked so peaceful and calm to him. His mind once again went to all the nasty things he’s ever said and done to you over the years.

He got from his desk and left the bedroom. Wayne was up when Eddie got into the kitchen. Making a cup of coffee, ready to head out to the porch for his morning cigarette.

“What’s wrong with you?” Wayne mused when he saw the tired, stiff look on Eddie’s face.

“Didn’t sleep good.” He mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because my bed is occupied.” He deadpanned, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Wayne stopped what he was doing and turned slightly to look at the back of Eddie’s head.

“By who?”

“Just a girl from school.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raised as he turned fully to face Eddie. Eddie has never mentioned a girl before and has never even mentioned being interested in one.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Eddie huffed, angrily.

Wayne put his hands up in mock surrender at Eddie’s abrasiveness. “Okay, okay, just make sure you’re being safe.”

“It’s not like that!” Eddie raised his voice. Wayne knew Eddie had a bit of an anger problem. He inherited that from his father. He also knew that Eddie had trouble expressing his emotions.

“Then… what’s it like?” Wayne pressed, curious.

“It’s like… I don’t know! It’s not like anything!”

“Okay, Eddie.” Wayne said, walking to the front door as Eddie went back to his bedroom.

Sometime during the night, Eddie managed to remove his shirt. The trailer was always so hot at night that it was almost impossible to sleep in clothes unless it was winter time.

He didn’t have the heart to wake you up just yet, enjoying this foreign feeling of peace for the moment. He opened up his window and sat under it, at the end of the bed. Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette and felt the breeze from outside float through his hair.

Eddie was half way through his cigarette when you began to stir in your sleep. He looked over and saw your eyes opening gently. And he got nervous. Would you yell at him for bringing you here?

“What time is it?” Your gentle sleep filled voice the room, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Uh, around 7.”

“I guess I fell asleep before you could take me home.” You mumbled sheepishly.

“Yeah, I, uh, didn’t wanna’ wake you.” Eddie stubbed out his cigarette.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I bombarded you at your hang out spot and then took up the rest of your night.” You muttered.

“It’s okay.”

“You seemed… mad that I was there.”

“I just didn’t expect to see you in a place like that.”

“It wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie huffed, as if the laugh humourlessly. “Full of bad people, though.” Eddie looked up at you and suddenly liked the way you looked sitting in his bed with messy hair and sleep in your eyes. “Why do you think I’m there?” He tried to joke. Key word being tried.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Eddie.” You said softly.

“You’d be the first.” He mumbled so quietly you barely even heard it.

You moved out of the bed to sit on top of the covers, only a few feet of space between you and Eddie.

“Actually, there was another reason I came to see you last night.”

Eddie looked up from his hands when you moved closer.

“I wanted to ask you… why don’t you like me? What did I do?” You asked and Eddie saw the saddest in your eyes.

Eddie let out a shallow breath and looked down at his hands again.

“I don’t know.” He said softly.

You gulped and felt a pit in your stomach at that.

“Oh, um… did I do anything?”

“You’re happy… have a good dad.” Eddie was ashamed but he didn’t want to lie.

“Ya know Eddie, despite what Principle Higgins said to you, that doesn’t have to be your life. You could do anything.”

“Yeah like what?” Eddie spoke at a normal volume this time, his voice holding a frustrated edge. “Go off and be a doctor or a lawyer and marry some girl from the right side of town, have a bunch kids with a white picket fence? Huh?” Eddie was getting angrier now. He’d rose off the bed and was standing now. “You think there’s anything in the cards for me that’s not prison or something very similar?”

As Eddie paced around his bedroom, spitting out horrible things about himself, you suddenly realised why Eddie was the way he was. He was scared. He was scared because he knew what his life would be. He knew that his fathers influenced affected him. He needed someone to tell him that he wasn’t his father. He didn’t someone to care about.

“Ugh!” Eddie huffed and growled, frustrated. He drug his palms into his eyes and gripped the hair at his hairline.

