#i caught the last part after the final red flag and that was IS

[hertwood]

I just woke up btw idk what happened

[rizzanon]

Robin and the Stray

a damian wayne and batsis! reader oneshot ft. alfred | m.list

Summary: your brother asks (forced) you to help him hide another stray he took in from Alfred and Bruce

The Batcave was too quiet. That was never a good sign.

You had come here straight after patrol, expecting to give your usual report to Bruce. It was part of the routine—come back, debrief, go over anything of note, then finally get some rest. Tonight hadn’t been particularly eventful, just a few scattered crimes and a break-in attempt that was over before it even began, but Bruce liked to be updated.

Except Bruce wasn’t here.

Neither was Alfred. Or Tim. Or literally anyone else.

The only person in the entire cave was Damian.

And that was your first red flag.

Your younger brother, Damian Wayne, was standing near the Batcomputer, arms crossed, shoulders squared, his back to you. On the surface, he looked as put-together as ever—collected, self-assured, carrying that same air of superiority that he always did.

But you knew him too well.

There was something off about him.

You saw the way his fingers tapped against his arm—not absentmindedly, but rhythmically. Too slow to be impatience, too deliberate to be nothing. You saw the way he was shifting his weight just enough to make it look like he was standing naturally, except it wasn’t natural. It was controlled. Forced.

Most importantly?

He hadn’t acknowledged you yet.

Damian always acknowledged when someone entered a room. If it were Bruce or Tim, he would’ve already started spouting some dry remark about how long it took them to return. If it were you, he usually had something equally annoying to say about your form, your “tardiness���, your ability to complete patrols at an acceptable speed.

But now? He was deliberately ignoring you.

And that meant one thing.

He was hiding something.

You narrowed your eyes. Suspicious.

“Alright,” you said, setting your hands on your hips. “What did you do?”

Damian barely moved. If it weren’t for the slow exhale through his nose, you would’ve thought he hadn’t heard you. Then, finally, he turned to face you, arms still crossed. His expression was unreadable.

“I have done nothing.”

You blinked at him. “Yeah, see, that’s exactly what guilty people say.”

He scowled. “Your paranoia is unbecoming.”

“And your lying is terrible.” you said, stepping closer.

Damian scoffed again, like you were the most annoying person in existence. “I am not lying.”

“You are lying.”

“Tt. This is a waste of time.”

“It’s my time, and I’ll waste it however I want.”

Damian rolled his eyes and turned away, facing the Batcomputer again like the conversation was over. But the fact that he wanted it to be over so quickly just confirmed your suspicions.

You squinted at him, scrutinizing every little movement. The way his shoulders were still slightly tense, the way his ears twitched just a little too much at every tiny sound—he was nervous about something.

Damian lets out an exasperated sigh and finally turned to you once more, looking—if nothing else—annoyed. “I have done nothing.”

“You say that, but you’re acting weird.”

“Perhaps I am merely tired.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t get tired.”

Damian’s nose wrinkled slightly, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. “Is there a reason you are pestering me?”

“Yeah, because you’re acting weird.”

“I am acting normal.”

“No, you’re acting like you’re hiding something.”

“That is absurd—”

And then, you heard it.

A noise.

Soft. Barely there.

A tiny, high-pitched whimper.

You froze.

The sound bounced off the cavernous walls of the Batcave, subtle but unmistakable. A normal person wouldn’t have caught it. But in a space this empty, with only the two of you standing there, of course you heard it.

Your eyes snapped toward the sound.

Damian went completely still.

It lasted only a second before he forced himself to move again, rolling his shoulders back, fixing his posture, trying to act unbothered.

You weren’t buying it.

Your gaze flickered between him and the direction of the noise—somewhere behind some supply crates.

Your eyes narrowed instantly. “Damian.”

He went rigid. It lasted half a second before he forced himself to relax, rolling his shoulders back with an exaggerated huff.

You took a slow step toward him. “What was that?”

“…What was what?”

You leveled him with a look.

Damian scoffed. “Perhaps your hearing is deteriorating. I heard nothing.”

Damian exhaled sharply, crossing his arms tighter. “Perhaps your hearing is deteriorating. I heard nothing.”

You almost laughed at the blatant lie. “Damian.”

He didn’t move.

“Oh my god.” You rubbed a hand down your face, exasperated. “You suck at lying, you know that?”

“I do not lie.”

“Then tell me what that noise was.”

“…You imagined it.”

Another tiny whimper.

Your eyes darted toward the crates again.

Oh, you had him now.

“Move,” you ordered.

“No.”

“Damian.”

“I do not see why you are making a fuss over nothing.”

“Argh.” You dragged a hand down your face. “You know I’m not gonna drop this, right?”

“Tt.”

You folded your arms. “Damian.”

“I am growing weary of hearing my name.”

“Then stop making me say it.”

Damian scowled, and for a moment, you thought he’d keep up the act. But then he sighed, long and very put-upon, like you were the one being difficult, and turned on his heel.

Without another word, he stepped around the crates, crouched down, and reached into the shadows.

When he straightened, he was holding…

A kitten.

A very small kitten.

A tiny, scrappy-looking thing with light fur and big black eyes, staring up at you like it had no idea how it got here.

You stared at it. Then at Damian. Then back at the kitten.

“…Are you kidding me?”

Damian ignored you, adjusting his hold on the kitten, making sure its tiny paws were tucked close to his chest.

That was what stunned you the most—not the fact that he had smuggled a stray into the Batcave, not the fact that he had tried so hard to act like nothing was going on, but this.

The way he was holding it.

So careful. So gentle.

You had seen Damian handle swords, daggers, throwing knives, weapons of every kind, but you had never seen him hold something with this much care. Like he was afraid it might break if he wasn’t careful. Like it was fragile.

Your heart melted instantly.

“…Oh my God,” you muttered. “This is so unfair.”

Damian smirked, smug. “I knew you would understand.”

“No, I don’t understand! Damian, you cannot keep doing this—”

“They would have left her to die,” he interrupted sharply, his fingers curling slightly around the kitten, almost protective.

That shut you up fast.

Because you knew what he meant by they. Whoever had abandoned the kitten. The people who had tossed it aside, left it to fend for itself. The people who hadn’t cared.

Damian cared.

He would never admit it, but he cared.

But of course he cared. It was one of the few things he actually cared about openly. The amount of pets you already had was proof enough—Ace, Alfred (the cat, not the butler, though it was still funny every time Alfred called for the cat and it confused everyone), and worst of all, Goliath, the actual dragon-bat creature Damian had somehow acquired.

That was already a lot.

And now?

Now there was this.

You let out a slow breath. “Damian.”

“Yes?”

“You realize Alfred is going to strangle both of us, right?”

Damian’s face remained infuriatingly neutral. “I fail to see how this is my problem.”

You gawked at him. “You are the one who brought a stray into the Batcave!”

“You are the one assuming I will fail to hide it.”

“You will fail to hide it! This cave is huge, but Alfred sees everything!”

Damian scoffed. “Perhaps you are simply incompetent at hiding things.”

“Oh my god, Damian—” You gestured at the tiny kitten in his arms. “Where did you even find it?”

“…That is irrelevant.”

“It is very relevant.”

Damian huffed, adjusting his hold on the kitten as it curled into his chest. You hated how cute it was. It wasn’t fair. “Are you going to assist me or not?”

“Assist you?” You narrowed your eyes. “What exactly do you think I’m gonna do here?”

He met your gaze, steady and unwavering. “Help me hide it.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

Because what exactly could you say? You certainly couldn’t chase this kitten out. Not when it was this cute.

You exhaled, already knowing you were going to regret this. “Fine,” you muttered. “We’ll figure something out.”

Damian smirked, just a little. It was an obnoxious little smirk, one that screamed I win, and you hated it.

“I knew you would see reason.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You groaned, reaching out to scratch the kitten’s head. It blinked up at you, tiny and warm and absolutely helpless.

“This is going to be a disaster,” you grumbled.

Damian hummed, nonchalant. “Not if we do it right.”

You sighed.

The kitten mewled.

It really was adorable.

“…It’s cuter than Alfred.”

Damian’s smirk vanished in an instant. His expression immediately flattened. “Do not compare the two.”

You huffed. “I’m just saying. This one is smaller, it’s got those huge boba-like eyes—”

“Alfred is perfectly proportioned.”

“This one is cuter.”

“You’re a fool to compare the two.”

“I have eyes, Damian—”

“Perhaps they are defective.”

You groaned. “Seriously?”

And the kitten mewled again, nestling further into Damian’s arms.

You were so, so doomed.

Damian’s room was dark, save for the moonlight filtering in through the window. The walls were lined with shelves—books, weapons, a few trophies from missions. Everything in here was organized precisely the way he wanted it. No room for clutter, no misplaced items, no sign of disorganization.

And now?

Now there was a tiny kitten sitting on his bed.

You stood next to Damian, arms crossed, staring at the small bundle of fur that was currently curled up in the middle of his sheets. The kitten, utterly unconcerned, merely yawned, its tiny pink tongue flicking out before tucking its paws beneath itself, nestling deeper into the sheets like it owned the place.

“…Okay,” you said slowly. “So, how exactly do you plan on hiding it?”

Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “That is what we are currently determining.”

“Right. And by we, you mean me, because I know you don’t have a plan.”

“I do have a plan.”

“You don’t.”

Damian scoffed, lifting his chin. “Tt. I would not have brought her here if I did not have a plan.”

You arched a brow. “Oh really? Enlighten me then.”

There was a beat of silence.

Damian opened his mouth.

Paused.

Closed it.

And then crossed his arms tighter.

You grinned. “Exactly.”

He shot you a glare. “I was in the process of formulating one before you interrupted.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

The kitten let out a tiny noise—somewhere between a sigh and a sleepy meow. You hated how insanely cute it was. It made this entire situation so much worse.

Damian, ever the stoic one, didn’t react outwardly, but you caught the minute twitch of his fingers, like he had wanted to reach out but stopped himself.

Yeah. You knew he was already attached.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Okay. First things first. We need to make sure she doesn’t leave this room.”

Damian scoffed. “You believe I would be careless enough to allow that?”

“I dunno, Damian. I did catch you trying to act like nothing was going on when she was literally making noise.”

His eye twitched. “You are infuriating.”

“And you’re the one who dragged me into this.”

Damian rolled his eyes and turned away, crouching down near the foot of his bed. He pulled out a small folded blanket, shaking it out before placing it neatly in the corner of his room.

You lifted a brow. “You’re making her a bed?”

“Of course. She requires proper rest.”

You gave him a look. “Damian.”

He didn’t meet your eyes, instead adjusting the blanket with too much precision. “What?”

“You realize you’re already attached, right?”

Damian didn’t look up. “Do not be ridiculous.”

“You are.”

“I am merely ensuring her comfort.”

“Uh-huh.” You smirked. “Sounds like attachment to me.”

He finally looked up just to glare at you. “Shut up.”

“Can’t. It’s too much fun annoying you.”

He muttered something under his breath—probably an insult no doubt.

You grinned, stepping over to the kitten. She blinked up at you, sleepy, tiny, warm. You lifted a hand, scratching behind her ears.

“…We’re so screwed,” you muttered.

Damian scoffed. “Only if we are incompetent.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s your brilliant plan for when Alfred inevitably finds out?”

“We will ensure that does not happen.”

You deadpanned. “Oh wow, what a genius plan. Amazing.”

Damian huffed, flicking your forehead.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“Perhaps you will learn to hold your tongue.”

“You flicked my forehead! That was so unnecessary!”

“You are being dramatic.”

“I’m being realistic!”

“You are being obnoxious.”

“Damian Wayne—”

Knock knock.

You both froze.

Your heads snapped toward the door at the same time.

A pause.

Your heart jumped into your throat. You had seconds to react.

