#he's always there for the bats when they need him but they can never just treat him like family
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Don't mind me, just revisiting the plot (again) and dying over this line (again). (These screenshots are going to be abysmal, but you'll get the point).
"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."
Yeah he's talking about Mythal (earned or not) and Felassan and Lavellan and Varric...but the way it applies to HIM, too, is what absolutely guts me.
Long post ahead...
Solas realizing that Lavellan doesn't care about how others see him or want to use him under the inquisiton, that HIS motivations as he has shared them are enough for her and worth defending against those who would tell him he's something he isn't. Solas, for the first time, being confronted with the realization that one these new elves he does not see himself in will still go to bat for him.
"You came here to help, Solas, I won't let them use that against you."
(Is he duplicitous? Yes. But intent on working against Corypheus? Undoubtedly).
“How would you stop them?”
“However I had to.”
“...thank you.”
Solas grappling with the fact that it wasn't just a one off, that this Dalish woman being faced with "hypotheticals" he's desperately been trying to get her people to entertain is jumping in head first, pushing back and disagreeing with him but never treating him worse for their differences and always admitting when he's helped shape a changing perspective. Solas daring to ask for help and marveling at the fact that he receives it, that the same woman who asked if it might some day be possible to live alongside spirits, who did not immediately shoot down his critique of THE CHANTRY REFUSING TO ACKNOWLEDGE SPIRITS AS LEGITIMATE BEINGS (GAH), who did not laugh at him for saying he preferred their company most days, this woman, is going to drop time and resources during war time preparations to personally help his friend.
And then, when he is too late and has once again failed someone he considers a friend, he disappears within himself, where he has always gone to exact punishment for the weight of the lives he believes he's betrayed. It almost works, too.
Psych. Lavellan doesn't want him to grieve alone, to stare at the place in the Fade where his friend used to be and think of all he should have done differently.
“The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”
“It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”
“I know.”
“I’ll work on it. And thank you.”
And still she unbalances him, accepts him, wants more. Solas is sharing a personality that brings him the closest he has ever been to his spirit form, and it is ENOUGH for her. Existing as he has always dreamt of is all takes to earn her loyalty, respect, and eventually love.
But does she stop there? No. She doesn't chafe at this random apostate who speaks with certainty and unapologetically delves into a past he believes worth preserving, even at the cost of questioning her culture as it currently stands.
The very woman he once thought of as a mistake that HE unleashed upon the world is asking to be a part of his, not because of what he can bring to the table, not because she needs a right hand man, and certainly not because she thinks he has some well of power and intelligence critical to winning over enemies she’s willing to join for "supervisory" purposes (cough cough hi Mythal). She bears the weight of choices that can and will lead to death, to pain, and when it wears on her she relies on him, not for solutions but so that at the end of it all she might smile with someone who knows her heart and the good she tried to do amidst a sea of terrible options. She wants to be known, no inch of her unturned, and worse, she thinks she knows him. But how could she? This is no longer who he is, it is merely the remnants of what he destroyed to make a world at Mythal's whim.
“You’re an admirable man. Not many people know who they are the way you do.”
“Thank you. Both for saying that and…for seeing that. Few in this world can see me instead of just seeing a pair of pointed ears”
She. Sees. Him. Every part he slowly is realizing he wants to be known for and even a few he thought he could hide. And then he gives it all up. Because he woke to a new world where spirits and elves and mages were so far removed from the role they played in Arlathan that it can only be yet another mistake he caused and must fix, never mind the fact that the dwarves have forgotten why they fled underground millennia ago in the first place.
The friend who tore him from the world he loved, urged him to take physical form? She is dead, too, never mind the fact that she ignored his urging for a different path, nevermind that he killed and tore and hurt in her name because otherwise what was losing the part of himself he loved for?
"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose.”
“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”
“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.”
He may no longer recognize where the Dread Wolf ends and where Solas begins, but if he gives up now and permits himself the chance to remember, the pain he caused himself and others means nothing, because he did it all for Mythal and in his final discussion with her, regardless of what Veilguard tries to convey, she does not release him from his position as her agent.
And maybe that's part of why I'm so angry, because EVEN BEFORE TRESPASSER, the fragment of Mythal that ends up in Morrigan could have freed him, but she does not.
"I am sorry." He whispers.
"The failure was mine," he tells her, voice trembling. "I should pay the price."
Silence.
And do we get that "what we did, we did together" psuedo-fake ass-absolution, the one that, if given enough time and safety to put himself first he may have realised he doesn't truly need to pursue the things he deserves, that make him feel finally like himself again? No the fuck we don't.
"As am I, old friend." She murmurs.
Looking through the lens of Veilguard, this isn't an apology, it's a condemnation. It's Mythal tormenting him one more time, twisting the knife deeper, agreeing that it is Solas alone who has brought them to this point, who deserves to be punished. And then she reminds him what they are to each other, what he is supposed to be to her. What he must become again.
"It isn't abuse if I ask," Cole says in his personal quest.
"Not always true," Solas shoots back.
So he recommits to the friend he gave up his nature for, he refuses to let himself remember that Lavellan learned the full truth of his identity and still begged him not to mourn alone. Even so, he still cannot quite forget.
Var lath vir suledin. Our love will persevere.
I wish it could, vhenan.
And so he pushes onwards, spending almost a decade denying himself his true nature and regretting that he ever gave it a chance to come through because now he KNOWS that this world is different and a little broken, but it's a world he could be a part of because of the woman and the friends that made a place for him. It is a world that doesn't necessarily need to be restored as much as it might need renovation, but that is not the world Mythal demanded of him when she let him kill a remaining piece of her. And any solution but that means the hurt of taking a body, of hurting the titans, of time and time again being called on by one evanuris to fix a problem they all caused, was for nothing.
And a Pride of that magnitude, that sinister an origin, has a long, long way to fall.
And then that same uppity little shit has the audacity to tell him it's not too late, that he can turn back.
He kills again. He kills again. He kills again.
He kills a friend.
He fails to prevent the Evanuris from wreaking havoc a second time, wrenches another innocent into his war, and when they ask him about the woman he calls vhenan, he feels the mask stifling him begin to suffocate. But he never lets it fall, because to surrender now is to place her broken heart atop the pile of regrets he's been holding up like Atlas crumbling beneath the weight of the world itself. Because he still thinks it selfish to want the things that make him feel like himself again, so they need to be taken off the board entirely.
"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."
If he gives up now, his entire corporeal life has been a betrayal of many, but worst of all, he will have ruined himself for nothing.
But then she's there. A little older, a little sadder, and still looking at him like she did the night he almost broke and instead carefully removed any suggestion that she had ever belonged to anyone but herself.
"Didn't you hear me?" Her every action screams as she kneels to meet his gaze like he did the day he took her arm (another failure, another sacrifice he cannot let be for nothing).
The tombstone in the fade is his greatest fear, but it is not his fate. Why? She will not let it be. It cannot be his din'anshiral if she is not beside him.
Lavellan may not have understood the depth of exactly WHEN Solas first came somewhere foreign and uncertain to help, but she never once failed to keep her promise. She refuses to let his initial desire to do good be held against him any longer. And when she sees him accept that not-quite-absolution-definitely-more-of-a-power-play from the god that saw what he was capable of and molded him into a weapon, she finds her in to make sure he doesn't walk off alone to mourn again, never again will she lose him to the expectations others have of him. No doubt she wants to find a way to sink the fingers of her good hand into that spectral visage and tear it away like he wishes to do to the veil. But she is not here for Mythal. She is here for her heart, and for the man who has been carrying it since the moment her lips met his in the fade ten years ago.
“No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”
She forces him to see that the only remaining betrayal is to lock himself away one more irreversible time. All that's left to lose is the piece of himself he cherishes more than his greatest victories: all that he has to gain comes from making sure the love that was given to him at Skyhold, in the moment where Varric saw all he was capable of and still tried to bring him back home, was not given in vain.
"There is no fate but the love we share." She tells him as soon as Mythal's too-little-too-late platitudes send shudders through his body.
Banal nadas ar lath'ma vhenan.
It will not be so terrible a place, so unforgivable a betrayal if he can finally dare to put himself first. If, unlike that night in Crestwood, he finally gives in not to break, but to make himself whole.
There's a codex entry in Inquisiton about a spirit of wisdom who is summoned by researchers and only after a very pleasant conversation do they realize they made a mistake and never successfully bound the spirit in the first place, that it chose to speak with them of its own accord.
"I am not certain the spirit would have talked so freely had it been shackled at the time," writes the author of the entry.
I keep thinking about this alongside the datamined line of Morrigan saying, "And so, the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things love."
But that isn't quite right, is it?
Because in the end, of course the Dread Wolf could only ever freed by, over everything, love.
#solavellan#solas x lavellan#solas dragon age#lavellan#inquisitor lavellan#dragon age inquisiton#dragon age#dragon age veilguard#dragon age the veilguard#datv#datv spoilers#dragon age veilguard spoilers#veilguard spoilers#mythal#fen'harel#dread wolf#cole dragon age#varric tethras#veilguard
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More to it
I just love friends to lovers. ~900 words
Thinking about BSF!Jason Todd and how neither of you are willing to cross that line. You're both balancing on what's more and what isn't, both desperate for something you're not willing to name but so scared to risk losing it all.
What you have now is comfortable, safe, and if being more doesn't work? Could you ever go back to what you had? Is the reward really worth playing with fate?
It's honestly so dumb because it's obvious you're both a thread snap away from breaking the growing tension between you. You see the way his fingers twitch towards you when you walk past him, and he catches the way your breath hitches when he tilts his head down to meet your eyes.
You'd have to blind not to notice the way his gaze locks onto you from across the room. He'd have to be oblivious to not see how your knees go weak when he laughs at your jokes. You're locked in each other's gravity, drawn in by way your hearts slot together without the need for words.
Everyone already thinks you're together, even when you say you're not. There's no hiding the lovestruck look in either of your faces, the way he drapes his arm over your shoulder, the way you lean into his side like it's the only place in the world you want to be.
His family doesn't tease you as much about it anymore. Sometimes, you wish they would, even for the excuse to talk about it. There's no label between you other than he's your best friend. And maybe it doesn't need to be more. (But you'd like it to be)
Even strangers think you're together. The guy flirting with you is quick to turn on his heel with an apology on his lips at the sight of Jason. Worse is, you don't hate it. If anything, you like it.
There's almost a pride in it, how people fawn over how cute you and him are together. Neither of you ever correct them, even if you should, and it only continues to blur the line between friend and more.
But when you both finally break? You break hard. It's feverish, your fingers fisted into clothes and his hands cradling your face. You're not even sure what caused it or who moved first. You don't even bother to try to figure it out when he presses you against the wall to kiss you deeper.
It could have been the way you'd reached out to brush his hair back in the elevator to your apartment. Or it could have been the way he tugged his jacket over your shoulders when you started to shiver. Or maybe it was the way you both just stopped in the doorway of your apartment, lingering in the charged air and basking in the closeness the entryway provided.
It doesn't really matter how. What matters is that the kiss seems to pull the air from your lungs, and his heart is beating to the sound of your name. What matters is that when he pulls away to catch his breath, you chase him for another kiss.
Neither of you can focus on what happens next, because it's the warmth of your skin seeping into his and your fingers tangling into his hair that keeps you in the now.
Now, which is so big and so small all at once because his world is narrowed to the angle you tilt your head to kiss him again and you could care less what's happening outside of your apartment, outside of him.
He's your best friend, and you've always been his, but all it took is one moment to destroy any idea of ever being just friends again.
Thinking about boyfriend!Jason Todd and how he always kisses you in the doorway of your apartment because it's 'tradition'. Don't even think about trying to get out of it, not that you'd ever want to, his hand is already curled in the back of your shirt to tug you closer.
One kiss turns into five and it's probably for the best he kisses you like this when you're coming home because you'd never get anywhere if he kissed you like this every time you have to leave.
No one even bats an eye when he kisses the top of your hair or when you thread your fingers with his in public. There's a new softness in his eyes and voice, less of a weight on his shoulders, and your face never lights up as brightly as it does when he's looking at you.
It's instinctual, the way you seem to blend into each other's lives even more now. Your sheets smell like him, your things end up in his apartment just as often as his does in yours.
Thinking about boyfriend!Jason Todd, and how you laugh about ever being nervous to be more with him. It's not always perfect, but it's real, and him and you against the world just like it's always been.
There's still movie nights, still days you set out on your mission to find the best food in Gotham together. But there's also dates, also love-struck words, and needy touches.
There's still late night conversations, still whispered secrets and confessions. But there's also hopeful, hushed tones that talk about the future, a future together.
He's still your best friend, but you're partners too, so he doesn't stop himself when his fingers twitch with the urge to touch you anymore. You don't hide the way you seem to melt in his presence.
He's yours, you're his, and it was never going to end any other way than like this, souls entwined and smiles fond.
#jason todd x reader#jason todd#x reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd/reader#friends to lovers#best friend jason todd
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Alastor Hands You the Aux Cord - Alastor x f!reader
Anon asked for: Hello! Love ur work :) Alastor x f!reader fluff & heavy smut inspired by the song “soaked” by shy smith???
Honey, you got a lot more than you bargained for, and even then I¨m not quite sure that I did it correctly. Alas! I hope you enjoy it either way. So sorry this took so long, it was an undertaking.
Summary: I suck at these so just be patient and kind. Reader was a radio/sound engineer in life and begins to work with Alastor rather closely.
Dividers by @konatasoup
Warnings: Listen, we all know Alastor is a Bad Man(tm). In this story and many, many others, Fucked Up Alastor is going to say Fucked Up Things. Alastor is a sentient red flag. I would like to kindly remind you that you need to carefully decide whether or not that's too much for you before you begin to read. I'd hate it if you read and got triggered by some possessive or otherwise red flag dialogue/prose! If it’s not for you you can simply block me and avoid my other fanfiction. You're responsible for your own reading experience! If smut is not for you, this is not for you. Other warnings include briskets, sandwiches, p in v intercourse, I don't know, standard fare, Alastor is a deeply jealous and possessive man, colleagues to lovers, Alastor’s fluffy, fluffy ears are an erogenous zone I don’t care lalalalala
Words: 9521
Tell me if you want to be added to the tag list! Requests are open and the guidelines are in my pinned post! I
It would be VERY helpful for your reading experience if you listen to the provided music! If the response is good there will be a part two :)
SMUT
Masterlist
It was the sensible thing to do, and took surprisingly little effort to get him to agree. All you said was that radio lived on in your lifespan, nearly one hundred years after his death. You asked if, in life, he would have happily adjusted to innovations in radio technology, and you remember the way he looked down at his claws, all tightened into fists that slowly unfurled. He begrudgingly admitted that he would have.
“That type of microphone you’ve got there wasn’t invented until after you died,” you pointed out.
Radio had been your life’s passion in the living world just as it had been for Alastor. You began in university as a DJ, then changed your major to reflect your newfound love. You started off with communications engineering in undergraduate studies and moved on to wireless communications engineering. Twelve years of your life, you had dedicated to radio.
You were the perfect candidate, and best of all you could make yourself obsolete by teaching him what he needed to know, so it was a win all-around. Kinda. It remains to be seen what he would do with you once you became obsolete.
You did, however, strike up a friendship. Alastor would admit readily that you were a good sound engineer and constantly upgraded his equipment. He would also admit, not quite as readily, that speaking to you was pleasant. You never batted an eye while he ripped apart souls, which he found surprising at first, but when you pulled out a sandwich to eat whilst he did so it elevated to…cute. He typically hates things that are cute.
Okay, fine, you’re cute.
As time passed, you grew more comfortable with each other. Sometimes you even offer him pre-soul breaking sandwiches, and Alastor eats them simply because they were offered by you. He has no idea what a “PB&J” is, only that whoever created it must surely be living amongst you all in hell. He always eats them, though. Every last morsel.
Then something quite remarkable happened. Alastor sat you down after an unusually long broadcast, took the pistachios that you offered him, and gave you the best gift you had ever received.
“Only one,” he said, poking your chest several times. “One song of your choosing at the end of my broadcast. Do you understand?”
You remember nodding so hard it almost hurt.
You had tried not to seem too enthused, so as not to betray your true excitement to your finicky friend, but shouted joyfully into a pillow when you got to your hotel room. You rolled all over your bed, still screaming into the pillow, and spent the rest of the night curating various playlists for the post-show tunes.
The two of you became inseparable. When you weren’t on air, you were still working together on scripts, advertising campaigns, marketing strategies, even merchandising, a pencil stuck through your hair, sandwich wrappers discarded haphazardly.
‘I got my soul ripped apart by the Radio Demon and all I got was this fucking shirt’.
You’re more excited about this than him by far, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny you a thing. He’s always criticised Vox’s use of petty merchandise to belittle him, but this was different. Entirely.
It had been a rather destructive day in the radio tower the first time you played a song. There were three soul rendings today, so everything but you was covered in blood and viscera. Alastor, with a small smile, offered you his staff, and explained all you had to do was play a song on your phone while holding it.
It felt special. It almost made your cheeks warm, but that crisis was thankfully averted and you chose a tribute to radio itself as your first ever post-show track.
‘Radio, someone still loves you.’
Alastor didn’t look particularly happy with what he’d heard, but he did give you an amused little pat on the head before taking his staff and leaving the radio tower, still covered in blood.
You remember all of that fondly and take a bite of your sandwich. Alastor takes one bite of his and goes feral.
“Calm down over there,” you chastise. “It’s just pastrami.”
He swallows. “You know my feelings about brisket, darling.”
“Well, I’ll bring you more pastrami in the future, then. Maybe I’ll even make you a brisket someday.”
“Yes, you should,” he almost snaps. “And I’ll have no more ‘peanut butter’, by the way.”