You got up from the bed and walked over the Eddie, gripping his wrists gently and pulling them from his eyes. He flinched slightly at the contact.

“It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t know how your life is gonna turn out. It doesn’t have to be like that.” You said softly as you looked up at him.

Eddie stared down at you with his eyebrows furrowed. His expression was once again unreadable but he didn’t try to remove his wrists from your hands. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, not knowing what to say so he just kept staring at you.

Suddenly, a gentle knock came, breaking you both out of each others gaze.

“Eddie, I’m g- oh Y/N, hi.” Wayne said, opening the Eddie’s bedroom door. Look on his face showed that he was confused by the situation.

“Hi Wayne.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“Uh, I’m heading into town so I’ll be back later. Do you two need anything?” Wayne asked. He couldn’t help the smile on his face. He figured his nephew was probably gonna start dating or hooking up with people soon if not already. He was a teenager after all. With Eddie’s personality and attitude, Wayne was nervous that the first girl he picked up would be some easy bimbo that would wind up pregnant and he’d be a teen dad, so when Wayne saw that it was you standing in Eddie bedroom with him, he was elated.

“Okay.” Eddie answered him, his face hard.

“Nice to see you, sweetheart.” Wayne nodded at you, closing the door.

“Listen, Y/N, you don’t have to waste your breath on me. I know what’s gonna happen to me and so do you. Just drop it.” Eddie moved to sit on the edge of the bed, finally breaking away from your grip. “Besides, girls like you shouldn’t hang around with guys like me.”

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t believe it, Eddie. I really believe you can do anything.” You said, sitting beside him on the bed. You were closer than you’d ever been.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes you do.” You reaffirmed as you took his hand. Eddie had never really felt his close to someone before. It made his spine tingle. The physical contact, plus the words of affirmation made him feel things he didn’t like. “You deserve everything.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Eddie mumbled, looking right at you.

Tingles ran down your spine at his words. You were confused. You thought he didn’t like you.

“Do you-do you want me?” You were scared of the answer but wanted to know so badly.

Eddie huffed. “Doesn’t matter.”

Before you could respond or even process what he has said, Eddie stood up and walked to the door.

“I’ll get your bike out of my van.”

Once you were alone, you breathed deeper than you has all morning. You wanted to know what Eddie meant but you didn’t want to push him or annoy him.

You walked out of Eddie’s trailer to see your bike leaning against the steps and Eddie’s van gone, him nowhere in sight.

You cycled home and felt conflicted. What did Eddie mean? Did he hate you or not? Did he want you like that? Did you want him like that?

When you got home, your dad was out in the garage, working on his car. You ditched your bike near the garage door and walked up to him.

“Hey dad, what are you doing?” You asked.

“Oh, hi pet. Where were you last night?” You dad said as he looked up.

“With a friend.” You offered.

“Oh, okay. I’m just trying to fix this damn timing belt.” He chuckled.

You gulped. “Dad, can I ask you something.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked without looking away from the cars engine.

“It’s about a boy.” You mumbled. That made your dad look up.

“What about it?”

“Well, this guy at school. Everyone seems to think he’s a bad person and honestly, I kind of did to for a while but lately I’ve seen a different side to him. I know he’s a good person, he’s just trouble and didn’t have a great upbringing. How am I supposed to make him see that he’s not the loser he thinks he is?”

“Hm. That’s a lot to take in. Why is this boy so important? Maybe he really is a loser.”

“He’s not. He’s actually really talented and I can tell that there’s more to him than he shows people. I think he just needs someone to depend on.”

“Who is this boy, anyway?” Your dad asked.

“Uh, It’s Eddie Munson.”

Your father looked at you with a worried look on his face.

“Petal, I don’t think I like the idea of you hanging around that Munson boy. I knew his father-“

“But that’s the thing, dad” you cut him off. “I know that Eddie’s nothing like his dad. People have told him that he’d be nothing, just like his dad his whole life and I know that it’s not true.”