And instinct took over.

You lunged for the kitten, scooping it up in your hands and rushing toward the closet. Damian was already moving, stepping toward the door like nothing was wrong, keeping his expression schooled into its usual unreadable mask.

You flung the door open, eyes darting around. Shoes, weapons, neatly arranged training gear—nowhere soft enough.

Your hands scrambled for something. Anything.

Your fingers found a spare pillow tucked against the corner.

You gently placed the kitten on it, adjusting her tiny body so she was curled into the fabric. You barely breathed, watching her eyes flutter open—just for a second—before slowly closing again.

She didn’t move.

Good.

Very good.

You shut the closet door with slow, precise movements, then turned on your heel and strode back to Damian’s side just as the door swung open.

Alfred.

Your stomach dropped.

The butler stood at the doorway, eyes sweeping the room. His gaze landed on you, and for a fraction of a second, you saw something—surprise. His expression barely changed, but his eyes flickered, his brows shifting ever so slightly before he schooled his features again.

“I was not expecting to see you in Master Damian’s room, Miss (Name).”

Shit.

It hit you in that moment.

Damian was always the one barging into your room.

Not the other way around.

This—this—was weird.

Suspicious.

Damian, the little menace, barely hesitated. He huffed, tilting his chin up with exaggerated irritation. “Oh, please. You say that as if I would willingly allow her to linger in my space.”

Your eye twitched.

Oh. Oh, you little—

You turned to glare at him.

Damian shot you a look.

A look that very clearly said, Play along.

You gritted your teeth, but you played along.

Forcibly.

Scoffing, you crossed your arms, rolling your eyes with the most dramatic exasperation you could muster. “Excuse me?”

Alfred’s lips twitched in amusement.

Damian, ever the actor, sighed heavily, as if merely existing in your presence was a burden. “You are incredibly difficult to remove.”

You let out a scoff of mock offense. “Wow. Rude.”

“Merely a fact.”

Alfred, clearly unimpressed by the sibling bickering, simply cleared his throat. “Dinner is ready. You two should head down soon.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and left, shutting the door behind him.

Silence.

Stillness.

Neither of you moved.

You waited.

Counted the seconds.

Listened.

The moment you were sure Alfred was gone, you exhaled hard.

You turned to Damian, who looked just as tense as you had felt. His shoulders, usually squared and stiff with perfect posture, were slightly looser now.

You huffed. “That was way too close.”

Damian smirked, though there was the barest flicker of relief in his eyes. “You are dramatic.”

“You were nervous.”

“I was not.”

“You were.”

“Prove it.”

You squinted at him. “Your shoulders were stiff.”

“My shoulders are always stiff.” He grumbles, folding his arms.

“Yeah, but you were extra stiff.”

“Tt.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “We are so screwed.”

“Not if we are careful.”

“You mean if I’m careful.”

Damian just smirked at you. “Precisely.”

You glared.

He then turned on his heel and strode toward the door, pausing only to glance at you over his shoulder.

“Come,” he said simply. “Dinner awaits.”

You sighed, sending one last look toward the closet.

The kitten was still inside.

Still quiet.

Still hidden.

For now.

You exhaled and followed Damian out, already knowing that this was only the beginning of the chaos to come.

A whole week.

A whole week, and somehow—somehow—you and Damian had managed to keep this kitten hidden from everyone in the manor.

It honestly shouldn’t have been possible. Not in a house with Bruce Wayne.

Your father had built a career out of noticing things no one else did. The World’s Greatest Detective, capable of finding patterns in chaos, deducing secrets from the tiniest details, catching liars with a single glance. There was no way this should have worked.

And yet, you had made it seven days.

A good part of that was due to the kitten itself. She was surprisingly low-maintenance for something so small and needy, sleeping most of the day while you and Damian were out, only getting active when one of you was around. Between the two of you, you made sure there was always someone in the manor at all times, switching shifts like it was some sort of top-secret mission.

And if you thought too hard about that—how ridiculous it was, how much effort you were putting into this—you might start laughing. So you didn’t.

Still, it wasn’t perfect.

You had almost been caught more times than you cared to count.

The closest call?

It had been late, far past patrol, and you’d been in Damian’s room feeding the kitten. You weren’t expecting anyone to come looking for you—not when your father had been knee-deep in a case, locked in his own world, barely acknowledging anyone outside of mission briefings.

But then, suddenly, you heard his voice.

Calling your name.

You had exchanged one panicked look with Damian before immediately bolting into action. You shoved the kitten into her makeshift hiding spot—inside Damian’s closet, curled comfortably inside a box lined with one of his old hoodies, wiped away the tiny bits of fur clinging to your shirt, and sat on the bed, trying to act as casual as possible.

Damian, still crouched beside the closet, had no time to react beyond freezing completely in place.

Then Bruce opened the door.

He took one glance at you—legs crossed, arms folded—and then looked at Damian, who was stiff as a statue on the floor, looking vaguely like he’d been caught committing a crime.

Bruce frowned. “…What are you two doing?”

You didn’t even blink. “Talking.”

“On the floor?”

Damian, without missing a beat, answered, “Yes.”

It had been a long night. Bruce had been running on fumes. He had stared at both of you for a long, agonizing moment before letting out a quiet exhale.

“Get some sleep,” he said simply, then left.

And just like that, you two somehow got away. Again.

It had taken all of your self-control not to start laughing hysterically the second the door clicked shut. Damian had just scowled, muttering something about how absurd the situation was, but the way his shoulders had relaxed said everything.

Bruce had no idea.

You had won.

But Bruce wasn’t the only problem.

Alfred was just as dangerous—if not worse.

If your father’s detective skills were legendary, Alfred’s were terrifying. He had this way of knowing things. Sometimes before you even did them. He was like some omniscient force that no one could escape.

And yet, for some reason, he hadn’t found out about this.

…At least, that’s what you thought.

Because there had been moments. Little ones.

Like the time you caught Alfred looking at the extra cat fur on Damian’s hoodie. He didn’t say anything—just ran a lint roller over it before handing it back without a word—but you knew. He had noted that. Especially when he hadn’t seen Damian interact with Alfred—the cat, that day.

Or the time when he had asked if you’d been eating in Damian’s room, because he had noticed “traces of food” in there. You had almost choked on your own spit at that one.

Or, the worst moment, when Damian had almost slipped up.

You’d been in the kitchen late at night, grabbing a snack before heading back to Damian’s room. Alfred had been there, doing something by the stove, when Damian had come in and automatically reached for the fridge.

And you knew what he was doing.

You had watched, frozen in horror, as he pulled out the small carton of milk—one that was not for human consumption, but rather stolen from Alfred’s personal stash of pet food supplies—and nearly poured some into a tiny bowl.

For a cat.

You knew Alfred had already fed the only other cat in the household.

So when you saw Alfred turning, just slightly, as if noticing something, you had never moved faster in your life.

Before he could say anything, you had shot to your feet, grabbed the bowl, and downed the milk. In one go.

Alfred and Damian had just stared at you.

You had coughed violently, wiped your mouth, and said, “Calcium.”

Alfred hadn’t even questioned it.

But you swore you saw the tiniest glint in his eyes, like he knew.

That really unsettled you.

But now—now you were back in Damian’s room, sitting on the floor as the kitten munched on her food, still somehow undiscovered.

You sat cross-legged, propping your chin up in your hand as you eyed the kitten lazily. “I still don’t know how we pulled this off.”

Damian, who was currently sitting on his bed with one leg propped up, scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I never had any doubt.

You shot him a look. “We were almost caught, like, five times.”

“That was due to your carelessness.”

“Oh, really? Was I the one who had to cover for you when Alfred almost walked in while you were literally petting her?”

Damian huffed. “Alfred does not simply ‘walk in.’ I accounted for that.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Right. That’s why you nearly dropped her when the door opened.”

“Tt.” Damian turned his attention to the kitten instead, watching as she licked her tiny paws. He said nothing, but the way his fingers twitched against his knee betrayed his irritation.

Your gaze flickered to the bowl. Actual cat food.

You frowned.

“Where did you get that?”

Damian didn’t even look up. “Alfred’s stash.”

Your eyes snapped to him. “You stole from Alfred?”

“Borrowed.”

“Oh my God.” You dragged a hand down your face. “Damian, he probably keeps track of that.”

Damian scoffed, unconcerned. “I ensured that I only took minuscule amounts each time to avoid suspicion.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t notice.”

Damian finally looked at you, unimpressed. “You severely underestimate my ability to remain discreet.”

“That’s what you said about the milk.”

“That was your failure, not mine.”

“I saved your ass.”

“You embarrassed yourself in the process.”

“I survived in the process.”

Damian let out an exasperated sigh, looking to the kitten instead of dignifying that with a response.

You huffed. “Have you named it yet?”

A pause.

“No.”

You raised a brow. “Wow. You’re really creative.”

Damian shot you a look. “Would you prefer I call her something ridiculous?”

“I don’t know. I was expecting something dramatic, at least.”

Another scoff. “I am not you.”

“I mean, you named a literal dragon-bat thing in, like, two seconds. But a kitten is where you draw the line?”

Damian scowled. “Naming something is a responsibility. I do not take it lightly.”

“Oh my God.” You snorted. “It’s a cat, Damian.”

“Your point?”

The kitten meowed loudly, stopping you both in your tracks.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Okay. Whatever.”

A beat.

“…Should we tell the others?”

Damian barely blinked. “Who?”

You rolled your eyes. “Y’know, Tim, Cass, Dick, Jason—”

“No.”

You blinked. That was immediate. “Why not?”

“Drake would let it slip the second he became sleep-deprived, Cassandra would tell Father immediately, Grayson lives in Bludhaven, and Todd—” Damian’s expression darkened. “Todd is irrelevant.”

You blinked. “Rude.”

“He would use this against us.”

Okay, fair.

You exhaled, letting yourself fall back onto the bed. “…So, either way, I was going to be the one you’d ask for help, wasn’t I?”

Damian huffed. “No. If I had it my way, you wouldn’t even be here.”

You gasped dramatically. “The audacity! If you had hidden this cutie from me, I wouldn’t have forgiven you.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “How tragic.” But there was the faintest pink on his cheeks.

Because of course.

Of course it was you.

Who else would he trust with something this important?

You smirked, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching as Damian busied himself with the kitten again. His fingers idly scratched behind her ears, his scowl softening just the tiniest bit when she let out a contented purr.

“Oh, come on,” you teased. “I know for a fact you would’ve asked me for help first, even if I didn’t catch you.”

Damian scoffed. “Your arrogance is astounding.”

“Am I wrong?”

“You are always wrong.”

“So that’s a yes?”

Damian exhaled sharply through his nose, turning his attention fully on the kitten as if he could physically ignore your presence. You watched him for a moment, scrutinizing the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers stilled ever so slightly before he resumed petting the kitten, and then—there it was.

A flicker of hesitation.

And then, begrudgingly, he muttered, “Why wouldn’t I?”

You blinked.

Not the sarcastic retort you had been expecting. Not a denial, not an insult. Just that.

Simple. Direct. Honest.

Your heart did something strange in your chest, something warm and stupid, and you had to fight the grin threatening to take over your face.

“…Wow,” you said, blinking exaggeratedly. “Damian Wayne, admitting he trusts me. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Damian shot you a glare. “I take it back.”

Too late. You were already ruffling his hair, grinning like an idiot.

“Hey—” He immediately tried to swat your hand away, scowling.

You just laughed, dodging his weak attempt to shove you away. “Aw, you do care.”

“I will kill you.”

“Sure, sure. Say whatever makes you feel better.”

“You are insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“I tolerate you at best.”

You grinned, flopping back down onto the bed. “That’s basically love in your words.”