“Do you like the almond butter better?” you ask, offering him another sandwich from the basket you brought with you
“…I prefer the pistachio and cashew one.”
“Okay, I’ll find more of that,” you say before passing him a napkin. You sigh and grab the clipboard set to the wayside. “No souls today.”
“Yes, I am aware,” he says.
“Isn’t that less fun for you?”
Alastor ponders over his answer for a moment. “It is more fun to murder. However, not having one or more to murder also means that no one has challenged or crossed me. That is better in the long run.”
“I can see that logic.” You nod, then go back to the clipboard. “Oh, I can’t be here on Saturday.”
His expression sours and his eyes narrow. “And why is that, darling?”
You smile at him, arms up. “I’m going to Lu Lu World!”
“What in the world is that, darling? Wait a moment.” His eyes narrow anymore. “It has nothing to do with that circus freak does it?”
You purse your lips and tilt your head, staring at him. “You’ve lost me.”
“The hell I have. I find it absolutely unacceptable that you would leave work behind in order to prance around in an amusement park.”
“I don’t plan on prancing, so we’re good,” you say. You wrinkle your nose and chuckle a little at his steadily souring expression. “Tell you what. I’ll make you that brisket.”
“Two briskets,” he’s quick to demand. “No, three. Three briskets, and I’m not sharing with the others like you made me do on Beignet Day.”
“That was never meant to be just for your enjoyment!”
“Well, it should have been!” he snaps.
You laugh again and fold your hands over the clipboard. “I will miss work on Saturday to be escorted around Lu Lu World by its namesake and you will receive three briskets at a time of your choosing. You’re in for a treat, I make the best brisket. My husband loved it.”
A pregnant silence fills the radio tower.
“I find it equally unacceptable for you to have a husband. No, no more of that,” he says finally.
“I’d like to think I’ll find love again someday!” you say, laughing.
He huffs. “Is it a date?”
“Is what a date?”
Alastor rolls his eyes. “Your petty little outing to the amusement park with the circus freak!”
“He’s the King of Hell, not a circus freak!” you exclaim.
“If he doesn’t want to be called a circus freak he should dress like an adult male,” he says.
At that, you sit up straight, arms folded, and stare at him. “Do you really want to go there? Making fun of how he dresses?”
“My manner of dress is unimpeachable! Everything is just so!” Alastor gestures at his suit, then narrows his eyes again. “You will not marry him.”
“Marriage isn’t on the table, I’m just visiting his park with him. It’s closed for the day, no one but us! Oh, but also you can’t tell me who I can and can’t marry,” you say.
“There will be no marriages at all! We have work to do, important work!” He closes his eyes, touches his forehead, and growls. “Do not sass me.”
You take another bite out of your sandwich. “So I won’t be here Saturday.”
“…Fine. I can go back to the Stone Age for one damn day.”
You groan. “I’m glad no one else knows of your flair for the dramatic.”
“And you’d do well to keep it that way,” he says. He holds up three fingers. “Three briskets. I want them all at once.”
“I don’t have the time to do them today, as you said, we have important-ish work to do,” you say.
He eyes you again. “Three. Briskets.”
You throw your hands up. “Fine! I hope you get a tummy ache!”
“I will not! I will enjoy the briskets and be fine!” Alastor adjusts his butterfly tie and stands up from his chair. “And you will make up for lost time from your Saturday outing.”
“No I won’t,” you say. “I’m under no such obligation to work every single day with no breaks. I just haven’t had anything better to do in a while.”
Alastor’s hand smacks against a panel. “No! You’re to work with me every day, that is the arrangement! Good god, woman, you are so insolent today. All of hell listens to these broadcasts. I do not know how to do what you do. You have made yourself necessary and now you want to cut and run so you can have intercourse with that circus freak in a hall of mirrors.”
You tilt your head back and laugh.
He looks unamused by this. “What? What is it? Why are you laughing?”
“I suppose I’d better fuck him in the hall of mirrors, then, if you think the opportunity presents itself.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and put everything else in the garbage for Niffty to collect.
Alastor’s ears flatten. “I do not like you today.”
“Nah, you adore me.” You look closer at the agenda for today and begin warming up the necessary equipment. You pull on your headphones “Thirty seconds, Al.”
He nods and repeats it back to you. “Thirty seconds, Al.”
By the end of the show, you’ve already got your topical track selection queued up. Alastor stands up and stretches before giving the staff to you and rifling around for more sandwiches in the basket.
‘They come running just as fast as they can ‘cause every girl crazy bout a sharp-dressed man’
You lip sync along, not realising you’re being watched. Alastor smiles to himself and waits for his staff to be given back to him. When it is, he almost remarks about your Saturday outing. Almost.
In your bedroom, you stretch and yawn. It’s late and you need to be with Alastor relatively early, so you go about your nightly routine. Brushed teeth, silky pyjamas, all lotioned up, feeling amazing. That is, until you walk back to the area with the bed. You scream and jump, but your surprise is quickly replaced by anger. Alastor laughs from his comfy position against your pillows.
He points at you. “You are the chicken in this relationship.”
You get in beside him and try to shove him out of the bed, chuckling as he easily resisted. “What are you doing in here?”
He’s still laughing. “I came to collect you! Emergency broadcast.”
You groan loudly. “Absolutely fucking not!”
“Yes!” He wraps an arm around you and drags you up from the bed. “It won’t take too long.”
“Who the hell pissed you off this much that you have to do this right now, at two in the morning?” you asked.
The answer makes your stomach drop.
“Husker!” he says excitedly.
You flail. “No. No! No, Alastor, you can’t do that!”
“I assure you that I can,” he says, now picking you up and carrying you towards the radio tower. “Husker’s soul is mine to do what I want with it, and he knew that before he started making trouble tonight.”
“Alastor!” you shout. “Put me down!”
He looks confused, but carefully sets you down. There are tears on your face that confound him. “What is the matter, my dear?”
“You can’t kill Husk.” You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “You can’t. I know you can in the literal sense of the word. I know that you can, but you can’t, please, I am begging you not to do this. Please, Alastor.”
“Do not mourn for him,” Alastor says. “No one mourned him in life.”
“I think that’s not true,” you say, but take his hands, squeezing them. “Just, just tell me what he did. I’ll fix it. I swear, I’ll fix it.”
Alastor looks down at your hands, so much smaller than his, trying to calm him down. “You really care, hm?”
“Alastor, please, please,” you whisper, squeezing his hands again. “Alastor, don’t do it. I have never asked you for a thing and I never will again if you just please don’t do this. Please don’t kill him, he’s my friend. He’s a soul in the bank for you, but he’s my friend.”
He’s quiet for a very long time, watching your breakdown. You know how it looks. He hates weakness, he hates vulnerability—
Alastor puts his hand on the side of your face and pushes hair away. “Okay, darling. If you want Husker to keep dusting bottles and consuming their entire contents, then that you shall have.”
You feel embarrassed all of a sudden and wipe your eyes. “How about I make you a brisket instead?”
“No brisket is required,” he says. “If you want it then you will have it. I am a man of my word. I will find other means to discipline Husker.”
“Don’t hurt Angel,” you say immediately. “Please. They’re all afraid of you already, you don’t have to do anything to keep them in line. I don’t know what Husk did, but I don’t believe it warrants his death and it definitely doesn’t mean you can do something bad to the only thing he loves more than booze or gambling.”
“Okay,” Alastor agrees.
You blink. “I know it’s not that simple. What do you want?”
“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” he asks.
“Me? Personally?” You think for a moment before shaking your head. “No. But—“
“I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me,” Alastor says. “I have worked with you closely for months now. I do what I say I will do. If you want that damned cat and his spider to live and be unharmed then I will give you that.”
“What do you want in exchange? Don’t say my soul, I’m not giving it.”
“No, not your soul,” he says. “A simple deal.”
You stand up straighter. “A deal? What?”
“I let Husker and the spider go unharmed and you will in exchange never have intercourse with the circus freak.”
Your arms cross. “Alastor, that’s fucked up.”
“I know!” he says warmly.
After a moment, you reach your hand out towards him. He takes it in his and squeezes it, gentle and warm. You’ve seen his power, the green flashes of light.
But there are no green lights. His tentacles remain hidden. The floor doesn’t shake.
It wasn’t a real deal, but you said nothing about that. This was all very strange, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Taking his hand, you give it a pull.
“Come on,” you say. “Let’s go on air anyway. Come.”
He tuts at you. “Rather bossy tonight, my dear.”
“I’ll make sandwiches,” you offer, and he nods.
“Yes, you will make sandwiches—pastrami.”
‘I am just living to be lying by your side but I'm just about a moonlight mile on down the road’
Once Alastor takes the staff from you, he notices that you’ve fallen asleep in your chair. He rides the dark with you in his arms, depositing you safely into your bed.
The next night, for some reason, Husk makes sure your dirty martinis come with two olives and no complaints.
“You will go away from the hotel.”
You look up from your phone, your feet up on one of the panels you’ve been working on. “Excuse me?”
Alastor is stern, serious. His eyes betray no laughter, not a single joke. “You will leave the hotel.”
“No,” you say immediately.
“The Extermination is exactly one week from now, and you will leave the hotel. You will go someplace safe.”
“No,” you say again. “No, hell no, I’m not leaving you all by yourselves.”
“You would be more of a hindrance than help,” Alastor says, and ooph, that one hurt.
“You don’t even know how to defend yourself,” he continues.
“I’ve been doing my best,” you say.
“And that is not good enough, darling.”
Your chest falls and rises. “So you think I have nothing to offer to protect my friends and this hotel?”
Alastor pauses for a moment. “No. I know for a fact that you do.”
“Then what?” you ask. “Why do you want me to leave?”
Again, a few moments pass in silence before Alastor sits beside you. “You would trade something very precious to save this hotel and all of the fools who reside in it.”
”What? What is it? What am I going to give up that’s so special?”
“Your life,” he says. “If you are here, you will sacrifice your life in a trice just as soon as you see someone else is in danger. And I cannot have that. You will leave, this is not a request.”
Your eyes widen and you shake your head. “No. This is my home. This is where I work. This is my family—“
“You will listen to me now and you will listen good,” he says gravely. “I can protect this hotel and kill Adam or I can protect you. Those are the choices. I trust you will not make the selfish one.”
You close your eyes and let out a deep breath. You feel a cry coming on, but head it off at the pass. “What about you?”
“What about me, darling?” Alastor asks. “There is no way for you to help me. You know that.”
“I’m going to look like a coward,” you say.
“I do not care,” he says. “And you shouldn’t either. My priorities are to kill Adam and to protect you. Therefore, you will leave to someplace safe and you will wait for me to come for you.”
You scoff. “Where’s safe? Where’s safe during an Extermination?”
“They are coming to the hotel first and we will not allow them to go any further. You will be safe where I send you and you will stay there.”
Then he does something he’s never done before. Alastor pulls you into his embrace. “You have no idea what I would do to save you. No idea, you stupid, silly girl. You must go. You must.”
“Okay, okay,” you say finally.
“I could give or take almost anyone else in this boring little hovel of a hotel, but I can’t give you. I won’t. It’s very likely this radio tower will need some manner of repair. Who else would do it but you?” He holds you a little tighter.
You close your eyes and lean against him. “I really don’t want to leave you.”
“Because you are an idiot.”
At that, you start hitting him anywhere you can, but the two of you dissolve into laughter.
Eventually, you sigh. “When am I leaving?”
Alastor hums. “Tonight.”
“What?” you look at him again. “Why tonight?”
“I will have time to prepare. I won’t spend days worrying about getting you to leave. It is better that I have this time to focus,” he says. “I will take care of everything. Think of it as more of a vacation than anything else.”
“I won’t, but thank you,” you say. “What will you tell everyone?”
Alastor tilts his head. “About what?”
“About forcing me to leave the hotel because I’m apparently too weak and stupid to fight for it,” you say.
He tsks and shakes his head. “I do not care. Neither should you. But I suppose I will just tell them approximately one-quarter of the truth.”
“Which is what?” you ask.
“That I put my foot down and wouldn’t allow you to die for any of them.” Alastor rubs his face against yours. A confusing gesture, but not altogether out of place, given the tenor of the rest of the interaction.
“I don’t want to die, but—“
“But nothing,” he says. He gives you his staff. “Play one last song.”
You wince. “Okay, grim. No. I’m not playing a ‘last song’.”
He huffs. “The last song until next week, when all of this is over.”
“When all of this is over…” You lean back in your seat, tapping the staff as you think. “Can you…can we hop on the broadcast? For a while? Make it my last proper show until all of this is over?”
You swallow, your throat feeling tight.
“No, darling,” he says. “Not this time. Pick a good song.”
‘Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!’
Alastor stares at you strangely throughout the entire song. He never once tries to take the staff away from you, not even during the repeated profanity—something that was forbidden. He says nothing of it when the song is done and he takes his staff back into his possession.
“Come.” He holds his arm out for you and you take it. You let him lead you out of the radio tower and you become unsettled as you descend the steps.
“Alastor, I don’t like this,” you say nervously.
“And neither do I,” he says as he guides you to your hotel room.
“Where are you sending me?”
He suddenly stops you once you’re inside the room, his clawed hand coming down to grip your shoulder. Hard.
“Alastor,” you chastise.
His grip only tightens. “I made a bargain for this and you will not piss it away.”
The night crashes down on you in the quiet of your bedroom.
“But where? You made a deal?”
“No, not a deal. More of a…trade which does not benefit me at all, save for it keeping you safe.”
“Alastor, where?” you ask, softly yet firmly.
“In an underground bunker beneath Rosie’s Emporium,” Alastor says finally. “No one would ever think to look there, not with all of Cannibal Town at the hotel, stupidly giving their own lives. Those lives mean nothing to me, nothing at all, but yours is something precious.”
“I’m just your engineer, you know.”
Alastor huffs. “No, you’re not.”
You lift a brow. “I’m not?”
“No.” He pauses. “You also make sandwiches.”
With a little laugh, you nod. “Pastrami.”
“Indeed. Pastrami. Now, pack up, darling. I’ll escort you to Cannibal Town. No, no one will try to eat you. You’ll be with my dearest friend, Rosie. You will be safe with her. If I had any doubts I would send you elsewhere.”
“Okay,” you say softly. “It’s going to be boring without you.”
“I, on the other hand, will finally know peace after six months.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”
You laugh far too hard for it to be so late at night, but Alastor is smiling genuinely.
For a tenth of a second something changes. The way you look at each other…
“So,” he says, sitting at the foot of your bed, one ankle over his knee. “Have you been abiding by our agreement?”
You pull a suitcase from underneath the bed. “Which one? There are new ‘agreements’ every day.”
“Intercourse with Lucifer,” he says flatly.
“Oh Alastor, come on. What if he and I were in love?”
He just glares at you, darkness in his eyes.
“I haven’t seen the man in weeks!”
“Aha!” He points at you. “You would do it if given the chance, wouldn’t you?”
You tilt your head. “Why do you care so much, Al?”
“Because I want to separate him from all possible joy,” he says. “There’s no chance of doing that with Charlie, but I will deny him you.”
“You’re so fucking weird.”
“Shut up and pack.”
“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”
Alastor picks up one of your pillows and throws it at you.
The extended visit with Rosie would be nice if every moment didn’t bring you anxiety so crippling that it cramped your stomach. She was kind, a gracious hostess, and she didn’t ask any prying questions, so neither did you. You were curious about the ‘trade’ Alastor had made for you—for you…
You leave every day for food, because you just cannot trust the provenance of anything in Cannibal Town, no matter how kind Rosie is. You listen to Alastor’s sporadic broadcasts and feel vindicated in how shitty it is without you. Gives you a smile. It sustains you to know that this man still needs you.
On your third day of going out for burritos, you receive a text message that makes you grin, fills you with joy you haven’t felt since you were yeeted from the hotel.
‘New ducks, want to see?’
The second you text back yes, a glowing portal opens and a hand yanks you inside.
“Lucifer!” you cry out happily, hugging him close.
He returns the embrace readily, arms tight around you. “I’m so glad you agreed! Here, let me show you the duck workshop.”
You smile and let him guide you. You and Lucifer just..mesh. It’s always been easier to talk to him than virtually anyone else. For as much as you listen to him about ducks, he listens to you about radio, as long as you don’t mention Alastor. That’s always been an unspoken understanding.
Lucifer rambles happily all the way to the workshop and you happily listen. Once inside, he gives you a little tour. The place is quite literally filled with rubber ducks of all different kinds—there was even a set of KISS ducks.
“This is my latest work,” Lucifer says, showing you a row of little ducks. He picks up one. “This one has wings just like mine! Well, you can’t currently see my wings, but that’s what they look like. There’s six, they’re red, that’s…pretty much it…”
He sounds strangely nervous.
“And this one’s Charlie…”
Yes, nervous.
“Maggie,” he says.
“Actually, her name is Vaggie,” you correct him.
“Oh, golly!” He covers his eyes with his hands, his face turning red. “I’ve been calling her Maggie every time and Charlie never corrected me.”
You chuckle softly. “It’s fine, I’m sure it’s fine. Don’t worry about that.”
He peeks at you from between his fingers. “You really think it’s okay?”
“Charlie probably just felt too awkward to correct you. You know how she is.”
“I hope so,” Lucifer says. “This one is the porn star. He shoots webs!”
You laugh when he demonstrates. “That’s so cool!”
“And this one,” he picks up one of the ducks gingerly, “this one is you!”
You gasp at the attention to detail and laugh joyfully. “That’s so cute, a little me!”
“She has a little radio and everything. And—“ Lucifer presses a button on the underside of the duck and the radio starts to play from its mouth. He looks at you with a wide grin and elbows you gently a few times. “Ah? Ah?”
You laugh again and clap. “Bravo, you outdid yourself. I never thought you would outdo the back-flipping rubber ducky that spits fire.”
