#he was the first person to assume that about me
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GEEK! SATORU GOJO / FEM! READER ᗢ𓄹 ׅ ࣪ ˖ ⊹
⚠️ WARNINGS: masturbation, dirty fantasies and thoughts, pervert behaviour, down bad Satoru, submissive Gojo, no actual smut (smut in part 2), very suggestive, NSFW, virgin Gojo who is severely downbad for reader.
A little bit of Geto/Sukuna x reader
PART 1 | PART 2
geek!gojo who is entirely obsessed with anime, video games, and whatever weird shit he can find on the internet. He can play boring simple games but they are nothing compared to the ones with heavy lore. Is it weird he is also obsessed with the lore behind all of these games? How the games were founded, what they mean, the creators themself, why was it made and the depth of every character.
whenever he found something new and intresting it will take over his entire personality.
geek!gojo would know weird facts about the creators of his intrests too. Like who bothered to find out or who even cares to find out that one of the creators of animal crossings birthday is April 7th? If you ever had a birthday that was the same as one of them he is IMMEDIATELY informing you.
geek!gojo who rambles to Geto about fortnite lore and any other lore he needs to tell someone, no one else cares to listen to him. Hell even Geto don't give a fuck but listens anyways (his ass is NOT listening and Gojo knows that).
geek!gojo who is in college and is a known loser. Glasses, Dragon Ball Z wallpaper, and a fucking random dinosaur as his phone cover. Trust me, that dinosaur has a lot of lore too that you WILL be informed about if you are anywhere near him.
Hence why no one goes near the guy.
geek!gojo who sees you for the first time, a transfer student. You are so utterly beautiful in his eyes he is already thinking how to ask you out with cheesy pick up lines that refrences his favourite game at the moment.
geek!gojo who seethes with jealousy seeing how easily you fit in with normies, its not like he knew if you had intresting taste, he just gave you his own little headcanon on some things he assumes you will share intrest with him.
annoyed!geto who has to not only hear about Satorus geeky ass topics, but now a girl he has never spoken to being his potential future wife. Sure you were overly pretty, but would you really want a geek like Satoru?
geek!gojo who has been eyeing you for almost a month now, same classes as you but never had the chance to utter a word at you. Instead he sits at the back with Geto, staring daggers at you (his way of rizzing) for not paying attention to him. He is mad how you found yourself in a big popular friendgroup, and seated sooooo far away from him.
geek!gojo who knows YOUR lore. Geto says its creepy but Geto doesn't know anything. Gojo is aware of how many siblings you have, your favorite food, drink, color and everything he could possibly grab by purposely earsdropping on your conversations.
Yet no sign of you sharing geeky intrests with Gojo... oh well, if you really are just an extremely pretty and cute normie, he will just have to teach you about everything he likes one by one!
geek!gojo who gets teased and bullied by the other people in your friendgroup, it was never physical, just constant nagging comments.
"Whats the nerd doing here" they would say, or "Isn't that the guy that has a roblox girlfriend?" He didn't have a roblox girlfriend that was just a rumour! It was just his own Miku avatar they got confused with! He hopes to god you dont believe that rumour! He is single and looking, looking at only you!
YOU who never batted an eye at him when your friends would tease him. It bothered him, not exactly how you would think...
Yes, he would love if you defended him, he would cry tears of joy. He wants that more than anything.
But you wouldn't give him that, the least you could do is join in the teasing. He ached for you to give him any sort of attention. Why were you standing there minding your own business when the rest of your friends are gossiping about him! After all this time do you not care to know about him? Even if it is to laugh about how much of a loser he is?
nerd!gojo who starts trying to find ways for you to notice him. Did you not realise how lately he only wears your favorite color? Look! He is eating your favorite snack!! Don't you want to ask for some? Ask him how much he likes them? Where he bought them? If you want to get some with him? Date him?
tired!geto who constantly bugs Gojo to forget about you, as the two sat in class. The teacher was reading out who gets paired with who for some project. Wait!! This is it!!! The sensei is obviously going to pair you and Gojo, thats how the fanfictions go... right?
geek!gojo whos ears perk up at the sensei calling your name, then swears someone shot him 568 times when he hears the name to go along with it.
"Suguru Geto"
geek!gojo is fuming, this is not how it's supposed to go! What happens if you get too close with Suguru during this two week project?
"Satoru and Sukuna" of course, he has to be paired with your annoying friend. There were even rumours of you two dating! Does this mean he is paired with your maybe secret boyfriend?
geek!gojo who suffered the two weeks of dealing with Sukuna and his friend getting you in all your glory. He would beg for Suguru to ramble on about you. But of course Suguru never gave much information to feed Gojo's curiousity.
geek!gojo who has never had pussy in his life. Actually, he was never one to think about girls that much. His games were far more important, and catching up on the authors life from his favourite underground manga sounded better than dreaming about girls.
But damn his mind never forgets to think about how cute and sexy you look everyday.
You come in every day with a skirt, he thanks the heavens when it looks a little shorter then the last time he saw you. When you wear baggy shirts and hoodies is allows him to fully visualise how you would look in his, and that just aches his cock...
The days you wear knee high socks its like you decided to gift him with life, blessing him, giving him a reason to come into college, reason to live. Don't get him started on the days you wear slightly revealing tops, or extremely tight ones.
Hell when you wear a baggy shirt that shows your shoulder he is fucking losing it, mumbling under his breath about how much he wants to lick and bite your exposed skin. He can see your bra strap and its driving him critically insane, why does he act like such a loser virgin teen. Well, he is two of those things.
geek!gojo who has all the compliments in the world to give you when he sees you walk through the doors, sitting far away infront of the class with your lame friends. But he cant bring himself to utter a word to you, how dare he be the first to speak to you, a lowly thing like him.
geek!gojo who is ripping his hair out at the back of the class, as much as he loves your laugh and giggles, it poisons his heart knowing they are all towards... Nanami? What the fuck! You even started speaking to Nanami before him!! Did you really look down on him, to the point you would neither pay positive or negative attention to him?
Oh well... because geek!gojo has many fantasies of you in his head, curing him from the loss of your attention and touch. Sure, his thoughts of you spiral in his head whilst in your presence and he can't contain himself nor his constant boners in class from the sight of you. But once he is all alone in his dorm room he can finally releif himself from his dirty thoughts.
Hand on dick, biting down on his lips, pants discarded.
geek!gojo was never one to masturbate that much, the sensation from how he used to do it before you to now is totally new and much better and sensitive because he actually had someone in mind, someone who deserved to be the one to make Gojo feel like this. So whiny, so needy, so.. submissive...
"ah- pleaseee let me come"
"ahh! ngh i need it baby"
He begs as if your there, the one toying with him. His hand is fast and he is getting more desperate. He cums quick by visualising your soft lips, nice smelling hair and wide innocent eyes.
Fuck. He was in deep...
What would you be like in bed? Submissive? would you be shy when he enters you or would you shout at him for taking so long? Would you be more dominant? Order him around, straddle his face and crotch. Tell him to be good for you for a treat? Bark Beg for you? Oh and now he's hard again...
consultant!geto who tells Gojo to
"start giving up, seriously. I dont want to see you hurt Satoru"
Is Suguru right? Gojo asks himself...
Maybe... he should try to stop... thinking about you so much... you're out of his league anyways and you've made it clear you want nothing to do with him. Gojo can take a hint, right?
geek!gojo who is sprawled on his bed again the same night, hand moving in a fast pace, moaning and screaming for you in pleasure. He misses you despite never getting to be around you. He needed you so bad.
geek!gojo who is panicked in class. Not only is Suguru off sick, making him alone, but you weren't in today. What was the point of him coming in? What was the point of him practicing how to talk to you infront of his mirror like he does everyday before college?
His heart is tainted, looking at your friend group bunched around together but your seat staying empty.
The lights in the class dimmed, a short film the sensei is playing about some aspect of human biology. Whatever, he wasn't one to study much or pay attention, he thinks as he carelessly pulls out tetris. Around seven minutes go by and right beside him the door opens. Gojo's seat is right by the entrance of the door, so he got a good view of you walking in, out of breath, tight top, knee high socks and messy hair.
Apologies to your teacher were said, the sensei dismissing your poor sense of time as you were usually never late. Gojo is extremely curious on why you were late, wants to question you like an insecure clingy boyfriend.
"Its fine, just quickly find a seat and dont interrupt the film" The teacher says to you as your eyes scanned the room for an available seat. Walking to your usual seat would be a nuisance... you would have to embarrassingly walk in front of everyone and interupt the film again, and Sukuna was near your seat, you dread to sit next to that weirdo.
geek!gojo who is ultimately curious at the sound of Sugurus chair being pulled back, and someone else taking it.
"Is Geto in today?" you ask quietly. You were staring... right... at him... Gojo was silent, still staring. Your first words ever to him. Even if it is about Geto, you spoke to him. That's all he cared for in the moment. It took him 13 seconds to respond to your question by shaking his head 'no'. You looked at him awkwardly, obviously you were weirded out by him being so... dumb? silent? lost? out of it?
He can barely function in your presence, and your words and your lingering eyes and your attention.
He finally gets what he has been wanting for ages but hes being all shy and weird about it, you were probably regretting your decision of sitting by him.
But geek!gojo was jumping and frolicking in joy in his head. YOU were sitting right beside him. You looked in his eyes, talked to him (even if he didn't say anything back) and is sitting by him for the rest of the film. He hops to god this film would never end.
"You are fine with me sitting here, right?"
you whisper again, eyes glues to his face, worried if Gojo is annoyed by you and thought you were overstepping his boundaries. This time he nodded his head 'yes' a little too fast, scared if he was hesitant you would leave. You gave him a quick smile before turning all your attention to the film. You smiled at him?! His fingers are already fidgeting with the desk, his tetris long and forgotten about.
its been about 4 minutes and geek!gojo wont stop geeking. He smiles to himself, leg bouncing up and down. His poor heart can't handle this.
He can tell you were bored out of your mind, he watched you pull out a peice of paper from your bag and start to... doodle?
He feels like a fake fan for finding out so late that drawing is one of your hobbies.
He desperately needs to see and praise every art work you've ever made, his eyes continously peek at your paper.
geek!gojo who immediately recognises the characters you drew. Kirby? Six from the game my little nightmares? Hello kitty doodles and stars everywhere. His heart melts, he loves your little style and finding out you share a few intrests of his make his heart bounce everywhere in his body. He is afraid he cant control his racing heart and only you can catch it.
"kirby" he says. It's all he says to you.
You two share an awkward silence, but Gojo can't back down now.
"Sorry i uhm i uh- i uhh" he stutters, he cant make the decision to look straight into your eyes or his fidgeting hands "uh i also like kirby. Although, i wouldn't grant kirby to be my favourite character from the kirby games, he is infact a good main character and i hold no dislike for him but i do find meta knight to be a much better character. Not for the main character lead, just in general, meta knight has a very intresting, cool character design and i find him to balance out the game correctly and appropriately. I think meta knights introduction to the game definitely holds-" He was interrupted by a giggle by you, your smile wider than ever. Hell, he never knew you could smile like that, all it does is make his hear flutter and face flustered. He got to be the reason you're giggling and smiling at him like that?
"I agree meta knight is awesome, although, i personally like waddle dee the most. His character design may be simple but i still-" Hearing you ramble on not only surprised him, but made him happier than ever. This entire time you truely was his dream girl? His headcanons about you were canon.
geek!gojo who got to talk to you for the rest of the lesson, quietly of course. You two talked about things you shared intrest in, and he talked about stuff he likes that you've never heard of. He loved how you would question stuff about his intrest, showed intrest in what he was talking about and actually listen to him. You cared for what he had to say about his useless stuff.
geek!gojo who paid attention to everything you say. When you hit him with a fun fact about something he already knows and thinks its bare minimum knowledge for real fan, he is acting like it’s all new to him. You talked about topics he never really knew of too, every word spoken by you made him fall for you deeper and harder.
geek!gojo who is now rambling on about you to Geto after Geto asked why he was so smiley over facetime.
"Idiot Suguru! You said i never had a chance with her, look at us now"
jealous!geto who immediately knew you and Gojo would hit it off if you guys spoke to eachother once. Spending time with you during the two week project let Geto realise how great the two of you would be together, yet, Geto wanted to... gatekeep you? Who knew Geto would start feeling something for you too.
note: i have much more to yap about, there WILL be a part 2
PART 1 | PART 2
@kivrumi do not steal / copy / reword / translate my work
#kivrumi#nerd!gojo#geek!gojo#jjk#jujitsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#geek!satoru#nerd!satoru#jjk fluff#jjk smut#geto suguru#ryomen sukuna#satoru gojo#jjk satoru#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu satoru#jujutsu gojo#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo smut
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your whole life you'd been celibate, at least that's what you've told everyone your whole life.
it'd started when you entered middle school, being an early bloomer n'all you had what most girls didn't— boobs and an ass. you’d been cautious since then, especially once the attention of guys in your grade began to grow, and so had the teasing. but that doesn't mean you wanted them. the baggy clothes you wore to cover up yourself represented that— you didn't fit the shoes of someone who took pride in showing themselves off.
you’d grown to dread the look in their eyes, how they looked you up and down but especially when they’d let their gaze linger on your chest and ass before looking back up to your face. it made you feel objectified, no less of a person and just a pretty doll to take their lust out on, nothing more than their own personal toy.
that was till you met jj.
you’d seen him around the island in a faded black hoodie always wearing that stupid cap and a joint perched between his lips, all you knew of him was that he was blunt, a smartass who wouldn’t sugarcoat anything to save your feelings— he spoke to people like an equal — and it intrigued you. safe to say that year in ninth grade you made it your personal mission to get to know him, although you'd went to elementary and middle school, you never really got to know him.
you'd expected nonetheless for him to be alike to all the others boys in your grade, but with jj it was different, something about him felt so real to you. he was attractive, and not in that pretty boy look-at-me kind of way that the boys were; with his messy unkempt hair, that you assumed he'd cut himself— the permanent scowl on his face and the scruff on his chin like he never bothered putting effort into his appearance.
you’d never thought you’d even find yourself being with him, at first it was just because he was the one guy who caused trouble any chance he got, looking like the typical bad boy that every parent warns their child about, and that you should definitely steer clear of. he certainly did catch your eye, though. every time he’d be sitting on his own outside smoking, his hands fiddling with the lighter, you’d find your eyes drifting towards him during lunch, only to snap yourself out of it.
your sucked back into reality by jj, he’s kissing against the sensitive skin of your neck before his lips move higher to your ear, nipping at your lobe before letting go to speak, that voice of his all sultry and deep sending chills to your stomach. he's applying sloppy kisses to your cheek now, the sweat created within the two of you becoming slippery and it's a struggle to keep close.
you’re on your back, legs wrapped like a bow around jj's waist as he works to satisfy you— his hair is getting longer and messy, strands sticking together from the sweat and it’s hanging over his face, the ends tickling over yours whenever it gets close enough and it’s absolutely wrecking your brain and you can’t get enough of it; the sight and the touch, his face, all of it.
you can't keep the moans contained much longer— it all becomes to much. he’s pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip to stop your moans from getting too loud. “shh, shh..” he mumbles, and you’re trying your best to hold them back but you can’t really help it when everything feels like that and it’s so hard to keep quiet. “you gotta stay quiet.” his voice is so gentle, and you manage a whimper as you nod, feeling him smile against your skin.
“mnghh. oh — oh fuuucck, right —” the way he’d groan low like that, the sound coming from deep within his chest — like he was in need, like you somehow felt too good to handle. both his hands were gripping the underside of your thighs, anchoring you to him, keeping you close, keeping you in place. you’re panting heavily, mouth open in ecstasy as you whine out his name — it was embarrassing, it made you feel so vulnerable in his arms. you’re desperate — for release, for him, you’re squeezing around him.
you look like you’re in bliss, head dropped back in ecstasy, letting loose all the sinful moans that you know drive him absolutely feral. his fingers grip the undersides of your thighs, holding you down on the pillow while his mouth sucks and bites at the skin of your neck, teeth leaving behind an imprint of his possession. the sounds of your whines and whimpers bouncing off the walls, adding fuel to the fire that’s burning away deep inside him that drives him forwards, craving your pleas and gasps as they spill out through your perfect pink lips.
he’s swearing, breath coming out in huffs, eyes almost screwed shut — as though taking in every last single feeling, and he’s looking down at you, looking at the way you’re writhing under him — mouth hanging open in a constant string of moans, eyes glossy, hair messy and sticking to your forehead.
he thinks to himself that you look almost pornographic, the thought makes you suddenly feel so exposed, he’s looking at you with such adoration, and his pace is steady but firm — but you feel so bare under him, it’s starting to become a little overwhelming — almost too good, too intimate — overstimulating. it’s too much, and you suddenly start to squirm, as if trying to get away almost — but you don’t go far. he’s too in-control — he always is — even in such intense circumstances, he holds you in place, keeping you on his bed as he murmurs lowly, keeping his voice even and smooth. ”c’mon, don’t start doing that now. be a good girl." he coaches you, giving you a rough pat to your side.
the praise alone nearly makes you start to whine again, his voice is commanding you, soothing you, it’s sending heat through you straight to your core — and it’s only then that he notices your trembling. "jayj! it's— too much!" your legs struggling against him, nails digging into his scalp and back, squirming all around like a cat getting a bath.
”oh, baby..” a pause. he starts to speak, the tone more loving than before. “is it too much, honey?” he lets his voice go soft as he asks tenderly, and you’re suddenly feeling so spoiled by him, feeling so loved and full, he lets go of one of your thighs to check on you.
you feel sensitive, overwhelmed. a little shaken up if you were to be honest, but with the way he was treating you like fine china in this moment, you were beginning to feel better. it was hard to form any words, you’re trying to even your breathing, hands coming to rest on his shoulders — you’re holding on to him, needing to feel his strength as you calm yourself down. you just needed him, always did. you nodded sweetly, flashing him a cheeky reassuring smile— "uh-huh jayj m' okay!"
his eyes almost gleam when he sees that beautiful smile of yours, and he’s letting out a slow exhale as he takes in your blissed out expression, taking in everything there is to see — he’s starting to calm down too, feeling satisfied, but it all comes to a stop as he hears the tone of your voice. "you’re such a good girl, you know that?” he murmurs, and you feel so safe in his arms, feeling like his own personal teddy bear in the moment — something to keep close, to adore.
as it’s your first time, it was expected to be overwhelming — you’d never felt so full in your life — so vulnerable. his touch was so gentle as he kept going, making sure you were okay. it’s intense, but his constant caresses and praises keep you calm and reassured. it’s a lot but it’s good and there was no one you’d rather be with to take that first step. "i love you."
“god, you’re a lil angel, ain’t you.” he murmurs, his tone all velvety, you think you would’ve melted right then and there if you weren’t already a puddle under him. he takes your hands from his shoulders and pins them back next to your head now, using his hands as leverage to hold you down and keep you in place.
it’s only a month into your weird situationship and he’s got you completely entranced — and he can see that. you like to pretend you’re not clingy, that you weren’t absolutely enamoured with him, the pining look in your eyes betrayed you. he’s never been the “exclusive” type but having you constantly coming around and begging for his attention all the time was starting to warm his heart, in a way that he wasn’t used to. it felt nice.
you bat your eyelashes at him, taking his time and being patient with you, making sure everything is perfect and you feel good— even made sure you felt comfortable on your back, propped up stuffed animals although that's bare minimum, you still appreciated the effort he put into your first experience, it turns you on more then ever, you know he's ticking not to go rough on you. "y'could go rough y'know."
he’s scoffing, shaking his head a bit, his hands are rubbing your wrists now — rubbing light soothing circles on the sensitive skin. “don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart, i don’t wantcha hurtin’ yourself.” he speaks softly, keeping his tone gentle and light. protective almost, like you were a delicate little bird he didn’t dare scare away.
“please.” you murmur, voice pleading, hands clawing into his shoulders. “just a lil harder? i want it, i can handle it.” he bites his tongue, jaw muscles clenching — he hesitates just for a moment, eyes flicking between you and the headboard as he weighs up his options. he knows if he does what you ask it’s over for him, all his self-control is gone when you’ve got him so soft.