Damian rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might actually get stuck, but the corner of his mouth twitched. A small, reluctant thing, barely there, but noticeable if you were paying close enough attention.

Which, of course, you were.

Unfortunately, neither of you noticed the door, which had been slightly ajar for the entirety of that conversation.

And you definitely didn’t notice the way it closed softly.

Because Alfred had been standing there the whole time.

He had known from day one.

Of course he had.

It had taken one look at Damian’s hoodie, one glance at the way you had both started lingering around the manor more than usual, one single second of analysis, and he had known.

But he had let it be.

Because—perhaps foolishly—he had enjoyed watching the two of you fumble your way through this ridiculous charade, watching the way you and Damian bonded over it.

Now, though, he was simply waiting.

Because he knew—without a doubt—that the two of you would out yourselves in approximately three days.

And that’s when he would finally step in, cross his arms, give you both a very long lecture about the dangers of bringing strays into the household without prior approval.

For now, though…

He merely sighed, shaking his head as he walked away.

Time to inform Master Bruce that the household had yet another animal resident.

lol this was so overdue but here it is!! hope you guys enjoyed this 🫶

taglist (open): @k1arar3 @kingshitonly @rainnyydaysworld @ceridwyn3 @darkfaethedestroyer @blueiones @strwberryglass @lithiumval @thephantomdanny @eli-mayhaveatencats @rockyeatrock @dreaming-of-the-reality | ask to be added <3

[aventoru]

in an attempt to spice up your instagram feed, you decided to try out something you had never done before : an at-home photoshoot. and after hours of scrolling through social media for inspiration, you finally came across a post that caught your eye. it was a perfectly curated picture of a person posing with kiss marks on the exposed parts of their body.

but there was one very obvious problem. you couldn’t place these kiss marks yourself. but you know who can? your always-willing boyfriend, who happens to walk by at that moment and seemingly occupied with his phone in hand. it must be your destiny.

“hey, babe,” you call out.

“hm?”

“can you uhh…kiss me for a—”

“yes.”

“but i didn’t get to fini—”

“doesn’t matter, i heard enough.”

not even 5 minutes later, you find yourself sitting down on the bed to apply red on his lips. after finally getting to explain your vision to him, he seems even more excited to kiss you, evident by the mischievous glint in his eyes. “all done,” you pull away as he presses his lips together, smoothing out the buttery gloss for an even finish before puckering his lips dramatically in your face.

you laugh at his antics before letting him shift you both into a more comfortable position so he can start kissing various parts of your skin. your heartbeat accelerates he starts with your face, smooching your cheeks gently before moving down to your neck.

all the while, you sit there in jittery anticipation with an undeniable flush on your face. the soft music in the background does nothing to calm your nerves. after all, this was different from any of his previous kisses. this time, he was leaving a piece of his love on you, using your lipstick. even though this was just for some photos, it felt so strangely intimate, and you were loving every single second of it.

he places a kiss on your collarbones, and you move to stand up, thinking he’s finally done. but to your pleasant surprise, he pulls you back down, flush against him. his affections get the best of him as he goes further south, leaving kisses on your arms and even going as far as to kiss any other exposed parts of your back and torso. he finally stops after placing one last kiss on your fingers as he pulls back to admire his hard work.

and when you start taking pictures, he’s there watching and assisting you, to the point where he becomes more passionate than you are. and of course, he doesn’t miss the chance to get in frame with you, holding you tightly with that smug smile on his face to let everyone know that you’re his.

when you finally post those gorgeous photos, you gain traction and undoubtedly go viral. and he thinks you and your beautiful self deserve nothing less.

HAIKYU : OIKAWA, ATSUMU, suna, osamu, kuroo, nishinoya, timeskip!hinata, yaku, timeskip!lev, iwaiuzmi, bokuto, terushima, tendou

JJK : gojo, toji, geto, ITADORI, TODO, inumaki (speaking in his code ofc), hakari, choso

BLUE LOCK : kaiser, chigiri, reo, BACHIRA, chris prince, lavinho, yukimiya, otoya, karasu, aiku (help not the red flags), sendou, SHIDOU

+ your favs!

masterlist

[presentmacandcheese]

bring you some peace

jason todd x gn reader

summary: you discover your boyfriend jason is the Red Hood, to his surprise and concern you're not upset in the slightest

or 5k on loving and appreciating your hardworking vigilante boyfriend

a/n: back at it again! This isn't exactly a sequel to softer than, but it's not not a sequel either. I picture it being the same reader, but this piece can absolutely still be read standalone! That said, go forth and please enjoy my second ever DC fic

also on my ao3!

A sigh pushed its way from his diaphragm as the mattress caught Jason’s fall. He ran a hand over his face and into his hair, taking another deep breath, thoughts of your relationship began to fill his mind.  

Things with you had been going well lately, too well, the anxiety in his brain was certain.

You were suspiciously patient and understanding, especially when he bailed last minute on plans. Sure, you’d meet him with a pout, but it’d disappear as quickly as it’d come and be replaced with a smile that must have been a trick of the light as it seemed... empathetic? Where was the upset? Shouldn’t you be fighting about him “not prioritizing you” enough? It’s what happened the last time he had a romantic partner. 

His partner had felt Jason wasn’t willing to put them over his work, which... He made what time he could for them, but there were lives at stake. He couldn’t be with them every second of every day like they attempted to demand, and they weren’t willing to compromise when the truth of his work remained hidden. 

His chest ached at the thought of losing you, knowing it would hurt significantly more than his last relationship. They were nice, mostly. But you. You meant more to him. You meant... everything. Something felt different lately, off in enough way that he felt it making home in his bones. 

Maybe he needed to come clean, maybe that was the honesty this relationship required. His heart raced as the thought settled, stomach churning. Would you still want him once you knew? Was he risking his safety, his family’s safety, your safety in vain? 

Jason mulled it over, knowing the other shoe may drop with this decision, but pleading with the universe that just this once it wouldn’t have to. Maybe he’d be allowed to have and keep something good. 

You knew your boyfriend was the Red Hood.  

Jason, bless his heart, had certainly been trying to keep it away from you. But the more time you spent around him, the more little details you were able to put together. 

At first, the nights he was unable to spend time together made sense. He told you he worked graveyard shift most nights and his behavior and absences backed that up. 

Until he started canceling at confusing moments with vague excuses. The timing of his walk outs beginning to raise a flag in your mind. 

“Work thing, gotta go.” When his phone buzzed as your heads had just hit the pillows. 

“My brother needs me.” Two minutes into the TV show you watched together weekly. 

“I have a thing to do.” When you were about to be that thing. 

Jason went out of his way to make it up to you, finding alternate times to see and spend time with you, leaving you far more curious than upset. 

The curiosity increased when you noticed the influx of injuries he’d have after a night of cancelled plans. The dots didn’t begin to consciously connect until Jason had walked out on your movie night early, a murmured “work errand, sorry.” Leaving his lips as he parted. 

You were more concerned than anything, he’d been wanting to watch Pride & Prejudice with you for weeks after you’d read the book together; a re-read for him and a first for you, only to leave half an hour in? 

Your thoughts roamed as you snuggled into the hoodie, he’d purchased solely for you to steal, burrowing into the blankets on your couch and settling in for the new plan of a night to yourself. You wondered what errand could be so important to need urgent tending to. Maybe you’d ask Jason later, maybe you’d finally get your curiosities quenched. 

You’d just gotten comfortable, pulling out a project you’d been working on for fun and throwing the news on in the background when a story caught your attention. 

“Red Hood takes mustard gun to the face. Fresh off an Arkham Asylum breakout this evening, Condiment King stood off against Crime Alley’s very own Red Hood. It seems to have been Condiment King’s lucky day as he managed a hit on the rehabilitated crime lord, launching mustard directly at the so called “eyes” of his helmet. That’s bound to leave one hot dog of a bruise if you ask me.” 

You rolled your eyes as you processed the pun, it felt in poor taste given how much worse the situation could have been, especially if Red Hood had been without his helmet. The idea made you frown. You’d found yourself with a soft spot towards the vigilantes of Gotham for years, but along the way Red Hood had become your favorite. 

You admired what he stood for, the protection he offered women and children, the way he was willing to offer it no matter the cost. The other vigilantes seemed more black and white, you respected that Red Hood appeared to often understand the world was gray.  

You zoned back into the TV, focusing again on the reporter’s words. 

“Witnesses reported Nightwing ketching up to the scene shortly after, promptly taking down Condiment King and assuring he won’t be able to a salt anyone again anytime soon.” 

You groaned, turning channels so you wouldn’t have to listen anymore to the attempts at making crime more lighthearted. 

The night passed rather calmly for you, but the same could not be said of the streets. Checking social media and news sites revealed the Arkham breakout was much larger than merely Condiment King. 

And as you realized multiple heavy hitters were loose, you sent out a quiet prayer to whoever was listening that your city and its protectors would remain safe. 

Jason needed to see you.  

Adrenaline left his body wired, hands trembling and breaths labored. The night had been harsh to them all. Rogues left and right hellbent on freedom and destruction. Every Bat had taken far more hits than preferred throughout the night, but they prevailed without serious injury. Somehow luck was on their side with a swift recapture. 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t frazzled.  

Going from a peaceful night in; snuggling his sweetheart, to getting two black eyes from fuckin’ Condiment King of all people was bound to leave a man off-kilter. Especially when the ante of it all was only upped from there. A night’s full of adrenaline catching up to him as the morning latened. 

Exhaustion ran bone deep, his knocks on your door muddled as if his blood had turned to molasses. The rush that got him through being patched up and taking a shower drained from his body and left Jason half asleep on your doorstep.  

He leaned against the frame, eyes blinking slowly as he heard the lock click before the door opened. 

“Baby?” There it was, confused voice still dripping gentle honey as your eyes met his. 

He was fading fast, Jason knew he’d be unconscious in minutes, but that was okay. He had proof that you were safe, and that was all he needed. 

You took Jason’s arm, guiding him inside and towards your bed. You’d seen him tired plenty of times, but never quite like this. This was exhaustion. His movements slow like you were trudging through quicksand, every step heavy as though the second you stopped moving, he’d begin to sink. 

It was worrisome. Clearly, his job was burning him out or something worse. You’d noticed the redness under his eyes, the way they were swelling in what would surely become two black eyes. What happened to him last night? 

Oh god. 

As you moved the blankets on your bed to open a space for him, your mind was stuck on an awful thought. What if he’d been caught in the Arkham attacks? 

Pushing Jason into place on your mattress was more than easy, once the opening was created a soft wind could’ve blown him down. He collapsed into the plushness, face immediately buried in your pillow and body going lax. It would’ve made you chuckle if you weren’t so worried. 

You removed his shoes before covering him with the blankets, tucking the sides in to secure him. Sitting beside him on the bed’s edge, you lifted a hand to run through his hair, delicately untangling any small knots and lightly scratching his scalp. 

A shaky breath left your lips, watery eyes locked on where Jason’s chest rose and fell. You could see he’d had a night, but he’d survived that night. He was here. he was safe. You just needed to get your anxiety to catch up with reality. 

You watched him sleep for half an hour before your body regulated, your heartrate lowering and allowing your mind to clear now that the fear was dissipating.  

Your fingers finally left his hair, trailing down to lightly caress over the side of his face that’d emerged from the pillow. Hovering over the swelling under his eye your brain whispered what happened, Jay?  

Did someone hit you? Why? How?  

A nugget of information from the previous night floated to the foreground. There was someone you knew had gotten hit in the eyes last night. 

Red Hood. 

Your hand slowly retreated, lowering to a stilted rest on his shoulder. It. It was absurd, wasn’t it? 

Except.  