“I surprise myself all the time,” Lucifer says happily, placing your duck back down beside his. “Do you have time for a drink?”
You laugh. “Honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”
“Good!” He takes your hand and guides you out of the workshop and through the halls until you arrive at a lavish lounge. He gestures for you to take a seat. “What’ll you have?”
“Oh, whatever you’re having, please.”
Lucifer pours two whiskeys and sits in the chair across from yours beside a fire that emits a cool breeze.
“Thank you so much,” you say when he hands yours to you.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Charlie told me…you left the hotel.”
You take a deep breath. “Yes, I did. I’ve been staying in Cannibal Town.”
“Why did you go?” he asks softly.
Now you sigh, hoping to keep all emotion from your voice. “Alastor thinks I’m more of a hindrance than a help and wants me to stay away.”
His diamond pupils constrict. “What an asshole.”
“He needs me to help repair the radio tower, when all is said and done.”
“You’re too good for this, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
Lucifer takes a drink. “I mean you’re too good to work on a show that’s just screams and crappy puns. That guy is a clown. You should host your own show.”
“Oh, I haven’t been on air in like…fourteen years. I don’t even know what I would talk about or play. I like being an engineer. It’s cathartic to me. Alastor might not have the most exciting show around, and he’s absolutely horrible, but it’s…hm, I’ve made it sound really bad, haven’t I?”
“Why do you give that guy your loyalty? Why do you feel so beholden to him?” he asks.
Your focus softens. “I…we have a good time together. I think. He likes the sandwiches that I make him.”
“I can almost guarantee that this loyalty means nothing to him,” Lucifer says. “I’m not saying that to hurt you.”
You sigh. “Yeah, I know Luci.”
“Why do you stay, then? Is he paying you?”
“Actually yeah, in a way he does.”
Lucifer cocks a brow and motions for you to continue.
“Oh, he just gives me things, not money. He doesn’t, uh, properly believe that hell should have a currency system. In his opinion it should all be bartering, like soul deals. Therefore, he barters with me. I give him sandwiches and briskets and engineering services, he gives me…just about anything. Last week he gave me a ruby necklace that must be worth a few thousand dollars.”
“You give him briskets?”
You nod. “Oh yeah, there’s always some brisket action going on. He doesn’t know it yet, but there’s a venison brisket in the works.”
“So you work together, you make him food, he gives you expensive jewellery?”
“Other things too, but yes.” You nod again. “That’s the gist. We have a good back-and-forth, but my favourite is getting to play music at the end of his broadcasts.”
Lucifer smiles softly at you. “Those are the only parts worth tuning in for.”
Your face lights up., a big grin and bright eyes. “You’ve heard?”
He nods. “Yeah. I try to catch it. The last one said fuck a lot.”
You laugh, head back against the chair. “Yeah, it did.”
“I’ll give you a radio station of your own. Be his competition,” he said.
Now you sigh. “I actually do like to work with him a lot. He’s…he’s not all bad. He’s always done right by me.”
Lucifer scoffs. “That won’t last. You can’t seriously rely on that to stay stable. Just as soon as he decides he doesn’t need you, he’ll get rid of you. Somehow or another. He’s just…one of the worst sorts of sinners, and he’s proud to be the way that he is. And you? You’re hardly like a sinner at all. I always seem to forget it.”
It’s hard to hear those things about Alastor, even harder because you know they’re probably in some way true.
You’re lost in thought until you hear him repeating your name. “Oh! So sorry, million miles away.”
“Let me get you another drink. Do you want something other than whiskey, maybe?” he asks, sounding somewhat insecure, a little tremor in his voice. “W-what do you normally take?”
You play with a rubber duck on the table and hope it doesn’t spit fire at you. “Dirty martini, two olives. Sounds weird, giving the king of hell a drink order.”
“Nonsense!” Lucifer comes over with a little drink tray, all cheerful. Sweet. He looks so happy that it warms you.
“I should see you more,” you say. “You’re fun to be around and I love ducks.”
He gives a nervous laugh and sits down, passes your drink to you. “You should definitely see me more! Gosh, that would be terrific. I can make you so many ducks!”
“What are you going to work on next?” you ask.
He winks. “I’ll keep you apprised.”
You wink back, smiling. “I’ll be waiting.”
God, there was nothing you wouldn’t give to be on air with Alastor right now. It hits you, causes a slight tremor in your body.
Lucifer gasps. “Are you okay? Is it the drink? I don’t actually know what a dirty martini is so I…May have poisoned you?”
“No! No!” You laugh and shake your head. “No, the drink is fine. To make a martini dirty you just put a bit of olive brine in.”
“Let me try again,” he says, but you stand and stop him.
“Luci, no, really, it’s okay,” you say. “Promise. See?” You drain the contents of the wine glass he had served the ‘martini’ in. Your lower eyelid gives you away, though.
“Oh God,” Lucifer says, hand covering his eyes.
You pull it away gently. “It’s okay, Luci.”
You stay that way, eyes on each other, for a moment that stretches indefinitely.
By the end of it, Lucifer kisses you. Hesitant, gentle. His hand reaches the back of your neck and by now you’re kissing back. Things are happening quickly. Somehow you wind up on one of the couches together, your back to the cushion, him on top of you…
Oh, no.
You break the kiss and sit up. “Sorry. Sorry, Luci. Sorry.”
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks in rushed voice, a slight shake to it.
“No.” You rub your eyes and smack your forehead.
All you could think of was Alastor. The little promise you made in exchange for Husk’s life. You doubted that he would actually kill Husk if he found out…but you couldn’t handle how…he would react.
“Lucifer, I…” But you couldn’t tell him that Alastor was the one keeping him from getting laid.
“I don’t understand,” Lucifer says. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “I can’t help but notice you’re still wearing your ring.”
“Oh, is that why…? Oh, no, sweetheart, no, I just…Lilith isn’t going to come back to me. I can take it off, it’s just hard to when it’s been…such a long time, being married. I can take it off, sweetheart, don’t worry.”
You squeeze his hand again, gently. “It’s time for me to leave.”
“Oh…Okay,” he says softly. “Yes, of course. You don’t have to stay, just…I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”
You smile at him, trying your best to instill confidence. “You’ll see me again. Show me to the door?”
“No, absolutely not,” he says. “It’s dangerous! I’ll take you back to Cannibal Town. That’s also…pretty dangerous, you know.”
“Not for me.” That you can say with confidence of your own.
“Come on.” Lucifer reaches for your hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do it again. Just take my hand and I’ll bring you back. You don’t even know where you are right now.”
Well, he’s got you beat there. You squeeze his hand one more time. “Okay. Let’s go.”
You close your eyes for this part.
When you hear a whispered goodbye, you open your eyes and you’re standing before the Cannibal Town gates, alone.
“Do you think that you walk freely all throughout hell, not a care in the world, for no reason?”
Your whole body tightens at the sound of his voice. “Have you just been standing there waiting for me to show up?”
“Not quite,” Alastor says. “Answer my question.”
You sigh, eyes rolling hard. “I’m sure it’s because of you.”
“Correct! So you’re at least that smart.”
You trudge out a path set to finally get you the illusive burrito. “Alastor, I’m not in the mood. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and my absence is definitely noticed at the hotel.”
He appears in front of you. “And how do you know that? Who told you, hm?”
You sigh. “You know who I was with?”
Alastor’s claws grab your arm and then you’re in the radio tower. It nearly knocks the breath out of you and you collide with one of the panels.
“God!” You wince as your knee crashes against a sharp corner. “Hey asshole, I thought I wasn’t allowed to be here! I am so sick of being yanked around today! All I wanted—“
“I ask so little of you,” he interrupts.
Your jaw drops. “Are you serious? You? Ask me? For little?”
“The only commitment I have ever asked of you is not to have sex with that fucking man!”
“And I didn’t!” you shout before pulling out your phone. “Here, see? He just wanted to show me new rubber ducks that he made. And you know what? Mine was adorable, and she played radio when you pressed her button.”
“Am I supposed to understand this innuendo?” he asks, his voice rising.
“I didn’t sleep with him, Alastor! I don’t know what else you want me to say! I almost did, I would have, and it’s all your fucking fault that I didn’t. Someone expressed interest in me and I couldn’t act on it because I made some fake pact with you over it. I should have, God knows I need it.”
“Oh do you?” Alastor steps closer, but you don’t back down.
“Yes!” you yell. “Yes I do, but the only fucking thing I ever do is go on the goddamn radio with you!”
“Such a horrible fate!”
You cover your face with curling fingers. “Take me back to Rosie’s. Take me back to Rosie’s, Alastor. You don’t want me here, remember?”
“Of course I want you here, you fucking imbecile!”
Your anger ebbs slightly. “You do?”
“Yes! I want all of the things you do and I want them all the time! I tried to make my own sandwiches and everything! I was self-sufficient before you, you know. I never needed anyone for anything, then you walked into this hotel and insisted your way into my life, wrecking it up as you went!” Alastor takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself, trying to calm himself. “So now that I need you and go to great pains to keep you safe, you tell me that you want to sleep with that little blond gremlin?”
“How were the sandwiches?”
“Dry and uninteresting!” Alastor grabs you by your arms. “God damn you!”
“What? What?” you yell. “What do you want, Alastor? As far as I can tell, you got me out of the hotel, out of your way, right where you wanted me to be. I was going out for a fucking burrito because I can’t trust the food in Cannibal Town!”
“I advised Rosie very carefully about your dietary preferences,” he says.
“Well, hell, thanks,” you say in a much quieter tone. After a moment, you go sit in your usual spot. “Why did you bring me here, Alastor? My name must be mud around here.”
“No, it isn’t.” Alastor sits across from you. “They just blame me, and that is fine.”
“I really think you two should put all this behind you,” you say.
“The two of us? We won’t be putting anything behind us, darling.”
“Actually!” You point at him. “I was talking about you and him. The guy you call a circus freak, a blond gremlin.”
“Ha! No. Try again, dearest.”
You just roll your eyes and rub your temples. “I’m seriously so hungry and so tired. What do you want to hear?”
“I—.” Alastor cuts himself off. “You. And I…it’s your fault, all of this is your fault!”
“Okay! Fine! It’s my fault. Now what do you want to do?” you ask.
Alastor jerks you up from your seat and kisses you, hard. You feel his fingertips fan over the tops of your shoulders, drumming once before holding tight.
It’s so absolutely stunning that it takes a moment to respond at all, but that doesn’t seem to slow him down. Your heart beats so hard in your chest that you can almost hear it, and, oh, damn, this is what had been missing, fulfilling a craving that you had never known. This was what blood was for, what hands were for, why breath existed.
His hands move lower down your body as the quick seconds pass like butterflies all down your skin and to your bones.
You pull away just to catch a breath and his whole body tenses.
“What?” you ask, panting.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks.
You shake your head. “No, Al, not even a little bit. Just couldn’t breathe, blood’s all rushing.”
Alastor’s fingertips trail deliciously above your belly. “Do you know what I want?”
You swallow, lips pressing together. “Tell me.”
His thumb traces down your throat now. “I want to possess you so completely that you forget all but my name.”
His lips follow the path of his hands, surprisingly soft and warm against your neck. “Everything about you was made for me. Everything. I am never letting you go, do you understand me?” His tone was gravely serious, but with an undercurrent of…love. Yes, it was love, yearning and…maybe a bit of uncertainty. He could not hide that, not from you.
“Let’s go to my room,” you say quietly when he pulls away, and in an instant you’re there. Everything looks the same, thankfully. You go to the bed and sit at the foot of it, leaning back on your elbows.
Alastor comes and stands before you, just looking down, watching. When he finally moves, it’s to put both hands underneath your shirt and push it up, every bit of skin revealed covered in goosebumps. He slowly pushes the shirt up and up until your arms lift and it comes over your head.
“Why are you choosing to do this now?” you ask as he works on your bra.
“Because you said that you needed it and I take your needs very seriously,” he responds.
“Whoa.” You grab at my hands. “No, it’s not just me, you have to be into it too.”
Alastor laughs suddenly. “How about I show you how ‘into it’ I am? Kind of you to make certain, darling.”
“I don’t ever want to make you feel like you have to, because you’re…”
He plays with one of your exposed breasts thoughtfully. “You are kind for that, too. Perfect, really. Darling, I do whatever feels good, in all things that I do. This is good, I have simply never felt that way before you and your goddamn radio expertise and your fucking sandwiches and, oh, the briskets.”
Alastor sighs and moves on to the other one. “I have never wanted this before, and that is meaningful to me. It isn’t all I want, but I want you in all other ways so much that it makes me crave you. My hands on your body, your hands on mine. I’ve waited long enough to know that I am certain. Are you?”
“You are a discovery,” you say. “You unlocked things I didn’t realise were there. I want you badly.”
“It’s not just what the spider calls ‘general horniness’?”
You pull him down and kiss him several times before responding. “No, it isn’t. If it wasn’t specific to you, I could just as well bedded Luci. I had every opportunity earlier tonight. But I was always going to turn him down. I did so because I thought of how disappointed and angry you would have been.”
“You’re goddamn right I would have been,” he says as he climbs over you. “So perfect, just for me…”
You like the weight of him on top of you. He’s careful not to squish you, but it feels so warm and solid. There’s a shiver up your spine as he touches you, as this coat and shirt brush against your breasts. You go to card your fingers through his hair and accidentally brush against the base of one of his ears and you can see the physical reaction, the little tremors of pleasure, the moan of an ecstasy promised.
“Okay?” you ask gently, doing it again.
Alastor nods quickly. “Yes, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
You played with his ear while his tongue, lips, and teeth made their way across your throat and neck. The higher you went, the more aggressive he got, leaving little nips and bites everywhere.
You push him when you decide more clothes have to come off—his in particular. He looks confused for a half-second before you’re carefully removing his coat. You place it carefully on a chair near the bed, but almost rip the shirt off of him.
He gives a little huff of laughter. “Eager, are we darling?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” you say, hauling him in to kiss him again.
You love the feeling of your bare chests pressed together. Alastor’s breathing starts to come more quickly than before.
It’s you going after his neck, this time. You can hear something strangled in his throat, the vibrations of it against your lips. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”
“Forgive me, darling. I am new to this.”
“Is it the very first time?”
He hums. “Technically no. Once, when I was a teenager, a very long time ago. I barely remember it at all, but I know it was nothing like this.”
You smile against his neck and nuzzle softly. “Doesn’t matter, you’ll know what to do.”
“I have every confidence in us both. We know each other on a professional and emotional level of intimacy, I doubt physical intimacy will be the thing that does us in.”
“It may be a bit early days, but I hope nothing ever does,” you say.
He cradles the back of your head to keep your lips close to his neck. He huffs. “Early days, my ass. If I was not sure about you I would not have started anything. If any part of you is unsure, I will make it sure. I promise that I won’t be a regret.”
You kiss your way down the side of his neck. “Lucifer would have been a regret. You will not be.”
He huffs. “As gratifying as that is to hear, please do not mention the circus freak during physical intimacy ever again. Or ever again in general, if possible.”
You laugh softly and hold him close. “I’ll never mention him in this context ever again, I promise.”
“I am much obliged, my love.” Alastor tugs at the jeans you’re wearing, but, having no experience with such garments, he doesn’t seem to realise they have to be unzipped first.
You reach between your bodies to help him out.
“Such complicated garments,” he says beneath his breath.
“No more complicated than yours! Your trousers unzip too, don’t they?” you ask.
“It is called a double standard, darling, and as per usual, unfortunately for you, it works out in my favour.” Alastor gets you down to your underwear and plays with the elastic waistband. “I would like to make something abundantly clear to you, darling. I will give you this one last chance.”
“For what?” you ask, kissing down his neck, the tip of his ear between your fingers. You feel it twitch.
“No, no, stop that for a moment, darling,” he says, so you do. When you’ve stopped and he’s got you looking at him again, he continues. “For just a moment, while you listen to this. I am telling you right now that you are reaching the point of no return. Once I have taken you, you will belong to me for eternity. That is not a hyperbole, it is reality. I will never allow you to leave me. Along with that promise, I promise to keep you safe, always, just as I am now, even if it means temporarily being away from me. I promise to love you. I promise you will want for nothing; everything that is in my power to give you, which is exhaustive and far-reaching, any little want or need you have, I will give it to you.”
You smile at him. “I don’t have as much to offer, but I’ll be the best damn radio engineer, the best damn brisket-maker, the best damn friend, and the best damn…”
“Mate,” he supplies.
“The best damn mate, I’ll be that,” you promise.
“You accept?” Alastor asks, and when you nod, he kisses you hard. “You are perfect. So good. And you understand? Completely? You have no doubts? Because there will be no other appropriate time to feel them. This is a permanent arrangement that you should not take lightly.”
“Trying to talk me out of it?”
“Trying not to be a regret,” he says, and it makes your expression warm.
“You aren’t and you won’t be,” you promise. “You were the answer to all the questions I didn’t know I was asking of myself from the moment I met you. I didn’t know, but it was always there, and now, like…I don’t know how to describe it. There’s not a lot of blood flowing to my brain, you know.”
He chuckles once and nods. “Then I will not ask you again. It is settled now, is it?”
“It is.”
“Good.” Alastor hooks his thumb into the elastic of your underwear indelicately and pulls them down and off your body.
You don’t even know how many naked people Alastor has seen. It’s possible he hasn’t seen another person naked since the first time with someone, so many years ago. He seems to know exactly what he’s doing, though.
“Well, now that the matter is settled.” Alastor lifts you up and places your head on a pillow. “There is something I have wanted to do since I met you. It was a strange craving, something that should have warned me of what was to come.”
“What’s the strange craving?” you ask, but rather than answer verbally he rolls his tongue between your leg, right against your clit, and you moan rather loudly with surprise.