“you don’t know what you’re on about. just — just trust me, okay? i’m not gonna hurt you. i need you to trust me.” his hands are rubbing your thighs again, trying to soothe you before his tone turns almost stern. "y-yes, i trust you. just..” you pause for a moment, taking in his intense gaze, his hands still resting on your thighs, holding you on the bed as he looks down at you, struggling to defend your own honor.
“ “please? i can take it. i just —” you began to ramble, noticing when j went silent you cut yourself off, suddenly embarrassed, suddenly feeling so small under his gaze.
’m i understood?” he looks at you pointedly, waiting for an answer. he can be so authoritative sometimes, it’s a bit surprising when he's the goofy one in the relationship.
you want to argue with him on it but you can't bring yourself to do so, he's still inside you after all and you can feel his movement even if it's fatal. but it does things to you, you can’t lie, making you feel all warm and fuzzy. it makes it hard to argue back at him, especially in this vulnerable position — he still hasn’t broken eye contact with you, waiting with that firm look on his face for your response. for the little time he knows you, he grew to adapt to the fact that your silence speaks louder than your words.
it’s only a few moments but it feels like forever before he looks away, sighing out as he turns his head, breaking the intense eye contact. he’s still continuing his gentle ministrations as he starts to speak again. “i’m just looking out for you, okay? you’re new t’this and i don’t want things getting any rougher than the basics for your first time, yeah?”
just as your about to let it go, forget it and confide into him— your hit with something you can't find to put into words. it happened accidentally because the position you were in began to cause an ache in your back, you shifted more frontal up and back to fast. it all happened so fast, your head goes fuzzy from the unexpected feeling. it’s like electricity is coursing through your spine, heat and pleasure spreading through every nerve in your body. “oh — oh! fu-” it’s so intense and a part of you wants more, but another part of you panics at just how good it felt, it feels like too much but yet you find yourself clenching tighter around him as he keeps you pinned, like your body is betraying you to feel more of that feeling.
she’s completely embarrassed, feeling so flustered at the loud moan that escaped her. it didn’t make it any better with the way he grinned a smug smug grin that made his handsome features all the more striking. it’s almost condescending when he speaks again, tone cocky. “aww, my baby got her first milestone, squirting!” he says in a voice that should be used for a school graduation, but instead it's for you, because you had an orgasm.
it makes her heart pound, even more so when he brings one of his hands up to her face again to caress her cheek in a reassuring motion. “i was only teasin’ yuh, darlin’.” he chuckles lightly, “you’re doin’ just fine, okay? you’ll know what y’can take and what you can’t, all you needa do it tell me.” his voice is caring, and gentle. he was always so caring of her, always so gentle, so tender like she was fine crystal and he didn’t want to break her.
before you could even acknowledge what had happened, he’s already pulling out, sitting back down against the headboard of the bed before you lay against him. he pulls the blankets up around you, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulders and pulling you close. “did so good, honey..” he murmurs as he runs his fingers through your hair tenderly, you can feel the rumble in his chest against your ear, his low voice soothing.
you just smile, accepting the praise and his love— a little irritated that your left to wipe up the liquid you'd oozed out, still a little surprised all that came out of something so— little.
#jj maybank#jj maybank is cutie#jj maybank prompt#jj maybank x reader#jj obx imagine#outer banks#fem reader#jj maybank smut#cw smut#not proofread#first time writing smut#girlwhorizzed#jjmaybank x reader
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Best of My Life (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-BAU!Reader)
guess this is a 5 times hotch let’s the team see his relationship
word count: 1676
warnings: unspecified brutal case, alcohol, tattoos, established relationship, axes, sweet!hotch
note: the bar scene is from my favorite scene in one of my favorite movies check it out here (all credits to the movie) frank farmer gives me hotch vibes
tag: @bernelflo based on your request though I did go off track I’m so sorry I tried my best
1️⃣
Hotch finally got a break from the team’s badgering after they met you. Well kind of. While they finally got to see you and meet you in person, they were still curious about your relationship and dynamic.
Once Penelope asked if you had met Jack yet, Hotch wouldn’t shut up about you two.
“Oh my god, he’s worse than Spencer.” Derek shook his head, leaning against his desk as he watched Hotch tell the girls another story about you. Something about you being good with an axe.
“Hey!” Spencer yelped.
When Hotch introduced you to Jack for the first time, you’d all went axe throwing. You picked the activity not wanting Jack to think you were boring. Jack ended up loving it and loving you.
Spencer’s mouth gaped as he watched Hotch pull his phone out to show the girls a video of you and him taken by Jack during that date. While Jack’s teenager instincts told him it was gross, he thought it was nice to see his dad so sweet so he recorded it. The video showed you pressed up against Hotch’s back as you moved his arm in the correct position to throw the axe. You kissed his cheek and gave Aaron space to throw the axe and for your safety. When Aaron hit the target, you cheered and clapped your hands. “Your dad isn’t too bad, huh Jack?” You stated before the video ended.
Hotch tucked the phone away before heading back up into his office.
“I would never have thought Hotch would be sharing his private life with us.” JJ smiled into her mug.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Penelope sighed, dreamily. “They’re so cute together. Oh shoot, he forgot his coffee.”
Penelope picked up the black travel mug adorned with “best boyfriend ever” in cursive on the side.
“Look!” JJ pointed at the words. “He’s so whipped!”
Penelope took the cup up to his office not bothering to knock. “Here Hotch, wouldn’t want you to forgot that you’re the best boyfriend ever.”
“Thanks, Garcia.” Hotch smiles, doesn’t even comment on her light teasing.
2️⃣
While away on a case, the team noticed Hotch had stepped away to answer a phone call. Assuming it was work related they didn’t say anything until 10 minutes later, he still hadn’t come back.
“You think he’s okay?” Emily asked.
“Let’s go check on him.” Derek urges.
Much to their surprise. Hotch is seated in an empty room, legs kicked up on the table, leaned back, and phone to his ear.
While he’s happy to hear from you and listen to you ramble about your day, he does know there’s a case to be solved and an unsub to be stopped. There’s a sparkle in his eye though his lips aren’t smiling. He wouldn’t want anyone to see him smiling during a case so brutal and get the wrong idea.
Derek and Emily hear snippets of his side of the conversation.
So, you took him to the zoo and aquarium? You’re spoiling him too much.
I know I wish I was there with you both
Where are you going to dinner? Use my credit car. It’s in my nightstand
When I get back, how about we go to that spa you’ve been talking about? We can get a couples massage
Why wait until Valentine’s Day when we can go now?
Okay, we’ll stop by the pie shop on our way back. I’ve got to head back the team is probably looking for me.
I love you.
Hotch looks up to see the amused faces of his two agents.
He stands from the chair and straightens his tie. “Sorry about that, y/n has been calling me to make sure I take at least 10 minutes a day for myself during cases. She says I’ve been working too hard.”
“Happiness looks nice on you, Hotch.” Derek states and it’s definitely not his normal teasing.
3️⃣
When they’re back in the office and it’s a paperwork day, the team decides to order in for lunch.
Penelope knocks on his door to get his order and sees he’s already eating. “Already got lunch, sir?”
“Yes, y/n made this incredible meal last night and packed me some for lunch. Come give it a try.” He pulls out a spoon from his lunchbox. Garcia internally squeals. Her boss, Aaron Hotchner has a lunch box. She can see that it’s a plain black lunchbox. On the right side there’s a small net holding a few napkins, a set of reusable utensils, and a folded sheet of binder paper with ‘A <3’ on it. On the right side, there’s an open Tupperware with some chicken, rice, and vegetable dish. There’s a granola bar, bottle of water and cup of yogurt.
Garcia approaches the desk as Hotch scoops a little bit of everything on the spoon and hands it to her. He continues eating as he reads a document on his desk. Garcia hands him back the spoon and agrees at how tasty it is. She leaves Hotch alone to enjoy his home cooked meal.
4️⃣
Hotch laid on his right side, propped on one elbow and feet crossed at the ankle. You sat on the same lounge chair in front of him but facing away. Hotch had his free hand rubbing at the lower half of your back while you talked to JJ and Will about the concert you and Aaron had went to last weekend.
“You should’ve seen him! I mean I didn’t know the frozen margaritas would get him so drunk!” You laughed. “Aaron danced and sang the whole time.”
“I really liked the music.” He shrugged. You had introduced him to one of your favorite bands and he had gotten you tickets.
“I had to massage his knees the next day.” You laugh. “Poor baby was so sore.”
“I was more than sore. I was in pain.” He smiles. “Not to mention we had gotten tattoos that day.”
Record scratch. The other members of the team pause their separate conversations to inquire more.
“You got a tattoo?” Garcia squealed.
“Nothing too flashy.” He smiles, “something tasteful.”
“Well let’s see it!” Emily gushes.
You show them your leg, a small ‘AH’ in something similar to Times New Roman inked onto the back of your left ankle.
Aaron sits up, rolls his sleeves up, and shows his forearms. On the right is a small ‘J’ and on the other side in the same font, your initial, etched just below his elbow crease. He wanted something he could cover during work, like he said, nothing too flashy.
“That’s insane.” Spencer mumbles. “I am actually speechless.”
“Very tasteful, Aaron.” Dave raises his drink to Aaron.
5️⃣
You’d been invited by Hotch to join an after work outing to get some drinks.
Hotch and Dave stood at the bar, discussing Rossi’s upcoming vacation plans. Hotch listens but keeps his eyes on you. Partially for safety reasons but mainly because he loves looking at you.
While you dance with the girls, twirling and smiling, a woman slowly comes up to him.
“Hi.” She says breathy and sultry.
Aaron takes a sip of his drink, his eyes barely flickering to the woman before narrowing back on you. You throw your head back and grip Emily’s bicep as you laugh at a particularly raunchy dance move from Penelope.
Aaron thinks, just ignore her and she’ll go away. She unfortunately doesn’t get the message and squeezes herself between Dave and Aaron.
“I couldn’t help but notice how handsome you are.” The woman coos as she begins to press her body into Hotch’s side. “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room.”
“Why don’t you go back there and keep watching.” Aaron roughly pulls his arm so it’s not touching the woman. She’s taken aback and rushes back to where she’d come from, clearly embarrassed and humiliated.
“Brutal, Aaron.” Rossi laughs.
“Not interested, Dave.” Hotch meets his eyes.
“Clearly.” Rossi nods his head in your direction. Aaron’s eyes turn back just as you’re approaching.
You’re not quite drunk but not quite tipsy either as you stumble towards him. “Hi handsome!”
“Hi honey.” He sets his drink on the table and his hands immediately find your hips.
“Did you see Penelope? Her moves attracted a new friend.” You laugh and turn in his arms to watch Penelope and said new friend, Willard. Aaron’s not shy in pulling your back into his chest. You willingly lean back into his chest.
Aaron follows your gaze as he watches an older man, white hair with a big cowboy hat and boots spin Penelope around. It’s all just fun, nothing serious.
“You know, I’d like to see you in a cowboy hat. Bet you’d look real good.” You state.
“Me? In a big hat like that?” He chuckles. “I don’t think so.”
“No? Maybe those dark blue jeans I like on you but no shirt.”
“You want me to be a shirtless cowboy? That’s way too out of character for me.”
“What if you wear a flannel but not an undershirt? You can keep some of your modesty while keeping me satisfied.” You pull his arms around your stomach and run your fingertips through his arm hair. Yes, he decided to wear a short sleeve shirt to the bar just for you because you told him he has “delicious arms.”
“That sounds like a reasonable compromise.” He whispers into your ear.
“If I could persuade you to wear all that, can I persuade you into a dance with me?” You turn back to him, giving him the best puppy eyes you can with the tips Jack gave you. Jack swore that if you pout your bottom lip just a smidge and force a bit of tears in your eyes, Aaron gives in immediately.
“Only if you do that move Penelope did before.”
“Aaron!” You gasp. “I didn’t know you could be so dirty!”
“You have your fantasies and I have mine.” He winks before taking the lead to pull you onto the dance floor.
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Okay, I NEED a part two of Succubus!! I’m not joking when I say I have a black widow on my lower abdomen bellow my belly button hanging from a web thats under my boobs and torso. I CANNOT explain how much I loved reading that Viktor fic!! Would love to read about his reaction to some more of readers tattoos!
If you need tattoo inspiration I got some good ones!!! 😘🤭
SUCCUBUS PT2 - VIKTOR X READER
synopsis: Viktor took you up on seeing your other tattoos. He didn't want to assume anything would happen, but as more and more of your clothes were stripped; Viktor knew his assumptions were right.
warnings: more tattoos!! piercings as well (ears and nipples (like me!) ), flirting, teasing, dirty talk, thigh grinding, overstimulation, marking, Grammarly as my beta.
genre: m/f or m/m
p.s. My man deserves to have his world rocked by an undeniable baddie (i.e. You) hope Viktor survives this LMAO
Viktor honestly isn't sure how his day completely derailed itself. He just needed help soldering some wires on his prototype. Then you casually walk in in your casual outfit and a sider tattoo on display. right on your lower abdomen.
He was distracted the whole time and you took advantage of it. He can completely understand where you got your nickname from. You truly are a black widow.
He's dumbfounded as you usher him into your apartment. He glances around and lightly smiles, it's so you. The furniture, the decorations, the aesthetic. It screams you, and Viktor adores it.
"Take a seat on the couch. Do you want a drink at all? Water? Juice? Anything?" You casually state as you lock the apartment door, taking your shoes off. Viktor plops a seat, putting his cane off to the side. He gets comfortable, "No, I'm okay. Thank you. I'm more interested in your other tattoos."
You smirk at the man, "You only want a free strip show, huh?"
"Well, you did offer it."
A chuckle escapes your soft lips at that, "You're not wrong." With that, you roll your sleeves up, showing off the tattoo on your shoulder, it just casually says 'Made in Hell.' Viktor quirks an eyebrow and you giggle, "I was young, shut up."
Then your shirt goes, and Viktor's eyes wonder your torso. There's a snake coiling around your collar bone on each side, there's a gun, more snakes, a whole bouquet of flowers on your ribs, the dreaded spider tattoo, and--
"Your nipples are pierced." Viktor states, stunned. You, his kind-spirited, happy-go-lucky, genius friend... have your nipples pierced.
"Yup."
"...Why?"
You shrug casually, "I have eight piercing in total on my ears, four on each side, I love piercings. My nipples... I got done since I was a bit insecure how my chest looks. The piercings gave me a massive boost of confidence, even if nobody sees them."
Viktor is incredulous, "Nobodies ever seen them?"
"Well... my friends that came with me to get our piercings done saw them, and a few other friends; they were all women. You're the first man."
A sharp inhale is heard throughout the apartment. He's the first man. The first.
No one can ever take that from him.
You turn around and Viktor sees the phases of the moon trailing down your back, "That one I understand. You've always loved the moon, but why your back? You'll never get to see it?"
A smirk is all the pretty man gets, "So when I'm on my hands and knees the person behind me has a pretty view." Viktor almost chokes at your tease. He knows just what to say to get you back, "You are already a pretty view. No matter the position."
You feel your face heat up as you shimmy out of your pants, Viktor withholds a groan as you bend over and your ass is pushed out. You kick your pants to the side and all that's keeping you somewhat modest is your underwear. Viktor sees you have tattoos on your legs but he can barely focus on them, the tramp stamp with "Est. XXXX" with your birth year makes Viktor want to wheeze.
Your hands raise from your sides before plopping back down to hit your thighs, "That's all of them."
“Can I get a closer look?”
A light exhale of breath and a nod is all the man gets. He ushers you to come closer with a small twitch of a finger. You follow his direction without hesitation.
You sit on his lap and he hums in appreciation. His golden eyes and massive pupils wonder around your body. His hands join the appreciation. His hands harshly grip your hips and you moan out in pain and pleasure. A hand whips up to cover your mouth and Viktor’s tisk’s at you.
“No no. That won’t do. Let me hear you.”
You whine at his tone, and slowly lower your hand. Viktor repositions you so that you’re straddling his strong leg. His hands remain on your hips.
He jolts his leg up and you gasp in shock. His nicely shaped thigh grazing your sex wonderfully. A zing of pleasure shoots down your back and into your crotch.
Fuck.
“Is this okay?” Viktor asks, a whiny yes is your reply. Viktor’s eyes darken and he kisses you, before dragging his lips down to your throat and sucking a hickey necklace there.
His hands force your hips to move, so you grind against his thigh. You can’t help but moan at the pleasure you’re feeling, it’s especially amplified as Viktor sucks on one of your pierced nipples; the piercing amplifying your sensitivity.
“You’re so sensitive. So needy. Are you always this needy or is it just with me?”
“You! Just you. Viktor please…”
“Please what? Please suck my nipples more? Please rub my crotch more? Please make me cum? Please fuck me? What do you want, you need to tell me more than just please.”
A loud whine escapes you as you rut your hips harder against the long leg beneath you. Your knee nudging against his hard cock.
“Please make me cum! Please mark me up some more, my chest, my nipples. Please bruise my hips with your hands. Please make me yours.”
Viktor growls and does what you’ve begged. Your hips quickly grinding against his thigh, your knee effectively rubbing against his cock. He puts more and more hickeys on you, your hips becoming more bruised with his unrelenting force.
A loud whiny moan escapes you as you cum against his leg, the crotch of your underwear becoming soaked with your arousal.
Viktor doesn’t let you stop though. He makes sure your hips keep moving, not allowing you to calm down. The pleasure gains a bit of pain and you can’t help but cry out as he continues to suck away bruises onto you.
He groans as he cums in his pants, his face, his voice, his sounds. He’s so attractive you can’t help but cum again, it hurts but fuck it feels so good. You’re panting desperately as Viktor unlatched from your skin and hips, you lean your head into his shoulder as you essentially just lay on him.
He’s panting too. His face is flushed, his eyes are closed, and his head is leaned back. You sluggishly suck a dark hickey into the side of his neck, too high for his collar to cover.
He’s just as much yours as you’re his.
“I wasn’t expecting this.” Viktor states as he looks down at you, you smile lightly at him, “I was.”
“I know.”
“You’re not mad?”
Viktor chuckles, “How could I be mad about that? You want me, desire me, and you went out of your way to get it. I was too slow to make the first move.”
You raise from lying on Viktor and sit up, looking at him in shock, “First move?”
“I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid. Neither are you. I’ve wanted you for a while, I just didn’t know how to start.”
“We’ll… you’re welcome.”
“Yes, thank you darling.”
You look down and Viktor and softly kiss his lips before you gasp, “Oh my god, did you cum?”
He just chuckles at you, “Yes my dear. I did. It’s so cute you’re worried that I didn’t.”
“Well you made me cum twice. It wouldn’t have been fair if you didn’t even cum once.”
Viktor’s head falls back to the head of the couch and slaps your thigh, a small gasp is what he gets in return, “I’d like that drink now though.”
You jolt up off his lap, “What do you want?” Viktor’s eyes open lightly and glance and you, pierced and tattoo glory all for him to see, “Water for now would be nice.”
A smile is what he gets and you casually turn and walk to your kitchen, Viktor appreciates your walk, your ass, and the moon phase tattoo trailing down your spine.
Yeah… he wasn’t expecting this. But he’ll never complain on how he got here.
He’s a very lucky man indeed.
*debby ryan hair tuck* y’all fuck with this? As one user said, my libido completely revolves around this man (a call out I didn’t need but it’s true) EDIT: BRO IT WAS A CALL OUT *I* MADE IN ANOTHER FIC I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THAT 😭😭 I THOUGHT YALL CLOCKED ME NAH I CLOCKED US 😩💀
Tattoos I tried to describe LOL
#arcane#viktor arcane#arcane imagine#arcane x reader#arcane smut#viktor imagine#viktor x reader#viktor x reader smut#viktor smut#fem!reader#male!reader#gender neutral reader#banners by cafekitsune
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。☆TTYL XOXO。.゚+
。☆Tim Drake headcanons + SMAU
。☆Cw: no pronouns, no use of y/n, mention of stalking, civilian reader
˗ˏ���First of all, he's a shit typer. He's typing while barely looking at the screen most of the time, but muscle memory allows his typing to still be mostly coherent
˗ˏ★What he chooses to abbreviate or to actually spell out is in God's hands, he definitely isn't thinking about word choice
˗ˏ★Also a lot more blunt over text. Most of the time he's in the middle of something and lowk rushing to reply (╥﹏╥)
˗ˏ★Sends memes and tiktoks all the time. It's his love language 🩷🩷
˗ˏ★Such a "this is us" "is this us" "this reminds me of us" type of guy lol. It can be two balls of trash rolling down the street and he'll be like "me n u on a walk<33"
˗ˏ★He loves when you send stuff like that back. It makes him feel all warm inside
˗ˏ★Only says I love you over text. He's working on it, but the only person he knows that casually says ily is Dink
˗ˏ★A huge workaholic, whether we're talking about WE or vigilante activities. His work/life balance is almost as bad as Bruce's
˗ˏ★Denies his weird and obsessive habits for plausible deniability lmao
˗ˏ★Sneaks into your house with dubious consent, but he (almost) always tells you when he's done it
˗ˏ★Always up late bc of his vigilante activities so finding lovey dovey texts sent to you between like 3-6am is pretty regular
˗ˏ★Will NOT acknowledge them in person tho. That's way too vulnerable for him, and the reason you only ever get those texts when his inhibitions are lowered
˗ˏ★Accidentally cropped the last one wrong but you get the gist so it's fine ( ╹▽╹ )
˗ˏ★I'm a Tim doesn't like coffee truther soooo....