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand nearest you, opening the internet and searching ‘Red Hood.’ Your hand left Jason’s body as you frantically searched at length, looking for evidence. The builds were damn near the same, Red Hood seemed only the slightest bulkier, your guess was an armor-padded suit. Articles highlighting injuries he’d received in the recent past aligned with nights he’d rushed away from you. 

And the most damning. A picture someone had managed to get of him without his helmet. 

He still wore a mask, but even in a far and grainy picture you’d recognize the love of your life’s face anywhere. 

Jason Todd was the Red Hood. 

You locked your phone, not wanting to stare at the image anymore and turned your gaze to Jason. You expected fear to roll in, knowledge fresh of some of the brutality he’d committed, but the longer you looked at Jason the more your shock calmed. 

He was a hero. A statement you figured he’d argue, but that’s how you’d felt about Red Hood for ages. Sure, his methods were unorthodox especially when he first debuted in Gotham, but he’d been trying to better the city every step of his way. He stood up for the underdogs, for Park Row and everyone in it that were constantly overlooked.  

You knew firsthand how much it needed that. Park Row, Crime Alley had been your home for a spell of time. The first ten years of your life had been spent struggling there. At your youngest and most vulnerable, you learned that life wasn’t always fair. Life wouldn’t always give people what they deserved, not when the cards were stacked against them. 

Park Row needed help, it needed a protector. It needed someone who would stand up and fight for and in it, that never seemed up Batman’s alley. 

But Red Hood? Red Hood was doing what needed to be done. Jason was doing what needed to be done. 

Heavens, he must be so tired, so unappreciated. Even if his methods seem to have calmed since the start, reports on him still labeled him as more violent than the rest of the Bats, treated him as more of a threat and a borderline villain at times. Like he was a ticking time-bomb. 

A frown twisted your mouth, disappointment setting in that others couldn’t see how wonderful your vigilante was. The shift to determination was easy, you’d just have to show him how appreciated he was. 

Jason woke up in darkness, disorienting him until his eyes adjusted to the surroundings. The weight of the comforter on him as familiar as the plushness of the pillow, your scent wrapped around him more fully than the blankets. 

He turned his head to the walls, pictures and posters of the things you love adorning them. A soft smile graced his lips, he was in your room, he was okay, he was safe. His eyes trailed along to the window, wanting to peek out and gauge the time of day. He was met with confusion as he saw a blanket pinned to the wall over it, blocking out most all the light. 

Jason lingered on the detail only a moment more before he sat up. He was in your room, where were you? He stretched as he stood, making his way out of the dark room and further into your apartment. The soft tones of you singing led him easily to you in the kitchen. 

“Good evening, sleepyhead.” You greeted over your shoulder, hands in the sink as you washed dishes, your tone was playful, but there was a glint in your eye he couldn’t quite place. 

“It’s evening?” His eyes flitted to the clock on the microwave, just after 6 pm. “Wasn’t sure with the makeshift blackout curtain.” He raised a brow. 

You looked away, but Jason came closer, spotting the blush on your cheeks. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were able to rest properly; my curtains didn’t make it dark enough.”  

The words came out sweet and simple. An easy care in them that had Jason’s cheeks reddening too. Your thoughtfulness never failed to make him flustered, knocking him giddy and disbelieving of what he’d done to deserve you.    

“Dinner will be done soon, too.” Jason recognized an out when he saw one, you were giving him the room not to reply directly to being taken care of, he appreciated it. 

He stepped closer, arms wrapping around your waist and leaning his head onto your shoulder.  

“Thank you.” It was weighted with everything he could be grateful for. When you let him in this morning and put him to bed, when you chose to care for him instead of making him feel like shit for leaving you, you cooking for him now and continuing to be kind. 

“Anything for you.” As you settled back into him, leaning your weight on him, Jason had no idea how deep that promise would run. 

It’d been a month since you’d discovered Jason’s secret. A month of showing him extra kindness, understanding, and appreciation. You were content to wait to talk about his vigilantism with him until he was comfortable sharing with you. You were letting your actions speak louder than your words anyhow.  

Making sure to give him praise on his character whenever he was around. 

“You have such a beautiful heart, Jay.” Said with a sincerity that threatened tears in the right moment. 

“Your mind is incredible, you’re so intelligent.” Said with an awe that spoke of true wonder. 

“You’re such a good man, Jason.” A promise, a vow of the truth the statement held for you. 

Making sure to care for him through blankets draped over him in his vulnerable states, enveloping him in the softness the outside world never would.  

Making sure to keep him well fed, showing your love through recipes passed down and long since mastered by your family. 

The final action that spoke of your empathy though was one utilized when Jason wasn’t around. You were helping cover for him. Disappearances made around your friends were easy for you to excuse. When he gave you an apologetic kiss and uttered to the group an “it’s work, I’m sorry,” you’d follow up with “he has a highly demanding job, I’m so impressed by how much of himself he gives.” Your confidence and understanding kept people’s opinions of him high, your appreciation seeping into the roots of their minds the more you spoke tenderly of him; to help people see him as you saw him. 

All in all, it’d been a great month of loving your boyfriend. 

Jason was going to burst. Anxiety filling him to the seams as he came to terms with what he’d need to do. He had to confront your relationship problems. Trying to figure out when all this good would be ripped away was eating at him like termites in the wooden home of his brain. 

All the praise, the home cooked meals, the soft blankets and somehow even softer greetings. The gentleness of your touch, like you thought he deserved to be held as something delicate. It was all too good to be true.  

Something had to be wrong. This was the calm before some sort of storm. Overcompensation for how badly you wished to break up, maybe. Jason couldn’t fathom another explanation for why you’d be treating him like this. Like something precious. 

The cruelty of whatever joke this was had self-doubt eating him alive. Itching beneath his skin and clawing its way out of him. 

“What’s wrong with us?” Jason blurted one night, watching you make a pot pie crust from scratch, you’d been prepping dinner for at least an hour and a half while he simmered and stewed with anxiety. His eyes were locked on your hands, covered in flour and dough as you pressed the crust into your desired shape. 

“I mean we’re a little strange as people, but I wouldn’t say anything otherwise.” Your lighthearted tone, still focused on the diligent work at your hands, did nothing to ease his worries. 

“No. What’s wrong?”  

The plea in his voice had you turning to look at him. His eyes were swimming with desperation; a broken shine to them that made you frown in concern. 

“Jay? What’s this about? I don’t think anything’s wrong, but I don’t believe you’d ask unless you thought there was.” Your hands were rinsed and wiped on a dish towel as you stepped closer to him and there it was again, that empathetic lilt to your being that made him feel so undeserving. 

The anxiety in his skin bubbled, a cauldron overflowing and exceeding containment, spilling over until no more was left inside. Every ounce of fear and worry splashed around him, rolling out in waves. 

“I don’t deserve this.” Rushed words, a harsh admission in light of your softness. 

“What do you mean?” Jason took a step back as you took one closer, he couldn’t let you touch him right now. Not when you’d slip in his mess and get swept away by the current, never to be seen again. You paused before moving back half a step, Jason found himself simultaneously weighed down by guilt and able to breathe easier. 

“I don’t... This is all too nice. You are too nice. All this care and consideration, it’s wasted on me. Why are you being so fucking good to me?” His hand flew into his hair, tugging at the strands as he tried to let the pain ground him enough to suck in a deep breath. 

“Jay, baby. You deserve all the good the world has to offer.” 

“I DON’T! How can that possibly be true? The things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt. You don’t know. That’s how you can be so fucking kind to me, because you don’t know what I’m hiding.” 

You nodded, seemingly undeterred by the panic Jason knew he was getting lost in. 

“Okay. So, tell me? I bet you I can still find kindness to give no matter what secrets may unfold.” 

That gave him pause. If anyone could look past what he’d done, it probably would be you. Hell, his family had forgiven and accepted him, and you hadn’t been through an eighth of the shit he put them through.  

“I’m. I’ve hurt people. I’ve done some ugly things, some I’m not proud of and worse, some that I am. Are you sure you want to know?” He needed to hear you choose this, choose him, his truth. 

“Tell me. Please.” It sounded more reassuring than afraid. 

“I’m the Red Hood.” As the words left Jason’s lips, he looked down to the floor. He couldn’t face the look in your eyes yet, the horror that he might find in them. The disappointment as you realized your boyfriend was a murderer. 

“Thank you for telling me.” That... didn’t sound horrified? It was almost... daresay, proud? 

Jason hesitantly lifted his gaze to your form, watching you turn back around, fingers dancing as they always did when you considered the next step in your cooking, a soothing hum befalling your lips. 

“That’s it?” That couldn’t possibly be the only reaction you had. He was expecting tears and anger and distrust. Even the worst case, being kicked out and never spoken to again, losing you entirely in the wake of this revelation. 

You faced him again and Jason stilled as he saw the peaceful look on your face, posture relaxed and no less welcoming than it’d been before. With the light hitting just right, there was an air of relief as well. It was as though nothing had changed. As though this information... wasn’t... new... 

Oh. 

“You knew.” Not a question, a fact. 

He watched as a guilty smile graced your lips, your legs shuffling where you stood and a breath of nervous laughter left your mouth. 

“Maybe a little.” The admission felt both damning and relieving. 

“I- What? How?” 

“Maybe we sit down for this one? I get the feeling your emotions are awfully overwhelming right now.” You started to walk to the living room, making grabby hands behind you to get him to follow. Jason’s lips upturned at the cute habit, steps aligning with yours as he geared up for this conversation. 

You placed yourself on one end of the couch, giving Jason the option of space if he still needed. He sat further than when he joined you for comfort, but within arm’s reach which was progress from the kitchen. You took a deep breath and began to explain. 

“Okay, so it was about a month ago, when you got injured by the mustard gun. You came over the morning after, exhausted and worried about me, which just had me worrying about you, so I got to more thinking than usual, and it started to connect.” 

“The way you frequently disappear at night and leave our plans, the injuries you end up with and the lack of explanation you tend to have for them. I thought for a minute that you were being abused at work. I suppose I wasn’t exactly wrong.” The laugh that left your lips came with a disbelieving head shake. 

“I started looking deeper into the vigilantes of Gotham, well, just Red Hood. He was the only one I needed to look at that morning. Once I had pictures, it was all too easy to recognize the man I love. I could recognize you anywhere. I could recognize you by touch alone, by smell; I would know you blind, by the way your breaths came, and your feet struck the earth. I would know you in death, at the end of the world.” 

You watched Jason’s eyes light up, some of his anxiety melting away at the familiar quote from a book you knew he favored despite the tears it’d brought you both.  

“You don’t have a problem with that though? My identity? The crimes I commit, the lives I’ve taken, the families I’ve destroyed.” His voice trailed off at the end, quieter as shame clouded his gaze. Beneath it there was a desperation that screamed of a little boy’s fear. A young one’s need to be accepted with open arms and loved unconditionally. 

“Jason, my love. You’re a hero. You have done more to save this city than I’m sure anyone gives you credit for. I don’t have a single problem with what you do nor what you’ve done to look out for our city, our home. You’ve been cleaning up in the ways you felt were needed. How could I fault you for that?” Your eyes locked with his, hands coming up to cup his face and reaffirm how genuine your words were. 

“I love you. I love what you stand for. I appreciate you. I appreciate everything you do, everything you are, and everything you will ever be.” You promised.   

For a moment, Jason sat frozen, looking at you as though his whole world view was changing before his eyes. Given his earlier insecurities, it very well may have been. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew?” A whispered curiosity uttered after moments of silence. 

“I was waiting until you were ready. It wasn’t my secret to force out of you. I figured you’d share eventually, and until then I just wanted to care for you. I wanted someone to show you some damn appreciation, and I was more than content with that being me. That’s why I’ve been doing more for you, because you deserve it with all the hard work you do to clean this city up and keep her safe.” Your thumb stroked over his cheekbone, your touch matching the ease of your words. 