Your dad took in your words and thought for a moment. It’s true that he knew Eddie’s dad back in high school and saw what a trouble maker he was and the petty criminal he turned out to be. But he also knew that you didn’t chose where you came from and that you were a smart girl.

“Okay, sweetie. If you think so. I know you’ll make the right choice

“I hope so”

“All you can do is be there for him. Show him you won’t leave and show him that he matters.”

“Thanks dad.”

“You’re a kid, Y/N. I’m lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you as my dad.” You smiled up at him.

“Get outta’ here.” He chucked.

You smiled and ran upstairs to your room. You wanted to go and find Eddie and tell him that you’d be there for him and that he deserved happiness as much as anyone else but you had no idea where he went and you didn’t have his number.

Tomorrow was Monday and Monday meant school. You hoped that Eddie would be there so you talk to him again.

That night you went to sleep with a heavy heart and your tummy in knots and in the morning you spent a little extra time in front of the mirror. You brushed out your hair and applied your makeup and picked your outfit just a little bit more careful than usual.

At school, the hallway was crowded as you hung around Eddie’s locker. You didn’t actually know if he went to it often or not but this was your only option right now. When the hallways emptied after the final bell, you made your way over.

Last night, you had written a note to slip into Eddie’s locker.

‘Eddie, meet me at the picnic table in the woods after school - Y/N’

6 and half hours later, you were sat in the woods, alone, hoping that Eddie would show up.

Your palms were sweating and your knee was bouncing. You kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You hadn’t really thought about what you would say if Eddie showed up.

“Hey.” You heard a low grumbled behind you.

You turned quietly to be met with Eddie’s hard face.

He slowly walked over to the other side of the table and sat down, dumping his jacket on the old wood.

“Why’d you call me out here?” He asked.

“I wanted to talk. Talk about what you said yesterday in your room.”

“Y/N, just forget about it-“

“I like it when you say my name.” You cut him off, looking down.

Eddie didn’t really know how to respond to that. All of yesterday afternoon, his thoughts were plagued with you. The way you were so kind to after he’d been awful to you. You way your hand felt over his. The way his spine tingled when he remembered Wayne called you his girlfriend. He’d never felt like this before.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I really did mean it when I said you can do anything.” You smiled.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked.

“Because I can see that you’re a good person under that hard shell. And I want you to know that I… I guess I care.”

“You care about me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

You took a deep breath and rose from the bench, walking around and sitting down besides Eddie.

“When you said you didn’t deserve me, what did you mean?” You whispered.

“Y/N..”

“Please tell me.”

“I don’t want to drag you down with me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. No matter how much I want to be near you, I can’t.” He whispered back.

“You won’t drag me down, Eddie.”

“I drag everyone down, Y/N.”

“I’m not everyone.”

Eddie’s eyes glazed over like he was lost in thought as he stared into your eyes. He’d seen plenty of attractive women in his time. At school, at The Hideout, on the street. None of them looked back at him the way you were right now.

“Eddie…” you whispered, scooting closer. “Kiss me.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #mean!eddie munson #bully!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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kurokawaia · 22 days ago

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DAY TWENTY FIVE - CORRUPTION 彡 Madara Uchiha

WARNINGS :: corruption, virginity taking, discrimination, breeding, size kink, madara is mean, degradation, x fem reader, restraining (using hands), prone bone, slight choking? afab, she/her terms, reader is timid / shy / scared / inferior / shorter than madara, CNC, Old ideologies regarding birth! + more

| WC :: 3.7k+ | MDNI | 18+ | kinkmas m.list

It was a reletively public wedding, so the entire village could see the bond growing further between the Senju and the Uchiha. All the villagers thought that it was a beautiful love story, one were the two of you fell for each other despite being from enemy clans. But how could they be so wrong, it was nothing of the sort.

It was an arranged marriage.