Alastor laughs quietly to himself. “Enjoying yourself, darling?”
“Ohhhh God,” was all you could manage.
He licks your clit again before his tongue dips inside you, and when it does, Alastor elongates it—this shocks you, causes a gasp and a full-body shiver. You never thought such a thing was possible, and it’s certainly…a new experience. He rubs at your clit with his thumb while his tongue works inside you. He keeps your legs apart with his broad shoulders, tongue massaging against your walls until he reaches a spot that makes you scream. He laughs softly against your flesh and you’re panting now.
“Alastor…” Your legs tense up around him, muscles straining. He’s moaning against you as he works your body like he owns it, and maybe he does now. Your thighs tense around him and you…you’re getting louder.
“Is there something you can do about the noise?” you ask, even though you hate stopping him.
He keeps rubbing your clit while he speaks. “I can. But I will not. Louder.”
Alastor goes right back to it, his tongue working you hard, and he forces you to get louder just from the way his tongue moves against your walls.
“Oh, fuck…Oh, Al, don’t stop, please don’t stop…yeah…yeah, like that, like that…” Your breath comes in harder and harder, faster and faster, until you’re screaming, until your thighs are aching, until your pussy is so overstimulated that he pulls back with an enormous grin on his face.
He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, but mercifully only briefly. “Tell me when I can take you.”
“Just a moment,” you pant. “Not a long wait, just a few minutes.”
“Very good,” Alastor says. “I’ll take other pleasure from other parts of your body in the meantime then, darling.”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “You do that, Al. Fucking hell.”
His tongue swirls along your nipple. “Yes darling?”
“You really took that one from the soul,” you say with a soft, shaky laugh. You nudge his shoulder. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“You’re sure?”
You nod a few times. “Yeah, yeah. Ready to go.”
You press your back down against the blankets, your head flat against the pillow. Alastor kneels between your knees and shoves them far apart, making plenty of room for himself. You’re silently grateful that he still seems to know exactly what to do—you’d gladly teach him if you had to, but it was so much better this way. He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock from your clit and down, watches your muscles involuntarily jump slightly, a wide smirk on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his shadow cast upon the wall, the elongated horns, that starving grin.
“I see you’ve noticed him,” Alastor says, entering you all at once. “Keep your eyes on me, dear. Pay him no mind.”
“You consider him separate from you?” you ask, your body adjusting to the size of him easily.
Alastor, however, does not seem to be having such an easy go of things. There is a look of concentration on his face, his lip between his teeth. It takes a moment for him to reply. “I consider him an echo of me. I’ll warn you now, I do not know how conversational I will be from this point on.”
“All the same,” you wink at him. “It’s not your conversation I’m after at the moment.”
It takes almost no time at all to get loud for him again, but this time it wasn’t just you being pleasured. This was a new world for Alastor and he was lost in it, captive to it. His hands grip at your hips as he fucks you harder and harder, the mattress shaking beneath you. Soon the headboard smacks against the wall and you thank God there’s no one on the other side.
“Al!” You hook one knee around his waist. “Al, please, deeper.”
He grabs your other knee and pulls it around him so he can get a better angle. He moves to whisper in your ear. “You feel so soft inside, like velvet. So warm, so hot…like that little pop of heat when you stand with your back to a fireplace…”
You moan loudly, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter around him, the sound slick and obscene. You can hear him curse, how his hips snap faster and faster until he finally spills his seed in you, fucking you through it.
Alastor’s damp forehead connects with your shoulder and you can feel his breath coming harsh against it. His hands soften their hard grip on your thighs and fall away, moving up to your waist, your ribs, one thumb against your nipple.
You play with his hair, with one of his ears, but it doesn’t seem to rile him up again, which was good, because you didn’t want to be told to stop. You turn your head against his and kiss his hair.
“Okay?” you ask after a while.
Upon hearing your voice, he lifts his head and then himself off of you. He crashes on his back beside you, his arm coming up around you, pulling you to him.
“I am so…so grateful that it was you,” he says. “I am grateful to have you. Forever. You and I will create a home next week, here at the hotel. It is well within my power to do. It can be any way you like. You should jot down ideas while you’re at Rosie’s.”
You groan. “I have to go back to Rosie’s, don’t I?”
“Yes, my lovely,” he says. “You will still reside at Rosie’s for the duration of this week until the Extermination is through and we are free to do as we please. We do not have to go straight back into radio. Maybe…we take some time to ourselves. It will be well-earned.”
“You’re going to need a break in general,” you say, pushing sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes. “You’re doing so much for all of us. I can’t believe you’re going to kill Adam.”
“Believe it, my love,” he says softly. “Believe me. This is our future.”
“I do believe you. I trust you,” you say. “And I’m sorry for being so bratty about being sent away. I am effectively useless in any type of fight scenario. I would hold everyone back.”
“You would sacrifice yourself too easily. I never said those things to hurt you, I said them because I feared what would happen to you.”
“I know,” you whisper. “I know.”
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor imagines#hazbin alastor#alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor smut#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin alastor x you#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor smut#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel imagines
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For @pleasantlystrangenight-blog sorry for the delay.
They made their relationship public to the family just a week ago. Everyone agreed to be supportive and happy for them, but then something happened. The cave, as usual, was cold, and as they listened to Bruce’s plans for the night, Jason couldn’t help to snuggle up to Dick’s side seeking warmth. He looked so miserable and cold that Dick couldn’t help but kiss him on the lips fondly, and hug his wait trying to share the warmth. It’s innocent, just a little caring gesture, but Bruce made such a constipated and shocked face, that both of them paused in their ministrations, and shared a look amused by the dramatic reaction.
It soon turns into a game.
Bruce catches them making out in the kitchen and for a whole week, he can’t seem to look at either of them in the eye or walk into any room without coughing loudly. They indulge in some touches and soft kisses in a meeting, acting as disgustingly sweet as they can manage, and suddenly Bruce has forgotten half his presentation and is looking at them with mild concern. They share a room, make dirty provocative suggestions at a gala, and Bruce Wayne, aka the Batman’s mind, stops working every fucking time. They are having so too much fun with it, that eventually, the other bats have to intervene and try to stop them.
“You need to stop the nonsense. It’s not helping with the missions, and I can’t have another night patrol with freaked-out Bruce.” Tim finally complains a week later as they are having breakfast.
“It’s not our fault he is homophobic.” Jason easily supplies.
“Yesterday he stared at a wall for three hours.” Tim continued as if fascinated. “And you know homophobia is not the issue here.”
“They are not blood brothers,” Damian said, always the defender of the bloodlines. “And I don’t see the issue here. Dick seems happy, Jason hasn’t killed a person in months, and they seem to be good for each other. Father is just being dramatic.”
“Aw, thanks, baby bat.” Dick cooed at him, ruffling his hair fondly.
“Not baby.” Damian hissed as he smacked his hand away. Dick, however, could now see the happy glint in his eyes that had not been there when he met the boy.
“But you are brothers legally, and it’s kind of weird.” Tim continued. “How are you going to explain this to people? Can you even get married to your legal brother? Do you want marriage? Is it a crime? What if the press finds out?”
At that moment Bruce finally arrived at the kitchen still half asleep from his night activities. He glanced at the four of them eating cereals, but his eyes instantly focused on Jason seated on Dick’s lap, and on Dick’s arm around the younger robin’s waist holding him close. He paled, looked away, and walked right out of the kitchen once more. He never said anything, he never complained about the relationship or tried to separate them, but it was clear by now that it was taking him a lot of time to accept the new development.
Jason starts trembling in Dick’s arms while trying to hold on to laughter, and Dick also has to hide a smile on the back of his hand at the face Bruce had made. After years of working with Bruce, whose more usual expression is a scowl, it was finally his relationship with Jason the one that made him lose his composure? Yes, it was hilarious.
“You are not going to stop, are you?” Tim asked sadly.
“Oh, please, as if you are not enjoying this too.” Jason snapped.
Tim tried to hide a smile, but it was obvious he was enjoying the situation too. It was nice to get back at Bruce, and by the look in Damian’s eyes, he was also enjoying it. Poor Bruce. It seemed that if he wanted the teasing to end, he would have to accept the relationship between his two adopted sons at once, because they for sure were not going to make this any easier for him.
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𝐈 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐗)
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"A lonely moon craving for the radiant sun." In which a certain girl catches the attention of a prideful billionaire playboy as they both attempt to find their way in the world. (I haven't seen many fics explore Bruce in his formative years, so I thought I'd share my take on them, of course with romance.)
wc: 2201
A/N: "The future influences the present just as much as the past." -Friedrich Nietzsche
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“That’s it! That’s where you’re gonna stop?” The little boy groaned, resting his head on y/n’s lap as she bandaged his hand.
“Why of course, you’ll hear the rest when you’re ready. For now, mull over my words for there is always something to learn from history.” She smiled looking into the eyes of the little boy with a motherly affection.
“What’s there to learn? Bruce Wayne’s selfish, Harvey Dent is ignorant and you–you’re just plain depressed.” The boy rolled his eyes, annoyed that he’d wasted half his night listening to a story without a climax.
y/n’s smile widened as she chuckled. “I thought you were smart, little robin. No one ever tells you that bravery feels like fear. And it’s easy to be brave when you’d rather die than give up.” She combed a hand through his hair, humming some lullaby.
As she tied the end of the bandage, securing it, the little boy sat up and leaned against her shoulder as he clarified, “So you’re saying I should fight till my last breath to get what I want? To be stubborn.”
“As hell. Or else the world will devour you, and you’ll be left dreaming.” She finished.
The boy turned his head to face her, expecting the same gesture she gave him every night. Placing a kiss atop his forehead, y/n rose from her couch to prod at the flame burning in the fireplace with a poker. The boy watched her, unwilling to move from his seat.
He loved y/n’s humble abode, for it overlooked Gotham in such a way that the city looked like a dream. From the window, he could see a sea of lights below and skyscrapers decorating the skyline in the distance. It was a picturesque view.
Not to mention her apartment was the perfect size, not too small that it felt claustrophobic but not too large that it felt artificial. There was a coziness to it that he never felt in his “real” home. The kind he craved to bathe in till the end of time.
“Can I stay tonight?” He asked for the umpteenth time in the past week. He knew what she would say, that she truly wished she could but she couldn’t deprive his father of such a wonderful presence.
“Y’know what, why not? It’s the holidays, and I’m sure Batman wouldn’t mind you having a little time to yourself.”
“Really? Yes!” The boy exclaimed. Immediately he was on his feet, running to the kitchen for a midnight snack. As soon as he had his food in a bowl the boy ran back and turned on the TV above the fireplace, setting it the movie Home Alone. He cozied himself into the couch, cuddling into a blanket he found nearby, and patted at the empty space beside him, indicating for y/n to join him.
She told him she needed a moment outside before joining him for the night. Setting the poker down in its mantle, y/n walked out to the patio, sliding the door behind her to ensure that the little boy would be none the wiser to what was happening outside.
She took slow steps to the edge, leaning over the railing with her hands folded atop it. “I let him stay tonight. I hope you don’t mind,” she spoke, her words fading into the crisp air. The moon shone down as if illuminating just her. The rest of her patio was shrouded in a darkness so deep, that even a bat couldn’t see through it.
That’s where he remained hiding as he answered, “Robin needs the break. Make sure he comes back in the morning.” He hesitated before he took a step into the light. Though he still remained out of her sight, she could feel the warmth exuding from his armored body. Standing on her feet again, she moved a step away from the rail until her back was only inches from his body.
“Batman, what a peculiar name. However, did you come up with it?” She began, hoping she’d elicit a reaction. There was a familiarity to his voice that she couldn’t quite place due to the modifier.
Met with silence, she attempted conversation again. “It’s a beautiful, silent night. I remember a time when Gotham’s symphony was especially deafening during this hour. Why remain in the dark when you can bask in the light of the city’s new hope?”
“Darkness shields just as much as it threatens.” He confessed, his voice wavering ever so slightly.
“And light guides us home, to happiness.” She responded. She wished she could whip herself around, to face the dark knight in all his glory, but she knew he’d have left by now. He was never one to stay too long, but at least his fleeting presence made his company all the more precious.
Alone on the patio, y/n headed inside, back to the Bat’s protege: Robin. Inside, the eager little boy ignored the movie, and began to question y/n’s story yet again. “Please, please, please tell me more. What happened with the case, what happened after they found out where you lived?”
“Well, Falcone’s still serving time in jail, so to say we succeeded would be an understatement. Talking about the trial would be a bore, especially since most of it is public record. As for the boys, well nothing really changed. Harvey hung out more and more with Gilda until they fell in love when they went to Harvard. Bruce went to Yale and essentially dropped off the face of the Earth until he returned to Gotham last year.”
“Ok, if you don’t want to talk about them then I get it. But what about Dr. Crane, what happened with him?” Robin persisted.
“That’s for another night, alright? Patience is a virtue you really should practice.” She chuckled, moving one of the couch pillows under his head as he slouched into a sleeping position. She patted his side until the boy forgot all about the movie and fell into a restful sleep beside her.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
A year prior, Bruce Wayne had come back to Gotham. Really, it was more like he had snuck in. For months he remained a recluse, until one day he threw the biggest gala Gotham had ever seen at his mansion. He called it his homecoming ball, but y/n believed it was merely a distraction. The Bruce she knew always used such extravagance as a facade, but there was always the fact that he’d been gone from Gotham for nine years. He’d most likely have changed in that time as any man would.
By then, at the ripe age of 27, y/n herself had earned her spot in the Gotham Gazette. Having earned a few awards for her writing debut about her involvement in the unraveling of Falcone’s drug operation all those years ago, y/n was able to go to Gotham University and eventually Columbia to earn her degrees in journalism. From there, she was hand-picked by the Gazette to work for them as a full-time writer.
Batman had come into the picture just a month after Bruce’s return, but his presence was so rare that at first, he seemed a myth. Even now, a year later some people still doubt his existence. The only real proof people have is Robin, who showed up in his colorful spandex three months ago. y/n found the little bird in a back alley near her home on his first day, and ever since she’s been helping stitch him up or give him company on the nights he patrols as a sidekick to Batman.
Sending off Robin in the morning, y/n had the remainder of the day to prepare herself to attend another Wayne gala for Christmas. It was a dreaded assignment, for she had wanted to keep herself at a distance from any Wayne, but things don’t always work out the way we want them to.
Before heading to the mall to buy a nice gown for the black tie event, y/n headed to Gotham Academy. She was to meet an old friend at the now-abandoned stands that faced the racetrack. The place where it all began.
Seated on the stands, she shielded herself from the winter wind with the large men’s coat she wore. Its color had faded with time, but the warmth it trapped was still able to keep her comfortable. It was large on her, but that made it all the more comforting for it engulfed her in a tender embrace.
A tall, lean figure approached her, with his hood up and a mask to conceal his face. He was muscular, an attribute evident by the way the jacket comfortably hugged his figure. There was a noticeable bulge at his side in the shape of a sidearm, but it was tucked away snugly enough to reassure y/n that it wouldn’t be needed.
The man took slow steps toward her as he took in y/n’s still form in all its glory under the morning sun. She looked absolutely angelic, with golden rays illuminating her glorious face. The man was utterly entranced by how beautiful she looked, despite the apparent lack of effort she had put into her appearance.
“Harvey, dashing as always.” She broke the silence with her honey-laced voice.
He smiled as he took off his mask. Sitting beside her he replied, “y/n, lovely as ever. Merry Christmas.”
“I have the file you want, but I can’t imagine why you couldn’t get it yourself.”
“I may be a man scorned, but Two-Face still has his limits.” That may have been true for many things, but this circumstance was different. He wanted an excuse to see her again.
After the accident, Gilda had left him, his public image was ruined, and his mind was in shambles. Yet, y/n remained at his side, as his sole supporter. Even when he changed, when his pain led him down the dark path of criminality, y/n continued to stay in contact with him. He knew she hoped she could change him for the better, but they both knew it was a misplaced expectancy.
She deserved the world for the kind of woman she was, and that was the very reason Harvey refused to make his advance. He couldn’t give her the heaven she deserved. He feared no man could. But Gotham had recently been put under new authority with all the Arkham inmates running around like they owned the place. And with vigilantism becoming a new trend, who knew what divinity may enter the equation to whisk her away for good?
Handing Harvey the file, y/n stood. Quirking an eyebrow at her sudden departure he remarked, “Is that my coat?”
With her back to him, she answered, “Merry Christmas, Apollo.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
At last, she returned to her humble abode. At the entrance, there lay a large cardboard box marked with her address. At first glance, there was no sender, no note, nothing that eased y/n’s suspicions. y/n was hesitant to pick it up and bring it inside with nothing to reassure her that it was safe to open.
But a nagging instinct allowed her to let go of her precaution and do just that. Once inside, she set it down on the nearest counter, grabbed an exacto knife, and carefully sliced through the edges of the packaging. The box opened to reveal a note engraved in gold letters, reading, “Make a proper debut in high society with a bang. Sincerely, An Old Friend”
As she read the sign-off signature, a few people came to mind. Harvey was the first suspect, having been graced by his longing niceties in the hours prior. But he wouldn’t have made such a blatant gesture for no reason; at the very least, he would have made it abundantly clear he was the sender.
Selina could have simply bought a beautiful piece and sent it to her when they went out together. But there was no such occasion they had planned soon, and as far as y/n knew, Selina didn't know she was attending this gala.
Another name came to mind, and this one was much more plausible. A girl she once knew, with a habit of making grand entrances had a knack for extravagance that could rival Selina’s. Something was definitely going to happen tonight, and she’d be the first reporter on the scene to break the story. How thoughtful.