Your head tilted slightly; lips downturned as you continued to speak. “I’m sorry my behavior left you so uneasy, it was never my intent for my compassion to scare you.”  

In the seconds of quiet after, your heart rate picked up, this was going to be it huh? The moment when yet another partner confessed you were “too much.” That your affections were overbearing, your intensity frightening and something they weren’t willing to match. That it’d be better if this ended. 

You’d accept Jason’s will if it were the case. You’d let your heart be sliced open, bleeding out from every cut so long as it would make him happy.  

You moved to pull your hands from his face, feeling as though your permission was already being revoked. He caught them with his own, holding them sweetly. 

“It wasn’t that it scared me. You could never scare me. It was that... It felt far too good to be true. I have a hard time believing that good things can happen to me without being ripped away.” Jason’s admission made your heart ache, longing for him to receive only the best from the world and to know that he deserved it. 

“Jay...” He released hold of you to briefly put one hand up, asking you silently to wait a moment before speaking. When you kept quiet, he returned to his full hold on you. The light grip reassuring and soothing while you anticipated his next words. 

“Sweetheart, you are the best thing that has happened to me in this and any lifetime. I am terrified of losing you, that’s what I’m scared of. I don’t want you to be ripped away like so many things I’ve tried to love before, and I don’t want you to leave. I fear that I would not survive a world where I no longer had you in my life. That’s where my panic came from, that’s why I was afraid to reveal my identity. I didn’t want to lose you.” Vulnerable eyes turned down to look at your combined hands. The feeling of his thumbs soothing over your skin providing as much assurance as his words. 

You waited a handful of extra breaths to see if he had more to say, but it seemed no further words were making themselves known. 

“You are the love of all my lives, Jason Todd. I’ll be here for as long as you let me.”  

“That could be a long time, ya know?” 

“I’m counting on it.” 

Snuggled against Jason’s chest on the couch, dinner long since forgotten, a thought came to mind. 

“So, you’re the Red Hood.”  

“We’ve covered that, yes.” 

You gave him a light nudge with your shoulder. “Hush.”  

A brief chuckle before his lips pressed atop your head. 

“So, you’re Red Hood. I know you work closely with the rest of the Bats, and you wouldn’t work closely with people you didn’t trust, not on this. You only trust a handful of people beyond me, and I know I’m not a vigilante. Since you’re all Gotham based, they must be around here too. The only people in the state that you trust are your family. Ergo, the rest of the Bats are the other Waynes, no?”  

“And they call Batman the “world’s greatest detective.” 

“Holy crap, that means they call Bruce that. Brucie Wayne the greatest detective. Oh my god.” You sat up, turning to face him with excitement. 

“Hang on, I didn’t confirm your theory.” 

“You didn’t deny it either!” Your finger pointed in his face, Jason leaning in to nip at it and making you both laugh. 

“Don’t distract me! I’m totally right!”  

“No comment.” 

You leaned over to reach for your phone on the coffee table, Jason gripping your free arm to keep you from toppling over in your excitement. You smiled appreciatively at him before doing an image search on Gotham’s vigilantes. Looking closely at the pictures with what you knew only solidified your belief that much further. 

“Would you... want to meet them?” 

Your gaze snapped from the phone to look at Jason’s face, a nervous smile graced his lips, and his eye contact wavered as he waited for you to process. 

“You want me to meet the Bats?” A light test of the waters, dipping your toe in. 

“I want you to meet my family.” A hand taking yours, pulling you further in with a promise of security. 

“Same thing.” A grin born of playfulness and safety.  

“I’d love nothing more, Jay.” Left your lips whispered, excitement so encapsulating that it need be forced into something serene lest it overtake your entire being. Jason nodded, like he understood how deeply you were feeling before pulling you into a kiss. The unspoken words the kiss provided promised that he did, in fact, understand.  

And the deeper the kiss found itself, the more it felt like an oath he always would. 

[breadbrobin]

the trees

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: you have a very specific skill set that helps your team with capture the flag, and clarisse thinks it’s fascinating. in fact, she thinks you’re as fascinating as you think she is.

warnings: swearing, arguments, fighting, PINING, heights i guess (reader is up a tree), possibly ooc clarisse but not too much i hope.

word count: 2.5k

(so the brainrot has (inevitably) spread to clarisse. there’s gonna be a part two to this as well, so lmk if y’all want it (tbh i’ll probably post it anyway but still). oh and also i love her and i am a clarisse apologist and lover until the day i die)

(sort-of-enemies to sort-of-lovers, but more like idiots to pining idiots (in a tree))

(part 2 here)

———————————————

archery wasn’t the only thing you were good at, but it was by far the best thing you were good at. a daughter of apollo: master of archery, mediocre of music and magical at making weird ass noises. bird calls, animal sounds, imitations—you name it, you could do it.

and those were useful tactics in capture the flag, for sure.

annabeth chase was a master strategist, and you had to give it to her: she remembered everyone’s strengths, weaknesses and alliances while you couldn’t even remember what you’d had for breakfast that day.

as always, you were tucked up in a tree, around halfway up. you weren’t too high, so that you could speak and people wouldn’t automatically know you were above them, but you weren’t too low so they couldn’t see you.

you kind of liked being in the trees now. after three years of capture the flag and around six months of freaking out every time you climbed above ten feet, you were finally used to it. it was almost calming; a way for you to relax after a stressful day and pretend that nothing around you existed.

until the red team came by, that is.

that’s what you were waiting for. the flag was around fifty feet to your right. your job was to be a lookout and a distraction.

it was your favourite part of the game, getting to trick people and shoot arrows at them when they came too close, allowing the blue team members around the bottom of your tree to pop out and disarm their opponents.

it wasn’t a trick you used every time—not even the ares cabin are that stupid—but when you did use it, you had the time of your life.

there was a snapping branch to your left. you straightened up from where you were leaning against the tree trunk behind you and peered through the leaves. you were perched on a thick bough, hidden by leaves and branches, but able to see enough through them that you could do your job.

you could hear voices, but you couldn’t see anyone.

you listened carefully. you knew that voice.

you realised with a start who it was.

clarisse la rue.

fucking clarisse, man. she drove you insane. and not for the reason she drove most of camp insane. no, unlike almost everyone else, you were attracted to her. in fact, you were, annoyingly, in love with her, you’d have to admit. it was infuriating.

you could hear her cutting through the forest. it was strange. she didn’t usually come for the flag. usually, she hunted in the woods and caught stragglers. she didn’t want the glory as much as she wanted the fight. to her, winning the battle seemed more important than winning the war.

regardless of why, you could hear her voice. she was talking to her siblings below you, creeping through the foliage.

the sun was warm on your face and you send up a brief prayer to your father.

from your lips slipped an almost perfect impression of your blue team guards. you’d used this trick last game, but clarisse hadn’t been there, so she wouldn’t know. “i can’t believe they put us on guard duty again.”

they all froze in their tracks, looking at each other, then ahead in the opposite direction from the flag.

you held in a snicker. “ugh, yeah, it’s the worst. i mean, why can’t we do anything fun? i wanna fight clarisse!”

you could see the smirk curling on her lips and you had to stop yourself from blushing.

you continued this cat and mouse game. the ares kids below you fanned out, aiming to surround you. it would have been a smart move, if there was actually a flag there and not just a tree.

slowly, they inched in, then leapt out.

“ahh!! you caught us! i’ve been impaled!”

they looked around in fear and confusion but clarisse looked straight up. she always did.

“hey, angel, nice voice,” she mocked. “wanna come on down?”

you shook your head. “no, thanks, i’m comfortable.”

she raised and eyebrow, seeing your arrow drawn and pointed directly at her. “that’s not necessary.”

“isn’t it?” your arrow flew and, though she hit it away, you teammates came pouring out of the foliage, having been waiting for your signal.

a fight ensued. it looked like it was going well for a short while, then the tides turned.

they weren’t as caught off guard as they usually were. hell, clarisse was even smiling!

with what looked like very little effort, the ares campers effectively destroyed your teammates. they were left disarmed and defeated, and you were stuck in a tree. typical.

as her siblings took their weapons, clarisse looked up at you. “you wanna come down now?”

you shook your head. “rather not. the view from up here is pretty good.”

she muttered something to herself, but you couldn’t hear her. then she spoke up. “what if we come up there?”

you drew your bow back immediately and an arrow pierced the dirt right in front of her foot.

she looked down at it, then back up at you, an amused smirk on her face. “right, silly me.”

that surprised you. she was usually cold and cruel in capture the flag, always taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors—in a technical sense. you’d seen people nursing their minor wounds after the games when your siblings forced you to help out in the infirmary (not that you’re much help in there, but regardless), and everyone heard the stories they’d tell of clarisse appearing out of the ferns and attacking ruthlessly. so why was she not being so ruthless today?

she was certainly cruel in her fight against your team members, but any other day, she would have thrown her spear at you or thrown one of your arrows back, or even climbed up anyway. instead, she just smirked up at you, content to wait.

“where’s the flag, bows?” she asked, using a nickname she’d only used a few times, one that referenced both the bows you used and the bows you sometimes put in your hair.

you shrugged. “dunno. they don’t tell me anything. i just get out here and told to be annoying.” your traitorous eyes flickered to the direction of the flag. you’d never been good at lying.

and curse her, clarisse noticed. she always noticed when it came to you, it seemed. whether it was catching you in a lie, catching you when you were admiring her or catching your every move when sparring, she always noticed.

she nodded at her siblings and they moved off. “i’ll wait here. try and flush our squirrel out.”

if they were confused or surprised, they didn’t show it.

once they were gone, clarisse plucked the arrow from the dirt and studied it. “this is new.”

“sam from hephaestus made them,” you said meekly. why would she stay behind? it didn’t make sense. you weren’t a threat, or even a good fight.

her face darkened. “oh. and where is your boyfriend now, then? hm?”

your cheeks flamed. “he’s not my boyfriend.” and it was true. he wasn’t. despite the fact that he liked you and made things for you all the time, your heart was decidedly with another. and she was right below you, tossing your prized arrow aside like an old tissue. “he’s on your team anyway. you should know where he is.”

she smirked again. “oh, yeah. i remember now. that’s right, i sent him to try and get our flag. he didn’t even make it five steps before he was attacked.”

her bitter laugh made your heart clench. was it pity for sam or your feelings for her, or both? you weren’t sure. either way, it was starting to get on your nerves.

it was silent for a long time. she looked up at you every few seconds, then at the tree, like she was gauging how hard she’d have to push you for you to die on impact. her eyes were sharp and her smile was sharper, and fuck you were attracted to her.

you cleared your throat and broke the silence, hearing fighting off in the near distance. you would go and help, but the only way for you to do so would be to tree-hop all the way to the flag, and while you could do it, it wasn’t the best idea. “why did you stay h—what are you doing?” you aimed an arrow at her.

“relax, angel, we both know you won’t actually shoot me.” she was climbing up the tree. fast. “and don’t worry, i’m not gonna push you out or attack you. i don’t like looking up at you.”

call you stupid or whipped or whatever, but you believed her. you lowered your bow but didn’t lessen the tension on your string. she’d almost reached your branch when you swivelled around to face her. you moved fast, your arrow returning to its holster and you body facing the trunk of the tree with your legs swung over each side of the wide bough. your dagger was swiftly removed from its holster and pressed under clarisse’s chin.

she laughed at you.

you faltered slightly. “what?”

“nothing,” she snickered. “i just saw it coming. now scoot back.”

you dropped your dagger and shifted backwards, glad the bough was strong.

she clambered onto your branch easily, sitting facing you with her back against the tree trunk, a smirk on her face.

you sighed bitterly. “you see everything coming.”

she shrugged. “pretty much. but so do you.”