This was the elder's decision, thinking that it would be a more secure way to confirm that the Uchiha would not fight back in the further future. The decision was made for the protection of Konoha and being Hashirama and Tobirama's timid, innocent little sister, you couldn't object.

It's your first night within the Uchiha estate, specifically Madara's. You stand in silence biting your bottom lip, in which the red lipstick that was previously there at been removed. Not only by the rigid kiss the two of you shared at the wedding but because of you nibbling on the flesh.

Your hands grip the primarily white kakeshita, you don't know what to do, Madara isn't in the room with you right now and you are too scared to do anything. You were a Senju, but now you are an Uchiha, bounded by those ridiculous ceremonies, paperwork and those vows. Startled, you jump slightly at the creak the door makes as Madara slides it open, stepping into the room. His eyes trail up on to you, previously analysing every part of your body. YOu could feel it, it is so strong, the scrutiny in his gaze, the judgment. "It would appear the Senju couldn't even grant me a worthy wife. Just a fragile little thing, aren't you?" Madara scrutinises and a shaky breath leaves your mouth. Your stomach clenches at the words. Of course, he doesn't hide how much he hates your clan even now that you two have been wed. You feel small under his gaze, and his height. The way he looks at you makes you feel so inferior.

To Madara, you aren't his wife, you are just a filthy Senju only here to bear his children.

"I didn't ask for this," you whisper, your voice trembling. He lets out a low chuckle and closes the space between you. "You think I asked for this? To be tied to the likes of you? A Senju, a weakling, a woman from the enemy's bloodline?" His words cut deep and the tears prick at the back of your eyes. You mean nothing to Madara but a means to an end, nothing more than a tool for him, to bear children, to give him strong children.

Madara moves around you, so now that he is behind you, his chest is almost inches away from your back. "What did your brothers think? That by sending you to me, it would make me forget the blood spilled between us? That I'd forget how your family has tried to crush mine for generations?" He adds. You flinch. Your blood running inside you was a brand of shame in itself, reminding you that no matter how hard you tried, you would never belong here, in his world, the Uchiha world, no matter how equal your clans really are. "You're nothing here," he sneers. "Nothing but a Senju in an Uchiha household. A reminder of everything I despise."

He steps closer, so his hot breath fans across your neck and your back tenses. His hand reaches up, catching your chin in an iron vice as he forces you to meet his gaze. "And now, you're here in— my bed, in my house. But don't let yourself think you'll ever be anything more than a Senju dog." Your heart races in your chest, but you grit your teeth, god, you're so scared. Madara gazes into your eyes. "I will never think of you as a Uchiha," he announces. "You shall never be of us. Our children? Yes. But you? Never." Your chest tightens. You feel yourself start to unravel, piece by piece, under his cold gaze and cruel words. You want to be able to fight back, scream at him, and make him see that you're more than the blood running through your veins. The hate weighing upon you from him crushes you, rendering you mute. The silence is then broken as Madara speaks once more, "Get into bed, it's time you played wife." Your heart sinks, and a wave of dread washes over you. There is no love in that command, no affection. His lips ghost on your neck, below your ear before pulling the sash that held your marriage kimono together before he slips the fabric down your shoulders. Instinctively, when the fabric slips to your elbows, a gasp slips past your lips and you pull your arms to your chest, covering your exposed body.

"W-Wait," you managed to squeak out, your heart beating furiously, you swear that it was so loud that he could hear it.

You hear the click of his tongue and can feel the roll of his eyes. "What, woman?"

"I've... never... done anything... like this," you say quietly, your hands trembling, holding the fabric tighter to your chest.

"You'll do as I say, dear," he hums, emphasising the last word, almost to mock you. "I wouldn't want to... hurt you." Scared, you nod timidly, still clenching the fabric as you walk towards the futon, your body getting heavier with every step. You only just barely managed to sit on your knees, your weight on the insides of your feet.