Wearing the item inside the box, the flowing, midnight-blue silk dress, shimmered subtly under the soft lighting of her apartment. It hugged her curves with a delicate grace, its plunging neckline framed by delicate trim that cascaded down the bodice, ending in a graceful train that pooled around her ankles, leaving a trail of elegance with each step. The dress made her feel as though she’d finally fit in, no longer a weed in a field of roses. Taking her press pass and invitation in her clutch and wearing her simple silver heels, y/n was out her door again hailing for a cab on the street to make her way to the Manor.
˖ ࣪🦇𓆰♡𓆪🦇ִ ࣪⋆
taglist: @earth-to-name
#bruce wayne x fem!reader#bruce wayne x reader#harvey dent#harvey dent x reader#bruce wayne#angst#dc comics#pre batman#high school#gotham academy#comics#enemies to friends to lovers#academic rivals#dcu#batman x reader#bruce wayne x you
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tim acting like bruce’s parent fic lets goo
It always felt so odd whenever someone called Tim Bruce's son. Yes, legally he was adopted. But that's where that starts and ends.
Dick is Bruce's son. Jason is Bruce's son. Damian is Bruce's son. Cass is Bruce's daughter. Tim was never his son, and never will be. And yet outside of Bruce and Tim himself everyone else sees Tim as his son. It's absurd since it's clearly the other way around.
"Come on Bruce, you're tired, probably starving and dehydrated, just take a break. Two hours, that's all you need. Enough to eat and drink and take a nap." Tim says tiredly to Bruce, who instead of taking his advice like a responsible person would, just grunts and goes back to tapping away at the Bat-Computer. He swears he might as well be Bruce's parent with how he has to semi gentle parent him. Hmm… Maybe he should lean into that.
"Bruce, you won't be helping anyone like this, you could make a mistake and end up hurting someone else unintentionally. You don't want that right?" God if this works Tim's not sure if he's gonna cry or be happy. There is a hesitant grunt though so Tim takes it as it's working. "This is a sensitive case, it's also very difficult, so let's just… take a break and come at it with fresh eyes, yeah?" A grunt and slight nod. Tim nearly breathes a sigh of relief, he can see several mistakes Bruce has already made. Tim will make sure to come back and fix it and hope Bruce won't remember what he put down.
Bruce goes to stand up and stumbles, probably from the hours of sitting down without any food or water. Either way, Tim hurries to catch him and almost falling over with his weight. Thankfully the training Tim's been through accounted for carrying someone far heavier than he is, so Tim is able to get Bruce up to the Manor and sat down at a table while Tim makes him some soup. He's not exactly great at cooking but if he has a recipe he can make it vaguely good, and thankfully canned soup is easy to make.
He sets down a bowl of soup and some water in front of Bruce and sits across from him to make sure he eats it all. He narrows his eyes at Bruce as he goes to push the bowl away and stand up. "You haven't eaten it all." An annoyed grunt. "You need to eat a good amount to keep up with patrols." Irritated grunt. "Five more bites? Please, Bruce? Just five more, easy spoonfuls" Bruce begrudgingly grabs his spoon again ad eats the five more spoonfuls, even eating a sixth bite. "Thank you bud, just drink your water then you can rest and head back to the case." The nickname rips itself out of his mouth without warning, and Tim can see the moment that Bruce realizes what he called him and he's waiting for the yelling and…
Bruce stiffened and then relaxed. Looking far more tired than before. He drinks his water without any fuss (isn't that what parent's say about their kids..?) and slowly gets up, but waits for Tim to also stand up.
Tim's… not sure how he feels about this. On one hand Tim was 13, and Bruce was 40. On the other… Bruce was listening to Tim. He got Bruce to take care of himself (slightly) without issue.
Tim shoves the slightly uncomfortable part of him deep down. Bruce ate and drank water (not coffee!) it'd be selfish of Tim to not like that, right? He gets up and leads Bruce to his room and make sure he lays down before leaving.
He feels… weird. Very weird. He chalks the feeling to actually being in the manor for once. Normally he gets there and immediately heads to the cave, or sometimes forsakes the manor and heads in through a different entrance. Regardless he heads back down to the cave to fix the mistakes Bruce put down.
The look on Bruce's face when he called him bud is pushed into the back of his mind. Not gone though.
————————
Bruce was hit with a gas of some kind. Tim's not sure what kind it is, it's not fear toxin, that makes Bruce violent, and it's not Joker Gas cause… well Bruce isn't laughing. Bruce is however… timid. Quiet. Tim was able to get Bruce into the Bat-mobile with no issue thankfully, and Tim was able to stop the gas from spreading any more ad no one else was hit with it thankfully. The ride home is.. awkward. Bruce is in the passenger seat, trying to make himself look smaller. Tim doesn't have much time to focus on that though, too focused on making sure he gets them to the cave.
He feels so much relief when he sees the cave entrance and finally parks the Bat-mobile. "Alright Bruce, come on we need to find out what you were hit with." He makes sure his voice is soft. Since that day where he accidentally called Bruce 'bud' he found that Bruce… Reacted well to Tim 'parenting' him. The only things to work with Bruce have been Tim acting like Jason (Too dangerous. He runs the risk of Bruce realizing it wasn't a hallucination and getting violent at Tim for 'replacing Jason') and Tim parenting him.
Bruce slowly gets out of the car while holding onto Tim's hand which is… Odd. But not horrible surprisingly. Tim leads him over to the med-bay and sits him down (once again very odd. But then again everything about their relationship is odd now.) and grabs a syringe to take some of Bruce's blood for testing. They've done this plenty times there should be no issues and yet…
Bruce flinched. Batman flinched. Tim ignores the sharp pain of something that hit him. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm just gonna take a little blood, it'll be quick I promise, okay chum?" Tim did it again. He's heard Bruce call Dick that a couple times during their good days. He's overheard him call Jason that countless times when Jason was alive. He did it out of instinct (instinct? Why was it instinct to call Bruce the pet name he calls his sons?) and now Bruce is gonna yell and-
"..Okay." Bruce voiced out softly. Which sounds wrong out of him but… Tim just feels glad. Tim slowly but quickly takes the blood sample. He puts a band-aid on the spot, feeling every bit like a doctor giving a child a shot.
"You did great, thank you Bruce." Tim goes to move and start tests, wanting this done as soon as possible and then…
"Don't go." Bruce's voice calls out. Sounding weak, and soft, and everything Batman shouldn't. "…please."
Tim hesitates slightly, he really should start testing but… "Okay. I'll stay here for a bit longer." How can he just leave when Bruce is asking him to stay? He's never been asked to stay somewhere. Never been wanted somewhere.
"…thank you, dad." That seals it. Tim isn't his son. He could never be his son. He doesn't hesitate this time.
"Of course, chum."
———————
Tim's settled into his role in the family perfectly. He knows exactly who each of the members need him to be.
Dick needs him to be his little brother he can always go to to cuddle, Jason likes him best when he's unable to take care of himself, Cass likes him (which is weird and Tim is honestly still not sure exactly how to do that but he thinks he has a handle on it now), Damian likes it best when Tim is standoffish, Steph likes chaos Tim, Duke enjoys Tim when he helps him with homework and plays games, Babs likes competent Tim.
Alfred likes the Tim that takes care of Bruce. He likes Caretaker Tim. (When did Tim stop hating that fact..?)
Bruce… Likes Dad Tim. That Tim is reserved for Bruce. It makes Tim feel so many things. It's weird, he knows that, and it leaves a weird feeling in him that lasts for days but it also… makes Tim feel needed.
Robin was taken from him. For a bit he thought that meant he wasn't needed. He forgot he does something that none of the others could do. As long as Bruce still needs it he won't let Tim go. Not when he's still a child who needs his dad.
The others wouldn't understand. They already don't understand how Tim can get Bruce to actually care for himself.
He still remembers when he benched Batman. He could see the others think he was about to get scolded, or benched himself, or just thinking it was funny. The utter confusion when Bruce just grumbled about not needing to be benched but accepting it replays in his mind months later, he wishes he had a picture of it.
He knows they wouldn't understand. He's well aware. Just like Bruce knows. That's why they make sure no one is near to hear Tim call Bruce 'Chum' or to hear Bruce call Tim 'Dad'. They wouldn't understand.
It's not weird though. It doesn't matter that it's very similar to the cases Bruce specifically keeps away from Tim. It's different, those ones were weird, those kids never asked to be their parent's parent.
Besides Tim was never Bruce's son.
Dick is Bruce's son, Jason is Bruce's son, Damian is Bruce's son, Cass is Bruce's daughter, Bruce is Tim's son.
#tim drake#batfamily#bruce wayne#tim drake needs a hug#parentified tim drake#bruce kinda sucks here#also bruce specifically keeping cases from tim cause they’re similar to their own relationship#and not wanting to risk tim leaving#even though tim knows exactly how fucked up it is#this is also on ao3
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jason "i constantly forgive you for what you do to me but you've never once forgiven me" todd
#he's too forgiving with the bats#he needs to straight up lose his shit or leave gotham#he's always there for the bats when they need him but they can never just treat him like family#not that he needs forgiveness#but everyone has made him think he does#jason todd#red hood#batman#dc#bruce wayne#jason peter todd
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I have two Google docs for things I want to write: one for meta and the other is for fic and dumb little art ideas. I also have multiple WIPs as any person should have at any given time.
There are so many nice (adjacent) ideas I want to write but I’m so reactionary to certain fandom takes now that I’ll never do it. I used to be able to swallow certain takes with an “I don’t agree with that but it’s cute right now and I’m also on my period so I want to cry over fluff anyway.” But for my own personal sanity, I don’t want to “endorse” certain fanon things I’ve come to bristle at.
I have seen many others before post about how the deeper they get into their fav media, the more they move away from shrugging and scrolling towards visceral rage. Now, I’m not boiling with rage or whatever but I do know that the emotions I’m feeling means I need to back off for a while which is so disappointing. There’s so many ideas that I fear while never see the light of day because I can’t get behind “feel good family” takes without feeling like I’m declawing characters.
#i need a writing tag therefore this tag will be that#yes this is why I’ve been reblogging less Jason stuff (I feel). I still love him so fully but I’m indulging in my fun fandoms right now so#I can allow myself to be stupid. DC is my work fandom so I’m taking a little vacation#anytime I see a ‘Jason rejoins the Batfam’ I add another ‘Jason leaves the Batfam’ to my idea lists#Jason with the bats fills me with so much frustration bc he’ll never be happy or truly accepted there! but bc of editorial he’ll never be#able to leave and the times he is away it always has to be his fault!#I want to write things like a family member comforting him but I see so much declawing of Jason that I just can’t anymore without rolling my#eyes#which it’s comics. they’re not that deep which means I need to back of and calm down but like between batfanon and lack of comprehension#skills in other sectors im just…..#never leave your echo chamber folks it’s not worth it when it comes to hobbies#‘I love underdog characters and characters severely mistreated by the narrative!’#*gets upset when the characters treated badly by the narrative/is written as disingenuously as possible gets treated badly by the narrative*#*and by general fandom*
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(part of the Wife at First Sight series)
In Ghost’s eyes, the first time you smiled up at him was the moment you became his and his alone.
So what if everyone apart from you knew it?
Didn’t make it any less of a fact, as far as he was concerned.
Still though, he wanted to learn more about just who his pretty little wife was, including anything that might make letting you know about your marriage a little easier. And so like the good soldier he is, he goes about it as though it were a reconnaissance mission.
He asks you how you take your coffees and teas, holding his breath as he watches you take the first sip of whichever drink he’s made you that day, pride swelling in his chest when you tell him it’s perfect, even better than when you make it.
The first time he’d done so, your eyes widened in surprise when he put his large, gloved hands over yours where they were wrapped around the mug, leaning forward and bringing the rim to his lips where he took a sip for himself, eyes locked with yours. You were unsure of what to think or say, but he apparently decided for you that this was okay, returning the warm drink to your mouth where he encouraged you to take another sip.
You figured that it was alright, he did make the tea for you after all, right?
You even laughed when he started only serving you in a mug with ‘Mrs.’ printed across the side, certain that it hadn’t been in any of the common room’s cupboards before.
He eyes the book peeking out of your bag one morning as you tuck it away, purchasing his own copy the very same day, curious to know what you like reading. You’re pleasantly surprised, if not a tad confused, when you find the next two books in the trilogy sat atop your desk soon after, a small note written in chicken scratch lain on top reads ‘To : Wife’. He’ll make a point of commenting on the novel if he sees you holding it, slipping in tid bits of information to impress you show he’s read it as well, likes the same things you like.
He’ll joke about how the food on the dining hall is always subpar, trying to casually find out what you like eating, subtly pulling out his phone and typing anything new into his notes app where he’s been keeping track of all your likes and dislikes. He just wants to get things right with you, be good for you, prove he can be the husband you need. You’re already perfect in his eyes, his sweet little soulmate who just doesn’t know it yet.
Though this was the first military base you’d ever worked on, you couldn’t recall anyone having ever warned you about the way Lieutenants apparently like to haze the new hires, never mind the fact that everyone else was apparently in on it.
No one bats an eye when you go to take the empty seat next to him in a briefing, and he wraps his strong arms around you to instead plop you down onto his muscular thighs, carrying on with the task at hand as though this is perfectly normal and professional. Even the Captain hardly glances at the interaction, so you figure it’s okay, some strange form of team bonding?
Not a soul comments on the way the Lieutenant insists on being the one to cut up your food and feed you bites during meals in the dining hall, pretending as though they don’t hear him telling you about how “my wife works hard enough, don’t need to be liftin’ a finger wit’ me around, love.”
They know to move out of the way if you’re approaching a closed door, knowing if the Lieutenant is anywhere near, he’ll be rushing to open the door for you before you can even attempt to do it yourself.
Even Soap has stopped complaining aloud and only rolls his eyes when Ghost drops anything and everything he’s doing- whether it’s spotting the Sergeant in the gym, being out on a morning run, hell even being in the middle of a shower- to send you a good morning text at six o clock on the dot. Every. Single. Morning.
No, you never exactly anticipated this sort of a running gag from a hardened military base, but you’re not exactly complaining either.
Not when you find your heart fluttering every time your fake work husband dotes on you like he really would marry you at the drop of a hat.
Besides, it’s all just playful, innocent fun, right?
Especially when everyone begins to apparently forget your name and instead refers to you only as Mrs Riley.
And when the Captain tells you that your requested time off for a honeymoon has been approved, something which you definitely don’t remember requesting, well that’s all just fun too, right?
#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#call of duty fic#simon riley#simon ghost riley#cod fanfic#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon fluff#ghost x you#cod simon ghost riley#ghost fanfic#you guys are all so nice to me#call of duty ghost#ghost cod#simon ghost riley x you#readwritealldayallnight#wife at first sight#wife at first sight series
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Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.
“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”
Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.
The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.
“Are you sure?”
And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.
The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.
Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.
“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”
Not ominous at all.
Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 
He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.
Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.
The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)
He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.
One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.
Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.
Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.
It’s… nice. A good break if anything.
They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.
“Hi there! Is he yours?”
Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.
“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.
He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.
“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”
Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)
“Sure.”
Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.
“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”
Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.
“Grayson.”
Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.
Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.
Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.
“Funny guy, huh Dami?”
Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.
“Come here, little guy.”
He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.
“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.
Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.
That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.
“Damian,” Batman whispers.
“Bah-mun.”
The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.
Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.
Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.
Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.
“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”
Danny says it so plainly. So simple.
Batman straightens.
“He isn’t yours.”
He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.
Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.
So Damian says nothing.
“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.
“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”
“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.
They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.
“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”
When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.
The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.
#dp x dc#danny phantom#danny fenton#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#damian wayne#bruce wayne#batman#Damian is learning to be a kid#and enjoying it#Danny finds a lone baby in an alley#the ghost that lead him there says he was left there#Danny: okay#guess I’m a dad now#Bruce is in for a rude awakening
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I really like the idea of the bat kids designating Dick and Jason's apartments as sibling gathering spots but for opposite reasons.
Sibling needs some comfort? Some eldest daughter advice? A shoulder to cry on or just a lil getaway spot from the chaos of Gotham? Dick's apartment is perfect.
But if a batkid wants to complain, maybe wants to talk shit about Bruce, or maybe even wants to discuss a lil felony in a judgement free zone? Jason's place it is.
And I like to imagine that while Dick readily keeps his doors open and reminds anyone that they can drop by anytime, it's the opposite for Jason.
Dude's got his place riddled with traps and locked up to the high heavens. He makes it obvious he doesn't want visitors, and vaguely insinuates that there are bombs rigged somewhere in his apartment so there's a always a 50/50 chance you might get blown up if he's feeling particularly bitchy one day.
But does that stop his siblings? Absolutely not. Unlike Dick (who assigns himself as the guiding older brother), Jason has been forcefully labelled as the older sibling you go to if you need to complain and stir up havoc. The hundreds of traps in his place mean nothing. And it's worse because Jason is never prepared for when someone drops in.
-----
[Jason, 3 hours into his sleep, blearily waking up to a weight on his chest at 4am]:
[Damian, perched atop him, eyes dead-centre locked onto Jason without blinking]: Hello, Todd-stop screaming it is unbecoming-I just came to tell you that father won't allow me to adopt another stray I found on patrol.
Jason, half-asleep and like 70% sure he's hallucinating: Wha-
Damian: I need you to blow up his car.
Jason:
-----
[Jason, arriving home after a 6 hour patrol, exhausted out of his mind, turning on the lights]:
[Stephanie, previously baking brownies in the pitch black darkness before Jason arrived]: Oh hey! Just thought I'd drop by, y'know, for fun.
Jason: Bruce yelled at you again.
Stephanie: Bruce yelled at me again.
And yes, while most of the time, it ends up as wholesome sibling bonding, sometimes the other batkids just feel like inconveniencing Jason just whenever, because what are siblings for?