“that’s the gift of divine premonition,” you grumbled. it could be useful sometimes, but all you really got was a sense, a feeling or, occasionally, a single frame of a moment. right now, though, your senses were so clogged with her vanilla-strawberry and leather scent, and with her, that you could hardly think, let alone experience a minor prophecy. not to mention the fact that if you did, you’d probably fall out of the tree.

she shrugged. “isn’t that useful?”

“yeah, when it actually works or doesn’t make me pass out.” you shrugged. “it’s temperamental.”

she hummed in thought, leaning back and crossing her arms. her knees were mere centimetres from yours.

“what are you doing up here, clarisse?” you asked.

she shrugged, but you could see a shift in her demeanour when she said your name. it was like the muscles in her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then tensed again. “didn’t want you to escape.”

“so you let your other prisoners escape?” you gestured to the ground, where your teammates were sitting around fifteen feet from the tree in a circle, plucking the grass.

clarisse raised her eyebrows at you in amusement. “oh, i think they’re fine. they’re too scared of me to do anything, anyway.”

you narrowed your eyes at her. “i don’t think you’re that scary.”

she rolled her eyes. “sure. but everyone else does. so you’re wrong.”

“it was my opinion. my opinion can’t be wrong if it’s my opinion.” that was another thing: you were never one to start an argument, but by god would you escalate it.

“your opinions wrong if i say it’s wrong,” she huffed, her jaw tight.

“not how opinions work, babe,” you said lightly, using your dagger point to carve away at the bark beneath you.

she smacked your hand to stop you. “you’re gonna dull it!”

“the point is already dull!” you protested, poking your finger to show her. it indented, but didn’t draw blood. “see?”

“so, what, you threatened me with a butter knife? i’m offended.”

“it’s the idea of it that cuts deeper anyway. the primal fear of being gutted by a dagger. in capture the flag at least.” you shrugged, carving a wonky flower in the bark. “it’s more about threats than action.”

clarisse rolled her eyes. “and what if a monster comes and attacks you, and all you’ve got is this blunt dagger?”

“you ever seen an archers muscles?” you turned slightly and flexed your shoulders. you could see her eyes follow the sharp lines of your shoulders and back. “i’ll use force. force is more effective than sharpness. you know that.”

“and yet, my weapons are all still sharp.” she snatched the dagger from you and pulled out a whetstone from a pocket in her cargo pants. she began sharpening your blade.

“hey, don’t—“

she smacked your hand with the flat of your own blade when you reached for it, and you withdrawn with a hiss, shaking your hand. she laughed. “i guess force is more important, huh, angel?”

your cheeks were hot. “don’t call me that.”

“why, you worried you might like it?” she looked up, teasing. her eyes narrowed at the look on your face and then she grinned. “you do like it.”

“no. shut up.”

she laughed again, but it was a little softer than usual. she looked back down at the dagger. “did sam make this for you?”

“yeah, w—clarisse!” you gasped as she dropped it off the bough. or, more accurately, threw it off the bough. “what was that for?”

she shrugged. “it’s not that good. i’ll get you a better one from the ares stash. don’t worry.”

you glared at her. “that was mine, though!”

“it was blunt and poorly made,” she protested. “it wasn’t good enough for you.”

the way she said it made you think there was a double meaning there.

“he’s not good enough for you,” she said, softer, proving you right.

your eyes were wide and your cheeks were flaming. “what?”

“you heard me.” her softness was staying, it seemed. if you weren’t mistaken, her hand was reaching for yours. “he’s not. you know he’s not. why do you like him?”

before you could respond, a horn blew in the distance and cheering erupted from around the forest. red team had won.

clarisse didn’t look happy. she leaned back—you hadn’t even realised she’d leaned forward—and glared at the bough between you both.

“congratulations,” you said softly. “you deserved the win.”

“yeah, we did.” her voice carried very little enthusiasm.

you studied her face for a minute, like you were committing every feature to memory. “clarisse…”

she didn’t respond. instead, she swung her leg over the bough and started climbing down. only when she got two branches down did you begin to follow her, hurrying in your attempt to catch up. you couldn’t. no matter how good you were at something, she was better.

she nodded at you as she walked off, your foot caught in a tight spot.

once you’d finally got down, your teammates were surrounding you. some asked you what had happened, some accused you of being a double agent for them, some asked if you were okay.

you answered them all absently as you all walked back towards the stream, but your heart wasn’t in it. what the hell was going on?

you’d reached the stream by the time you realised you’d left your dagger behind, and you were back at your cabin, trying to fall asleep, when you realised that it didn’t bother you at all.

(part 2)

[kaiyunsim]

abscence of you —

pairing : bf!jaehyun x gn!reader

summary : you and jaehyun are caught between love and personal needs. you both watch as your relationship slips away, knowing they could never give eachother what they needed the most.

genre / warnings : angst, swearing (1 f-word), reader is lwk a red flag, maybe more

a/n : I LOVE BOYNEXTDOOR AND GRENTPEREZ ! also i rewrote this like two times cuz i was unhappy and still kinda am but i hope u guys enjoy ! (lmk if u want more cuz i like writing angst)

currently playing : absence of you - grentperez

— not proof read — wc : 1.1k —

you are always busy with making music but jaehyun never minded it because it’s your passion and he found it cute that you put your efforts into something you both like. he hasn’t seen you in a while thought and he really started to miss you so be wanted to surprise you at your apartment.

jaehyun opened the door quietly, not wanting to disturb you, knowing you are probably working on something. he made sure to get ramen that isn’t that spicy and has some mushrooms because it’s the way he likes it but also gets your favorite. he leaves the takeout on the table and sees you typing on the laptop.

“i got your favorite, let’s eat,” he says with happiness, finally getting to see you after a while. he approaches you and gives you a back hug.

“thanks, give me five minutes to finish this,” you say, not taking your eyes off the screen.

he only nods, moving to the table and unpacking the food and set up the table for the both of you. eventually, ten minutes pass and he just watches you work.

“are you going to eat before the food gets cold?” he asks gently, trying to remind you.

you glance at the clock, “oh, shoot. sorry, i lost track of time,” you reply, getting up and taking your seat at the table.

jaehyun begins to eat and you are about to start before your phone starts buzzing. you pick up the phone and start answering texts and he just watches.

“do you ever just stop?” he asks gently again. bothered, but not wanting to cause trouble.

you look up from your phone, which is now facedown on the table, and frowns slightly, “what is that supposed to mean?” you asks.

“forget it.” he pushes it off.

—

after that, you guys don’t see eachother for a while due to your conflicting schedules. whenever you could spare some time, he would be working on his songs. whenever he would be free, you would be busy with songs of your own.

the next time you would both see eachother is when you went on a hangout with your friends. they wanted to invite jaehyun so they asked if he wanted to join and he accepted.

you picked him up from his place and they all meet up at your place. it starts off as awkward before sungho, being the oldest hyung, wants to break the ice and asks a question to the couple.

“so what’s the next for you two? moving in together? engagement?” he asks lightheartedly, the last questions were in a more joking manner.

he replies half jokingly, rolling his eyes, “if i can ever get them to take a break from producing music on soundcloud.”

you laugh awkwardly, “what? i like where we are now. there’s no rush”

and the silence came back, as if nothing ever happened. but something did happen, tension increasing and sungho started to feel awkward.

his smile falters and he chugs the rest of his drink, not wanting to push the answer out of you.

later, you give jaehyun a ride home and the tension continues to seep into him but he decides to break it.

“you didn’t have to laugh it off like that…” jaehyun comments hesitantly.

“what are you talking about?” you ask, confused.

“the future, us. do you think about it?” he clarifies.

“of course, but i’m just… not ready for anything long term. there’s still so much i wanna do”

“yeah, and i guess i’m not a part of it” he murmurs to himself.

“hey thats not fair. im trying to build something for myself. that doesnt mean i don’t think about us” you answer. you sound somewhat annoyed at the constant comments from him.

“of course you think of us,” he says sarcastically.

“i don’t have time for this” you roll your eyes.

“you don’t have time for me, you mean” he says, raising his voice slightly.

“i didn’t ask you to come” you exclaim, matching his energy.

“jesus fucking christ y/n, i’m sorry i wanted to see my partner after a long day of promotions. i’ll just schedule an appointment next time.” he says sarcastically, throwing his arms up.

just as he says that, you stop the car as you guys are in front of his house. he undoes his buckle and gets out of your car, not wanting to deal with more of you for today.

days later, jaehyun hasn’t reached out, and neither has you. both being consumed by their own thoughts.

jaehyun replays their argument, torn between guilt and frustration. he wonders if he’s asking for too much or if you love him as much as he does you.

you try to focus on your work but feels a hollow ache whenever you check your phone and find no messages from jaehyun. you wonder if he’s tired of you completely.

jaehyun decides to stop by your place to talk. he just wants to communicate how he feels. when he arrives, he sees you on a video call with your team, all animated and smiling. he watches you through the party opened door, realizing how vibrant and alive you seem in your own world.

you spot him and quickly end the call knowing your team would understand. you open the door, your smile fading as you see the look on his face.

jaehyun looks at you with a weak smile, “you’re amazing, you know that?”

“what?” you reply, confused with where he’s taking this.

“you’re incredible at what you do, i just…”

he pauses.

“don’t think there’s space for me in your life.”

you sit there. letting the words sink in.

you shake your head, “that’s not true jaehyun, i’ve always wanted you with me.” you say, gripping onto his hands, eyes starting to water.

“but not enough to make me feel like i belong.” he says. finally being able to confess his feelings.

they both sit in silence. neither knowing what to say. finally, jaehyun breaks it.

“i love you, y/n. but i need more than this…”

jaehyun walks away, not wanting to turn back, leaving you stunned with tears streaming down involentarily. it’s not like you were sobbing, but god damn did you wanna crawl up and just cry. but your breath hitched, refusing to cry further

in the quiet of your apartment, you whisper his name into the empty air, knowing it was the closest you’d ever get to having him back.

[amaranthineghost]

DOUBT SEEPS INTO ME AND I CAN’T GET IT TO STOP (BUT YOU CAN) ( charles leclerc. )

charles leclerc x reader

uncertainty plagues her mind, and self-sabotage looms over her shoulder, as if its whispering in her ear to tell her it’s a bad idea. he still manages to be the voice on top of all her doubts at the end of the day.

authors note: literally wrote this because this is how i felt while i waited for the days to pass so i could ask the guy i like for his number. mf got me feeling in love and shit, listening to mitski and lana del rey, writing fucking poems. liking a guy is the best and worst thing ever. gonna work on other things soon tho!