˗ˏ★Constantly texting you during boring WE meetings. He doesn't even hide it either. The other rich guys there will be like "Mr.Drake-Wayne sir?? 😟☝🏾 Is everything okay you've been on your phone this whole time😕!" And he'll be like "yeah everything's fine thanks😐" without even looking up
˗ˏ★You don't know he does this fyi, you just assume he has a lot of free time since he's CEO
I did nawt think this was gonna be the first Batfam thing I posted, I have a bunch more in my drafts, but here we are lol. Come hop into my askbox, I don't bite /ᐠ。ꞈ。ᐟ\
。☆Requests open
#˗ˏˋ ★ venus writes ★ ˎˊ˗#tim drake x reader#tim drake x you#tim drake x male reader#tim drake x fem!reader#tim drake x y/n#nonbinary reader#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#tim x reader#dc smau#batman smau#tim drake smau#batfam smau#˗ˏˋ ★ batfam ★ ˎˊ˗
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TW: Numbness, Mentions of Bruises, Yelling, Waterboarding, Torture, Lack of Care for the Reader
Wrongfully Accused - Chapter 4 - The Truth
Gaz had followed his lover and Price until the interrogation room. He watched the two enter and he stopped. His mind pounded with thoughts and his heart screaming at him that something wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. He cursed underneath his breath before he turned back and stalked his way to the barracks. His mind was milling on who would frame the person he loved so much. There was just no way you could do something like this. And god damnit he was going to prove you innocent, or do his best trying. First things first, he has to see who knows. Soap was first. He was the closest, or at least his room was and he’d assumed that Ghost was probably still in the commons room, or somewhere farther away from Soap’s location. Gaz noticed his Scottish friend starting to make his way towards the interrogation rooms and he interacted with the Brit first. Soap seemed a bit disheveled, his brows furrowing and a concerned look plastered on his face. “Aye, Gaz, ya’know wha’ happened b’tween Price an’ Y/N? He took’em away in cuffs.” Soap sounded distressed, in a friend kind of way, worried about your safety and whatever conflict the Captain had with you. “Yeah. He suspects ‘em of bein’ the spy on the base.” Gaz said with slightly gritted teeth, the thought made his fist tighten. “I don’t believe ‘im.” “You don’t believe the Cap’n?” Soap sounded a tad surprised, knowing that Gaz and Price went on a majority of missions together when it was just a two man job. Though he also knew Gaz’s unwavering loyalty to people he heavily cared about. There must’ve been a war inside Gaz, but to Gaz, the answer was clear who was on top. “Not with this. Somethin’ is up. Imma talk to Ghost next. Can you get in contact with Laswell for me?” Gaz requested from Soap, who nodded. “Aye. You think Simon knows som’tin’?” The Scotsman asked curiously. “No tellin’. If not, I have a few more people to ask.” Gaz said, crossing his arms over his chest. His mind flashing back to the burn that was on your face. He shivered as he watched the nurse start to carve out your flesh and you just didn’t move. Soap’s gentle pat on his shoulder brought Gaz back, the mohawked man offering a comforting smile. “Good luck.” “You too.” With that, the two headed in opposite directions. Gaz had a look of determination on his face as he marched through the halls towards the commons room. His mind whirled with what he’d say when he saw Ghost. A lot of it was yelling, but he knew he’d have to approach his friend carefully. The thought of Ghost doing nothing hurt more than he thinks it should’ve. Maybe because the team was so tight knit, hearing that one of his good friends did nothing to help his significant other boiled his blood. When he reached the room, it looked like Ghost had just finished cleaning up the table. He was now standing by the sink, rubbing his thumb back and forth against the mug you were drinking from. His eyes locked onto it before they glanced over at Gaz, who was beelining it towards the taller male. “Gaz.” Ghost gruffly greeted the male before putting the cup gently in the sink. “I should hit you. Ya know.” Gaz greeted back with a growl, taking in a deep breath to calm down the anger that had been bubbling inside him as Ghost glanced a humorous look at the shorter male. While Gaz was known to jump to the extremes quite quickly, the glare Gaz was returning to the masked soldier told Ghost how much he was willing to back up the claim.
Ghost leaned onto the counter, hands gripping the edge as his fingers went into the sink, along with his gaze. It was as if he was ashamed for doing nothing, refusing to look Gaz in his eyes again, or at least for now. “I’m sorry.” He said softly. “My significant other is being tortured by Price, got burned in front of you and you did nothing, and you’re ‘sorry’?” Gaz practically lectured the older male before he took another deep breath closing his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists. He so wanted to drill Ghost’s head into the sink with one blow, but he had to keep things professional, as professional it was to yell at your friend in the commons room where people could see the two of you arguing.
“Yeah.” Ghost replied, his monotonous voice not changing. This was the closest that Gaz was going to get to a proper apology and he knew it. Though the thought of Ghost doing nothing to stop Price didn’t stop itching at his brain. “Did… Did you even try?” Gaz spoke softer, a soft crack in his voice. He tried to figure out what Ghost did. The silence spoke volumes as Ghost recalled the incident from earlier this morning. Gaz had never seen the bloke wince, but he did, making the shorter soldier wonder if Ghost watched you get burned. “No… Price…” Ghost was trying to speak, trying to explain the situation, but anything past the ‘No’, Gaz didn’t register. “You watched Price burn my partner and dragged them away and you didn’t do anything!” Gaz was ready to explode, his voice indicating that he was already there at such a loud tone. “They were hurt and you couldn’t stand up to Price to get them any bloody treatment! Did his accusation of them being the spy really change your mind that much?!” He continued to spit fire at the tall man. Ghost’s hands gripped tighter against the counter and sink. Gaz swore if he gripped it any tighter it would break. The masked man sharply turned to Gaz and jabbed his finger into his chest, making him stumble back a bit. Ghost being quick wasn’t unheard of, but that didn’t make it any less shocking when it happened. “I do not have a soft spot for traitors. If they are proven innocent I will apologize. Until then they are the enemy.” Ghost growled. The two were ready to fight there in the commons. It was just up to who would swing first. “What ‘appened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?” Gaz growled back, the air thickening as he leaned into the masked man’s finger. He was challenging the taller bloke. Ghost’s brown eyes flashed in some sort of angry emotion before he sighed and moved away. While Gaz knew it wasn’t because Ghost wanted to back down, he knew that Ghost knew that it would be the best move at this point. If the taller man swung, the commons room would quickly turn into a battle ground, and that would just make everything worse. “Nothin’.” He replied in a quieter tone. Hearing the reply made Gaz chuckle softly, a quip at the tip of his tongue, but he reminded himself to stay calm. Or well, to cool down to not have a fight in the commons room. He already made Ghost get close to boiling over. “Fuckin’ right. Now follow it. I have Soap contactin’ Laswell. I need to ask Price who he got ‘is information from. Though I have a feelin’ it’s one of the blokes that came in with Y/N when they first star’ed to work here. You wanna see what you can find out?” Gaz suggested, his voice determined and calm, but that was a contrast to how he felt. He’d definitely would need a round with Ghost in the ring after all of this is over. He knew he would more than likely lose, but a chance to hone skills and hopefully make some blows, would be worth it.
“Yea. I’ll make ‘em talk.” Ghost responded standing up fully now. “Good. Imma go talk to Price then. Meet ya back here later.” Gaz said with a small smile, gently punching Ghost’s arm, “You awe me a round after this blows over.” Ghost only replied with a half-amused grunt before going to talk to the other three. Gaz felt good about himself, puffing out his chest slightly in a mini victory before pivoting back to the interrogation room. He paused at your barrack’s door. Gaz’s mind filled with apologies that he could only wish to tell you at the moment. Price had to be wrong in this situation. He usually wasn’t, but everyone slips up sometimes. Then he felt bad for lashing out at Ghost, knowing his real anger wasn't at him, nor Price, but the asshole who accused you of being the spy. Whoever it was had to be the one that’s sabotaging everything. He must’ve been there for quite some time because a hand touched his shoulder. He glanced over to see Price. He seemed slightly defeated and tired, but still angry. The blood on his gloves made Gaz want to shiver, but he held his stance. “Gaz. This… This is a ‘ard ask… But Imma need you in a few hours to ‘elp with interrogation’ Y/N-” “You fuckin’ crazy, mate?” Gaz interrupted his Captain, absolutely shocked at how easily Price let the obscene request leave his mouth. Though part of him noticed how Price winced, as if he had known what Gaz’s reaction would be. How long had the Captain been stewing on the question? “They’ll crack faster seeing that there’s no hope.” Price responded coldly. Then Gaz realized something. Price had completely put on his mission mask. One of those masks that isn’t seen, but it’s like a mental block so they could do their work. This was too hard for him to mentally handle and so he hid instead of asking questions. Gaz’s blood started to boil again, but he silently started to reason with himself. This would for sure hurt your relationship, but if you don’t do it, the others would do it just as roughly as Price. At least in this way he could make sure you don’t get it too rough and keep Price from dishing out harder punishments. Though he wasn’t going to agree without bargaining. “Aight… On two conditions.” Gaz said, Prices seemed a bit surprised. “One, you get yourself a nap, you look worse for wear. Two, you tell me who informed ya.” Price’s eyes narrowed at the Sergeant, clearly seeing the bargain, but being too tired to argue he nodded and huffed, “Nikolai… and fine. No more than two hours. In the meantime fetch me a bucket. When I wake up, fill it up with ice cold water.” Gaz nodded, and as soon as Price turned around and sulked to his room to sleep, he shivered. His mind raced. Nikolai? Nik? No… Nikolai wouldn’t… Was… Was it written? There was no way Nikolai could be the spy, everyone knew the Russian too well. Something was amiss.
Gaz quickly jogged to the commons room, or well, he tried. He almost sprinted in, looking for Soap or Ghost, his mind whirling. He spotted the two quietly conversing in the corner. Soap was in front of Ghost, pressed up against him, teasing the Brit with something or other. Gaz couldn’t entirely care what it was at this moment. He quickly headed over, watching as Ghost’s eyes went from Soap’s to his, nodding slightly in a silent greeting. Soap, seeing the nod, shifted away and turned towards Gaz with a big smile, blue eyes shining happily before he caught Gaz’s furrowed brows. The two men knew something went amiss in the plan, or unexpected at least. “We have a problem.” Gaz breathed out as soon as he had both of their attention. “The intel is from Nikolai.” “No fukin’ way.” Soap whispered out. “Yea… I’m wondering if someone forged his handwriting… As illegible as it is…” Gaz put forth his thoughts, Ghost nodded in agreement. “Do we know if he was ‘ere today, or recently?”
“No…” Ghost shook his head slightly, the mask above his eyes moving, no doubt furrowing his brows. “No, he couldn’t be. ‘im an’ Laswell have been on a mission the pas’ few days.” Soap interjected, his eyes narrowing, “We go’ a right proper rat.” He growled out.
Gaz’s fists tightened again, he wanted to find who it was and put them in the dirt now, “What else did you find out?” “Well, Laswell an’ Nik will be ova’ere as soon as they can… Mission complications… Laswell an’ Nik don’t think Y/N is the spy, though they did warn me that they’d lose all communication soon so we’ll have ta wait wit’ baited breath for their return.” “Fuck. Ghost?” “Only one I could find was Tree… Drunk out of ‘is mind. Not suitable for interrogation.” The Brit gruffly responded, anger hinted at the edge of his tone. “God damnit.” Gaz cursed under his breath, despite how much he craved to yell it. “So we have someone framing Nik, who in turn is framing Y/N, and until Nik comes back we’re sitting ducks…” “Aye…” Soap confirmed softly, offering a gently squeeze of Gaz’s shoulder. “We will ge’em out, don’ worry Gaz.” “Yeah but how soon?” He grumbled. Gaz wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel his fist hit whoever got you in this situation. For now, he had about an hour and a half to figure things out.
…
Now here he is. Gripping your hair and forcing you into the water that felt cold. He had iced it earlier, but then scrapped the ice and put some hotter water in so it wouldn’t be freezing like Price wanted. He wasn’t about to confront his Captain in these circumstances. He gently pulled your head out of the water as you gasped for air, spitting water out of your mouth as your lungs demanded air. “You gon’ talk now? Or are we gonna take it up a notch?” Price asked, his face getting close to yours as his eyes narrowed. You looked at Price through somewhat closed eyes. “Fuck off.” You manage to murmur out through your sore throat. “Dunk ‘em.”
…
It’s been weeks. You’re weaker than you’ve ever felt in your life. Between being beaten and starved, your will to even consider forgiving anyone on 141 was slipping. The last thread that you held onto tightly was Gaz’s. You wrapped his thread around your hand tightly until it started to cut your fingers, your blood making the thread slippery, each drop from when he’d hurt you. Eventually. He did stop coming. Your grip on his thread was slowly loosening. It had been 21 days, 3 weeks, since you were brought here. You’ve gone numb to so many things, Price’s words, the cold cement, the aches and pains in your body. The way Gaz would sneak you small rations. It hurt you. Having to be secretly fed and begging every single time Gaz had to leave you to not go.
Three weeks of being interrogated to the point that it didn’t matter what happened after this. You were resigning. You wouldn’t sue, though the thought has crossed your mind multiple times. Worst part is, you found who it was. Price just wouldn’t believe you. By day 15, you shut up. Not a word had left your mouth for 6 days. Gaz had been gone for a day and that’s when you found out. It was Quail. Fucking Tree. He let you in on all of his little secrets as he toyed with you, adding to the bruises that decorated your skin as he tried to ‘beat the information’ out of you. You hope he’d burn in hell. You now knew, or well, used to know what was happening. He planted a letter for Price, claiming it to be Nik, but due to the secrecy had to use newspaper clippings, and it was because he and Laswell found sensitive information on their mission about said spy. They just sent Tree to collect it after they sent it to a burner address that everyone knew of, it was just his day to check it. And Price fell for the bait. You couldn’t say a damn thing about their plans though. If you did, you’d be the spy, but if you didn’t, you’d be a traitor after being proven innocent. It fits in your mind, a traitor in a group of traitors.
Soon, someone gripped by your hair, your eyes focusing on the oh so familiar boots of your beloved Captain. Your weak body was limp as Price pulled you from the corner he left you in just hours before, dragging your body across the floor. He then set you up in the chair in the center of the room. “I got a real treat for ya later. Someone’s coming to visit.” Price growled out, looking into your defeated eyes, “You best hope they don’t keep this up.”
You refused to respond. He huffed, gripping the chair and staring into you with hatred, “You’ve been a thorn in my side these past few weeks.If you weren’t so damn important, you would be dead by now” The words were supposed to phase you. They did, but only a little, mainly because being dead sounded like a nice relief. Seeing how ineffective his words were, he growled, winding his arm back to punch you square in the jaw before the door busted open, causing both you and Price to look at the open door that swung open with so much force that it bounced off of the wall it hit. “Enough, John.” Laswell’s voice loudly cracked through the room, seeing Laswell holding Tree by his hair and wrist. “We’ve got the actual traitor, release them.” Your heart fluttered, seeing Nikolai and Gaz right behind her, as if two guards guiding someone, who didn’t need to be guarded mind you, and their dangerous captive. Though, you were only glad to see Nikolai and Laswell. Your heart couldn’t decide if Gaz earned that right in the fuzziness in your chest after everything. After all, your limp hand barely held the string.
Price’s eyes widened, stepping away as his mind turned. You could tell that he was processing the information as Laswell pushed Tree inside the room, Gaz and Nikolai both following immediately. Nik went straight for Price, consoling the man and quickly ushering out of the room. His voice was too soft for you to pick up any semblance of words, that, and you were barely paying attention. You knew Price’s world must’ve been rocked considering what Tree had already told you. You could barely register Gaz taking off your cuffs and tightening around the traitorous male’s wrist, not caring if he complained that it was too tight.
Good. You sickly thought as you heard the clicking of the cuffs.
Gaz brought you up off of the chair, wrapping your arm around his shoulders in an attempt to let you walk, but your body refused. Your mind was still numb to everything, trying to figure out if it could even walk. When you crumbled towards the floor, Gaz scooped you up in his arms. Gaz’s soft and sweet voice softly murmuring apologies. How he tried to get there sooner, but they were waiting on Nikolai and Laswell, but they had to be rescued after weeks of no contact. Price was stuck here and just took his anger out on you since he assumed you were a part of it. You didn’t respond. Part of you didn’t believe him.
The look of dread was sinking into Gaz as he made glances down to your body. While Price didn’t break anything, he dislocated so many things, only relocating them when he got pissed enough. It felt like some might’ve been broken then, but you weren’t sure. Gaz had sped up his walk as you barely recognize Soap’s worried blue eyes as Gaz bulldozed past the Scot.
The amount of care you felt for the world around you was non-existence and it worried Gaz. Every fiber of his being convinced that he was way too late, but he’d try. He’d try so damn hard to get his little angel back.
You heard words exchanged between a different medic than the one before and Gaz. Though as soon as your body felt the softer feeling of the cot, you passed out. Welcoming any softer feeling of an object compared to the cold feeling of the concrete you’d spent the previous nights on. When you woke up, you were covered in bandaids, wrappings, and a few splints on your fingers. You glanced down to see an IV in your arm, and, moving past your better judgement, you ripped it out with nothing more than a soft grunt. It alerted the new medic who swiftly came over, mumbling to themself as you stood up on shaky legs. “Hey! Hey! Sit back down. You need to rest.” He instructed, gently trying to keep you on the bed, but you refused. You still had strength in your body, more than you realized. Perhaps it was just your mental will power that was dead. “No…” Your raspy voice spoke, startling the medic. “I want to return to my room.” He hesitated, glancing away for a moment. “If you let me and my colleagues check in on you every hour on the hour… F-Fine.” You knew this wasn’t allowed, but the lacking care in your body showed, cause the medic seemed absolutely scared shitless by your gaze. You must’ve given him one hell of a glare.
He helped you to your room, always there for your stumbles as you partly wondered where the hell Gaz was. You would’ve sworn he’d be by your side after all of this, but he wasn’t there when you woke. The question soon answered itself as the medic flicked on the light to your room. Your bed was covered with new bedding, stuffed animals, flowers, pillows, anything and everything a lover could do to comfy up the military beds. Though no Gaz. Was he hoping to do a big reveal once you were better? It didn’t matter now. The surprise was ruined and you couldn’t care how nice it looked. Not like you’d choose to remember.
The scene in front of you didn’t affect the deadness in your heart. You just wanted to sleep somewhere more familiar than the medical bay. You stumbled over with the medic’s help. He was about to help you to the side of the bed before you took your arm and wiped off as much as you could, dumping a good chunk of it onto the floor. The only thing that remained was a brown stuffed teddy bear and the new pillows. The teddy bear was holding a heart that you only noticed after grabbing it to huck it onto the ground. You assumed that what it said on the heart was something cheap, before you paused. You noticed how the message was hand-sewn into a heart, that was a bit-lopsided, but also hand made. ‘To my Angel. You will forever be in my heart. No matter where we are.’ It read. Was it still sappy? Sewn in a bit sloppily? Absolutely, but you settled into bed with it. The stuffed bear held tightly against your chest as the medic carefully tucked you in.