[Jason waking up and seeing all of his traps and security systems disarmed and very deliberately broken in a way where he'll have to replace all of them instead of being able to reactivate them]:
[Jason, immediately dialing his phone angrily]: Tim, I swear to GOD-
-----
[Jason giving himself a rest-day and cooking some meals]:
[Dick somersaulting in through the open window unannounced (he missed his brother)]: Whatcha up to, littlewing? :>
Jason: GET OUT-
-----
[Jason casually reading a book, feeling a sudden chill up his spine]:
[Cassandra standing in the corner without so much as an exhale, watching Jason intensely. Who knows how long she's been there]:
Jason: Are you here to kill me
Cass:
Jason: Just make it quick.
#jason todd#batfam#1st stage: anger. 2nd stage: acceptance (reluctantly)#jason claims he hates it but ofc hes a liar#batsibling showing up unannounced at jason's doorstep at 4am: Bruce-#Jason pulling out his grenades: say no more#7/10 a visit to jason's place will end in at least one building getting destroyed#jason's like the partially estranged older sibling u see once in a blue moon but every moment u spend with him is a fever dream of felonies#dick is who u go to when ur going thru a crisis. jason's who u go to when ur going thru a crisis & wanna blow shit up#batfamily#batkids#dc#red hood#dick grayson#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#damian wayne#tim drake#nightwing#red robin#robin#black bat#the spoiler#crack#batbros#batsiblings#incorrect quotes#fanatical posting
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in every lifetime
summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.
“I’ll be back.”
“But what if–”
“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard.
“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back.
“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.”
“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?”
There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.
But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed.
Through it all, you stayed.
And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living.
“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers.
“And if I can’t?”
“You’ll have to.”
“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”
“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.”
And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct.
You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him.
You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him.
In your dreams, he was alive.
In your dreams, he had made it back home.
In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura.
And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura.
Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on.
For yourself.
For Laura.
For Logan.
—
He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about.
But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about.
Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret.
Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm.
He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it.
Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you.
“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”
“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms.
Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself.
That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right.
“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”
“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.”
“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”
“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.
“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.
Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally.
He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears.
Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again.
But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate.
“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head.
“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky.
Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl.
“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly.
“From my universe,” Logan answers.
“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?”
“There was.”
“And what happened to me?”
Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”
“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.
Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself.
And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.
“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters.
There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.”
My Logan.
Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him.
“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”
“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?”
Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.”
Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles.
“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.
You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.”
Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes.
“I’m not him,” he whispers.
“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.”
#hugh jackman wolverine#hugh jackman character#logan howlett#wolverine#worst wolverine#deadpool & wolverine#logan howlett fanfic#logan howlett fanfiction#wolverine fanfic#wolverine fanfiction#worst wolverine fanfic#worst wolverine fanfiction#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#post deadpool & wolverine#worst logan!variant#hugh jackman#logan howlett x f!reader
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Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc
Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader
Summary: congrats … it’s a boy!
You wake up to the sound of the apartment door closing, followed by Charles’ familiar footsteps down the hallway. Sunlight streams in through the curtains as he enters the bedroom, still dressed in his sweaty workout clothes.
“Mon amour, you’ll never believe what just happened,” he says, unable to contain his excitement.
You rub the sleep from your eyes. “What is it, babe?”
“I adopted Oscar Piastri.”
You blink a few times, unsure if you heard that correctly. “You … adopted Oscar Piastri? The McLaren driver?”
“Yes!” Charles exclaims, flopping down on the bed beside you. “It all started when he tweeted about wanting to find Monégasque roots so the Monaco Grand Prix could be his home race.”
“Okay ...” You try to wrap your head around this bizarre situation.
“So I replied saying I could just adopt him if needed. And you know how Oscar is, always ready with a witty comeback.” Charles grins. “He said to call him Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc and that he wants to meet Leo on Thursday at McLaren.”
“Charles ...” You can’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity. “You can’t just adopt a fully-grown man! Especially another F1 driver!”
“Why not?” He throws his arm around you, pulling you close. “We’re gonna be one big happy family. The two of us, Leo, Oscar, Ollie, and whoever else we decide to adopt along the way.”
You playfully shove him away. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“Maybe a little.” Charles winks. “But you love me for it.”
Rolling your eyes, you get out of bed and head for the kitchen, Charles trailing behind. “So does this mean Oscar is coming for family dinner this Thursday?”
“Of course! We have to celebrate properly.” Charles scoops Leo up from his bed, cradling the puppy in his arms. “What do you say, Leo? You ready to have another big brother?”
Leo licks Charles’ face, tail wagging excitedly. You lean against the counter, watching your husband and puppy with a fond smile.
“I suppose I’ll have to set an extra place at the table,” you muse. “Your mother is going to flip when she finds out about this.”
“Maman keeps asking when we’ll give her grandchildren, she’ll be thrilled!” Charles insists. “Who wouldn’t want Oscar as a grandson?”
You snort at that. “Grandson? You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”
“I’m serious!” He sets Leo down and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “We can make it official. Have a baby shower and everything once this weekend is over with.”
“You’re unbelievable.” You shake your head in amused exasperation, resting your hands on his chest.
Charles leans in close, his warm breath fanning across your face. “Admit it, my particular brand of crazy kinda does it for you.”
You bite your lip to stifle a grin. “Keep talking and maybe I’ll consider it.”
His eyes spark with mischief and he dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You melt against him, tangling your fingers in his hair and kissing him back with equal fervor. A loud bark from Leo breaks you apart, both slightly flushed.
“Not in front of the puppy,” Charles teases, booping Leo on the nose.
You swat his arm. “Stop being a brat and go take a shower, you’re all gross and sweaty from the gym.”
“Mmm, why don’t you join me?” He waggles his eyebrows in an over-exaggerated leer.
You laugh, shoving him away playfully. “Not a chance, mister. I have to go out and buy another place setting for our new family member.”
“Can I at least have a good luck kiss? It’s Monaco race week, after all. I’ll need all the luck I can get.” Charles bats his eyes at you in an exaggerated pout.
Shaking your head fondly, you rise up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “There. Now go get ready.”
Still grinning like a loon, Charles saunters off to the bathroom. You crouch down and scoop up Leo, pressing a kiss to the top of his fuzzy head.
“Your dad is something else, you know that?” You murmur affectionately.
A few hours later, you return home laden with groceries to find Charles lounging on the couch scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you enter, eyes bright.
“Good timing, I was just about to call you.”
“Oh yeah?” You set the bags on the counter and start unpacking. “What’s up?”
“I was thinking ...” Charles gets up and comes over, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “We should do something special for Oscar’s first official family dinner. Maybe a nice home cooked meal out on the balcony?”
You lean back against his chest with a contented hum. “That does sound lovely.”
“I’ll cook!” Charles volunteers immediately. “My famous carbonara?”
“You just want to show Oscar you can manage to make something without burning the apartment down, don’t you?” You laugh, twisting in his embrace to face him.
Charles ducks his head sheepishly. “Maybe a little.”
“Well, I’m not complaining.” You peck him on the cheek. “Go ahead and make your carbonara for our new adopted son.”
“Yes!” He pumps his fist in the air victoriously.
You shake your head at his antics, warmth blooming in your chest. “I love you, you big goof.”
The smile Charles gives you is utterly radiant. “I love you too.”
He pulls you in for a deep, lingering kiss, holding you close. You get so lost in the moment that you don’t notice Leo trotting up and pawing at your legs until he lets out a pointed bark. Laughing, you reluctantly break the kiss.
“Sorry, baby.” Charles scoops up the puppy, scratching behind his ears. “We didn’t mean to leave you out.”
You take Leo from his arms, pressing a smiling kiss to his soft fur. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be our favorite.”
“That’s right,” Charles agrees, booping Leo’s nose. “No matter how many race car drivers we adopt, you’ll always be number one.”
The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon lounging contentedly together, Charles and Leo snuggled up on either side of you. It almost makes you forget the madness that kick started this whole situation in the first place.
Almost.
A few days later, after the drivers have finally been freed from their Thursday media obligations, your doorbell rings. You share a look with Charles as Leo starts barking.
“I’ll get it,” he says, already knowing who it is.
Sure enough, a few moments later Charles returns to the living room with Oscar in tow, looking rather sheepish. You rise to greet your new son.
“Oscar, hi! Come on in.” You pull him in for a hug, which he returns tentatively.
“Sorry about all … this.” Oscar gestures vaguely as you part. “I was just joking on Twitter but then Charles actually went and-”
“Adopted you, yeah.” You laugh. “Don’t worry about it, we’re happy to have you as part of the family.”
“Still getting used to that idea, to be honest.” Oscar scratches the back of his neck.
You wave a dismissive hand. “Well, get ready for lots of family gatherings and parental nagging from this point on.”
“Oh boy.” Despite his words, Oscar’s mouth quirks up in an amused grin.
“Starting with tonight’s big family dinner out on the balcony,” Charles interjects, slinging an arm around Oscar’s shoulders. “You like pasta?”
“Do I ever.” Oscar brightens. “Is Leo gonna be there too?”
“Of course! Can’t leave out my favorite son.” Charles scoops up the puppy, plopping him in Oscar’s arms. “Here, get acquainted with your new little brother.”
“Hiya little guy,” Oscar says softly, instantly melting as Leo licks his face. You watch the tender interaction with a warm smile.
“He’s taken a real shine to you already,” you comment. “I think Leo approves of his new big brother.”
Oscar ducks his head shyly but you can see the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin. “Guess that makes me an official part of the family then.”
“Damn right it does!” Charles crows, throwing an arm around each of your shoulders and pulling you both in for an enthusiastic group hug.
You laugh, squished between them. “Easy there, dad. You’re gonna smother the poor kid before he’s even settled in.”
“What, you’re not excited to finally have your dream son?” Charles teases, ruffling Oscar’s hair affectionately. “Our little family is complete now.”
Rolling your eyes fondly, you extricate yourself from the embrace. “Why don’t you boys go set up for dinner while I start cooking? The balcony still needs to be prepped.”
“You got it, mon cœur.” Charles drops a kiss on your cheek before herding Oscar out towards the balcony, Leo cradled in his arms. “Come on, son. Let’s get this place looking perfect for your first official Leclerc family dinner.”
You shake your head as their voices fade down the hall, chuckling under your breath. Only your husband would take a silly Twitter joke this far. But as you start gathering ingredients for your grandmother’s legendary bolognese recipe, you can’t help but feel a swell of contentment.
Having Oscar around is certainly going to take some getting used to. But there’s no denying the warm affection and familial love you already feel towards the bashful but kindhearted young man. He fits right in with the playful, chaotic energy that defines your little household.
By the time the sun begins to dip below the horizon, bathing the apartment in a warm golden glow, the balcony is set up beautifully. You carry out the steaming pots of food to find Charles and Oscar setting out plates and glasses, Leo scampering around their feet. Your heart feels full just looking at them.
“This all looks wonderful, you two,” you say, setting the food down on the table. “Now we just need the guest of honor to arrive.”
“Maman’s never been late to dinner a day in her life,” Charles assures you. “She’ll be here any minute.”
Sure enough, there’s a rapid knocking at the door only moments later. You share an amused look with Oscar before going to answer it, Charles and Leo trailing behind.
“Maman!” Charles exclaims as you pull open the door to reveal his mother waiting on the other side. “Perfect timing.”
“Of course, we can’t start dinner without-” She breaks off abruptly as her eyes land on Oscar hovering behind you. “Charles, darling, who is this?”
“Maman, I’d like you to meet Oscar.” Charles beams as he gestures between them. “Your new grandson.”
A heavy silence falls over the room as Charles’ mother processes this bombshell. Her gaze flicks between the three of you, searching your faces for any sign that this is all an elaborate prank.
Finally, she seems to deflate with a sigh. “Oh Charles … what have you done now?”
And just like that, the floodgates open as both of you rush to explain the situation, talking over each other eagerly. Watching the animated scene unfold, Oscar catches your eye with a helpless look.
You just shrug, a soft smile playing at your lips. Chaotic as it is, this is your family now and wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
The following week, the doorbell rings just as you’re putting the final touches on dinner. Charles bounds over to answer it, Leo hot on his heels.
“Oscar! Ollie! Good, you’re both here.” Charles’ voice carries easily through the apartment.
You poke your head out of the kitchen, oven mitts still on. “Is that our other son I hear?”
“The one and only!” Ollie Bearman strolls in behind Oscar, looking completely at ease.
Oscar raises an eyebrow at the younger driver. “Why is nobody surprised you’re here?”
Ollie shrugs nonchalantly. “Teen pregnancy?”
You let out an undignified snort of laughter as Oscar gapes at him. “Don’t look at me, Charles carried you for nine months himself.”
“What?” Ollie whips his head around to stare at Charles in abject horror.
Charles just grins, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders. “You heard the woman. My body is a wonderland.”
“Oh my god.” Oscar buries his face in his hands as you dissolve into peals of laughter. “Why are you like this?”
“Because it’s fun to watch you squirm,” Charles replies cheerfully.
You wipe tears from your eyes as you head back into the kitchen. “Dinner’s just about ready, come grab a plate! Oh, and pray you don’t get food poisoning.”
Soon you’re all settled around the balcony table, tucking into plates piled high with food. Ollie kicks things off by turning to you with a smile.
“This is amazing, thanks for cooking!”
“Don’t thank me, it was all Charles this time,” you say, gesturing to your husband sitting across from you.
Ollie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You cooked all this? Damn, maybe having you as a dad won’t be so bad after all.”
Charles throws his hands up in mock offense. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m an excellent father.”
“If you say so.” Ollie smirks, shoveling another forkful of pasta into his mouth.
Oscar just shakes his head in amazement. “I still can’t believe you actually went through with adopting us.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Charles leans back in his chair, casual as can be. “You’re both great kids. Perfect sons.”
“Even if we didn’t ask for it?” Ollie points out around a mouthful of food.
You tsk disapprovingly. “Mind your manners, young man.”
Ollie’s eyes go comically wide and he quickly swallows his bite. “Sorry, mum.”
That sets you and Oscar off into another round of laughter. Even Leo gets in on the action, letting out a little bark from where he’s curled up nearby. Charles watches the scene with fondness.
“See, you’re already fitting right in,” he says warmly once the laughter subsides. “My two idiot sons.”
Ollie opens his mouth to retort but you cut him off, leaning across the table to affectionately pat his hand.
“Don’t listen to your father, Ollie. We’re happy to have you both here.” You shoot Oscar a wink. “Even if you did get adopted under … unusual circumstances.”
“You can say that again,” Oscar mutters, but he’s smiling.
Over the course of the evening, you take great delight in watching Charles easily slip into the role of devoted dad. He makes terrible jokes and embarrassing comments at every turn, clearly intent on annoying his new children as much as humanly possible. Yet it’s impossible to miss the deep well of affection beneath his teasing words and actions.
For their part, Oscar and Ollie play along enthusiastically. They roll their eyes and groan as if put-upon, but you can see the sparkle of happiness and contentment in their eyes as the night wears on. An easy camaraderie develops between the trio, fueled by plenty of back-and-forth needling and good-natured ribbing.
You sit back and watch it all with a permanent smile etched on your face. Your strange little family just keeps growing, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
At one point, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. When you return, the three of them have their heads bent together conspiratorially, hastily falling silent when you reappear.
“What’s this?” You raise an eyebrow as you retake your seat. “Am I being left out of the loop here?”
Oscar shares a look with Charles before turning to you with a sly grin. “We were just thinking ...”
“This family isn’t quite complete yet,” Ollie picks up easily.
You glance between them, utterly perplexed. “What are you two on about?”
Rather than answer, Charles pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. A few moments later, your own phone buzzes with a Twitter notification — a new tweet from your husband.
Your jaw drops as you read the words over and over. “Charles! You can’t be serious!”
“Why not?” He shoots you an impish grin, clearly reveling in your stunned reaction. “Kimi’s a good kid, he’d make an excellent addition to the family.”
“I … you ...” You sputter, completely at a loss for words.
Oscar and Ollie watch the exchange with matching looks of unrestrained glee. Ollie raises his glass in a mock toast.
“To Mum and Dad, the most extra parents on the grid!”
You shake your head in bewildered amusement as they all crack up. This family just gets more ridiculous by the day.
A short while later, Kimi responds to Charles’ tweet.
The notification sets off another round of laughter and delighted hollering from the three drivers. You hide your face in your hands, torn between mortification and hysterical giggles.
“I can’t take you three anywhere,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
A warm arm wraps around your shoulders as Charles leans over to press a smiling kiss to your temple. “But you love us anyway.”
You catch his gaze, momentarily speechless by the contentment shining in his eyes. For all the silliness and absurdity, it’s clear just how much this strange little family truly means to him.
Swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat, you reach up to cup his cheek tenderly. “More than you’ll ever know.”
He beams at you, pure adoration written across his features. Then the moment is broken as an Italian-accented voice rings out from the hallway.
“Hey, did someone call for a new son?”
Oscar, Ollie, and Charles practically tumble over each other in their haste to greet the newcomer. You hang back, taking a moment to catch your breath as you watch the now quartet bound back onto the balcony, a fresh wave of chaos and noise in their wake.
One thing’s for certain — life is never going to be boring with this group around. You shake your head with a soft chuckle, heading back to join your one-of-a-kind family.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#oscar piastri#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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Hi how are you? If you want, could you tell us what your headcanons would be for what the Sully children's relationship would be like with a human/avatar mother who was mated with Jake and Neytiri? Thank you very much, have a great day!
I can see a lot of possible outcomes for this one! So here ya go! Enjoy!
P.S: Reader will not be given a name in this one, instead she will be called "small mama"
Pinnacle protection
-------------------------------
Pinnacle motherhood
Right off the bat, the whole family loves their third mother, second mate. Jake sully couldn't ask for a better family, and better mates. Especially his little human mate. Neytiri will agree with him, while yes she has her children to hug, her little mate is just what she needs. Something small yet full of love just for her.