THE THOUGHT OF LOVE twisted her stomach into knots. even the mere thought of simply asking a guy for his number made her body churn with anxiety and the looming feeling of rejection held over her head.

relationships never lasted for her because she wouldn’t let them, the idea of getting too attached and the possibility of it shattering her heart was too great to risk it. she would watch from afar, stalk his socials, but never had the guts to approach him, or even look his way.

all throughout high school, she dreamed of a relationship that others around her had, but she lacked everything they didn’t. social skills were never her things, and confidence was something she always lacked. she just wanted to be a teenage girl in love, and she wouldn’t get that. she wasn’t sure she ever would.

she felt as though she was unloveable. even though it was so easy for her to give love, it was far harder to accept it. if anything, it was impossible for her to even imagine doing so. her trust was a thin thread that always seemed to snap. no matter how many times she tried to re-tie it, it always came back undone.

it wasn’t like she never liked any guys, boy she did, but the chase factor was a part of every single one. she never had guys come to her, and she would never go to a guy. still, she chased and chased, yet she never caught up. she worried she never would.

she worried she would never experience the thrill of being in a relationship, all because that thrill was shrouded with anxiety, uncertainty and distrust, though the distrust mostly lied within herself. deeply rooted in her brain was the idea that she wasn’t capable of ever accepting she could be loved, that someone would ever be so patient, understanding, and wanting.

she wanted it so bad, yet she felt like this. it felt stupid, she felt stupid. she felt like a walking contradiction because she couldn’t make up her mind. her heart wanted one thing, and her mind shut it out. a defense mechanism that she felt could never disable, that tinkering with it would only worsen the intensity. deep breaths only temporarily stopped the nausea that plagued her stomach, but only giving the man, the one she so desperately craved to be with, up would change how she felt.

she was a hopeless romantic at heart, but at mind, she was never going to let love in. as much as she held out her accepting arms, vines adorned with thorns grew through her veins, lacing her fingertips with sharp edges to cut back anyone who would try to get close.

the week leading up to finally getting his number went by so painfully slow; she had built herself up too high in those days. she worried she would come crumbling down before she even managed the chance of getting close. from afar she watched, glances exchanged and she gushed to her friends, but she could never be so sure that they were meant for her. after all, she was just an employee for ferrari, he was an athlete in the sport.

her friends were unsure if the brunette was the right fit for the girl, if he was even attainable at all. he was known for being a red flag among fans, he literally drives for a team based around the color red. she didn’t care, she was convinced he was right for her, but still she was scared she wasn’t his type. she knew he wasn’t taken, his entire private life, which was never even private to begin with, was broadcasted across the internet. if he had found someone new, she would know, and for now he hadn’t.

oh, she desperately wanted to be a wag. who wouldn’t? her job made it complicated though, she worked under the team, she didn’t have authority anywhere, she was a nobody. she never knew how she managed to catch his striking gaze to begin with.

she thought she would’ve looked like an idiot, an awkward, nervous girl in front of the charles leclerc, prince of ferrari. she felt like one, maybe she was, but the way he looked down at the shorter girl gave her the courage she needed to mutter the words she had thought about saying everyday for the past week.

“uh—could i get your number?” she barely managed out, she was nervous, it was evident in her tone and the way her voice was up an octave. his brunette hair and green eyes were enchanting, she had fantasized about him for that week. she even went as far as making a playlist to listen to to occupy her time, laying around when she wasn’t at her job. she had never been this lovesick for a guy in her entire life until she first laid eyes on him.

the sick feeling in her stomach became all too familiar, she hated it at first, but now she began to feel comfort in the sickness, and began to miss it over the weekend. the mopey love feeling of hopelessness while listening to lana del rey, or mitski. the fantasization of how the scenario would play out in her favor etched itself into her brain.

the moment of silence was harsh, she could feel the rejection coming. she braced herself for it, holding her breath.

he looked down at her with those damn eyes, a certain gleam in the light reflection over his pupils, part of her knew his response before he did. a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he pursed his lips to hide the smile forcing its way on his face.

he couldn’t deny the pretty girl in front of him, he could tell she dolled herself up for this, for him. he wouldn’t let her efforts go to waste, but that wasn’t the sole reason he didn’t reject her. her confidence sparked something inside of him.

he had plenty of girls who threw themselves at him, buying him drinks, or whatever they could to get their hands on him and themselves in his bed. she was different, a breath of fresh air in the fog. her awkward nervousness was endearing. he hadn’t meant to leave her hanging so long, but he admired her.

his smile brightened, looking down at the phone she clutched so tightly, her skin began turning white. “of course, darling.”

she certainly hadn’t expected to hear the words and yet she did. she was so unprepared, scrambling through her phone. should she write it in her notes app? should she go ahead and shoot him a text? what should she send? should she send a ‘hi’ text? should she send him an imessage game? the music she had listened to throughout the week hadn’t prepared her for this.

his brow raised at her, his arms crossed in front of him as he watched her panic slightly. he was so patient, waiting for her cue that she was ready to take his number and save it in her phone. he recited the string of numbers to her and she smiled internally. she was so giddy inside, yet she couldn’t show it. she couldn’t show how much this excited her, but she would talk her friend’s ear off at her actions because for once she had done something to take a step forward towards a relationship she wanted.

“thank you!” she squeaked out, mentally facepalming—she sounded a little too grateful for something as simple as his phone number. she couldn’t wait to run far away and into the corner of her work office, hiding behind her job position.

he smiled as she scurried off, looking at his phone as it lit up at the movement. he knew to expect the text from the girl later, not now though, because he could feel the nervousness radiating from her body.

later that night, he had received the very text he had been waiting to see. an unsaved number with a blank contact photo he knew was her without reading the contents of the message. his stomach fluttered at the words in the texts, and the following imessage game, 8 ball. it was oh, so endearing to him.

the text contained a simple ‘hiii’ and a simple reminder that she was the girl who asked for his number—as if he had been handing his number out to other people. he texted back, it was simple enough because he didn’t want to scare her off, but he also didn’t want her to overwhelm with worry that he just wasn’t interested in her. he was.

simple texts throughout the day, telling each other what they’re doing, company lunches whenever they had time. flying her out to watch his races, inviting her to his driver's room to watch the race from there because the possibility of their relationship becoming a reality was just a secret for now. the entire process he was just so understanding, it baffled her. he was gentle, like a dog laying their head in your lap, so blissful and light. days he would lay across a couch with his head in her lap as he let her mess with the strands of his dark, brunette hair. she commented on different, potential haircuts his mother could give him and he chuckled at the ridiculous ones she suggested.

something so simple showed her the trust he gave her, the trust he was slowly earning.

slowly, they hung out more. instead of spending his time in clubs after podiums, he spent time with her in his drivers room, or a restaurant about to close—he would leave a hefty tip for the inconvenience.

eventually, she would appear in his garage, watching with a headset on her ears, simply posing as a ferrari employee holding more importance than she really did—except to charles, she held all the importance in the world.

she never knew how he didn’t get pricked by the thorns adorning her body, how not a scratch tainted his even skin, not a drop of blood.

maybe it was because he knew that behind the thorns that laced her body, waiting was a rose. a reward so sacred and so fragile. to be shielded from the world in his very arms was her trust, her love, her mind, her thoughts, her everything.

in his arms, she felt everything she longed for; security, openness, trust, loyalty. he showed her what her heart was worth.

—

taglist (found here): @decafmickey @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej @thearchieves @soamericn

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[ash5monster01]

girl i absolutely need another pink smut omg you opened a brand new obsession for me with the smoke sesh stories

Smoke Sesh Pt. 3

Pairing: Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, drug use, semi-public, fingering, oral - male receiving, lots of dirty talk, getting caught kink, language, lots of heavy petting, minor angst, fluff

Summary: You and Pink attend your first summer party as something more than just friends. Some of the reactions aren't what you expect so Pink makes sure to remind you just how into you he is. Maybe showing off to the others a bit too much in the process.

word count: 3.8k

Masterlist

Part 2 ←

"I know what you're doing," you giggle as you try to shove the boy away. The brush of his lips against your neck tickles you as he fights back, determined to mess up your makeup. You're certain he'd rather distract you in this car all night than ever actually go inside. As much as you'd like that too your friends would be more confused if neither of you ever showed up. 

"I'm not doing anything," he grins, his hand trailing up between your legs. You're quick to squeeze them together and stop his hand before he gets anywhere. Both of you know if he reached his destination you'd end up on your back in this El Camino instead of inside. Pulling away from your neck, he smiles as he kisses you quickly. 

"We have to go in, Cythia is expecting me and Kevin would be sad if we missed it," you remind him, having not heard the end of Kevin's redemption party. Somehow his parents actually trusted him to leave this time and the Keg guy didn't show up too early. It was a redo of what should've been the last day of Junior year. Kevin was over the moon and so were the rest of your friends. The same friends you and Pink had been avoiding while going on new dates each night. They had already been questioning both of your absences but abandoning a party would raise every red flag.  

“I know but the idea of staying in here with you sounds much more fun,” he counters and you sigh as you brush some of his hair out of his face. Giving him one last look you kiss him deeply, tongue ravishing his mouth in the most unforgiving manner you can provide. The most silent way of telling him you’d make it up to him later. 

“You ready?” you ask as you pull away, both of your lips now swollen and red from how deeply you kissed him. Some of your lip gloss was left behind but you knew he didn’t care.

“No because now I’m hard,” he argues and you just giggle, popping open the door as you escape the car before he can keep you in there any longer. Pink is quick to rush after you, catching your flared sleeve before lacing his fingers with your own. 

“Come on, I need a drink,” you giggle as you walk towards the house, never tiring of getting to be like this with him. The lawn is littered with teenagers and at least two of ten kegs. Music pounds from the inside and you can’t help but be excited to see your friends. A little giddy even considering this would make you and Pink official to everyone here. 

“You’re here!” Shavonne calls out as soon as you’re both through the front door. It’s only a second after her eyes drop to find your conjoined hands. Her mouth opens to speak but Don appearing at her side stops her. 

“There you are man, I was close to sending out a search party,” he says, grinning at his friend who lets go of your hand to greet him. Shavonne narrows her eyes towards you and the smile on your face is unstoppable, shrugging an answer to her silent question. A confirmation that you and Pink might be something more. 

“Sorry, someone took forever to get ready,” Pink teased and you were quick to whack him but he just smiled. Shaking your head he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you tightly into him. 

“That was not my fault, someone wouldn’t let me get ready,” you defend and it’s the first time Don gives the both of you a confused look, still not quite catching on to what was happening. 

“Oh my God, finally you’re here” Cynthia has you ripped from Pink's arms, unable to even grasp for him as she drags you down the hall and away from the boy. 

She leads you to the kitchen, three more kegs and various liquor bottles filling the space. Cynthia paces while pulling at the striped shirt on her form and you use the opportunity to at least grab yourself a drink. Sipping the strong liquid you eye her down, trying to determine why she had to drag you away here. Hoping Pink wouldn’t go too far in your absence. 

“You gonna tell me why you stole me away?” you inquire, eyeing your red headed friend. She was normally the cool and collected one of you both but right now you wouldn't believe that. Sighing she pushes back some of her hair before looking at you. 

"I'm just nervous, tonight is my first time seeing David since the Aerosmith concert," she tells you, looking way to shaken over something as simple as a boy. Then again all it took was a little too much weed to land you your dream guy. 

"David?" you ask and she rolls her eyes hard, hands falling to her hips.

"Wooderson," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice as if you were supposed to know the name of the guy too old to be hanging out with any of you. Realizing the dilemma you hand her your drink to take a sip.

"For starters, play it cool. I can guarantee he doesn't care as much as you do right now. He's going to like it if you act unbothered, hell uninterested even," you tell her, grabbing your drink after she takes a big gulp. Cynthia wasn't used to the guys like you were, especially since she only ever hung out with Mike and Tony who were much different than the majority of the guys around here. 

“You sure? I just really want him to like me,” she argues and you giggle, taking another sip of the drink. Wooderson was always hanging around Pink and you could almost guarantee you were right. 

“No boy takes a girl he doesn’t like to an Aerosmith concert, besides Cynthia, you’re hot” you remind her and she still shakes her head despite the smile on her face.

“What’s going on in here?” a voice asks, large arms wrapping around your neck as you get tugged into his side. 

“Benny, careful on the hair” you whine as he uses his free hand to pat your head. 

“It looks fine, quit your whining” he says as he frees you and you brush your hand over it carefully despite the fact it probably did look fine. It wouldn’t be long until Pink ruined it anyway. 

"You happen to see where Pink ran off too?" you ask and Benny chuckles before nodding his chin in the direction of the living room. 

"Last I saw he was with Wooderson and Simone," he says, and you can feel the color drain from your face at the mention of the blonde girl. You and Pink had been in your own little bubble for a while but that didn't change the fact that when Junior year ended, Simone was dead set on him. Jealousy filled your gut and you hated it. It would have before but it was never as bad, now that Pink was yours, it was a crippling feeling. 