“See you in an hour.” He said softly, carefully nudging the gifts on the ground towards the wall to be picked up later, before turning off the light to the room and leaving you alone. The darkness made your mind scream in fear, but the tiredness in your body gagged it as you finally closed your eyes to sleep against the mattress that felt so soft. Your arms had a death grip on the teddy bear. Its soft fur brushed against the bandages on your arms and chest. You wish you could feel how soft its fur was, but your body was being held together by the medical fabric. Soon, you were able to drift off to sleep with a soft warmness towards Gaz once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed glances at word count 4,027 words of this! I was debating on putting it in two parts, but.... Nah. You guys just get one BIG chapter. Y'all get two more chapters of angst and fluff until it ends. Not sure when it'll be posted cause my mind be everywhere lol. Inspire by this post.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3
#Wrongfully Accused Fanfic#Cod Fanfic#Cheese Writes#Ghost COD#Ghost#Simon Ghost Riley#Simon Riley#Soap COD#Soap#Johnny Soap MacTavish#Johnny MacTavish#Price COD#Price#Captain John Price#Captain Price#Gaz COD#Gaz#Kyle Gaz Garrick#Kyle Garrick#Laswell COD#Laswell#Kate Laswell COD#Kate Laswell#COD Nikolai#Nikolai COD#Gaz x Reader#Reader x Gaz#Chapter 4#Chapter Four
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Lore/HC: Underlined text links to original post👇
[For Character answered QnA and general "asks" click here]
You're welcome to expand on my ideas in your own way, but please credit me so they don't mix up with my own HCs/design choices.
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Sonic & Shadow:
-Mobians hedgehogs "Anoit" their partners
-Sonadow children ideas
-related to the above, "WOULD sonic and shadow have kids?"
-Fave HCs/ what's it like living with rouge/ where's sonic live?
-Does shadow like/play any instruments?
-who likes to cuddle more?
-Sonic is an accidental flirt.
-Shadow's stripes will become more like the Black Arms emblem over time. His paws are already very similar... do you think his head stripes will change as he ages?
-Sonic grew up alongside Amy and other orphans/broken families. He cares for her a lot but can only see her as a sister-- the same way he sees Tails as his brother--so the idea of a relationship with her disgusts him. Maybe he sees Sonia when he looks at her?
-Before Sonic, Shadow and Rouge fell into a relationship. Shadow assumed they shared a deeper past, given how much Rouge knows and how comfortable she is around him. But really, Shadow didnt know what he wanted, assuming it just was this way. Rouge wasn't sure either, just trying to help Shadow in some way. That said, they learned a lot about themselves and eachother as they opened up-- but in the end deciding to return to just friends...Although it would take some time to feel normal again.
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Shadow & Maria:
-Shadow's has dissociative fugue
-baby shadow (shadow and maria)
-Why Shadow knows how to swim
-Maria would have been a menace
-Maria told Shadow to comb his white fur up, so he looks more presentable, teasing, "You have a little built in tuxedo! See? Such a gentle-hog." :)
-I think Shadow liked sleeping in maria's bed. It was probably of great comfort to Maria during her sicker days... He was always being watched, so when they gave him his own bed/room, it must have felt isolating and alone. Do you think he had to wear pajamas so he wouldn't leave any fur in her bed?
-Some scientists/maria used to pet shadow and fluff up his cheeks, to Robotnik's displeasure. Shadow only recently learned that's something you do to your pet... he kind of misses it though.
-This is canon: Abraham Towers (commander) and Shadow grew up alongside each other, though their time was short. Ab was terrified of Shadow, because he saw Doom helping Gerald. He would warn the other's that shadow was some kind of demon, but Maria only became more protective of Shadow. He wasn't just an experiment to her, he was a person. As she became sicker, Ab blamed Shadow. But 50 years later, he finally understands and is trying to build some kind of bridge with Shadow, even allowing Shadow to visit his baby granddaughter. Just like Shadow, he let his anger and pain drive his choices.
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AU ideas: Feel free to expand on these in your own way, just credit me for the initial idea, so it doesn't get mixed up as canon in my own HC lore lol.
-AU where Shadow is created on mobius
-Scene from the above AU where shadow is created on mobius
-Return to mobius/search for sonic's mom AU (idea)
-Return of Doom (AU where Shadow is copied and Doom controls shadow's old body)
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Other characters:
-Metal sonic in my HC
-more metal sonic HC
-Manic is Scourge, who'd been sent into a zone for safety during the first bombing, only be have been lost to the "other" Mobius. He got a little crazy after that... No one knows what happened to Sonic's sister. It's assumed she died in the first Eggman attack. (or you could go with trans sonic hc? Would be an interesting/wholsome moment between Sonic & Shadow when he reveals it.)
-Omega is basically metal shadow...
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#hc#sonic hc#sonic au#the toll#shadow the hedgehog#sonic the hedgehog#sonadow#sonic x shadow#shadow#shadonic#ark siblings
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Let’s talk about consent and smart ways to play
Yes, consent can be revoked at any time. That’s normal and your boundaries should be reexamined regularly as part of your own check ins.
No, it doesn’t mean either party did anything wrong, it can just be a change of what either wants. Shaming either party for changing their mind serves no one. Don’t act like the person who was receiving the action is unfair or a “tease” for changing their mind. Don’t act like the person giving the action was bad or wrong for doing the thing for which they had consent at the time because you didn’t like it.
Yes, it’s awesome to be able to open yourself up and be vulnerable for different activities and kinks. When you don’t have a partner to engage with regularly, it can be thrilling to finally find a person to play with, I know.
No, blanket consent for EVERYTHING right from the jump is NOT a good idea. If you’re connecting with a play partner the first few times, start slow and expand. Feeling enough trust to give consent for some kinks can and probably should take time so uou can be really comfortably vulnerable
Yes, it is exciting to safely meet play partners from the online world when you are BOTH ready for it! When you’re safe about meeting (getting to know them slowly, setting a neutral meeting point, letting a few people know where you’re going and the name of your friend, etc) it can be a great way to get time with your kinks. When it isn’t forced, rushed, or for too long a time period, the organic connection can be magical!
No, you should not assume each party is on the same page unless you’ve communicated multiple times, especially in writing. If you had a phone call a month ago that talked about boundaries and assume all is well, you’re not actually playing safely. Some people write out rules, some BDSM players sometimes make it a “contract”, but a verbal conversation will not protect you or help you if worse comes to worst. This is especially important for partners still new to playing together. Record the hard conversations in some way.
Yes, you can start a conversation on boundaries and kinks with generalization. Example on my end, my husband and I both are okay with pictures and videos taken of us and posting them. In the early days of our relationship, we checked every time we played “Is it okay if I film this?” but after years together we’ve both agreed it’s okay to take them anytime, though we check with each other if we’re comfortable with what was captured regularly.
No, a general conversation is not enough. Continuing my example, we both have boundaries for ourselves and for each other to make sure we’re okay with it being posted (or sometimes sold). Earlier today, I put on a really pretty lingerie set for some birthday giggles. However, I stopped and asked “If you wanted to film this, would you be comfortable with me being seen in this publicly? Our usually boundaries call for a top and bottoms covering”. He paused, considered, and said no, so I put on a tank top and shorts too. Get specific with every aspect of your play, from your comfortable clothing levels, to where content can be posted, to areas you don’t want touched that day that you might normally be okay with otherwise. Assuming you already know the answer is not enough, say it again.
Consent is a lot bigger and more complicated than just this post, so talk about it A LOT with your partner(s). The biggest key to a good relationship in and out of kink (friendship, mentorship, romantic relationship) is to NEVER STOP TALKING. Communication is key, talk about your boundaries and consent over and over and over. They will change and grow, and so will you.
Mistakes and miscommunications will happen, but it’s important to talk about them like the grown people you are. A lot of consent issues with new partners aren’t malicious, they can easily stem from either party being unclear or simply not thinkinh to ask about something that could be a boundary issue. Unless it was a blatant “I KNEW the boundary and disregarded it purposely because I wanted to do it” situation, be an adult and talk about it. If you’re adult enough to be engaging in activities or kinks for adults, you need to follow through and talk about what went right and wrong. Learn and grow from the stuff you didn’t do as well before, accept responsibility for your part, and move on, with or without that partner.
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If that’s your reading of the situation then you’re absolutely entitled to it. However personally, I’m not convinced.
To me, there is just so much more evidence that Tim Drake took what Batman told him at face value than the idea that he just didn’t take Batman’s threat to fire Steph seriously.
I just don’t see how the moment in Robin 107 you’ve pointed out meaningfully proves Tim didn’t believe Batman was being serious about firing Steph.
I find it likely Tim is telling the truth here for the record: it is hard to figure out what Batman thinks of you and Tim is well aware of this, he believes it. But to me, that doesn’t ‘prove’ in any meaningful capacity that Tim didn’t believe Batman was serious about firing Stephanie. He can definitely believe that a) it’s hard/ultimately pointless for Steph to try to figure out what Batman thinks of her because it’s hard/pointless to figure out what Batman thinks of anyone and b) Batman wasn’t bluffing when he told Tim he planned to fire Stephanie. To me, these ideas hold no inherent contradiction. He reassuring her, yes, but to me, this reads the same as their Batman Family conversation: Tim reassures Steph to not worry about Batman, despite having reason to know she should.
And there is a lot of evidence that Tim takes Batman telling him he plans to fire Steph seriously.
As explored in my post, Tim seems to genuinely believe Batman is willing to fire him when they are in the Batmobile together in Robin 106. If he’s willing to entertain that idea, I see no reason he would genuinely not believe the same could happen to Steph who is much much less connected to Bruce than he is. But even if we take that line as less serious, and assume Tim is not actually concerned about being fired by Batman, it still doesn’t explain his initial reaction to hearing Bruce plans to fire Steph.
Tim has a genuinely shocked and appalled reaction to finding out Bruce plans to fire Steph. Tim immediately takes the idea completely seriously, and his internal monologue reveals he seems to have taken Batman’s words at total face value. He reacts accordingly.
So Tim seems to have multiple reasons to take this threat seriously and reacts as if he wholeheartedly believes this is a serious statement Batman is making. But this is only at first. One could argue that he eventually changes his mind/decides Batman probably wasnt serious about firing Steph, or that he wasn’t going to follow through.
However, there’s not really proof for that idea. And if we look at him and Steph’s convo in Batman Family #2 it seems a lot more likely that Tim is being disingenuous when he tells Steph she shouldn’t worry. It really does not seem to me like he genuinely thinks she has no reason to worry, and that “it’s not personal”.
Here are the facts:
Tim knows Batman is not holding everyone at arms length in the way Steph is describing. They are talking about how Bruce during BW:Murderer cut off communication with basically everyone. Tim knows that this is no longer the case for anyone but Steph. Tim and Batman are now regularly interacting, and he knows Batman still hasn’t reached out and resumed training with Steph, despite again, Bruce resuming communication with everyone else. The last convo he and Bruce had about Stephanie is when Batman told Tim he planned to fire Steph. I simply have a really hard time believing Tim genuinely didn’t think Bruce was going to fire Steph. I can’t see how he could be telling the truth/being genuine when he tells Steph it isn’t personal. He has every reason to think it is personal to Steph, it is specific to her, and we have Zero reason to think he didn’t take Bruce seriously.
Tim took it seriously when he first heard it in Robin 106, and, at least to me, his words in Batman Family can’t really be explained by him not taking Bruce seriously later. Even if he didn’t fully believe Batman was going to fire Steph, it’s just logically true that it is personal. To Tim, Batman was at the very least thinking about firing Steph, enough so that Bruce went to tell Tim about it. The same applies to the panel you pulled where Tim states Batman’s intentions and thoughts about you can be confusing/hard to tell. It just doesn’t preclude Tim believing Batman about firing Steph.
At the end of the day, the timeline for Steph’s firing is messy as fuck, (as Robin 1993’s timeline often is) and in all likelihood the discrepancies between Tim finding out in Robin 106 and then acting as if he didn’t seem to know in Batman Family could very easily and perhaps accurately be chalked up to pure writer error or timeline shenanigans.
But to me, reading comics and analyzing them is playing a game of suspension of disbelief and benefit of doubt to the writers. If I act as if this is a real world I am peering into, if I choose to believe that these are real people instead of characters, then I want to find detailed reasons for why characters act the way they do when I find a discrepancy. And Tims relationship with Bruce during and after Bruce Wayne Murderer, to me, says somerhing about why he acts the way he does when he hears Steph is fired. The comics put these things in conversarion, as I explored in my OG post, and later comics put GK37 and Tims dependence on Bruce in conversation once more in very specific and intentional ways through repeated dialogue.
All this to say: I think my reading enriches and builds off the characters and situation in ways I personally prefer and think have a clearer connection to the relevant comics. But again, to each their own, and as always, I’m open to other interpretations and takes.
Let’s talk about Tim Drake’s failure to assert independence during and in the wake of Bruce Wayne: Murderer, and how it might explain why he lies to Stephanie Brown's face.
For Tim, Bruce Wayne: Murderer seems to mark a departure in how he thinks of himself as Robin.
Primarily, he seems to moves from the idea of Batman needs a Robin to the almost inverse, as he begins to posit the idea that Robin does not need Batman.
This concept starts appearing as a contrast to the way Dick Grayson's adamant belief in Batman manifests.
Gotham Knights #28 (2000)
Dick is unable to reckon with the idea of Batman’s guilt. And more than that, he says he can’t “continue serving a system” he doesn't have faith in. But what “system” is he talking about? They’re talking about a distrust in Batman. For Nightwing, the idea of a distrust in Batman is analogous to a distrust idea of vigilantism as a whole, as a “system”.
The innocence of Batman and the ability to be a vigilante are linked for him completely. He says that cannot and will not reckon with the possibility Bruce is guilty, doing so for him would be the same as doubting his entire life, doubting everything he has done as a vigilante. Dick's faith in Batman and his work as Nightwing, as a vigilante, are tied together completely.
And while Tim begins to oppose this idea via his doubt of Bruce in this issue, Tim's conception of Batman as wholly separate from Robin gets more emphasized through his epiphany moment in Robin #100.
Robin #100 & #101 (1993)
In this issue, Tim has reached a point where he is comfortable with the idea of being Robin without Batman. He is asserting that he has divorced his usage of the Robin mantle from Batman and his actions. If Bruce did kill Vesper, it doesn’t change Tim as Robin or what he does. He is able to continue on.
This is an uplifting sentiment, and it’s expressed in a beautiful way, through Tim’s musings after seeing a literal robin.
But it’s also extremely ironic.
In the very scene where Tim comes to this realization, staring at a real robin, a nearby stray cat not a moment later lunges, sending the robin flying away. In this way, Tim’s metaphor is dispelled. The “day/spring/robin” can be touched after all, can be chased away and changed.
And when Tim begins to assert to the cat, jokingly, that he “is Robin”, Tim is knocked out by Batman before he can even finish his sentence.
In this moment, the second that Robin asserts his independence from Batman, he is immediately proven wrong. Tim says the metaphorical robin cannot be changed by the night. But then, the cat attacks the robin, and it is no longer a analogous vehicle for his metaphor, it fails.
And then, Batman himself knocks out Tim. The actual Robin who tries to reassert control over his metaphor by scolding the cat and reaffirming his identity is immediately disrupted by Batman, who Tim just claimed had no power over him through his metaphor.
Tim asserts an independence, and then we see that concept immediately fail. Both on the metaphoric level of the actual robin, and on the literal level of Tim as Robin, the idea that Tim proclaims is undermined immediately.
The idea of Tim’s failure to assert independence from Bruce is not singular to Robin #100. The same idea is expressed in Robin #106.
Robin #106 marks the first one-on-one convo between Bruce and Tim once BW:Murderer/Fugitive has been resolved. Bruce’s name has been cleared, but the tension certainly has not.
As they drive together, Tim gets confronted head on with this. He is asked the same question which Tim had answered for himself in Robin #100: what would happen if Batman had killed Vesper?
Robin #106 (1993)
Tim’s answer in Robin #100 is that he would not be affected, that the actions of “the night/Batman” don’t affect his actions as Robin. An answer that we know is undermined moments later. So what does he say now?
He reasserts the conclusion he comes to in Robin #100: Robin can exist without Batman.
Notice how Tim uses “I guess” twice to preface his statements. His language is insecure and padded. He has to be goaded by Bruce to even continue, at first simply stating that he doesn’t know what he would do.
Additionally, alongside this dialogue, Tim’s internal narration is nervous and pleading. He says Robin has his own reasons to exist simultaneously as he frantically hopes his answer lives up to Bruce’s standards.
And as they continue the conversation, Tim’s assertion is further undermined. He gets nervous and frantically asserts that Bruce is “still the Boss!”
Robin #100 (1993)
And then, we learn that Tim was worrying throughout the conversation that he might be kicked off of the team.
Is that inconsistent? Didn’t Tim just say he’d be Robin even if he had to do so “by himself”?
Put simply, Tim Drake expresses a willingness to be Robin on his own, but that’s clearly not his preference.
He cares about staying on the team, he wants to stay on the team, even if he would keep being Robin on his own if he was kicked out.
And then, lastly, Tim himself recognizes that his proclamation had failed: what he was trying to say and what he said didn't line up the way he wanted.
While their conversation purports to show Tim asserting independence, it’s hedged over and over again, weakened conceptually.
By Tim’s hesitance, by his half hearted phrasing, by Tim’s pleading internal dialogue, by Tims frantic reassuring that Bruce is still his Boss, by Tim’s obvious fear he will be kicked off the team: the conversation where the focus is meant to be Tim’s reassertion that Robin is separate from Batman is sabotaged on every level, over and over.
It’s the same exact situation we see in Robin #100, repeated. Tim claims Robin is independent from Batman, only for the claim to be immediately and thoroughly undermined.
But, you may be asking, what does this have to do with Stephanie Brown? When did Tim lie to Steph?
Robin #106 is also the comic where Batman informs Tim that he plans to fire Stephanie as Spoiler.
In fact, Bruce informs Tim of this choice immediately after the conversation we just analyzed.
Something important happens in this moment: Tim is enraged, and importantly, he stays silent.
Robin #106 (1993)
He has to think to himself to not be respond, he has to remind himself not to jump out of the Batmobile. Tim clearly disagrees with Bruce’s choice to fire Steph, and he’s angry at Bruce for it.
But his anger is tied directly to his inaction. In every line of internal dialogue where we learn Tim’s frustration or disagreement, we also are shown Tim Drake’s suppression of that anger.
Tim, for some reason or another, pushes down his anger, and stays silent.
This moment is the key to the question I want to answer here: Why does Tim Drake lie to Steph about her getting fired?
Figuring out why he stays silent in this scene I believe will answer the question of why Tim maintains silence in not warning Steph that Bruce plans to fire her, and why Tim intentionally obfuscates the truth when she comes to him for advice.
Watch how Tim lies here:
Batman Family #2 (2002)
Tim knows that while Bruce certainly was holding everyone at arms length during BW: Murderer/Fugitive, that has since ended. Tim is let into the Batcave, Tim is having regular correspondence with Batman, Tim has gotten a return to normalcy.
Tim also knows that Steph is being singled out. Her radio silence is not the symptom of something affecting him or anyone else on the team at all. Her radio silence is because Batman is planning on firing her. Tim knows that she's going to be fired.
But TIm still reassures her not to worry about it. He tells her not to take it personally. Even though he knows that it is, in fact, personal.
Gotham Knights #37 (2000)
Once Steph finally finds out she has been fired Tim appears again to comfort her.
He hugs her. He sympathizes with her. And he, again, keeps up the pretense that he just found out Steph was going to be fired that day.
It’s a sweet moment, it really is. Tim’s “I know” is clearly genuine to me. I think he means it. I think he loves Steph. But he also let her find out like this. He also lied to her and kept her in the dark. That was a choice he made.
So, why did he do it?
Again, I think his choice to withhold when it comes to Stephanie being fired comes down to how he stays silent in Robin #106.
As we explored, Robin #106 is a continuation of the idea brought up in Robin #100. Both issues have Tim assert that Robin is independent from Batman, a huge departure for him. And then they both undermine and call into question Tim’s claim.
If Robin #106 represents the repeated failure of Tim’s claim to live up to reality, I think that explains why he stays silent here.