Now like any trio, there is a balance between the parents. Jake is the head of the family, the brains with his clever ideas. Neytiri at times can be the brains but most muscle due to her skills in fighting and hunting. And their beloved human is the heart of the family. Keeping everyone together.
And like any child, the sully kids will have favorites. And their favorite is their amazing human mother. She is the most fun, loving parent any child could ever ask for. Are they not getting their way with Jake or neytiri? To mama it is! And mama will always fold by the simple look of her kids.
Another thing about their favorite mama, they all believe she has the power to read their minds. How else would it explain she knows their next move?
Lo’ak and tuk can recall so many instances where they were barely forming an idea only for their mama to say “dont even think about it” or “it is not worth the trouble”.
For neteyam, as he is the oldest he does try to be a good example for his mischievous siblings, along with holding so many responsibilities, but he can always count on his small mama for anything. Small mama consoles him, talking about anything neteyam has his mind about.
Unlike Jake or neytiri who neteyam has to put up a strong warrior face, with a small mama he can revert back to being a baby with her. He feels safe and be a kid again with her. And small mama always called him her “little baby boy”. Neteyam won't admit it but he likes it when she calls him that.
For kiri, she definitely adores her small mama. She is closer to her third parent than she is with neytiri. Not to be mean or anything. But with Jake, Kiri can talk about what odd things happen around her, ask her about her mother and stuff but with her small mama. Well, she can express far more with her, be free to say anything not be judged upon. Kiri can dare say small mama understands her more than anyone in the world.
With tuk, the baby of the family. Why, she loves to be the taller one, it makes her happy. Of course she would never tease her small mama that she is taller, but small mama would call her “tiny tuk”. A name tuk loves and will glady flex it for some reason.
If tuk can't go somewhere with her older siblings, small mama would personally take her anywhere she wants to go. As long as it is safe. With small mama, everything is fun and never boring. Tuk loves the times where her hair is braided or she braids small mama’s hair.
Now, if small mama would use her avatar, nothing much would change. Except that now the kids will demand piggy back rides. Tuk or lo’ak would be front of the line for that.
Hunting would be easier and much more fun with jake and neytiri, running, riding their ikrans, less risk overall.
Even with her avatar, she is still short compared to her two mates. She is smaller than Neytiri by 9 ½ inches. Not something she is super thrilled about. No matter what body, she is still small mama through and through.
Small mama is forever grateful to live her best life with her family, loving them and saying her thanks to Eywa for blessing her to be the best of her two worlds. Through hardships, through trials, small mama has a mighty heart and a roar of an ikran. Yes sometimes she might be stressed or frustrated but life is not perfect. Small mama knows that all too well. But there is nothing better than what she has.
#avatar#avatar the way of water#na'vi x reader#na'vi avatar#avatar 2#na'vi x human#lo'ak#neteyam sully#kiri#jake sully#jake x y/n#jake x reader x neytiri#jake x reader#jake x neytiri#jake x mc#jake sully avatar#jake sully x neytiri#jake sully x reader#jake sully x reader x neytiri#neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite#neytiri x reader#neytiri sully#neytiri x jake#neytiri avatar#neytiri x human reader#neytiri x you#neytiri x y/n#neteyam x human reader#neteyam x reader#neteyam x you
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To be honest. DCxDP where the reason Danny meets the bats is Ace the Bat-hound
Like, just think about it for a second. Danny is in Gotham for college, or maybe he just moved out to find a city where having mad scientist parents isn’t actually that unusual.
He can see ghosts.
The ghosts know this.
Now he’s getting harassed left and right by spirits trying to get closure. Fine, whatever, most of them are a one-and-done type deal, and the amount of ghosts trying to get his help steadily decreases.
Except for this one very stubborn dog.
It just keeps showing up and leading him to crime scenes! He doesn’t know how many “anonymous tips” he can call in to the cops before they trace his phone! And this dog, this incredibly good boy, will not stop trying to help the city. He’s never met anyone with such a strong sense of justice, let alone a dog. Can dogs even have a moral compass?
And so Danny just accepts the fact that Ace isn’t going anywhere and becomes his reluctant sidekick/dedicated medium. He leans into the whole thing, dressing up in a mix of traditional magic-user attire and accessories that pay homage to the ghost dog.
He becomes somewhat well known. The psychopomp detective following around the shadowy figure of a German Shepard? That’s unusual! That’s weird! I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing in Gotham, sure, but he’s a new vigilante and he’s got a ghost dog that people can only see when it’s around him. Someone’s gonna notice.
Damian, as Robin, is the first to reach out to him.
Ace doesn’t know Damian but he does know a Robin, and while this isn’t his Robin, he’s still friendlier than usual. Danny’s panicking because oh god the bats are here and also is this kid gonna steal my ghost dog, Damian is absolutely delighted by Ace, and Ace is just happy to see a Robin again.
Damian decides that the psychopomp isn’t a danger to anyone, and there’s no reason to put this encounter into his reports, really, and perhaps Danny can help with some of his cases in the future.
Danny is sweating bullets because Damian basically tells him that he’ll keep him secret as long as he gets to play with Ace. Ace is happy that he’s finally getting some bat affiliated crime-fighting assistance.
And so, Danny is now both Ace AND Damian’s reluctant assistant. At least whenever he’s in trouble, he can always call a middle schooler to help him.
(Is Robin even in school? He’s out patrolling damn near every night, and he stays out late as hell. Does he have a bedtime? He should.)
Eventually it gets to the point where Damian is going over to Danny’s house. When he first sees it, he has a damn bitch you live like this moment, to which Danny responds that not everyone has the money to afford a nice place. Damian counters that he could at least take the time to clean up, and Danny replies that he’s working, going to school, and being a vigilante assistant to a ghost dog, something’s got to give.
Danny nearly has a heart attack when he checks his bank account the next day and sees that someone transferred him 10,000 dollars.
And so they get into a routine. Danny and Damian fight crime with Ace at night, and occasionally Damian stops by during the day to play with Ace and have Danny help with his homework.
(Damian is smart enough to do it on his own, but some of the instructions are written incredibly confusingly, and he would never admit to needing help to his family. Danny is just glad that the kid is in school and cares about his education, blissfully unaware that he’s basically emotionally adopted him.)
Damian is used to being in Danny’s company.
Eventually, when going over a case with the family, Damian absentmindedly remarks that he’ll have to ask Danny about some of the clues that they might be missing. Nightwing asks who he means and Damian makes a face like he just swallowed a lemon.
Cue shitstorm.
Who is “Danny?” Why is Damian willing to ask for help from anyone, much less someone outside of the family? Does he know who Damian is? Has Damian been compromised? What the hell is going on?
Damian now has to explain that Danny is the psychopomp with the ghost dog who he might have met hunted down while on patrol and conveniently not mentioned, but he’s not a bad person, really, and he lets him play with Ace, and he’s been quite helpful on certain cases due to his ability to talk to ghosts.
Bruce insists that the family meet Danny. Damian, hoping that he won’t just skip town the second he hears the news, relents.
Danny is surprisingly eager to meet the bats, considering his earlier fears.
Damian, blissfully unaware of what’s coming, sets a time and place to meet.
Once everyone is there, he gives Bruce the earful of a lifetime.
Robin is in middle school! Danny knows that there’s no way to stop the boy from going on patrol, but you could at least shift his schedule so he gets enough sleep on school nights! Does the Bat even know where he is half the time?! (No) And why isn’t he comfortable asking his family for help with both cases and homework? Did they ever even notice how much time he was spending at Danny’s house? If Danny was a bad person, he could have seriously hurt the poor boy! Shame on you!
Nightwing is mortified that Damian didn’t trust him enough to tell him about any of this. Red Hood is laughing his ass off, because yeah Danny is making good points but he’s also chewing out the literal Batman. Tim is recording the whole thing. Steph is delighted by the absolute gall of this Danger Twink™️, and already planning to add him to several groupchats. Damian is more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his entire life.
You, he points to Nightwing, did your academic life feel supported when you were a Robin? Nightwing is too stunned to speak. Red Hood, eternal shit-stirrer, says that oh, we all prioritized patrol over our education, that’s just how it is. Red Robin actually dropped out of high school to avoid distractions, did you know that?
Danny honest-to-god shrieks at this.
He finishes his angry rant and leaves, everyone too stunned to stop him.
And as it turns out, Tim wasn’t the only person recording the whole thing.
The entire internet is blowing up with Psychopomp The Danger Twink™️’s rant. People are taking sides. Things are getting messy. Red Hood literally admitting on-camera to previously being a Robin is somehow not the main focus here.
Eventually someone connects some dots from the video, as well as stories circling the internet about the psychopomp. A ghost dog named Ace, who is the literal only reason that the psychopomp is fighting crime at all, which seems incredibly fond of Nightwing and Robin.
A crime-fighting dog who wants constant attention from both the current and original Robin.
Oh my god, Ace the Bat-hound died and became a crime-fighting ghost.
And, somehow, that’s still not the strangest thing going on in Gotham.
#dcxdp#dc x dp#dp x dc#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp prompt#literally Ace is too good a boy to pass on#this veered wildly into ‘Danny emotionally adopts Damian’ but really it’s what he deserves#sometimes family is an ex child assassin an undead college student and a ghost dog#also Danny gives literally no shits during investigations because he Cannot Die#he will just casually take 40 bullets to the chest like it’s nothing#if he encounters a rogue he will beat the everloving hell out of them and then give them Jazz’s card#(she’s doing confidential therapy for vigilantes and rogues)#except for the ones who are too far gone. like the joker#he’s a bitch and Danny hates him#if given the opportunity Danny would gladly kill him but Clockwork says he’s not allowed to do that#so he settles with beating the hell out of him and then covering all his stuff in glue#and of course alerting the authorities
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s. in a world of ghouls and humans, you've got a crush on a really hot guy with tattoos, but that doesn't mean he's a ghoul right?
w.c. 5.9k
w. fem! reader, ghoul!sukuna! x reader , fluff!, smut!, cannibalism!, gore!
a/n: this is a continuance on this thought of mine :)I just wrote this to get this out of my system :/ don't think I cooked as I usually do! but feel free to indulge in ghoul sukuna to at least scratch the itch.
"is that him y/n?" your friend's eyes widen and she grabs you by the shoulders, staring into the void of your soul "go up to him. now."
you came for drinks with your friends just a couple minutes ago. and you were so unaware until now, that across from you is the random hot guy you always see on your way home.
your friend, the one bolstering you to go up to him, has heard of this crush. considering you can't spend a day without talking about the hotness of this man.
"I-I, " you start to stutter, "I shouldn't. I see him all the time around the neighborhood and he's never so much as bat an eye at me or acknowledged my presence."
"and I do not care," she huffs, turning you around and beginning to push you in his direction at the bar, "no guy is capable of rejecting your beauty when its waved right in front of their face."
you hear her huffing and can probably make out how flushed her cheeks are from going against your planted feet on the ground, scared to go up to the man nearing you, even though its you coming closer. you feel your heartbeat quicken by at least 50 beats and the adrenaline from such a simple act is rushing through your veins.
until you're there. and he's doesn't even move to face you, his eyes just dart to you.
"hi." you manage to choke out.
he smells like like leather and stone cold vanilla. it's a smell you won't be able to get out of your head tonight.
he looks like he's about to sigh and say something to send you walking away, but you speak again before he can dismiss you, possibly, "I think you're handsome and I wanted to talk to you."
"you looking for a quick fuck?" his voice rumbles so nonchalantly as he takes a sip of his whiskey
"no." you answer in a heartbeat, quickly moving your head from side to side as a sign of your counter to the idea, "I don't think I would be this nervous if I was just looking for that."
"Then what are you looking for?" He's suddenly looming over you, body now turned to face you and his early stance of dismissal gone. although you don't know if that's what you prefer now considering this is so much more intimidating. he's squinting his eyes at you just a tad and you can tell he's biting his cheek.
"something that doesn't hurt me." is all you can speak into existence, softly.
he stares at you
he stares at you for a long while, his brown eyes so light, they're almost red. it's intense and you don't know what he's playing at.
he gets up abruptly, the chair that was beneath him screeching, face unnerved when he reaches a hand out expectantly, "your phone."
your eyes widen and you fumble around for your phone before planting it in his hand.
"what's your name," he says as he presses what you suppose is his contact information into your phone.
you hear a ring coming from his back pocket when you answer, "y/n"
"sukuna," he replies back curtly before handing you back yours and moving to shut off his phone. he then takes out a ten dollar bill and puts it on the countertop before turning to leave, "stay with your friends, it's not safe on your own out there."
you hadn't noticed at all that your friend had left you to talk to the familiar stranger, sukuna now, at some point during the interaction. when you turned around, your group was staring between you and the ominous figure leaving as if they were watching a thriller movie and needed a bowl of popcorn to shove their hands into.
when you were on the way home by cab that night, you received a text, that seemed a manifestation due to how hard you prayed for the next buzz from your phone to be from him.
it was a curt reminder that he would meet you outside your apartment--that he also asked for the address of--the following morning so he could take you out. and nothing more. it was so curt, that although he was still inviting you out, you made it your mission to dress your most attractive the next morning.
you notice he's already outside of the door when peek your head out the door early, doubtful of how early he would be, which he was. sukuna had gotten there ten minutes beforehand, at the least. and although you weren't that mentally prepared to be out with him, you sucked it up and tried your best to confidently walk out the door when he noticed you.
"looks like we're both early," you joke a bit shyly, fiddling with the straps of your purse
"if you need more time you can go back up," he says, having straightened his posture from leaning against the wall and now looking at the busying street, as if to stay aware of his surroundings
"no it's okay, I've been ready for about half an hour now," you smile meekly in embarrassment
the comment makes him flick an eye to you, "should have told me."
"for?" you blink up at him, unaware
"for me to show up earlier," he clicks with his tongue before looking to the left and motioning for the both of you to start walking
it's about ten minutes into your silent walk to who knows where that you hear him speak again without previous poking, "you eat breakfast?"
"yes, actually! it was a lot so im still pretty full, considering the time."
"alright," he nods before locking eyes on something and placing a surprisingly gentle hand on the small of your back to maneuver you to your left, "it's here."
and the small entrance he guides you through leads to an immediate splash of greenery
a garden, a large one, surrounded by something you couldn't make out
"it's a bookshop."
and now you could make out the shelves through the surrounding windows
there's a number of different flowers surrounding you and you can't help but dash to a rather beautiful spawn of peonies.
"they're so beautiful!" you bite your lip in excitement, like you'd just seen a puppy. and that's when you spot a small pathway leading to a shrouded bench.
and you get an idea, "do you think they have Takatsuki in there?"
sukuna quirks a brow at you, "you like that insane shit?"
"I like creepy stuff." you blink at him, shamelessly stating the interest of yours
"come on," he juts his chin towards the far end of the garden, where the entrance was
moments later, you come out with a hardcover edition of The Black Goat's Egg you'd been vying for for months, purchased by sukuna, who asked, "that the one you want?" when you said yes, he plucked it from your hands and paid for it at the register.
"thank you." you say in appreciation when you set your purse down next to you on the bench, and flip to the beginning page of the book while sukuna adjusts himself next to you.
the handsome giant says nothing and instead drapes an arm over the side of the bench behind you and flicks his eyes towards the book, waiting for you to read like you'd promised so.
"you'll like it," you smile at him before subconsciously sinking just a little into his personal space and adjusting the book comfortably onto your lap, "ahem..."
you had been reading for about an hour and a half now, and sukuna showed no signs of distaste for the book. he hadn't said a word since the moment you started reading, listening and skimming over the book with you.
"mother's hands carved out the veins beneath his chest, not me. from her nails came the rotten smell of hardened blood. oh this is my favorite part. but I could feel the pulsing of his lungs on my hands. how his heart still beat when I had opened his chest. the breath of life beneath my palms, inhaling and exhaling. my excitement brewed, a woman's touch knew nothing of the enthrallment this brought me-"
grrrrrrrrrr
embarrassing
there's no way in hell your stomach just did that in front of him. you try to mutter a quick sorry and pick back up where you left off, but the moment you open your mouth again after the quick apology, sukuna interrupts you.
"it's time for you to eat."
why did he say that like you were some sort of pet.
he was such a serious speaker sometimes.
while you start to gather your things, sukuna already stands up and reaches a hand out for you to stabilize yourself on.
"I don't think its time time," you say while taking his hand, not wanting to go back to your apartment yet and finish reading yet, "I won't cook normally until another half hour from-"
"you said you liked the same type of pasta the guy was eating in the book right," he cut you off, levitating a hand over your shoulders that simply wooed you into stepping next to him at a comfortable pace while he moved for the both of you to cross the street.
"yeah..."you agreed, catching another whiff of his cologne in the breeze
and that's how you wound up with him ordering a full plate for you and a boring cup of coffee for himself moments later at a restaurant.
"you sure you're not hungry?" you questioned worriedly, eyes searching for any illness on him, scared to grab the fork before you
"I'm cutting, I'll cook at home." he shrugged
"cook what then?" you almost pout, feeling bad that you were going to be feasting in front of him while he merely had a coffee
he looked you dead in the eyes and said before taking a sip of his coffee, "steak."
"ghoul." you shot back while reaching for your fork and making towards the pasta
for the first time, you saw irritation on sukuna's face in the form of a twitch of his nose, "beef. steak."
he seemed so serious and you couldn't help but stick your tongue out playfully, "I know, but you might as well be one if you're that built from so much protein. heh."
sukuna let a tsk out and took a sip of his coffee, "eat your food."
you wound up getting walked home by sukuna later after the meal, a full stomach and new book, both provided by him upon your return.
"thank you again for the book" the corners of your lips quirked up a little cutely, "and for the meal too."