Your gaze was kept tight onto the sheets in front of you. Hearing a light thud hit the floor, you glance up through your mascara-tinted lashes, and you see that the sash holding Madara's wedding attire is on the floor. You can clearly see his abs through the opening of the kimono and his pants had been stripped too, you can clearly see the bulge in his underwear.

Then, the last of his main attire was pulled off his body and tossed onto the floor, now he is only donned in his underwear, his body bare in front of you. And before you knew it, Madara was kneeling in front of you, tugging the fabric roughly out of your hold.

Suddenly, the breath from your chest left with a sudden escape of breath as your body fell hard to the futon, Madara's bigger hands restraining your wrists beside your head. Your eyes widen while your lips tremble at the sight of Madara above you, his face so close to yours you could fall apart underneath his gaze.

Madara closes in, his nose almost touching your own and your breath hitches. "I'm going to ruin you," he hums, moving his head to your shoulder, his lips skimming across your flesh slowly.

God, you were trembling, you've never felt like this before, this sensation was making you loose your mind. He was being so mean to you, to one of the kindest people in Konoha, making you feel like nothing, and yet, how he made your body feel was something words couldn't explain.

You were so focused on how he was so close to your neck, that you completely missed how Madara had already slipped down your underwear. His thick fingers pressed against the top of your pussy, so, so, so close to slipping in and hitting your clit.

Your back arches into the touch a breathy gasp falls from your lips and you want to scream in embarrassment. All you wanted to do was to cover your mouth and you couldn't even do that with how Madara was pinning your hands above your head.

"Fuck, you're sensitive," Madara mumbles to himself, feeling and seeing how you react to such a simple touch, he smirks agasint your neck.

He's going to enjoy this.

Opening his mouth slightly, he latches onto the dip from your neck and you squirm underneath his imposing touch. His legs spread apart your own, rendering you unable to move. Madara's stature is so big, that you didn't think you would be able to move anyway, considering how his weight was pressing down on you, how his warmth was seeping into you.

Helpless whimpers leave your mouth as he sucks at your soft skin, leaving marks all over your chest while his fingers still lightly play with your folds, though, they never pushed past, teasing you.

"Please...." you whimper quietly, pleading into Madara's ear so softly and as much as Madara wanted to hate your voice, it sent shivers down his spine.

"Please what?" he asks in a low tone, lips finally pulling away from your red collarbones.

Your breathing is ragged, cheeks flushed a pinky-red hue from Madara's touches. "Please... could I have more...?" you question slowly, quietly and Madara smirks at the obvious nervousness in your voice.

"More?" he teases, pressing his forehead against your own and you gaze into his obsidian eyes which sent electricity down your spine.

You nod small, "...Yes."

A hum comes from his mouth as he pushes his fingers past your folds, two thick fingers pressing against your clit and you moan shamelessly. You want to cover your mouth but can't, your hands are still bound above your head.

His fingers venture further down, tracing a path along your slick slit. The touch is electrifying, causing you to tremble in his hold, your body responding to his every movement. A whimper escapes your lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you.

"So wet," Madara hums as he presses his thumb against your clit and you moan, your back arched agasint the futon. Madara frowns to himself knowing that your eyes are screwed shut

At your reply, Madara's fingers experimentally push past your slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. A moan left your mouth as your back arched at his touch. your reaction caused Madara to press down slightly more and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

You felt his fingers slide down and he found your seeping hols, drenched with arousal. You felt a finger slowly slide inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. As much as Madara hates the Senju's he couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for you, your face contorts into pain after a few seconds so he stops, head tilting.

"W-Wait," you whimper. "Gi- Give me a few seconds."

"Why should I wait for you?" Madara hums, eyes slitting at you.

"Hurts," you replied trying to regulate your breathing.

A tsk left his mouth, "It hurts because you're tense. Relax," he orders and you let your body relax under him, your breathing all controlled. "See? Doesn't hurt as much now doesn't it?"

You shook your head. "Exactly," he adds and he begins to pump his digits in and out your drenched cunt.