A Robin which is “unchanged” by the night, a Robin who made himself, who wasn’t “made by” anyone else, and a Robin who is a separate entity unaffected by the actions of Batman, the Robin that Tim describes in Robin #100, would voice his feelings and anger.
Tim Drake, sitting in the Batmobile, worrying he will be kicked off the team, still internally vying for Bruce’s approval and silencing his concerns, is not that Robin.
Whether he likes it or not, Tim is still (to a degree) reliant on Batman and his approval.
Tim is able to doubt Bruce and disagree with Bruce, but Tim cannot separate himself, or Robin, fully from Batman, despite his claims otherwise.
And with their relationship with one another so clearly still rocky in the wake of the distrust and anger they both experienced during BW:Murderer? It’s not surprising to me that Tim stays silent. Why risk jeopardizing the relationship he almost lost? Why risk potentially getting kicked off the team? Things are just finally returning to normal.
He can say he is independent from Batman, but his actions prove otherwise.
That’s why he stays silent in the car ride when Batman tells him he’s going to fire Steph, and that’s why he lies to Steph later.
It’s a trade: normalcy gets to be reestablished between Batman and Robin, and all Tim has to do is stay silent.
So, Tim stays silent. And when Steph comes to him, he lies to her. And when Steph falls apart, he comforts her because he loves her, but Tim’s relationship with Bruce is just going to have to take priority right now. Too bad. Sorry Steph.
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ghostface!gojo x ghostface!choso x ghostface!geto x reader
summary: there are vicious killing happening in your city and you're closer to it than you think.
warnings: mask kink, creampies, coercion, the boys are serial killers, a tiny bit of knife play, reader is a bit crazy naive, reader is oblivious, virgin!choso, nicknames for the boys, foursome, eiffel tower with gojo and geto, mahito and mei mei mentioned.
word count: 6.2k
note: this is my first jjk fic and I'm super excited for it. i hope you guys like it. hi to any new moots this brings in. :)
pics from pinterest: @/k__a, @/polariae (twitter), @/aransmind (twitter).
part two
You hated being watched. It was the worst feeling in the world like there were eyes on you but no one around to look back at. The feeling didn’t just disappear; it haunted you in each dark corner and every mysterious hallway. Your eyes found their way to the flat-screen TV in the middle of the breakroom.
“Reports of more murders have totaled up in the last week more than it has in the last year. Police are becoming desperate to find out who is behind these stabbings.”
The news anchor’s voice bounced off the thin walls of the cold and dusty room, sending a shiver down your spine. The murders that had been terrorizing the city, even more specifically, your neighborhood weren’t something that anybody could brush off lightly. It sent a dark and gloomy blanket over you and your neighbors. The media had started to refer to the killer as Ghostface, which was even more terrifying than you cared to admit.
All the reports were the same— victims were stalked and toyed with before inevitably being stabbed to death by a person in a mask. The murders were getting so bad that there was a mandated curfew that forced people into their homes, a pathetic strategy to save citizens. “The mayor is urging everyone to not stay out past 10 p.m. and to keep your doors and windows locked.” The anchor’s voice broadcasted.
“Scary, isn’t it?”
Your eyes shot to Suguru Geto, one of your co-workers. His dark hair was tied tightly into his signature bun as he leaned against the table you sat at. His dark eyes surveyed your face, which was undoubtedly covered in worry. “Hey, don’t look so scared. I’m sure the police will apprehend him soon enough.” Suguru said soothingly. His fingers reached up, his knuckles running down your jaw. A means to cheer you up, you assumed. Your angst faded slightly, and you shot Suguru a sweet smile. “Thanks, I was on edge there. It’s just...scary, you know? Someone out there plotting on taking people’s lives.” You sighed, twiddling your thumbs as you looked at the man next to you.
“Yeah, I can see why some people are being extra cautious.” He said, “But hey, at least you work with some tough guys, right? You can call any of us and we’ll be more than happy to come swing by your place.”
Your heart rate calmed a bit at his words. As one of the only girls at your worksite, you had the pleasure of becoming good friends with most of the men there. Suguru, Satoru, Toji, Choso, and Sukuna. They worked in the same division as you and were fiercely protective and loyal to you. It made working here more bearable and fun.
Your smile widened at Suguru’s words. “I guess I am lucky, huh?” You laughed, “Thanks for lighting up the mood, Suguru. I should get back to work now.”
You patted his arm, walking to the door. You paused slightly, turning around to face him again. “Oh, and I never told you or the guys,” You started, “You guys were so right about that guy, Mahito, that I was going to go on a date with. He stood me up.”
Suguru frowned. “I told you, sweetheart. He wasn’t worthy of you.” You only nodded in agreement before turning around again and leaving the breakroom. A news anchor’s voice continued to sound through the breakroom.
“The latest victim of the Ghostface killings was a young man, named Mahito. He was found in the back alley of a restaurant, stabbed numerous times in the chest and torso.”
The frown on Suguru’s face shifts into a small, daydreamy grin. “No one is worthy of you but us, sweetheart.” He mumbled, staring off into your direction.
You remained vigilant, making it home by curfew, locking your doors, and keeping your head on a swivel every day and night. It was the only way to ease your nerves these days. Your friends laughed at you, calling you paranoid. “You’re overreacting.” One of your friends, Mei Mei, voiced, her eyes rolling at you. “This Ghostface probably isn’t as big of a threat as everyone is making it.” She added.
Your hands gripped the wooden table you sat at with her and Satoru. Your frown was deep as your eyes narrowed at your friend for laughing at your precautions. “He’s killed numerous people.” You rebutted, “There’s nothing wrong with just being safe.”
Mei Mei shrugged, picking at her nails as she threw you a bored expression. “I just can’t imagine this guy caring about people like us. He probably has a list of people that he’s after.” She said, “And I guarantee you are not on that list.”
The laugh she let out after that comment made it hard for you to determine if it was supposed to be a dig or a compliment, but knowing this particular friend, it was probably the former. Satoru glanced over at you, taking in your upset face, before rolling his eyes at Mei Mei. “Don’t be a bitch.” He said to her, “There’s nothing wrong with her caring about her safety.”
“And you better tread lightly before that Ghostface dude hears you and makes you his next target.” He said, standing up and stalking away from the two women. Your eyes followed him, a grateful gleam in them as he defended you. Mei Mei frowned, “He’s such an asshole. I don’t know why you’re cool with him.”
You could only roll your eyes at her, changing the topic. You listened to her rant on and on until you both parted ways on your way home. You had urged her to text you when she got home, which she had begrudgingly agreed to do. Making it back to your apartment, you routinely locked your doors and window before stripping yourself to shower.
You were humming to yourself as you lathered your body when a loud creak made you freeze. Your hardwood floors barely creaked that way, only when a large weight pressed against it. Your head slowly peeked out of the shower curtain. Your eyes looked around the bathroom and then through the crack of the door. “What the hell....” You murmured to yourself. You slowly turned off your shower, stepping out. You wrapped your towel around your body, peeking out of the door. “Hello?” You called out.
You checked every corner of your apartment, finding nothing. You took a shaky breath, rubbing her temples. “Maybe I am paranoid.” You muttered to yourself. The silence of your apartment didn’t help with the feeling that someone was watching you. You huffed softly, trudging your way back into the bathroom to resume your shower as the white-haired silhouette in the corner of your closet could only smile at your worried face.
You slugged your way into work three days later, yawning as you pushed open the door to the breakroom. Co-workers were gathered around the TV with looks of pure horror and disbelief. Your head tilted in confusion, “What are you all watching?”
Your boss, Shiu, looked over at you, his expression worried. “When was the last time you talked to Mei Mei?” He asked. Your face contorted from confusion to one of concern. You had forgotten to check on her after you had got home that day. “Um, the last day I worked....so Monday. Why? What happened?” You asked, your eyes searching Shiu’s face for any answers.
Shiu opened his mouth to respond, only to be beaten to the punch by a coworker, “Ghostface killed her!”
Your heart dropped out of your chest, the world around you slowed, and the voices around you seemed to get muffled. Mei Mei was dead? Murdered by the serial killer that plagued all your nightmares?
“Doll?” Choso’s voice rang out in your mind. “Doll!” You snapped back to reality, looking up at him. “C-Choso....t-they killed....” You couldn’t even get the words out as he pulled you to the side. “Hey, calm down. You’re going to cause a panic attack if you don’t.” He said sweetly.
He sat you down in a corner, away from the commotion, sliding you a water bottle. “Take a sip.” He instructed softly. You did as you were told, taking a small sip and deep breath. “She’s dead, Choso.” You repeated softly, “Mei Mei was killed by Ghostface. It’s fucking crazy.”
“Yeah,” He breathed out, “Crazy.” His hand came up to rub your back, “Don’t go getting paranoid on me.” Choso sat with you, whispering comforting things in your ear until he was sure that you had calmed down.
“The police report that the young woman, Mei Mei, actually dialed 911 before being brutally killed by Ghostface, citing that her killer had on black combat boots with spikes on them.”
Choso tucked his feet under the table as you were busy calming down on his shoulder. There was no need for you to see those beat-up spiked combat boots of his.
Your days had passed in a blur, trying to come to terms with the fact that Mei Mei was dead and the crippling paranoia that followed you around. You felt like there were eyes on you at every second of the day. Jumping at every sudden sound, sleeping with your door closed just so the monster wouldn’t catch you.
It was coming to the point that you could barely sleep since every sound and creak startled you back to consciousness any time you started to doze off. Just as you were starting to get closer to sleep, the shrill ring of your phone snapped you back to reality. You reached for your phone, stupidly not checking the caller ID.
“Hello?” You said groggily, rubbing your eyes. There was a long beat of silence that made you frown, “Hello?” You repeated.
Suddenly, a deep and distorted chuckle came from the other end. “Wake up, pretty.” A distorted voice said. You shot up on the bed, a cold shiver running down your spine. “W-Who is this?” You asked.
“Do you like scary movies? What’s your favorite?” The voice asked, completely ignoring your question. You stayed silent, swallowing hard as the voice cleared his throat. “Don’t make me repeat myself, pretty.”
“Scary movies?” You asked timidly. “Why do you want to know? Who is this?”
“Tsk. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to answer a question with a question? You know who I am.” The voice teased, “I’ll call you back soon, pretty. I expect an answer then.”
The line clicked off as you blinked, pulling the phone from your ear. Your eyes landed on your call log, desperate to find the number that had called you.
Unknown.
Your heart sunk to your stomach in fear. Did you just get called by Ghostface? You had to have been because the reports stated that the killer always asked what the victim’s favorite scary movie was. You got out of bed, pacing in her room in anxiousness. Were you next? Oh God, you were next. That would be the only explanation for why someone would call and ask you that. You scrolled through your contacts, pressing Suguru’s quickly. It rang for a few moments before Suguru picked up. “Sweetheart?” He answered.
“Can you come over?” You asked hurriedly, glancing around your room as if someone was already there waiting for you. “Come over?” Suguru repeated, “Sweetheart, it’s 3 in the morning.”
“Please, Suguru. I...I need you. Ghostface called me.”
There was a beat of silence over the phone before you heard a breathy, “I’m on my way.”
Suguru got there in a record amount of time; you swung your door open to see him standing there with a worried expression. “Are you okay?” He asked, peeking into your apartment and looking around. You stepped to the side, letting him inside. “I’m...fine. Just shaken up.” You said.
You paced your living room, Suguru’s eyes following you. “You’re anxious.” He said. A loud scoff fell from your lips as you looked at him. “Of course, I’m fucking anxious. A serial killer is after me and I don’t know what to do.” You said, throwing your arms up in exasperation.
You paused, turning to him. “I should go to the police. Maybe they can track the call or something.” You said, reaching for your keys. Suguru’s hands shot out, grabbing your wrist. “That’s not a good idea, sweetheart.”
“What? Why not?” You asked, “Am I supposed just to let this guy kill me?”
Suguru pulled you closer into a comforting hug, “It’s just...do you really think the police will be able to do anything?” He said, “I mean, they don’t even have any leads now. A measly little phone call isn’t going to help them.”
“But—” Your words were cut off by a soothing ‘sh’ as he continued, “Our police department isn’t going to find him, sweetheart. It’ll be better if I stay here with you. Safety in numbers, right?”
You looked up at Suguru, who gave you a sweet smile back, “Trust me.”
That’s how you ended up with Suguru staying with you after that. A sweet, reassuring smile from your friend eased all your worries. Suguru escorted you to work, the grocery store, your favorite bakery, and back home. It was so peaceful, so quiet that you had forgotten all about the creepy call from that night.
How utterly foolish of you.
Suguru had gone home one night, leaving you to sleep in your apartment by yourself for the first time in weeks. It was around 11 in the evening when the shrill sound of your ringtone broke the silence of the apartment. You pried your eyes open, grabbing the device, and looking at the caller ID.
Unknown.
Your heart sped up as the sleepiness seemingly disappeared from your body. Your shaky thumb pressed the green button on the touch screen. “Hello?” You whispered.
“Long time no see, pretty.” The distorted voice chuckled into the phone, “Do you have an answer to my question?”
Your throat went dry, words failing to form in your brain. It’s almost like the person on the other end of the line knew that, causing their laughter to get deeper and more hysterical. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of an answer for me, pretty. Tsk, tsk, tsk. What a bad girl, can’t even do a simple task.”
“What do you want from me?” You asked, clearing your throat to sound braver than you felt. “I want you to answer the damn question.” They said. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”
You took a deep breath, your mind screaming at you not to piss off the psychopath on your phone. “I don’t have one.” You said, “I don’t— I don’t watch scary movies.” There was a small hum on the phone. “What an interesting answer.” Ghostface said, “Well, my favorite movie is this new movie that just came out. It’s called Don’t Move. Have you seen it?”
Your body was shivering, the hairs on your arms were standing up, and your bedroom started to feel eerily smaller the more the voice spoke. “No.” You said, “I haven’t seen it.”
“Oh!” They gasped, “Let me tell you all about it.”
You could feel the smile through the phone, causing your stomach to twist in nausea and disgust. They sounded pleased with the fact that you were terrified, almost like this is what they thrive on. “It’s about this woman, who goes to her son’s memorial and contemplates whether life is worth living after the loss of her son.” Ghostface started, “Then she gets injected by this man with a paralyzing serum and must fight for her life before her body shuts down. Real good movie, I tell ‘ya.”
You could only muster up a sound of acknowledgment. Ghostface laughed, “I want to reenact that movie....with you.” Your eyes widen and a choked breath escapes you before you speak. “You want to what?”
“Oh, don’t be so scared, pretty. It won’t be any fighting for your life, I’ll make you earn that in other ways.” They chuckled, “Open your nightstand for me.”
Your eyes shifted to the nightstand, and you reached over to pull the small knob forward. Inside the nightstand was a single pill and a small bottle of water. You had absolutely no idea how that got inside of your nightstand. The idea that this person had gotten into your apartment to put this here multiplied your fear tenfold. “Now, don’t worry. This is nothing serious, nothing that will paralyze you. I’m not a monster.” Ghostface said, a snort following, “God, I’m hilarious.”
“What is it then?” You asked, “What will it do to me?” You picked the pill up, rolling it between your fingers. “It’ll just put you back to sleep for about another hour or two. Gives me plenty of time to set up for our little reenactment.” Ghostface said casually as if this was the most normal thing ever.
“What if I don’t do it?” You blurted, “What if I just hang up and call the police?”
There was a beat of silence before a burst of laughter that filled your ears. “Oh, pretty, call the police? Do you think the police can help you? They can’t even keep up.” Ghostface laughed, “And if you even move those pretty fingers of yours to hang up on me, I can’t promise that I will continue to be nice to you.”
“And trust me, you don’t want to piss me off.” They added, suddenly serious. A shiver ran down your spine as you swallowed hard. “Now,” The voice returned to its original cheeriness, “Be a good girl and take that pill. Let me hear you. ”
“And trust me, pretty, I will know if you don’t take it,” Ghostface warned. You bite your lip, nervousness coursing through your veins. You slowly place the pill on your tongue, cracking open the small bottle of water. You downed the water, the pill rushing down your throat and into your system. The loud gulp of the water was loud enough for Ghostface to hum approvingly. “Good job, pretty. Now, lay back and let the drug do its job.”
You had no choice but to follow his directions, laying back on the bed. Your hands clutched the phone to your ear. Your eyes get heavy as your head hits the pillow; a soft yawn falls from your mouth. Ghostface chuckled, “See you soon, pretty.”
And with that, the world was dark again.
You don’t know how long you had drifted off into the drug-induced sleep, but your heavy eyelids opened slightly to a black-and-white mask. A sharp gasp filled the air as you jumped back from the elongated ghost mask that leaned over your bed. Ghostface chuckled, tilting his head. “Nice to finally meet you in person, pretty. Happy to see us?”
“H-How did you get in? W-What are you—Wait, us?” Your mind finally registered the two other masked figures in separate corners of your room. One sitting at your desk, legs spread, and a shiny knife resting in his lap. Another one standing next to your closet, one leg prompted up, and twirling his knife around his fingers.
“Ghostface is more than one person?” You asked. Chuckles emitted from each figure at your confusion. “Ghostface is many people.” The one leaning over you said, “But that’s a conversation for next time.”
“Him over there at the desk? Just refer to him as Blood.” He points over to him before moving his finger to the one standing by the closet, “And you can refer to him as Curse.”
“And me? You can call me Strongest.” He said, “Just so it’s easier for you.” He took his knife, waving it around.
“What do you want? Why are you here?” You asked, scooting further up on the bed. Strongest laughed, climbing up the bed to follow you. “What do we want? Well, we want you.” He said, “But remember what I said on the phone? I want to reenact my favorite movie.”
“But none of that fighting for your life nonsense. I have no interest in that, seems boring.” Strongest mused, bringing his knife up to trace your arm. It was light, not enough pressure to draw blood but enough pressure to send a sting through your body. “I think we all just want a ‘thank you’ from you.” He said.
“A thank you?” You asked, “Why would I thank you? You’re serial killers.”
You could feel the pout emitting from under Strongest’s mask. “For you. We’re serial killers for you.” He said, “Have you not noticed all of our hard work?”
The look on your face was filled with confusion, which made Strongest huff and look at his partners. “Can you guys believe this? She really hasn’t noticed. You were right, Curse.” Curse only chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s all a part of her charm.”
Strongest only hummed in agreement, turning his head back to you. “Haven’t you been paying attention to our murders?” He asked, “Remember that super mean professor of yours?”
You blinked, your mind racing through reports from the Ghostface murders. One of the earlier ones was on your campus; you remembered coming to class one day to rumors that he had just up and disappeared. “T-That professor is missing; he’s not....he’s not....” You stuttered.
“Oh, no, pretty, he’s definitely dead.” Strongest teased, “The police are so slow that the numbers that they are telling the public are nearly double that.”
He brought the knife up, letting it trail down the front of your shirt. “Do you think that date just stood you up? No, we were stabbing him to death in the back alley.” Your heart dropped at the newfound information. Your mind started combing through the numerous Ghostface reports, connecting them to your everyday life. They were killing people around you, and you’ve been too foolish to see it.
“Ahh, I see those pretty eyes coming to the realization. Finally.” Strongest said. You took a deep breath, looking into the dark eye sockets of the mask, “Why though? Why would you...?”
“Because you’re ours.” Blood spoke up from the desk, “Only ours.”
Strongest chuckled, climbing further on the bed, caging you against the headboard. “We care about you. We love you, everything we do is for you.” He added, “And we’re tired of living in the shadows, tired of only watching you from afar. We want some reward, some praise.”
Your breathing picked up as your eyes darted around the mask, looking for any sign of change in the stilled expression. “Reward? Praise? H-How?” You let out a shaky breath. Strongest tilted his head; a chuckle fell from his lips as he trailed his knife down your chest again. This time, there was more force in his drag. The fabric ripped inch by inch as he moved it down. “We have a few ideas.” He purred, “And it involves way less clothing.”
“What if I say no?” You whispered, “What if I don’t want to do it?”
“You think you have the choice to say no? You’re outnumbered, pretty.” He whispered back, “And you’re throwing out a lot of ‘what ifs’, makes me think that you want to reward us.” The knife ripped your shirt down the middle, your breasts freeing themselves. You should’ve covered yourself and fought back against him, but you didn’t; you couldn’t.