"you still need to eat something later tonight."
"I will" you nod and look up at him earnestly before reaching for his hand and gesturing for him to be level with you.
"goodbye," you land a quick peck on his cheek and let go of his hand, already rushing towards your building door and entering the code in as fast as possible. you couldn't look back, and didn't .
this pattern of dates repeats itself quite often after. sukuna's taken you to what seems like every bookstore in the city and purchased whatever makes your fancy every time. he's had you read for him. he's bought you every sweet and dessert you've wanted. he's brushed a crumb of a macaroon of your lips, carried you bridal style to avoid getting your shoes wet in a large street puddle, the most endearing things, albeit stoically, but
he's never kissed you
you think it has something to do with how stoic he is. maybe there's some sort of damage with him. he's so immersed whenever he's with you, learning and observing you, but it's always felt as if he's keeping part of himself watered down with you.
a hint of snarkiness has left him before, you saw so when a little girl in a park punched an older boy for yanking on her pigtail.
and he never takes you out at night. he hasn't specifically said he doesn't want to go out during the late hours of the afternoon or night, but he always manages to schedule your outings to end before so.
it's why you bite the bullet, and make today's lunch, into a dinner hosted by you, with the convenient excuse that your work asked you to come in for finishing touches on a project you'd be presenting next week and couldn't make it to lunch.
sukuna agreed with no qualms, that you couldn't see through the screen of your phone of course, and even asked if you needed any ingredients.
your chicken had already been in the oven for about twenty minutes when he had knocked on your door--you had texted him the code to your building earlier.
"hi." you breathed, opening the door for him to come in, "I put this chicken recipe I found online to bake. it's supposed to be healthy."
sukuna walked further into your apartment and analyzed his surroundings while you yapped away.
"it's probably not like the steak you eat, maybe less in protein, but I think you'll like it. I don't think I could make steak that good for someone else on the first try..."
"your hand," he slightly quirks a brow up and gestures towards your right hand, two bandages on your middle and pointer finger.
"tomato dicing mishap," you give him a sheepish closed mouth smile while raising your hand up, "it's a bit more annoying than a paper cut. bleeds more than one."
"I could order for here-"
"no! it's okay. I'm done anyway. I need to take out the chicken in a bit anyways." and you move to grab the controller to your tv, "do you have anything in mind you want to watch?”
“the news.”
you slightly furrow your brows, but accommodate to his request then leave the controller on the coffee table, "you see something happen?"
"just don't like not knowing what's going on," he huffs gruffly while eyeing the ongoing news report for the day.
"A ghoul has atrociously murdered and consumed various members of our community. last night's victim is unidentifiable, but his age can be estimated to be about thirty. surveillance cameras near the area show no capture evidence of who could have done this, but reports and evidence point to it being the same perpetrator of the last couple of murders this month-"
you walk to your oven to get the chicken out and start to put on your mittens, "at least it's not girls."
sukuna's eyes flicker towards you, interested in what you're saying, "you should be scared."
you're setting the hot pan on the countertop when you look back at him, eyes clean of any fear, "but he's been eating shit guys."
sukuna turns his body to you and crosses his arms, as if he's about to chew your ear off for saying that, but you continue, moving to plate the food for both of you, "all the bodies they've reported are all well distinguished low life perverts, some have even tried to chase me down when I say no. one of them tried taking a picture under my skirt once."
you place the plates on either side of the dining table for the both of you and sit down, "whatever ghoul that's getting his full with them doesn't scare me. we know he eats a lot, if those guys weren't enough, he'd go for girls already. and before you bite my head off for not being scared, you should know by now that I rarely go out at night, especially not without someone with me. now sit, food's ready."
sukuna eyes moves towards the dining table and eyes your dish a bit wearily as he slides his chair out for him to sit on.
when he sits, you speak again, "I got the recipe from one of those super healthy bodybuilders, so it should be good enough for you. plus, I'm a good cook."
sukuna still stairs into the void, where our plate should be, but he makes for the knife and fork you put for him, "thank you."
and he enjoyed it, you think. he didn't say it was good, but he finished his plate diligently. if he hated it, he would have said something, or shown it on his face.
"I'll wash the dishes," he said when you were about to reach for his plate and instead he took both of yours and got up.
"oh, okay," you observed as he turned on the faucet, his back to you, he looked out of place in the small spot, "I can start putting a movie, you liked when I read Howl's Moving Castle, I have the movie for it."
You looked for a response, and you received one in the form of a nod, so you stood up and sat on the couch, looking through your streaming services.
sukuna finishes faster than you expected
"I need to take a piss," he says as he walks towards the restroom
"okay," you responded without hesitation as you tried to restart the movie considering your streaming service was glitching on you and the movie was already in the ends credits--you watched it that often.
you solved the problem quicker than you thought, because when sukuna comes back from peeing, you've already got the movie paused at the beginning, waiting for him to sit so you can press play.
and when he does sit, it's at a distance from you, which you don't make a comment about because hey, maybe he's just a guy with boundaries.
and it's halfway through the movie that you have barely even paid attention to your favorite movie of all time. the music you always enjoy and look forward to seems to have never reached your ears. the funny antics by Calcifer don't elicit a giggle from you.
"why haven't you tried to kiss me?"
is he even attracted to you? because you have boundaries and you're a woman, but
you want his hands on you for more than just protection or help. you want to know what it feels like to sit on his lap, that you're sure is more comfortable than your couch considering how meaty and large he is.
and now you're in silence, even though the tv must be at more than the recommended volume setting.
"do you want me to?" sukuna asks, still watching the movie, but you can tell his attention is entirely on you
"I wouldn't be saying anything if I didn't want you to..." you breathe, cursing yourself for bringing such an awkward situation upon the both of you. the movie seems as if its not being processed by your eyes even though you're staring at it, too scared to look at him.
the need to backtrack overcomes you and you feel like you need to overexplain your lack of manners and how he should disregard what you're saying when-
he's tilted your chin towards him
and his mouth is on yours
its beyond sensual and you can feel your thighs shift against each other, but nowhere is it an intense roughness.
he's a godsend, you think, right as he pulls away and gets up.
you're dazed and confused as he walks to your door
"I preferred when you read the book to me," he states monotonously while he shrugs his leather jacket on and opens the door.
"I'll send for a dessert for you later." he's halfway through the doorway and his back is to you, "don't finish it all if you still feel full. your cramps get worse with sugar."
"my cramps-"
he shuts the door and you're left dumbfounded in your living room
oh. he must've seen the packaging of your pad thrown in the restroom bin.
later that night, there was a large helping of warm churros that a guy delivered to your apartment building.
you img_786 thank you, they're really good
sukuna don't finish all of it
you I won't <3
and then he's gone
for a month you haven't heard from him
you shouldn't be rotting in your bed this often, but you are. you don't want to frequent out unless its with him. the few bookstores you did know before him, and went to after with him are sickeningly wrapped in the ambience of him.
going out at night reminds you that he didn't like when you were out at night, sending punctual texts about whether you were home or not
the walk home, where you got excited to even see him for a second is a disdainful reminder of him.
and you feel so ridiculed
the last time you talked, it was because you technically asked for a kiss that he ended up giving
but then walking away and going home.
it hurt your ego
you ran out of matcha tea a bit before sundown. it was a calming drink for you, something you'd been finding comfort it especially during this time.
so you left your apartment to go to the grocery store in your neighborhood. it was a weekday, so the streets weren't all that crowded, everyone was already on the way home.
it was a quick trip, you came out with a tin of matcha and a tub of ice cream, but the sun was halfway through its descent back into the night.
nothing would happen. ghouls don't lurk the moment the sun sets.
your apartment is around the corner when you hear a familiar voice.
"don't move unless you want me to eat your kagune."
why does that sound a lot like him?
there was a sort of mushy sound that followed, then a painful groan
or screech, you couldn't tell the the difference from how pained it was
"please sukuna! I-I didn't know-"
a scream followed, along with a grotesque noise
he said sukuna's name? is that-
"AHAHAHAA LOOK AT HOW FUCKED UP YOUR LUNGS ARE! BASICALLY SHREDS IN MY HANDS!"
it's undeniably his voice, but you've never heard him like this.
if you could just get a look, turn your head over the alleyway just a little
you almost vomit at the sight.
the man you had been moping over for the past few weeks had four large tentacles for a kagune, bright blood red and pinning down the man beneath him, who's lungs unmistakably were in sukuna's hands.
he was eating it like it was something easy, like a slice of ham
the other man-ghoul's intestines were spilling out onto the ground
and all you could do was stand still.
"I didn't know she was off-limits!" the ghoul cried, tears running down his half eaten face considering he was missing a piece of cheek.
"doesn't matter," sukuna retorted, digging a hand in again and taking out what looked like a liver, "what were you going to do to her huh?"
he took a bite and spoke with a full mouth in his face, "I know what lowlife creeps like you like to do to girls like her."
"and how are they supposed to stop coming if I let every creep that wanders near her live?"
and upon further inspection, you realize that the guy underneath him spoke to you this morning on the subway. he made uncomfortable conversation about your skirt and you got off the moment he started getting too close to your personal space
unbeknownst to you, you start shaking and your breath hitches
sukuna hears it
when he turns to face you, where the noise came from, his eyes are red this time, the whites blackened. he's breathing hard as he stares you down.
"go. home." is all he snarls menacingly
and no matter how hard you want to plant your feet and say no because you're mad at him, you run back home. the minute that was left in walking home became twenty seconds.
how you wound up at your apartment that fast was a wonder to you. but all you know is that so many things are making sense, but not at the same time.
that ghoul was going to come for you if it wasn't for sukuna. was sukuna the ghoul from the news? had he eaten all those men? god, you can't even remember all the times you've been cat-called or bothered on the street. how long had he been doing this?
"open the door."
you're back to reality at the sound of sukuna behind the door to your apartment
maybe if you pretend you're not-
"I can hear your heart beating, open the door."
"I don't want to!" you try not to yell, speaking as firmly as you can so as to not garner unwanted attention.
"if you open the door," he starts to speak with irritation that so tells you theres a just as irritated smile on his face, "I can explain to you."
"why do you want to talk now?" you stomp your foot on the ground, praying that the inertia stops the tears building on your waterline from falling down your cheeks
"open the door and I'll tell you y/n." he says, patience still wavering
he stares you down menacingly when you abruptly open the door, but you've got your own look to challenge, brimming with almost tears and an anger like no other at how he hurt you
"I told you to not go out at night."
"how long ago was that huh?" you retort
sukuna bites his cheek and enters your apartment, planting himself in the farthest corner of your living room to argue with you.
"you still know better." he gestures a hand to the window, outside, "I don't care if there's still a couple minutes before the sun sets. don't go outside."
"why not, you'll be there to eat anyone who lurks near me."
your nose is scrunched at him in anger and for the first time, it looks like he has nothing to say
"were you the ghoul from the news the other night?" you sniffle
sukuna looks at you with dead irritation, like he has a million things to say, but none at the same time.
"are you trying to keep me to yourself? to eat me on a rainy day, like a special treat? is that why you couldn't bare to date me? because I was just food?"
"no." he bites back, arms crossed, tongue poking through his cheek while his head moves to face the other way
"then?" you waiver, hands dropped to the sides of your body in fists.
"I'm a ghoul," his red eyes dart to you, pinning you under his gaze," you're a human."
"you can't stand that I'm a human?" you step back, hurt
it seems your words confund him to irritation again when he responds, "you just saw me eating someone's lungs."
"he was going to eat me." you reason
"you're an idiot..." he scoffs, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground
"then why are you still here?" you bite back
your retaliation seems to have set him off, because he soon starts walking towards you and pins you under his body and the countertop behind you
"I was born to eat you," he snarls close to your face, "I will find a way to break you. it's nature. every single day, all I can think about is how much I want to sink my teeth into your flesh. does that not scare you?"
"maybe that's because you never tried to take out your urges on me in other ways." you murmur defiantly
the comment makes him stand still, leaving both of your breaths as the only sound in the room.
"you don't know what you're saying." his nose twitches
"neither do you, you've never tried."
his hands are gripping the countertop so hard, you can hear a slight crumble.
but then sukuna's breathing grows ragged and it would have alarmed you, were it not for his following actions.
his arms brings your entire body towards him when he envelopes you in a nasty kiss.
this
this was sexual
his chest grumbles when you stick your tongue into his mouth and he sucks on it painfully
the bliss is so entrancing, you can't even distinguish the metallic taste.
one of his hands goes to envelop your ass and the grip he has is so strong and painful that you think he's made finger sized holes in your jeans.
the moan that leaves you is far too sinful, but he pulls you impossibly closer and grabs you by the back of your legs to pull you up. sukuna then starts walking to the only other door that doesn't lead to the restroom. to your room.
he'd just bitten your lip to the point where you're sure it'd be bruised within an hour when he threw you onto the bed and yanked your pants off. you don't know if he tore them off or genuinely took them off, but all you know is that the sight when he takes off his shirt next is magnetizing. his body is sculpted and defined everywhere, his pecs are huge, his abs scrumptiously lining his abdomen, and his v-line makes you eager to jump on top of him.
but his tattoos, they're the cherry on top. there's two ragged lines, almost as if fangs scraping down his abdomen, and they seem as if they have brothers and sisters reaching to do the same down his pecs and on the small of his neck. you know about the others on his arms, but not these.
"take off your shirt before I rip it off and you start whining about it." he growls while he fiddles with his belt to push down his pants
you follow orders, no care for if he did rip your shirt (in the moment), but eager to have him
the hard on you're greeted with is just below terrifying.
were all ghouls this gifted?
you have a feeling this was just sukuna
"still feel like you can take it." sukuna snarls as he pushes you further up the bed and positions himself between your legs.
you don't even get a chance to make a comment on what he's about to so intimately do before he tears through the fabric separating your pussy from the outside and delves in without so much as a second thought.
not even ten seconds in and your legs are shaking furiously, with no stop to it so as long as he was on top of you
his tongue is penetrating you so deeply and you don't even have time to question if that's a biological feature on ghouls. all you know is that's it's wet and oh so stimulating, so much so, you're screaming and whining
there's no words you can say, you're screaming so much from the pleasure that you instinctively start to pull away from him, but he growls and keeps you in place
oh
he's been staring at you this entire time
with those eyes
mercy be
it's just enough to drag you to the tipping point and your relief washes over you and him, while he drinks it all up ferociously.
you think he's going to stop when it feels like he's licked you clean from your mess
until he doesn't
he goes on
and he goes on for what seems like an hour
you feel you've gone insane, you can't even count how many times he's made you cum since. you've never been destroyed this way.
your voice is gone when he comes up and stares at you, caging you between his arms.
you're not going to tap out, you try to say with your eyes
and he understands, as it seems, hiking up both of your legs to your chest and beginning to run his fat tip across your folds
"remember, you asked for this." sukuna mutters meanly when he pushes in in one go
you thought it was a lie when some girls said their boyfriends were so big, that they could feel their veins rubbing against their insides
it wasn't
even his tip is being molded to by your pussy
"oh my god," you moan painfully, "I can't-i'm gonna-"
"you can," he retorts, starting to pull back and the mere drag has you keening
you think you have the same effect, considering how labored his breathing has gotten and there's nothing left for you to do besides pull him in for a kiss to sedate yourself from the intensity happening below
the single beginning of the contact illicits sukuna's start of a ruthless pace
your moans seem to make him suck on your tongue punishingly every time. and your hands can't find nothing else to do besides drag painfully down his back. you think you might have just hurt your own hands from how hard his skin is.
sukuna stops kissing you while he pummels inside of you to speak
"scream for me."
command or not, you were still doing so
"filthy little slut," he groans through each stroke, "tightest fucking pussy I've ever fucked."
"pussy's fucking mine, you're never going to touch anyone else. if you even try, I'll kill them."
he keeps going like this, on and on and all you can do is nod and agree with everything he says, because let's be honest, who were you to even glance at someone else after this?
you notice purple indents forming where his hands are on your thighs when he leans down to your face and says, "whaddya say princess, you like being mine?"
"mhm," you nod ernestly, and gather the courage to speak, even if it is hoarse, "love it so much sukuna."
"gonna blow a huge fucking load in your pussy," he murmurs to himself more than anything
"plea-please." you moan needing to be as close to him as possible, feeling an idea surface to your mind
"bite me."
if sukuna weren't so depraved and lost in you, he would have stopped. but he keeps going and instead leans closer to hear you
"bite me," you breathe, almost screaming at the end, "just enough for it not to scar."
sukuna keeps staring at you while he destroys your insides, giving no indication as to if he was going to do follow through with your wishes, until he leans down to your chest
you scream in pain and a delicious ecstasy
there's a small little pool of blood coming from your skin and his mouth when you look down. his hips start stuttering too, and it makes you think that this might be his tipping point.
you're so fucked up that it's yours too
before you know it, his pace grows so erratic that you start cumming and pulsating around him sporadically, unable to contain yourself from the pleasure.
and he starts cumming too.
sukuna lifts himself up from your chest and captures your mouth in his, making you taste a part of yourself you never thought you would. he grows weak in the kiss too, while his cum seeps out and pools into you. it lets you nibble on his tongue, an action that him sinking into your body while he gives you a last few weak thrusts.
"ow," you giggle after a moment of silence
sukuna brings his head up quickly, eyes slightly wide and in worry
"how am I gonna wear a bra over that," you laugh, observing the bleeding bite mark over your boob
sukuna looks down at it, "just don't wear one."
"boobs bring perverts."
sukuna rolls his eyes in exhaustion and dips his head into your chest, licking your wound, "you're not going anywhere without me there anyway."
#sukuna x reader#sukuna ryoumen x you#sukuna ryoumen smut#sukuna smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#sukuna ryomen#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut
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