"So good," You whimpered as he slowly pumped in and out your soaked walls.

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves you unable to contain your moans. You press your lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within you. His fingers explore the depths of your core, igniting a fire that consumes your every thought. Each movement, each curl, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

You surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes you closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and you are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins.

As Madara's fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of your seeping hole, there was an unfamiliar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, pleasure tightened inside your stomach. you wrap your shaky legs around him, seeking to anchor yourself to him amidst the overwhelming pleasure. your body quivers with anticipation, responding to his every touch, every movement.

"Wait!" you sob, writhing under him. "Feels funny...."

"You're going to have an orgasm, just let it happen," he scoffs, beginning to scissor his fingers, respectively hitting your soft, gummy spot every single time.

you chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

In response to your plea, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice laced with desire. He begins to press your clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing you to arch your back in response.

"Feels weird," you sob. "Feels... good too... though."

"You'll take it," Madara asserts.

The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until you are on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and you are consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs you.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. you managed to release your from Madara's neck and move away from his hold.

Your legs are trembling around his waist, your cum and arousal soaked the sheets below you, dripping down your ass from your hole. As you open your squeezed-shut eyes, you see Madara take a taste of his fingers, licking a stip up his digits, swallowing your cum and your cheeks burn red.

Madara almost groans at your taste, so sweet, he can't wait for you to break and split from his cock. Your whimpers and screams of overstimulation are going to be heaven for him. You pull your hands from his grasp as you feel the hold loosening and cover your face. It was an immediate reaction, Madara quickly pulled your hands back above your head.

"You will not hide from me," Madara commands and your bottom lip trembles as you nod.

God, your legs fall lip on either side of Madara on the futon and they tremble. Then you felt a big bulbous tip press against your entrance and you arch your back into the pleasuring sensation, a moan slipping past your innocent mouth. All you wanted to do was paw at his chest, and leave scratch marks everywhere, but you couldn't.

"Please... I... want to... touch you," you whispered through your whine.

A humoured chuckle leaves his throat. "As if I'd let a filthy Senju touch me."

You then got flipped around so suddenly, your breasts pushing against the futon, hands still pinned above you, face squished into the pillow. You then felt Madara's mass press down against your back and you let out a soft whimper at the sudden weight. His abs were flush against your back, hands gripping the backs of your own, pressing them into the bed.

Madara's breath tickled your ear and you wiggled your head at the warm sensation, your core getting wetter, your body trying to squirm away from the imposing hold that he had on you. Madara's hands moved slowly, changing his grip so that one of his hands held both of you over your head, being cautious not to get your hair entangled within the movement.

A content sigh leaves your mouth when Madara raises his body ever so slightly, trailing his free hand down the expanse of your smooth back before his fingers meet your slick entrance, dripping with your cum.

"You're going to take all of me," he mutters against your ear before taking a nibble at your ear, you let out a gasp at the sudden action.

Then you felt a heavy, throbbing tip press against your clit and you moaned from the small touch. You tried to squirm away from the pleasurable cause but couldn't, he knew you were gonna try to run from his body due to the pleasure. So, he pressed his weight against you once more.

You held your breath when Madara sank his throbbing cock into your spongey walls, his length getting squeezed by every ridge within your soaked cunt. A groan leaves Madara's mouth and a moan from your own as his length nudged the deepest spot within you.

Madara could've busted right there and then, your tight walls constricting him made him tense. You feel so good, and he couldn't wait to take you again and again, to fill you up to the brim with his cum every night.

Madara moans, relishing in the way your walls clench him, how could he not want to cum inside, you feel so good. His free hand grips your hip and he admires how you have perfect hips to give birth for, for a Senju, you're a perfect wife to breed.

Madara didn't move, he wanted to relish in on how you desired to cause friction, desired to move against his touch, but couldn't. Madara's cock, prodded so deep in your gummy walls that you whimpered in pleasure, but that didn't stop him from not moving. He was still snug inside.