Strongest seemed to notice that you didn’t fight, a smirk forming on his face under the mask. He sat up, yanking you closer to the foot of the bed, taking a seat next to you. His hand trailing up your stomach, cupping your breasts. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been dying to see these. How many times I’ve fucked my fist imagining that I was cumming on these soft things.”
Rough hands gripped your thighs, pushing your thighs apart to settle in between your legs. You yelp softly, feeling a thumb press down on your clit. “Tsk, no underwear, sweetheart?” Curse teased. His thumb was playing circular motions on your clit. “And no bra either. You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you?” Strongest added, rolling your left nipple between his thumb and index fingers.
The simulation of both made you squirm, attempting to break free. Curse gripped your thighs, yanking you back as Strongest pinned your arms down, the cold metal of his knife pressing against your neck. “Stay still, pretty.” He whispered, “I would hate to punish you instead.”
You whimpered, nodding. Strongest hummed in approval, going back to rolling your nipples between his fingers but keeping his knife pressed to your neck. Curse’s thumb continued to rub your clit, before switching to his index finger to run up and down your clothed folds. You let out a huffy whine, holding back your squirming but subconsciously bucking your hips into his finger. Curse chuckled, “Want more, sweetheart? All you had to do was ask, I’ll do anything for you.”
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them to the side. The cold air of the room brushing against your exposed pussy did nothing but add more stimulation. “Look at you, already wet for us.” Curse mused, his thumb coming back to rub on your clit. “I wish I could taste you, I bet you taste so sweet.” He said.
“Don’t say things like—” Your words were cut short by Strongest’s fingers shoving their way into your mouth. “Don’t talk anymore, pretty. Let us take our reward, okay?” He said, “Now suck on my fingers with that pretty mouth of yours.”
You looked up at Strongest through your lashes, slowly obeying his command and sucking on his fingers. Curse’s fingers slowly slid into you, causing a light, muffled whine to emit from your throat. Two thick digits pumping in and out of you as you sucked on two thick fingers. “She’s clenching around my fingers so nicely.” Curse murmured, “You must be enjoying this, hm?”
You didn’t respond, your legs quivering was more than enough of a response. Strongest’s fingers were soaked with your saliva. He chuckled, pulling them out and patting your cheek. “How about I give you something bigger to suck on, pretty?” He whispered in your ear. Curse pulled his fingers out of you so Strongest could maneuver your body around. Curse picked up his knife, slicing off the rest of your tattered shirt.
“W-What....What are you doing?” You asked, looking up at Strongest as he stood at the foot of the bed, undoing his belt while Curse moved to position himself behind you. Strongest chuckled, “How many times do I have to tell you that we’re getting our reward, pretty?” He teased. “But...we’re also giving Blood over there a little show.”
He gripped your jaw, turning your head to look at Blood. This was the first time you took notice of the quiet figure sitting at your desk since this all had started. His legs were still spread but this time, his cock was firmly in his hand as he moved his fist up and down the shaft.
“Blood is going to join in a moment, but we’re going to...warm you up for him,” Curse added, his voice playful. You wanted to question them more, but your train of thought was derailed once Strongest grabbed the base of his cock, slapping your cheek. “Be a good girl and open up for us, pretty.” He said. A sharp gasp fell out your lips when Curse’s cock slid into you, allowing Strongest to shove his cock into your mouth.
A groan fell from Strongest’s and Curse’s mouths, their eyes closing. “Shiiiittt....” Strongest groaned, his hands gripping the sides of your face to pull you closer. Your nose tickled his abdomen, gagging slightly. “There you go, pretty. You got it....youuu got it.”
“So fucking tight.” Curse groaned, “The deeper she takes you, the harder she clenches around me.”
Curse gave you a sharp thrust, a whine emitting from your throat. Strongest groaned, his head lolling back in pleasure. Strongest’s hand was placed firmly on the back of your head as he drove his hips forward, his cock bullying the back of your throat. Curse’s hand gripped your hips, his pace fast and quick as he slammed into you. The moans that you were desperate to hold back were getting louder and more uncontrollable as time passed.
You had never in your life been so full. You have had sex plenty of times in your life, not with more than one person at a time, and surely, not this roughly. Each thrust, gag, and smack had your mind blanking in the best way.
“This pretty pussy is just drooling all over my dick, sweetheart.” Curse mused, landing a sharp smack to your ass, “You like getting fucked by strangers?”
Strongest hummed, wiping the saliva that dripped down your chin and smeared it to the base of his cock. “Or maybe it’s the masks? You got a mask kink, pretty?” He asked. He pulled his cock out of your mouth, grinning as you coughed and gasped for air. You let out a soft whine as Curse gave you a final thrust before pulling out. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart.” Curse ran his finger down your spine, a shiver hitting your body as he did. “We’re just switching spots. I want to see your pretty eyes too, you know?”
The two masked men switched, Strongest groaning merely at the sight of your ass. His hands ran over the plushness of your ass, giving you a sharp smack. He massaged his hit, chuckling to himself. “This is the best ass I’ve seen before. You’re so perfect, pretty.” Strongest said.
Strongest ran the tip of his cock down your folds, a small whimper falling from your throat. “P-Please...” You whispered. Curse gripped your jaw, forcing you to look up at his mask. “Please what, sweetheart? Come on, we need to hear your words.” He teased.
You gulped hard, your eyes searching the mask. You should’ve been trying to find a way to get out of this. You should’ve been trying to find a way to get help, not letting these psychos have their ways with you. “Please fuck me.” You said softly, “Please.”
Curse and Strongest chuckled with each other. “We’ll work on that soft voice of yours next time, pretty. For now, we’ll stop teasing you.” They both pushed into you at the same time, their hips thrusting into you brutally. Their groans overpowered your muffled moans. Their hands traveled over an inch of your body as if they just couldn’t help themselves from touching you in some way. The two of them had snatched orgasms out of you that you didn’t even think was possible in that short amount of time. Their thrusts were getting sloppier and quicker as they both used you to chase their highs.
“I’m going to cum...fuck, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Strongest moaned. His hands gripped your hips tighter as Curse let out a breathy chuckle, “And I’m going to cum in this beautiful mouth of yours, sweetheart. God, you’re going to look so fucking pretty swallowing my cum like the slut you are.”
Your legs were weak, shaking from the overstimulation of it all. Your body could only register the feeling of Strongest and Curse using you like their personal toy as they both emptied themselves inside of you. They panted softly as they pulled out of you.
You collapsed to the bed, attempting to catch your breath and regain some kind of sense. Strongest chuckled, slapping your thighs. “Aw, she’s all fucked out.” He laughed. He climbed off the bed, looking at Curse, who was also chuckling at the sight of you.
Blood, who had been relatively quiet during this, cleared his throat. You could feel his eyes burning into your form as you glanced over at him. Cum coated his fingers and his shaft as he continued to run his fist up and down his cock. Strongest tilted his head, crossing his arms. “I take it as you enjoyed the show, huh?” He teased Blood. You sat up, looking at Blood with curious eyes as he stood up and walked towards you.
You let out a soft yelp as he stepped out of his cargo pants, climbing over you and caging you into missionary. “W-What are you doing?” You asked, your hands firmly pressed to his chest as you looked at Blood, then to Curse and Strongest. Curse laughed, kneeling to whisper in your ear.
“We said we were warming you up for Blood, remember?” Curse said, “You see, Blood is a virgin.”
Strongest kneeled on the other side of you, “And he’s been waiting for this moment. The moment to fuck you.” He added. Curse grunted softly. “You both are embarrassing.” He muttered, “Making me sound pathetic.”
Strongest ignored Blood, running his knuckles across your cheek. “Be a good girl and make this a good experience for him, hm? He really deserves it.”
Strongest and Curse stood up, stepping away from the bed as if they were giving you and Blood some type of privacy. You looked up at Blood, and even though his mask covered his face, you could feel him staring at you. “You’re so gorgeous, doll.” He whispered, “Do you know I would do anything for you?”
His tip, leaking pre-cum, rubbed against your clit, snatching a moan from you. “I-I’m sensitive...y-you can’t tease—fuck!” Blood hadn’t let you finish your warning as he pushed into you. He groaned, his face dipping into your neck. “S-So tight...and warm. It’s b-better than I imagined.” He moaned, his hips moving at a steady pace. His hands pushed your legs to wrap around his waist. “You feel so good, doll.” He muttered.
Blood was different than Strongest and Curse. He was soft, attentive, and steady, whereas Strongest and Curse were rough, experienced, and sporadic. You moan as he shifts his hips to hit your g-spot. Your nails dug into his back, and your legs tightened around his waist. Your moans jump up an octave as your eyes screw shut at the pleasure.
“Seems like you found her spot, Blood.” Curse teased, “Keep hitting it if you want to drive her crazy and hear those sweet little moans of her’s.”
Blood slowed down, glancing back at his two partners before looking back at you. “Keep hitting it?” He repeated to himself, “Are you going to make pretty sounds for me if I do?” He asked you.
You opened your mouth to respond, but it was too late as Blood had pushed your legs back into a mating press and began pounding into you. “W-Wait...!” You moaned, your eyes shooting open to look at him. His hips slammed into you at a pace that even put Strongest and Curse to shame. Each thrust made your mind blank, your moans mixing in with his grunts and whimpers.
“Y-You are making those pretty noises w-when I hit it.” Blood said, “You sound so fucking pretty....you look pretty, too.”
You had lost track of time when your orgasm washed over your body and Blood was still pounding into your overstimulated pussy. The sheets under you were drenched from your orgasm causing Strongest to let out a bratty whine. “He made her squirt on her first try. Fucking unfair.”
“Y-You have to s-slow down....o-or I’m going to cum again.” You said to Blood. He only grunted in return, “I can’t.”
“I can’t slow down. You feel so good. It’s like my hips a-are just moving on their own.” He whimpered, “I wanna cum....I wanna cum inside.”
You could only respond in breathy gasps as Blood slammed into you, plugging his seed into you. He stilled, laying on top of you as he caressed your leg almost lovingly. You huffed softly as he pulled out and stood up over you. Strongest and Curse moved to stand at his side, marveling at the sight of Blood’s cum flowing slowly out of you. Curse hummed as he kneeled, using his index to push the fluids back inside of you. “Don’t be wasteful, sweetheart. Keep his cum inside, okay?” He said.
You shuddered slightly but nodded obediently at his command. Strongest leaned over you, tilting his head. “You did so good, pretty. You treated us so well.” He purred, patting your head. He stood straight, glancing at Curse and Blood. “I think she deserves to know who we are, doesn’t she?” He said, a playful tone taking over his voice. The other two nodded, a chuckle coming from Curse.
You watched intently as the three men pulled off their masks. You blinked as your mind registered the three familiar faces of Satoru, Suguru, and Choso. You looked between the three of them as they looked at you. They expected you to scream, maybe even yell at them for everything but instead, you laughed.
You were laughing.
Suguru raised an eyebrow at you. “Sweetheart, why are you laughing?” He crossed his arms. You smiled up at him, sitting up. “Because it’s just you guys. I thought some real psychos had broken in here.” You giggled, “Thank God for that.”
The three men stared at you as if you had grown two extra heads. They shared looks before shrugging. “So...you’re not scared?” Satoru asked.
“Or angry with us?” Choso added. You shook your head, standing up with a smile. “Of course not, silly. You guys are my friends.”
Suguru rubbed his temples with a slight smirk. Either you were completely insane or as naïve as they come. Regardless, you belonged to them.
You belonged to Ghostface.
#jayybugg fics#jjk#choso kamo#satoru gojo#suguru geto#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#ghostface
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A bit about Nagumo (SD)
I think we need to talk more about the following moments from the Assassin Exhibition of the Century arc.
As much as we know what kind of person he is—very playful on the outside, seemingly oblivious to hidden cues and extremely laid back, I don't think these are always a coping mechanism to hide the concealed wounds. We are yet to know more about his backstory (if suzuki has even planned to let us know more in the first place). He is the way he is—this is what i think. However, what is so intriguing to me is that someone as seemingly detached as him was able to reflect on past situations and his loss in that high-stakes situation. He literally put his life on line to protect a mere persona of his old friend. That is very telling of the kind of person he actually is. He is passively aware of his surroundings (which is expected of an assassin anyway), he is good at reading others' thoughts and emotions even though he doesn't get bogged down in feelings. And he never struck me for being merciless in any way, even though he can be rough during fights like he should. He's rather clement and always looks out for others. I'd assume he would be the most popular among kids lol, judging from how he handled the former chairman's little daughter.
Also THIS MOMENT! I'm gonna be honest, i didn't see this coming—nagumo spewing out such profound words. He was implicitly devastated at Hyo's death. Yeah, that's the kind of person he is. I think he is the type to lock himself in a room and cry when sad but a totally different person—all bright and jolly the moment you enter the room haha. Honestly, i knew he would be my favorite from the moment he was introduced.
Anyway, I've seen people say that there isn't much clue about Nagumo's real personality. I have to disagree with this. I think we have enough knowledge of his character so far. If i have to pick a character that needs more elaboration on their personality it has to be Shishiba. I am going to talk about it anytime later.
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First of all: Happy Birthday Deus!
Secondly, I have more thoughts about the whole "The Villain must Die" thing. You already allude to it in your original post, but one of the reasons that people tend to dislike it is definitely the fact that, if they were to acknowledge & accept it, they feel they would also have to "blame" themselves for liking "bad" media that does not follow this "rule".
You point out Star Wars, so some people will simply read this as "If you enjoyed Star Wars, specifically Palpatine dying, YOU ARE A BAD PERSON!"
Which is not what you said, (and I assume not what you meant) but some people will just read this into things, and feel like they have failed some invisible "vibe check" or something by liking the "wrong" media, and it all starts becoming some weird purity test even if it's often only in peoples head.
Like, stop reinventing Catholicism over here, stories can have different meanings and lessons, and one single thing doesn't mean that the story is no forever tainted and everyone who ever liked it should be branded as evil or some-such nonsense.
To use an extreme example, Metal Gear Rising Revengeance very VERY much kills its villains. It also has a very strong and important message about politics and ideology and how people justify atrocities in it. It's a different kind of story with a different kind of message compared to things like BNHA. Also, it even implies itself that the protagonist might have been wrong in killing his enemies, the fact that he did so anyway and that that was the only way he could see is a flaw that the game directly points out! So good news, liking MGR doesn't make you "bad" just as liking SU or BNHA doesn't mark you as inherently "good" or "righteous".
People need to take a step back and consider that not everything is an attack on them or what they like. Good stories are allowed to have flaws. Because most of them do. Any you are still allowed to like them. That's also fine. You can even like something and criticize it anyway, that's allowed!
This is getting long, so I want to end with another example that helped me realize how much I love villains surviving:
Fairy Tail, and the Arc of Jellal. Long Story short, when we first meet Jellal he is THE WORST. Absolute scum of the earth, sadistic maniacal supervillain that, inevitably, ends up blown up in a big anime battle.
Except, nope, ~2 arcs later, he is back, with amnesia, and involved in some other villains plot. Over the course of the arc he works with the heroes but then regains his memory and is utterly devastated to learn who he was in the past, to the point that he tries to noble suicide sacrifice himself to stop the villain. It does not stop the villain, but he still wants to go through with it to "atone", until the hero that he had hurt to most slaps him in the face and yells at him to Live and Struggle.
Because his death wont change anything. It wont heal those he hurt, or revive those he killed. He can only make up for this, only truly become better, by living.
And, spoiler, he does not sacrifice himself, but instead starts to go on a long and arduous and messy journey of atonement and it absolutely rocks. It makes him and his story a million times better than if he had died.
Anyways, sorry for the second wall of text I send you today, once again, Happy Birthday and best wishes!
One of the many things I love about Metal Gear Rising Revengeance's dialogue on the nature of violence is that, as you said, Raidon loses the moral victory at the end. When he kills Senator Armstrong, Armstrong names Raidon as the inheritor of his ideals that Might Makes Right. The entire game shows Raidon martyring himself by sacrificing his morals in an effort to save lives, implicitly comparing this to real-world warfare
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LMAO i lied im answering all these at once. woohoo!
(warning for VERY unreliable narration in certain questions)
1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?
“That’s kind of personal, isn’t it? Well, good thing you asked me, the most normal person here. Kidding, kidding.”
Yuhua lives with his parents right now. His sister, an alumnus of the school, is away at university. They are a perfectly happy family. There is nothing wrong. Nothing.
(Yuhua lives with an emotionally manipulative mother and conservative father, and returns to a dysfunctional household that is filled with silence, phone calls, or arguments every day. Of course, he would never admit any of this to anyone but his friends, and even then nothing more than a slight hint or complaint that tells nothing of the bigger picture. Yuhua himself is not in the best mental state as a result, due to placing pressure on himself to perform well so his parents don’t get on his case, and he maintains a thin thread of control on his demeanor.)
2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?
“She looks kind of lonely… I feel bad. No wonder she’s so into… Oops! That’s not my thing to tell. But I do think she could benefit from some friends.”
The quote is probably self-explanatory of what he thinks (assuming he hasn’t caught her doing anything suspicious, and has only ever seen her pretend to fawn over Azul). He recognizes that she’s always alone, but he’s also like. World’s worst introvert trying to masquerade as world’s worst extrovert, so… he hasn’t (yet) taken any steps to make the first move and interact with her. It probably doesn’t help that it looks like neither of them bother with more than small talk with others.
3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?
“That guy? …Doesn’t it seem like he’s suddenly got a lot of admirers nowadays? I mean, I can see the appeal—hardworking, intelligent… But I don’t think I could ever date anyone on the student council. Guess those guys can shoot their shots if they want.”
If you couldn’t tell from the quote, he… thinks middlingly of Azul, and has like 0 romantic interest in him at all lol. Of course, Yuhua respects anyone with good grades and good conduct, of which Azul meets all the criteria, but that’s it. I wouldn’t say he ever met Azul so much as he’s heard of him (what with being in the same year and Azul being on the student council), and seen him around.
4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?
About Floyd:
“...That guy. There’s no point in associating myself with him.”
(if this is okay) They’ve been in the same class for two years in a row now, purely by chance. Yuhua knows him as the careless, genius lackey of Azul. His disorderly and sometimes disrespectful conduct only grates Yuhua when there’s something that needs to be done, but otherwise Yuhua would be content to let him live his life and let their paths never cross. Even that one time he went into the gym after club activities to practice his lines and saw Floyd practicing his basketball skills non-stop—Even when Floyd puts in the work to pass a test almost effortlessly, then decides the next one isn’t worth the nonexistent effort—Even when Floyd is free to do whatever he wants, his actions and comments constantly broadening Yuhua’s restricted worldview—Even… when…
…even when Yuhua’s nursing something of a hopeless, helpless crush on him. And that’s it. It’s no fairytale love, it’s no novel-worthy romance. It’ll never take flight—Yuhua will take this secret with him to the grave because of that. He knows he’s not enough to catch and keep Floyd’s attention; at most he’s just a classmate who Floyd thinks it’s funny to talk to and annoy sometimes because he tries to look like a goody-two-shoes in a less angry way than Riddle.
“It’s not a crush, because I won’t get that crushing disappointment when he finds out and is disgusted by my very existence.”
About Vizzie ( @twistedwonderlandshenanigans ):
“...She’s got a good heart.”
They’re… friends. Acquaintances. Something. Does he really know how to define it? Now that Vizzie doesn’t care as much about her grades and Yuhua’s just went on to prioritize himself, or something, what was probably a friendship has… not stayed a friendship. He goes on with his reputation-building act, while she does her own thing. Yeah. Yeah—He’s fine with it. It’s what they both want, and he’s not going to interfere with her choices. It’s fine. Right? (He doesn’t want to think about it.)
It definitely doesn’t bother him that now that she’s “fallen off” and protected herself with a poor reputation, she seems… more free. It ABSOLUTELY does not bother him that she’s such easy “friends” with Floyd. It doesn’t bother him that unlike with Floyd, everything about Vizzie’s day-to-day existence and circumstances proves that something is inherently wrong with Yuhua himself. It doesn’t bother him that her everything proves that everything about him, from personality to looks to grades, is inferior and unlikeable. It doesn’t bother him that, because she’s so closed-off now, the unspoken truth is that he wasn’t enough for something like an actual friendship. It. Doesn’t. Bother. Him.
About Riddle:
“...Oh, that guy.”
Sure, he can respect someone like Riddle. Someone who’s at the top of their class, is on the student council—Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s because of people like him that Yuhua doesn’t try too hard, anyway. It just isn’t fun. It’s not worth his time, to be constantly outclassed. And his attitude, too—part of the reason Yuhua would never run for student council. If he was aware of Riddle’s situation, he’d be more sympathetic, but as things are he just can’t quite stand Riddle’s attitude.
Let overachievers have their fun, is Yuhua’s opinion. He’s fine to be a middling fish in a small pond while people like Riddle try to be big fish. They’re fellow second-years, but that doesn’t mean they have to care about each other. They probably don’t interact much on a meaningful level because of Riddle’s duties and Yuhua’s opinions, and if they do—it’s Yuhua being polite and saying all the things Riddle wants to hear.
(if you’re willing to establish OC dynamics, let me know and I can add Yuhua’s thoughts here! I just don’t like to add/conceptualize dynamics with canon characters because I’m scared of stepping on toes abkjsdkfgjskfd)
5. What grade/year is your OC?
“I’m part of the worst year, in case you’re wondering. Hehe. Just kidding.”
Aging him up by just one year for this AU— He’s 17, a second-year.
6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?
“Goals? Eh… Passing this year with the best grades I can get.”
He doesn’t have any true goals, and it makes him anxious. His main objective is just… passing the school year, staying on good terms with everyone… That’s it. It’s all very short-term, school-related. He doesn’t have enough faith in himself to actually achieve a long-term life goal.
“As for life? Ask me again in, like… a year.”
7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?
“...What? This is ridiculous. Do you just accept any kind of evidence nowadays? …No. Don’t answer that. Sorry. But I know I’m innocent.”
Yuhua is counting on others to vouch for him, both for an alibi and for his character; it’s situations like these that are the reason why he’s so intent on networking and maintaining good relationships with everyone. Knowing that his future and record are on the line, he’s absolutely going to plead his case however he can, trying to argue about the evidence, et cetera…
“Isn’t there anyone else who could have been responsible? In fact…”
If he’s ever caught Quartz doing something suspicious, he’s definitely throwing her under the bus now. If people grill him for not reporting it right away, well…
“I was just—scared at the time, you know? I didn’t know what she was going to do to me if I tattled… I’m really sorry, but what matters is that I’m the one telling the truth now.”
This might be one of the rare situations where people see him genuinely lose the easygoing act.
8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?
“Huh? Pockets? What pockets? I didn’t see anything.”
He’ll turn a blind eye, unless there’s a situation wherein he can actually benefit from reporting her.
“In any case… It’s not my business right now. Let people do what people want as long as it doesn’t affect me, yeah?”
9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?
“Come on, don’t ask me questions like that. I’m only ever where I should be.”
Yuhua always goes to class, and always shows up on time. He has people he can’t disappoint, even himself. When he’s not in class, he’s (usually) in the drama club room; before classes start for the day, at lunch, and so on.
10. How are your OC's grades?
“Passable.”
He gets pretty good grades. I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily competitive, nor at the very top of his class, but he tries to stay above “average.” He’s got a natural edge to memorizing and regurgitating information, so getting good grades isn’t hard for him, but… you know. If he tried a little harder…
(No Yan Sim AU) Questions for OCs! + Quartz and other characters' lore
You don't have to do these if you don't want to! You can write and answer how ever you want (3rd person or as the OC)
These answers are just examples and they also give lore to other TWST characters in the AU
1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?
Riddle currently lives with his mother. Because of her influence, he is the strictest in the student council (which consists of the dormleaders.)
2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?
[You can yap about it here since I already used Quartz as an example in the fourth question]
3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?
Jade is Azul's right hand man. He assists Azul with a lot of student council work and is mostly by his side with Floyd. They are friends from their middle school days and up to their highschool days (although the three of them won't admit it).
Jade found Azul's hardwork and scheming nature very exciting so he and his brother always stayed by Azul's side to see what fun events would happen.
4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?
[They are speaking about Quartz as example]
Floyd: "Who again?"
Floyd doesn't really acknowledge Quartz since she's so quick out of his sights. Genuinely believes there isn't a person named that but is suspicious.
Jade: "Oh, that shy girl? She's a little funny."
Definitely suspicious of Quartz but they don't interact much so he has no other information about her. He probably needs to be more skillful when studying her.
Riddle: "Quartz?.. Uh.. I-I don't recall who that is."
Quartz rarely interacts with Riddle.
Ace: "Ah? You mean that girl who's always so weird? I've seen her watch Azul. Pffftt! Do you think she likes him?"
He notices her sometimes because he thinks her appearance is a little flashy.
Idia: "I-Isn't she one of Azul's admirers?... She's the shy type right? She's a little strange though.. Sometimes she takes photos of me! W-Wait.. Maybe she's into me instead?! EEEKK!! H-HOW SCARY!!"
Completely misunderstands Quartz's actions but he's quick to know how weird her actions are. He stays away from her if Azul isn't present.
5. What grade/year is your OC?
Azul, Jade, and Floyd are all 2nd years (17).
Leona has been held back so he is still 20.
6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?
Quartz wishes to kill Azul 🙏
7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?
Floyd is jumping her.
8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?
Riddle is absolutely reporting that! He's calling the cops and everything 🫡🫡🫡
9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?
Quartz is always in class but she'll come right before the bell rings since she was.. busy. She doesn't have a particular place she goes to all the time. She's never in one spot.
Quartz's lunch spot varies because she's always spying but her usual spot is in the courtyard.
Riddle is assigned being a hall monitor so he usually watches the halls when he is able to. He usually eats lunch with Trey and Cater.
Leona is always found napping under trees and skipping his classes. Ruggie manages to find him and give him his lunch from the cafeteria.
Rook is watching you.
10. How are your OC's grades?
Deuce tries, ok. (Awful)
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Who is Edwin without Charles
So I got this NGL and it took me a while to answer. I mean, I had the answer almost immediately, but it quickly became a 3000 word ramble and sparked a few side rambles as well. So I tried to pare it down a bit. It kinda worked. So, here goes...
Fair warning, lots of rambling ahead but I tried!
Who is Edwin without Charles. I have TOO many thoughts about this. Firstly, hypotheticals are hard, especially with people, because there are too many variables! And in the case of Edwin, limited data. We see Edwin in the show after 30+ years of being with Charles. We have his flashback with limited shots showing him being different and ostracized by his peers then sacrificed. We know he spent 70 years in Hell. But this flashback doesn't tell us much about him as a person, just more about his peers response and treatment of him. So his actions in the attic scene and Edwin's own descriptions of himself are what we mostly have to go off of for who he is prior to spending 30+ years with Charles.
A few things we know and can assume about Edwin. Edwin is intelligent, studious, and values information and logic. Edwin is fairly straightforward. Edwin is kind (he may not be nice, but he is kind! I'll die on that hill like Charles died in that attic). He believes he is not good with people. He may have believed at some point that he deserved Hell. He does display some ptsd related symptoms and heightened fear response to certain triggers related to Hell. I mean, 30+ years later, he's still very hypervigilant about the potential of Hell finding him. Also, he has a drive and purpose with his detective work.
As for Charles, there are four things I think Charles provides Edwin that significantly impact the Edwin we see 30+ years down the road - I don't think these four things are the only things, but they're what I'm considering heavily in this portion of my analysis. Charles provides acceptance without change (accepting who Edwin is as he is and not expecting or forcing change or masking), a connection to others and the world, SAFETY (in words and actions, Charles not only claims he'll protect Edwin but repeatedly does), and absolution (this will take some explanation, later in the analysis). I think it might be argued that Charles helps Edwin find purpose in detective work, but I think this would always happen, just maybe not as quickly or easily. Reading detective stories to Charles may have made it fresh in Edwin's mind, but I think Edwin would always seek out some self-appointed task or purpose. Plus, he does reveal an ulterior motive of building a case for leniency, so the detective work purpose would eventually come about even without Charles. But, lets remove Charles from the equation.
First, Edwin will always be kind. 70+ years in Hell after being sacrificed by his peers, he still takes the time to comfort and care for an injured and dying boy, putting himself at risk at the same time. He knew Death would come when Charles passed, he explained the light to Charles, but he waits. He waits until Charles passes and even until the light appears. Edwin maintains his inherent kindness through 70+ years of the worst place and the worst people. So I think Edwin will still be kind.
Second, I disagree that Edwin is "bad with people" but he believes he is. This is ingrained from the treatment of his peers (and possibly family) and further exacerbated by being out of touch with the times, being displaced a 100 years out of time. He asks if the women in Niko's family are prone to bouts of hysteria. This would've been common medical thinking in his time. A couple episodes later, he stops himself from using the word hysteria. This implies part of his "bad with people" is lack of knowledge. That all being said, Charles is largely his source of updated information and also a connection to others, smoothing out things when Edwin says something wrong and being a major support for Edwin being himself. Without Charles as a point of connection, Edwin may never learn he isn't "bad with people" and would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. He might withdraw more and, with no one to help talk to clients and smooth out any bumps and missteps, any error would be amplified. So Edwin becomes what he believes he is, "bad with people", withdrawn, and isolated more. He already reduces a lot of interactions to their necessary functions and would just do this to more extreme.
Third, Edwin's PTSD symptoms would probably be worse including increased hypervigilance, heightened flight-freeze response, and anxiety or possible even panic attacks. All of these would be internalized as well as something being wrong with him. Charles offers safety and acceptance of Edwin - he accepts Edwin's reactions without faulting him, ridiculing him, or shaming him. He accepts Edwin sharing as much about Hell as he does (we don't know the extent and clearly he left out details, but he did tell Charles "loads of stories about Hell"). Talking through traumatic experiences and emotions is a huge part of overcoming them and moving past them. Charles offers that to Edwin. Charles also offers safety - stepping between Edwin and a threat at every opportunity, protecting Edwin from physical pain but also coming to his defense in other ways - protecting him from the concept of Hell, the risk of going back, the idea he even belongs there. Charles shows again and again that he'll protect Edwin. Edwin feels safe! And we see this with his clothes. There are only four times we see Edwin without his armor. Twice are unwilling - pain and fear in Hell and on Esther's table. Twice are willing - Ep 6 in his sweater when he plans to confess to Charles and Ep 1 in the office when its just the two of them. Edwin feels safe with Charles and takes his armor off, even when he's about to do the very frightening thing of confessing his feelings. He feels safe. But if Edwin doesn't have that acceptance and safety, I imagine he doesn't progress as much in relation to his trauma. His PTSD symptoms may worsen or at least he stays in survival mode for so much longer.
Which brings me to point four - survival mode and Edwin finding his purpose - detective work. Again, still think he'd be a detective. I just think it'd be delayed. I think Edwin would spend a lot more time in initial survival more than we can assume he did in the show. Without a sense of safety and acceptance offered by Charles, I think Edwin spends longer in survival mode, a constant state of flight. How long would he stay in survival mode, flight mode for? Would he ever feel safe or would it worsen? You do not run from trauma. You do not hide from fear. Without something to help him feel safe, would Edwin have been as trapped in his own fear and trauma as he had been previously trapped in Hell? Charles is not the only reason Edwin moves out of flight/survival mode. Edwin has to do that work himself, and maybe 30 years later he does or has. But Charles would offer a huge support in this that now isn't there.
Finally, Edwin doesn't deserve to be in Hell, but maybe he believed he did. Maybe, without Charles, he still does. Edwin, when meeting Simon again, says "when you punish yourself, everywhere becomes Hell." Edwin spent the season learning about himself, exploring parts of himself he didn't before. I don't think these word were always something he believed, nor was that self-punishment something he could let go of. Every time Charles or Edwin talk about Edwin being in Hell (except when Edwin is using is as a "you know nothing of suffering" comeback), they point out that it was on a technicality. The only other exception is the attic, when Edwin reveals to Charles who only just escaped Hell. We know he wouldn't have talked about Hell previously in the attic scene, cause of how Charles reacts "chuffed you got out of Hell mate. Sounds hard" and because Edwin hadn't even told Charles he was dying so as not to scare him. A hell-condemned ghost would scare most people. But, in the attic, Edwin also doesn't clarify that he was there on a technicality. 30 years later, that technicality is always mentioned, mostly by Charles. It is very clear that in their 30 years together, Charles has been openly adamant that Edwin doesn't belong in Hell. But Edwin's first time mentioning he'd been in Hell, he doesn't mention the technicality, even as a means to not frighten Charles. Possibly, Edwin wasn't so sure at that point. Possibly, Edwin believed that he belonged there, even if it was only a technicality that got him there. Maybe he believed he was destined for the red light. So, without that defender to not just his soul but his honor and goodness, would Edwin believe he doesn't deserve to be in Hell.
Edwin without Charles is still kind, still finds purpose, but I think struggles with finding safety and with resulting PTSD, self-acceptance, and absolution, even if its just absolution from his own self-perceived sins.
#dead boy detectives#charles rowland#edwin payne#dbda#dead boy detective agency#edwin x charles#payneland#save dead boy detectives
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Is living domestic life what you imagined it to be as a child/teen? I never thought I'd live this long and I dont know for how long I'll live anyway, but the thought of joy being found in the mundane keeps me going. Is it worth it?
By "domestic life", am I first to assume that you mean a 'nuclear family' in the classic sense?
Based on context, I'm going to assume so.
I also don't know why you feel, strictly, that you should have died and may yet die soon. I cannot make any assumptions on your health, physical or mental, so this also means all I can give you is my own experience. I don't mean to advise one not asking for advice, anyway; all you have asked for is insight.
So I came from the sort of family where, for the most part, being 'a mother' was every woman's main identity. It was just what the women were. For most of my life, I never assumed I would be anything but a mother. It's funny, because in hindsight, none of the rest of my life and career aspirations strictly matched with being 'a mother' in the traditional sense, so I clearly had a long term delusion, there.
If I had known how distinctly in possession of myself I was, I might have known how hard it would be to give myself up, for babies.
Either way...for context: I fell very hard in love, and we grew up together (from ages 14/15) still in love, and we are now 31 and 32. I am a midwife, he is an English Professor/Lecturer and Teacher. We married aged 22/23. We have three sons, aged 7, 4 and 1.
Good things about domestic life:
Loneliness isn't a thing, here.
Lots and lots of affection, both physical and emotional.
The load of life is shared (note: I have a husband who is very, very outside of the norm, with no toxic masculinity and an approach to equality/equitability in work, childcare and housework).
When you are your own family unit, you're pressured less by family to get involved in their shit. Because you've got your own shit.
Living with the love of your life is amazing.
Having babies who are half you, and half the love of your life, is an incredibly beautiful thing.
Raising babies, although supremely difficult, is a joy.
Taking turns being at home and at work is helpful.
You learn to be much more compromising, patient and forgiving.
Bad things about domestic life:
You don't realise how much personal identity, independence or privacy you will lose, being a parent.
Exhaustion.
Parenting is hard. Really hard. Really, really hard.
Finding time for each other, as a couple, is also hard. Any time you do find, at least one of you is likely exhausted.
Good god, so much cooking.
Good god, so much laundry.
Good god, I swear I just vacuumed yesterday.
Good god, groceries are expensive.
Barely keeping your head above water with life admin and finances and childrearing and housework and work and life and ever having any time alone, is absolutely real.
Very very little downtime.
If you are someone who finds joy in the mundane, then yes, you may find a lot of joy in domesticity. So much of it really is mundane; being at home with kids, is often simultaneously boring and stressful. Very odd. Perhaps I'll miss it when they're older.
My personal favourite moment, is the happy sigh at the end of every day, when the kids are in bed, and the house is largely clean, where you fall into each other's arms, and he looks at you like you built the world for him, and just says:
"Hello. You are beautiful."
And I bury my face in his chest, and breathe in the smell of him, and the stale cologne, and the sweat, and life, and say:
"God, I missed you. More than you know."
And it's basically the same, every day.
In a kind of beautiful way.
Love,
-- Haitch xxx
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Part 26: Do You Love Me
Summary: The aftermath.
Word Count: 5,342
Warnings: Angst, past suicide attempt, and sexual content.
Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter
Chapter 17: Hold Me 'Til it Stops Hurting
“Is she alive?”
Lizzie waited with baited breath for Charlie’s reply from the other end of the phone line. The receiver felt slippery in her hand from sweat. She could hear blood rushing in her ears. A chill had settled in her bones. It wouldn’t leave.
“I don’t know,” Charlie said, and she raised a hand to her mouth. Tears welled of their own accord at the corners of her eyes. “She was when they took her in the ambulance, I think.”
“Tommy went with her?”
“Yeah. No way they were separating them. He nearly ripped off the arm of the first paramedic that tried to touch her.”
Yes, that sounded like something Tommy would do. He had probably panicked when they tried to take her away from him.
“I’ll never get the way that he screamed when he found her out of my head, Lizzie.” Charlie’s voice was grave, lowered an octave with worry and sorrow. Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut against the vivid imagining her brain immediately conjured up. An anguished howl, reverberating in her skull, that seemed to go on and on forever. Like someone had reached right into Tommy’s chest and ripped out his heart.
Like the world was ending.
She had been worried since seeing Lucy at the ballet. How dead her eyes had become. She had seemed smaller, somehow. And all that bright warmth that she had so often exuded was entirely absent. Not to mention the way that she’d walked right on passed them when Tommy had saved a seat for her next to them. That had shocked Lizzie to her core. No matter how mad Lucy would sometimes get at either of them in the past, she’d never done something like that before.
She understood that Lucy was probably depressed over the whole thing. But, Christ, she never would have thought that she would try to…
She jammed her eyes shut.
“Do you know which hospital they took her to?”
Charlie gave her the address.
“Right.”
“You’re thinking of heading over there?”
“I need to know if she’s alright.”
“Right, just be careful. He might be…”
Out of his mind with grief.
“I know. I will.”
She heard a sharp, high whining sound from Charlie’s end of the phone and frowned. “What was that?”
Charlie sighed, and she could hear the crinkle of the phone shifting when he adjusted it against his ear. “That was the dog. Poor boy keeps crying.”
“When I’m at the hospital, I’ll talk to Tommy about maybe bringing him home. So he’s at least with the other animals. We all miss him here.”
“Probably would be a good idea.”
“And I’ll pick up Lucy’s things from the yard to take back to Arrow House.” Enough of this ridiculousness, she decided. Lucy needed to be home. Where they could all watch over her and take care of her. Not that she didn’t think Charlie and Curly would do their best, but they already had Barney to worry about, not to mention all their other duties at the yard.
Besides, there was no way in hell Tommy would be letting Lucy out of his sight.
Assuming she’s still alive, of course. She shuddered, pushing that thought to the back of her mind. If Lucy were dead, she didn’t know what she was going to do.
“Yes, I think that would be what’s best.”
“Right. Call me if you get any more news, please?”
“I will.”
“Goodbye, Charlie.”
“Take care, Lizzie.”
She set the phone back into its cradle, hands raising to her face. Her fingers swiped at under her eyes, smearing her makeup and rubbing salty tears across her skin.
A rising feeling of horror towards herself was building in the back of her throat.
My fault. It’s all my fault.
Was this the type of person that she’d allowed herself to become? So jealous and bitter that she’d ripped apart two people she claimed to care about. Had she really so lost control of her resentment over the situation that she’d bullied Lucy into…into this?
Even if Lucy lived, Tommy would never forgive her. Hell, she didn’t think that she would ever be able to forgive herself.
It hadn’t been worth it. Not in the end. That was why she’d bent on the rules regarding Lucy. There was a time when she’d been content to blame all her unhappiness on Lucy. To think that if she just wasn’t here…
It had been the easier thing to do, to blame her. Because then she didn’t have to stare the far more painful reality in the face: Tommy wasn’t in love with her. And he never would be.
But even then, she had probably known deep down that it was all a lie. Lucy or no Lucy, Tommy didn’t love her. The redhead’s presence in their lives wasn’t the problem. It never had been.
And yet, she’d gone and kicked out someone who could have potentially been her greatest ally in dealing with Tommy. The second mother to her children. A woman who had just wanted to be her friend.
God, she could not even imagine the amount of pain that Tommy was in right now…
“Mum?”
She stared at the sound of Charlie’s voice from the end of the hall, quickly angling her back towards him and wiping at her eyes. Trying to hide the evidence of her tears. “Charlie, hey.” Oh, God. How much did he hear?