Hot and heavy kisses trail down from your ear down to the dip of your neck to shoulder and a breathless sigh escaped your parted lips before Madara rolled his hips into yours. A moan slips out of your mouth, his thick length scraping all the sensitive parts of your warm insides.

Madara's knees spread your legs apart so that any advances from you ensured that they would be shut down, so that you remained situated below him, your pretty body that paled in comparison to his frame. As he expected, you couldn't move from his trapping embrace.

His movements became faster, his cock thrusting into the depths of you needy hole as strained moans and whines left your throat. Madara was panting in your ear and an occasional deep groan slipped past his lips, the sounds which made your cunt flutter tightly around his length.

Madara was filling you up to the hilt, his throbbing pink tip hitting that soft, gummy spot in your cunt that caused you to scream out in fulfilment. "Close?" He breathed in a humoured tone, causing you to let out a moan and sigh, body shaking with pleasure.

Your body tried to arch away from the pleasure, not being able to take the strong rolls of Madara's hips, but as you arched your back away, his thrusts only aimed deeper, harder into your G spot. You sobbed out, tears filling your lash line. "Too much, Madara.... S-Slow down.... too much."

"Oh?" he smirked, his hips moving now at a faster pace, loving how your cunt squeezed his cock even though you wanted him to slow down, "It's alright, you can hold out," he coos.

Repetitive moans left your mouth while he pounded into your tight heat. You suddenly had the instinctive urge to press yourself into his length, but you couldn't, his weight was too heavy for you to move against him, and you were utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"Please, I wanna come," you cry out mewling.

Your body trembled beneath him and the hold he had on your hands loosened. Your hips were getting held, then, the strength he possessed lifted you onto your knees before a bicep wrapped around your throat, lifting your head. It wasn't a tight grip but the power lifted your head from the futon while you shakily rested your weight on your elbows.

Your back arched heavily, finally being able to sink more into him. "Madara...?" you asked in a hush tone but he didn't reply and you wanted to sob because you just wanted one last thing. "Madara... please... I wan' a kiss, please."

"A kiss, huh?" he groans out. Madara hunches over you, pulling you closer to him and connecting your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, grunting into you while he swallows your moans.

"Good, taking me so deep," Madara groaned, pulling away from your mouth and pushing this arch into your back deeper.

He watched your ass ripping again his lower abdomen, watching your cunt with black iris'. Observing how your walks sucked him in, leaving a creamy white rind of your cum and arousal around the base of his cock.

"Making you feel so good, aren't I?" Madara groaned his head tilted forward, sweat beading on his forehead as we watched your fall apart and tremble from his dick, watching your innocence fade away, broken moans slipping past your plump lips.

"Gonna fill you up," Madara groans. "You're taking me so deep, deserve to have my cum."

"'Wanna come, please," you beg, wanting to feel the release, desperate as the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. "Want it so bad."

You clench around his length as he increases his pace, instantly accommodating to the speed but your moans escalate. "Such a filthy Senju," He leaned down and mumbled in your ear chased with a deep moan that stirred your insides clenching around his length.

"Want it so bad!" you whimper, unable to comprehend any thoughts that swelled into your head.

"C'mon darling," he growled and you spasmed around his length as your high washed over you, your legs shaking as his weight pressed down even more than it was. His thrusts didn't slow causing you to whimper in overstimulation, but Madara helped it, his hips continuing to rut into mine, helping you ride out your orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan, his lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, his cum spilling inside you causing you to moan into his kiss. And you felt more of his cum spill into your fertile womb, painting your insides white, you could almost feel your stomach bulging from how much you had of your husband inside you.

Madara slipped his softening length out, and pulled away from the kiss as you slumped to the futon, his eyes chained to the white splotches of silky come that spilled from your gaping cunt, watching with a slight frown as the cum spilled from your cunt.

You're going to look so good plump with his children. He's going to make sure you get pregnant even if that means having sex morning and night.

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