“Who was on the other line?”
“Just your Uncle Charlie, sweetheart.” She moved to usher him back towards the bedrooms. “C’mon, back to bed.”
But he looked up at her knowingly. “You’re crying. Has something happened?”
Lizzie hesitated. She couldn’t lie to him. But she also could not quite bring herself to tell him the truth yet. “Nothing that you need to worry yourself about right now, honey. C’mon.”
He didn’t look wholly convinced, but he let her shepherd him back into bed and tuck him in.
“Mrs. Shelby?” Frances was waiting out in the hall when she came out of Charlie’s room.
“Frances, will you come with me for a moment?”
The housekeeper looked puzzled, but nodded. Lizzie led the way down the hall, her eyes taking stock of the various doors that they passed. When they came to one near the end of the hall, she stopped, glancing back to her and the children's rooms. Yes. This would do. It was close enough, but there was still ample space between them that they’d have their privacy.
And she and the kids wouldn’t be at risk of hearing them in the middle of the night if they got a little loud.
She was trying to be better, but she wasn’t going to push her jealousy if she could help it.
Opening the door, she indicated for Frances to follow her inside. The bedroom was fully furnished, like all rooms in the house. Spacious. It wouldn’t be nearly as cramped. She went to the windows, checking for any drafts. There should be plenty of sunlight during the day.
When she poked her head into the ensuite bathroom, her eyes landed on the bathtub in the middle of the room, a shiver going down her spine at the memory of Charlie’s description of how Tommy had found Lucy.
But this bathroom was big. And it had a shower. In case they decided to get rid of the tub altogether.
“Mrs. Shelby, may I ask what we are doing?” Frances was standing in the middle of the room, puzzled.
“In the morning, I want you to have some of the staff move Lucy’s things from her room into here.”
Frances’s eyes went wide, and she could see an ember of hope starting to burn in her face. “Are you sure, ma’am?”
Lizzie looked around the room. “Yes. She should be closer to her family.”
Frances nodded. “Does this mean that Miss. Winters will be coming home?”
“I hope so.” Turning, she went to face the window again. It was still dark outside. But dawn would soon be upon them. Behind her, she heard Frances shuffle towards the door, then pause.
“I just want to say, this is a very kind thing you’re doing, Mrs. Shelby. For both of them.”
Lizzie looked over shoulder at her. “I should have done it a long time ago.”
“Well. Better late than never.”
Lizzie gave her a sad smile, nodding that she could be dismissed before returning her gaze to the outside, hoping that Frances was right.
∗ ∗ ∗
Lizzie took a deep breath, hand hovering at the door leading into the hospital room. She had a bag clutched in one hand, filled with clean clothes, toothbrushes, and an extra pack of cigarettes. She had no idea what she was about to walk into. She expected Tommy to be an absolute mess, but what type of mess he would be, she was entirely unsure.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was brightly lit, the curtains open and allowing sunlight to stream in. The layout of it reminded her of the hospital room Michael had stayed in after he was shot by the Changrettas. With a bed in the corner, table in the middle, and a private washroom.
Tommy was seated in a chair by the bed, hunched over in a way that was guaranteed to make his back ache by mid-afternoon if he wasn’t careful. His coat and suit jacket were off, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands clasped firmly with one of Lucy’s on the bed, forehead bowed to touch against their interlaced hands.
Lizzie eyed the bandage wrapped around his left arm. From where they’d taken his blood, the nurses had told her. Because Lucy had lost so much that they had to give her a blood transfusion, but apparently whoever was supposed to restock the ambulance that came to get her had fucked up, and there were no blood bags on board. Tommy and Lucy’s blood types matched–how they knew that, she had no idea–and so he’d volunteered himself.
It was probably the only reason she was still alive. If they hadn’t done the transfusion enroute, she likely would have died from blood loss on the way to the hospital.
Taking a cautious step forward, Lizzie’s eyes fixed on Lucy where she was laid out on her back on the bed. Her red hair was fanned out across the white pillow, her skin a frightening paper-white, the dense freckles on her face standing out even more distinctly than usual. Her normally bright red lips were pale pink, and dark, sunken-in circles surrounded her eyes. There were several tubes connected to her arms, and thick white bandages were wrapped tight around each wrist.
If it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of her chest, Lizzie would have worried that she was dead.
Another bout of guilt washed over her at the sight, almost choking with it.
Worrying at her lower lip, she eyed Tommy warily. He’d made no indication of hearing her come in, despite her heels clicking against the floor.
She approached them cautiously, keeping an eye on Tommy the entire time until she was at the foot of the bed.
Oh, dear one…she reached out to touch Lucy’s ankle delicately over the blankets pulled halfway up her chest, and Tommy suddenly sprang into movement.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” he snarled, shoving her hand away, half curling over Lucy’s body protectively.
Lizzie stared at him in shock. He looked half feral, lips pulled back from his teeth and expression contorted with a growl. But what struck her the most was the complete and total devastation emblazoned across his face.
His eyes were red, swollen and puffy. Cheeks tear-stained. He’d been crying. Hard, from the looks of it. But the worst was the look in his eyes. She’d seen Tommy sad before, but the heartbreak in those two blue orbs was unlike anything she had ever seen. He looked completely and utterly distraught, broken beyond repair.
When he caught her staring at him, he quickly looked away, wiping at his face with his shirt sleeve and returning his full attention back to Lucy. Lizzie shifted awkwardly, wanting to reach out to him. To both of them. But if she did that, she would probably risk getting her hand torn off.
She couldn’t even really blame him. Not with the way she’d been behaving for the past few years.
“I brought you both some clean clothes,” she said finally softly, setting the bag down onto the floor by the foot of the bed. “Do you know when she’ll be released?”
No response. His eyes were open, but they were fixed intently upon Lucy, as if he were afraid if he looked away from her for one second, she’d disappear. Lizzie was not surprised at the silence.
“When she is, bring her home, Tommy. To Arrow House. She should be home. With her family. And maybe…” she hesitated, knowing that once she opened this particular door, there may be no closing it. But one look back at Lucy, and her resolve strengthened.
I’m tired of being the jealous, bitter wife.
She could be the bigger person. Like Lucy had tried to be all this time. Let go of the resentment and envy. Who knows? She might finally gain the friend and ally Lucy had always wanted to be towards her. Assuming of course that the other woman still had any interest in associating with her at all.
“Once you both get back and things have settled, we could discuss restructuring our arrangement. So she’s more included with us and the kids.” She took a step forward. “I told Frances to have her things moved to a room closer to mine and the children’s. And if you think it would be okay I can bring Charlie and Ruby to come visit once she’s awake. I’ll pick up Asher from Charlie’s yard and bring him home. So he’ll be there when you and her get back.” Her gaze moved rapidly between him and Lucy. “This will never happen again, I promise. I’ll keep a hold of myself from now on. I’ll never say a cruel thing to her again. You do whatever you have to do from now on to make sure she’s okay. Just…bring her home.” She drew in a gasping, shaky breath, realizing that she’d been rambling and stopping herself before she said anymore. The rest could be ironed out later. When he was more lucid and Lucy was actually awake. “I’ll leave you alone, now. Just call me later, if you can.”
He still made no indication of even hearing her. But he made no move to stop her this time when she stepped around him and bent to press a light kiss to Lucy’s brow.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and started to head for the door.
“Lizzie.”
She froze that the hoarse rasp of Tommy’s voice, head turning to look back at him. His gaze was still fixed on Lucy, even as he spoke to her.
“Thank you.”
She nodded, and departed from the room.
∗ ∗ ∗
A body cannot live without its heart.
It was a simple rule of biology. A fact of the universe. Indisputable. Certain. Unchallengeable.
Tommy closed his eyes, forehead resting a little heavier against his and Lucy’s joined hands. Her grip was nonexistent and limp in her unconscious state, but that was alright. His grasp on her was tight enough to make up for it.
His heart did not reside inside his chest. No; it was with her. Always.
What other explanation was there, for his inability to live without her?
There had been a moment, in the ambulance right before he offered up his arm for them to draw blood to keep her alive, when he thought that she was gone. It had been the worst moment of his entire fucking life.
Take all of it, if you have to, he had thought as they punctured the skin of his inner arm, blood beginning to draw out into the tube to be transferred to Lucy. I don’t care. So long as it keeps her breathing. I’ll gladly open an entire vein and pour all my life into her if I have to.
He closed his eyes. She had almost died. Been right on the precipice of it. He had felt it.
And she had intended to go willingly.
His fault. All his fault. He’d made her so unhappy that she’d gone and done this to herself. When she left, he hadn’t fought hard enough to keep her by his side. To show her that she was wanted. That he still loved her so much that he would do anything for her. Instead he sat around and did nothing, letting his wife and his family tear and claw and break away little pieces of her, bit by bit, until she didn’t even want to live anymore.
It was no wonder that she thought he didn’t love her.
And now all he could do was sit uselessly at her bedside, holding her hand and swallowing down tears.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing her hand, silently begging her to wake up. To blink those big eyes at him and touch his face, so he could hold her and kiss her and surround her in his comfort and love until she never doubted him again.
How much better she would have been off without him. All he’d even done was weigh her down. She deserved a thousand times better than him. Always had.
“Mr. Shelby?”
He looked up at the sound of one of the nurse’s voices. She was hovering next to him, expression nervous, something clutched in her hands.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but, in light of Miss. Winters’s injuries being…self inflicted, the doctor wanted me to go over options for her future placement with you.”
“Future…placement?” he straightened, trying to hide the way that he cringed at his back popping in several places. He did not let go of Lucy’s hand.
“There are several psychiatric facilities that we recommend. I’ve brought some pamphlets…” She held them out to him. Tommy stared down at them uncomprehendingly.
Away. They wanted him to send his Lucy away. When their separation was what had caused this whole bloody thing in the first place.
“That won’t be necessary.” He turned back to Lucy.
“Mr. Shelby, in cases like these, it really often is best for everyone if the patient is–”
“I am not sending her away to a nuthouse, to be drugged and poked and prodded and treated like a fucking animal!” he shouted, temper snapping, memories of the asylum where they’d visited Barney whirling behind his eyes. He thought of Lucy, locked behind bars and strapped into a white straightjacket, forced to sit alone in the cold and dark, injected with all manner of drugs and other substances to keep her docile, and felt ill.
The nurse opened her mouth to respond at the same moment that the door opened and Ada walked in. Her brows were raised. Probably she’d heard him yelling out in the hall. The nurse looked between them, then leaned over to set the pamphlets down on the bedside table, next to the vase filled with a bouquet of red roses Tommy had bought from the hospital’s gift shop.
“Please just consider the options, Mr. Shelby,” she said softly, before departing.
“What the hell was that about?” Ada asked as soon as the nurse was gone, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on the back of the chair she pulled up to sit down beside him. Tommy rubbed at his eyes, suddenly deeply exhausted.
“They’re suggesting I have her locked away in a madhouse,” he growled irritably.
“Hm.” Ada leaned over to pick up the pamphlets that the nurse had left, thumbing through them. “How is she?”
“She lost a lot of blood.” He swallowed painfully, thumb stroking along her knuckles. “But she’s stable and they expect she’ll be awake by the end of the day.”
Ada nodded, dropping the pamphlets back onto the table, chewing on her bottom lip. “You know, a lot of these places aren’t as bad as they once were. Some are like…like community homes now. They do activities. Let the inmates walk around outside. You can visit whenever you like.”
He stared at her incredulously. “Are you serious?”
Ada squirmed in her seat. “I’m just saying…what if she needs more looking after than you can provide for her? Clearly things are much worse than we thought for her to go and…” she trailed off, gesturing to Lucy’s bandaged wrists. “If she’s too unwell to take care of herself…”
“Then I’ll take care of her.”
“Tommy, sweetheart, you might not have the time.”
“I will take care of her, Ada,” he repeated, putting strong emphasis on each word, meeting her eyes sternly. She searched his gaze, and he saw understanding enter her face. She nodded.
“Okay.”
Returning his attention back to Lucy, he stroked his thumb across the back of her hand. Her fingers still felt very cold in his. Reaching out, he pulled the blanket a little further up her chest, frowning. He didn’t want her to get chilled.
The hue of her skin was still frighteningly pale, her lips pulled into a downward frown in her sleep. Tommy ached to see her smile again; to observe the way that it bloomed across and transformed her entire face, creating laugh lines around her eyes, stretching her lips, and brightening her features. It used to be so easy for him to make her laugh. She always giggled at even the most terrible of his jokes, eyes sparkling when she looked across the table or room at him mischievously in reaction to whatever cheeky thing just passed his lips.
“It’s my fault, Ada,” he whispered.
“No, Tommy, don’t do that to yourself. Lucy wouldn’t want–”
“I wasn’t there, Ada. She needed me, and I wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been so focused on all this business with Mosley and Michael…I let what was happening between us get pushed aside. I didn’t address it like I should have. I just left her alone.” Yes, part of that had been in reaction to him thinking that was what Lucy wanted him to do, but truth be told, part of why he hadn’t fought her harder on it was because it had been convenient for him to just let things lie. So he could keep his attention on plotting Mosley’s demise and trying to figure out Michael’s plans. “I broke her, Ada.”
“Oh, Tommy…no. No, I don’t think that’s true. I mean, you and her’s recent problems certainly didn’t help things, but Lucy’s never really recovered from what Luca did to her. Maybe this was just a…a delayed reaction to all of that.”
Tommy shook his head furiously. “I didn’t do enough for her. I made her think I didn’t love her anymore. That’s why she–” he couldn’t say the words, throat closing in tight around them. Passing a hand across his eyes, he sucked in desperate breaths, trying to stuff down sobs. “I should have never married Lizzie. Or I should have gotten divorced as soon as it became clear she was never going to fully accept my relationship with Lucy.”
“Are you? Going to divorce her, I mean?”
“I don’t know. Lizzie says that she’ll be on her best behavior from now on. I think she might even mean it, this time. But…” he trailed off, staring into space, suddenly aching for a cigarette.
“...But?” Ada prompted. Tommy roused and shook his head.
“It’s up to Lucy.” Whatever Lucy wanted him to do, he’d do it.
“What if she asks you to leave your wife and marry her instead?”
“Then I’ll get divorce papers drawn up and dig out the ring I’ve got hidden in my sock drawer.”
Ada’s head snapped around to him. “What ring?”
He shifted. Shit. Probably shouldn’t have brought that up.
“Tommy…” Ada said very quietly. He squeezed his eyes shut, dreading the question he already knew was coming. “Why do you have an engagement ring hidden with your socks?”
He sighed, swallowing hard, pulling a cigarette from his case in his pocket and fumbling with it in an attempt to put off answering her. Ada was still staring at him expectantly. He scratched at one eyebrow with the thumb of the hand holding his cigarette, trying not to meet her gaze so she wouldn’t see the ache currently blooming in his chest reflected in his eyes.
She shifted a little closer to him, leaning forward.
“Tommy…how long have you had that ring for?”
He coughed. “Since 1918.”
“1918!?”
He shrugged. Ada softened.
“I thought she said no.”
“She did. Technically. But I promised her that the offer would always be there, if she wanted it.” He looked down, swallowing painfully, refusing to let himself cry. “Yet another fucking promise I made to her that I broke.”
“Tommy, we both know that if she told you she wanted you to marry her, you would divorce Lizzie in a heartbeat and marry her as fast as you could.”
Ada was right, of course. The door was very much open. Through two marriages to two other women and two children, it still always was. So the ring stayed put. For whenever she decided she wanted it.
He could feel Ada staring at him, analyzing his response carefully. He was pretty sure, if he looked over to meet her gaze, he would have seen approval and maybe even a touch of pride in her eyes. Of all his direct family, Ada was perhaps the one who most understood the importance of Lucy to him.
He thought of Lucy’s big, broken, tear filled eyes, staring at him with blatant misery shining in them.
I don’t believe you.
How could he have let that happen? How could he have so spectacularly failed her that she no longer believed that he loved her? What the hell was wrong with him?
Sighing, he wiped at his eyes, cringing a little when they came away damp. He felt so tired. And lost. Completely and utterly helpless.
“What do I do, Ada?” He hated how childlike his voice sounded, unable to meet his sister’s eyes.
“I don’t know, Tom. Stay with her. Make sure that she feels loved. That’s the best advice I can give.” Her eyes went to the bouquet of flowers in the vase on the nightstand. “The flowers are a good start.”
He followed her gaze to them. “It doesn’t feel like nearly enough.” He wasn’t sure if he meant the flowers, or all of it. He would never be good enough for Lucy. Not in a million years.
“Stay here with her. Look after her. She’ll need you once she wakes up. I already called the House of Commons and put you down for a brief leave of absence. And the boys and I will take care of everything regarding the…other things. Don’t worry.”
He nodded. Most things for the assassination had already been arranged anyway. All there was left to do was wait for the day of the rally.
“How are they fairing with Barney at the yard?”
“Fine enough. He had an attack this morning, but Jeremiah and Arthur were there to calm him down. They’ve got him doing target practice.”
“Good.” He dreaded asking the next bit, but was unable to stop himself. “What about Michael and Polly?”
Ada hesitated. “No one’s seen or heard anything from Michael or Gina since the family meeting. Polly’s been at home, from what I’ve heard. I haven’t seen her, but I guess Aberama has been over there a lot.”
“Right,” he cleared his throat roughly. “Let me know if any of that changes.”
“I better be getting back. Call me if there’s anything more you need, alright?”
“Mhm.”
She stood and gave him a firm hug. “It’ll be okay.” Her hand rubbed his back warmly before letting him go so she could head to the door.
“Thanks for coming.”
She flashed him a sad smile, slipping out the door, and leaving him alone with Lucy and his tortuous thoughts.
He sat there for he didn’t even know how long, still holding Lucy’s hand, every once in a while pressing light kisses along her knuckles and the bandage covering her wrist, murmuring softly to her.
When her fingers twitched against his, he froze, gaze shooting intently to her face, watching with bated breath while her features pinched. He immediately worried that she might be in pain. The cuts on her wrists had gone deep, and the doctors had to do extensive stitches in order to close them.
“Lucy?” he asked, leaning closer.
She stirred again, head shifting against the pillow, brows twitching in a way that he recognized as her trying to fight back wakefulness in order to gain a few more minutes of sleep. He had seen that expression often enough when he had to rouse her in the morning.
Her eyelids peeled open slowly, squinting against the bright sunlight shining through the windows. He’d paid extra for a room with ample light, and yanked the curtains as wide open as he could get them. Hoping that the sunshine would maybe help raise her spirits. Even if only a little.
Her dark brown irises were glazed over with confusion, processing slowly where she was. He saw things start to fall into place as she took in him seated beside her, the hospital bed she was laying in, and the bandages around her wrists.
Her eyes locked in on his hand still holding hers. Tommy could see it when it all fully clicked into place for her what must have happened after she sliced herself open and lost consciousness in the bathtub.
“Lucy,” he sobbed out, hand moving to cup her cheek to make sure she was real. That she actually was truly back with him.
When she looked at him–really looked into his face, for the first time perhaps since she’d left Arrow House–horror, mortification, and regret passed across her features. Her lips trembled, eyes filling with tears.
“I’m sorry,” she started to cry in a fragile, broken voice, the sound of it nearly rendering him split in two. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry–” she didn’t seem able to say anything else, crying harder with each repetition of the phrase, chest heaving so violently he was afraid that she might hurt herself.
Scrambling, suddenly completely overtaken by the need to comfort her and be as close as he could physically get to her, he pulled himself up, wrapping his arms around her, in one quick movement sliding into the bed beside her and crushing her to his chest. She latched onto his wrinkled shirt desperately, apologies giving way to nothing but ragged sobs that seemed close to shattering her. Tommy held her tighter, burying his face in her hair, pressing his lips to wherever he could reach on her head, chest shuddering with his breaths. Tears streamed silently down his own cheeks. He was deeply aware that his arms around her may very well be the only things holding her together.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. I’ve got you. Shh…” he murmured into her ear, rocking her slightly in his arms to try to soothe her. She burrowed into him, still crying even as he rubbed her back. “I’ve got you,” he repeated. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Tightening his arms around her, he held her firmly against him, until her sobs finally ceased and she laid quiet and still against him. He petted her hair gently, neither of them saying a word. They did not really need to. Instead he just held her, for hours and hours, in the silence of the hospital room.
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