"I'll go with you," Cythia offers, heart set on Wooderson until she sees the torn look on your face. 

"Could I ask what the vibe was, like was Simone all over him?" you carefully ask and Benny's eyebrows draw together, confused by the question as he thought back to the two seconds he glanced at the people in the living room. 

"I don't think so, I wasn't really checking. Is everything okay?" he asks and you sigh, tipping back the drink and finishing the rest of it before looking at both him and Cythia. 

"Me and Pink are dating, have been the last two weeks," you admit and both of their jaws drop as they process your words. It shouldn't be all that much of a shock but you and Pink had been just friends for a really long time. It's no surprise everyone got used to that too. 

"You're serious?" Cythia says and you nod, instantly pouring yourself a fresh drink and taking a deep breath. You were not built for this possessiveness that you now feel. Letting out a deep sigh, Benny squeezes your shoulder before turning you to face the door. If whatever is behind there is something you don't want to see, he could at least stand by and support you.

“Well let’s go check it out,” he says before guiding you away, and Cynthia scurries along behind as you push open the door. The music is louder here due to the stereo system, but Pink stands there laughing at something Wooderson said while Simone held his arm. 

Wooderson’s eyes are quick to spot Cynthia and the sudden distraction causes Pink to turn around. The second he spots you, a grin larger than Texas covers his face. You’re barely halfway to him before he rushes over to grab you. Strong fingers looping through your belt loops had him pulling you out of Benny’s grasp and into his own. 

“There you are,” is all he says, a content smile on his face before quickly kissing you in front of everyone. Relief fills your bones as he abandons the girl to greet you but that quickly goes away when you both find all of your friends staring like you were crazy. Your hand laces with Pink's, tightening against his palm as you watch everyone who has witnessed the kiss process it. 

"What's going on here?" Wooderson asks, a finger waving between you both as he wraps his free arms around Cythia's shoulders. More of your friends filter around, sensing the change in dynamic. Almost as if this information was surprising enough to put the whole party on hold. 

"Yeah, this isn't normal," Don calls out from behind Benny, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to study you both. Your mouth opens to speak but both you and Pink are quickly interrupted. 

"They've been dating for two weeks, which explains why we haven't seen them around," Cythia shares and chatter moves throughout the crowd, your face turning red as every single one of your peers analyzes you both. Pink squeezes your hand to reassure you but the tension doesn't ease.

“Dating?" Simone deadpans, arms crossing over her chest as Darla starts to tug on her arm. Normally Darla was the sort of girl to defend her friend but even she could see she had no place to judge. Pink hadn’t called the girl in three weeks. 

"Yeah, it just sort of happened so be cool about it, alright?" Pink says, pulling you closer to his side and you blush even deeper, reminded of that weed filled night and his heavy cock on your tongue. The drinks you had chugged were working a bit too good now. 

"This is crazy man," Slater laughs, holding onto the syllable in man for a touch too long. Michelle snorts from behind him, wrapped in Kevin's arms.

"I totally knew, I could sense your aura the day you two shotgunned that joint," and Kevin gives Michelle a surprised look, clearly having not mentioned to him her own observation. One he should’ve been able to make himself based on how smitten you were with the boy that day. He had blown the heavy smoke into your lungs and no more words ever came out for the rest of the night. 

“This is crazy,” Jodi mutters from beside Shavonne and you can’t help the way your smile falters slightly, knowing she too used to be one of Pink’s girls. Either way, you weren’t prepared for such judgment from each of your friends. You were hoping for more excitement. 

“Yeah, well shows over. Go back to partying, I need a drink,” Pink mutters, tugging you away and back to the kitchen that you had come from. You could tell Pink wasn’t used to the judgment but it didn’t bother you getting to be alone with him again. Especially since your refreshed drink was getting light again. 

Slowly you hop up to sit on the counter while he retrieves a red solo cup. You watch as he moves to the keg and give it a few pumps before filling it. He looks so handsome with his long hair and green button down. You notice one more button undone from the two you already had in the car. His bell bottom jeans hugged him tightly and he couldn’t be any more handsome than he was in this moment. 

“You okay?” you ask, watching as he takes a sip before turning to face you. His jaw is tight but eyes soft as he looks at you. It wasn’t often Pink was the hot topic, at least not in a way that felt judgemental. He was too popular and kind to ever face any of that kind of backlash. Yet your friends didn’t seem to be coming from malicious intent but more confusion. Maybe you weren’t the girl for him as much as you wanted to be. 

“Yeah, more annoyed than anything. I don’t get why they gotta be like that. I mean I’m a good guy, it’s not like I’m going to play you.” it’s then that it occurs to you that Pink feels like he’s not good enough for you, that your friends judged because they expected him to play you and leave here with some other girl. You were two sides of the same coin, just trying to figure it all out. 

“I thought they were judging us because they couldn’t understand how a girl like me landed a guy like you,” you admit and Pink’s eyes widened, looking at you like you were crazy. He’s quick to set his solo cup down, walking in between your legs that dangle off the counter, hands blocking you in on either side. 

“Let’s get something clear, if either of us doesn’t deserve the other it’s definitely me. I’ve never taken a girl seriously before, especially you. All these years I never gave you a second glance and now suddenly you’re the only thing I can think about. I feel like I’m going insane but I’m also really really happy for the first time in my life,” he says, eyes hard with seriousness and never leaving your own. You can’t help but smile, hands sliding over his shoulders and around his neck, a surge of love for the boy making your stomach jump. 

“Well I don’t care what they think, plus I know you won’t play me,’ you smirk and Pinkgives you a confused look, a sly smile on his face while he tries to understand what you mean. Slowly you lean in close, lips brushing across his cheek and to his ear. “I can guarantee none of them have ever fucked you like I have.” 

He stiffens at your words, handS falling to your hips and giving a tight squeeze. It was probably the alcohol in your system making you be so brute but it was also the addiction to the boy in front of you. All you had was one single taste and now it was all you ever wanted. Stealing a taste any chance you had and now wasn’t any different, especially after you staked your claim on him. Everyone now knew, word traveling throughout the party, and Pink was between your legs where he belonged. 

“You could say that again,” he said, his breath heavy against your face and instead of responding you pressed your lips against his. Slowly you lifted one of your legs to pull him closer to your core, the zipper of his jeans pressing against your heat and making you whine into his mouth. 

“I don’t care what they think Pink, I know that this is right,” you mutter against his mouth, lifting your hips to grind against him. He smiles, mouth trailing along your jaw and to your neck. 

“Couldn’t be wrong when it feels this good babe,” he agrees and you giggle as his lips find your own again. His tongue curls against yours, tasting you slowly and steadying your hips along with his. When you both find a rhythm one of his hands trails up your stomach and over your breast, giving a gentle squeeze as he kisses you like his life depends on it. 

“Oh shit, sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in on— this,” Benny’s voice interrupts you both, pulling away from each other with swollen lips and glazed eyes. Drunk on each other and a little unsure of your surroundings. 

“All good man, we were just getting out of here,” Pink says as he pulls away from you, helping you off the counter and giving his friend a smirk. “My girlfriend is just too hot to keep my hands off of.” 

“That’s fair,” Benny agrees and you smile wide as Pink leads you out of the house and back to his El Camino that got you here. Yet this time he pulls you into the bed of the truck, a blanket of stars glimmering above you, and the party a distant sound. He lays beside you, hair falling in his eyes when he lifts his head to see your face. 

“Think they’ll believe us now?” he asks and you laugh, somewhat embarrassed but not really. It didn’t matter that Benny was more than likely telling everyone about the hookup scene in the empty kitchen, at least now they’d have more reason to accept it. 

“Yeah, maybe with less judgement too,” you whisper into the night air, feeling Pink’s hand glide up your hip and press onto your stomach. His fingers graze the sliver of skin revealed by your shirt. He smiles softly at you while he starts expertly pulling apart the front knot of your shirt with one hand. He knows you don’t have a bra on because he had watched you tie the shirt into place before coming. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says in a tone that's not informing but reminding you. You grin, hands reaching to pull his face to your own so you could kiss him. When his lips meet your own the ties of your shirt fall loose, retreating to either side of your ribs, and revealing yourself to him. His hand finds your bare breast before he even looks and you hum in delight. You kiss him quickly, your own hand fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. You don’t get very far before his hand slides down your sternum and to the button of your jeans. You pant while his lips continue to kiss your neck and collarbones, opening your zipper and dipping into your pants. 

“Pink,” you whine, but you’re not exactly sure what for. He smiles as he pulls away from your neck, lifting himself above you so he has more room to move. You watch as his fingers tuck into your waistband and tug the fabric over the hills of your hips. The white panties you wear are soaked through and you can only tell when the cold night air hits them. 

“Jesus baby, look at you,” his voice was heavy, the bulge prominent in the front of his jeans. He doesn’t give you anytime to say anything before bending back over to kiss you again. Yet this time his hand slides down the front of your panties, fingers dipping into wet folds, and you are unable to hold back the moan you let out into his mouth.

“Please do something,” you beg and Pink nods, his pointer finger circling your clit that begs for attention. His fingers are rough and warm against you. His lips find your chest and it isn’t until his mouth latches onto one of your nipples does he slide two fingers inside of you. 

The moan that escapes you is loud enough it could travel to party goers. Pink’s free hand clasps over your mouth, unable to suppress the cocky grin on his face as his fingers continue to stretch you out, his thumb toying with your clit. It shouldn’t make things hotter but the idea of having to keep quiet so you don't get caught has you clenching around him. 

“You’re so tight,” he moans quietly, desperate for attention of his own but you feel paralyzed under his touch. His hand leaves your mouth to grope at your chest while the other pushes in and out of you. He adds a third finger and the idea of it all is just too much to bear. He looks so sexy breathing heavily above you and teasing your body in all the right ways. When his thumb presses down on the hood of your clit you writhe beneath him, eyes nearly rolling back in your head and he grins. 

“That’s it baby, cum for me.” he encourages, his fingers moving faster and you whine quietly, his fingers pinching your nipple when he presses his other palm to your bundle of nerves. It should be embarrassing how submissive to him you are at this moment. The sight of you shaking with your back against the hard bed of his truck and pretty much naked in front of him while he pleasures you still clothed. After this you were going to suck his dick until the sun rose. 

“Oh fuck,” a last whimper falls from your mouth, pulsing around his fingers with no warning and he grins while continuing to fuck you through it. It has to be the prettiest sight he’s ever seen and you try to pull away from him when the pleasure becomes too much. When you finally relax he slides his hands out from under your panties, smiling as he licks each of his fingers clean. You sink against the bed of the truck, breathing heavily as he lays against you, more than likely in need of some attention himself. 

“You want to go back inside, or home?” he asks after a beat and you smile, your fingers tangling up and into his hair. You lift your head over the bed of the truck to see the party was still in full swing and the two drinks you’d had, had already worn off. 

“Let’s go back, but first…” you trail off, lifting yourself on weak arms to hover above him this time. He grins as you find the button of his pants and help free his straining length from its confinement. His dick is angry and red, begging for attention, and your mouth waters like it always does at the sight of it. Smiling to yourself you wrap a hand at the base of his cock and get to work, determined to make him finish faster than you had. Yet he’s a goner the second his tip meets your lips. 

“Shit baby, that’s unfair.” 

[menofchaos]

Coco

Note: Helloooo ya girl is back with another Cocoxreader story. I still have museum!reader in the works too! Sexy mentions, could be a part 2 if you guys are interested! I can't remember where this pic is from but credit to the photog and Richard Cabral for that face!

Ma you up?

She always despised those texts. They always made her feel a little cheap, especially coming from men who only seemed to text after dark when the clock hit double digits. Men who didn’t care if she finished, they were just sick of their hand again. Men who wouldn’t give her a second glance in the daylight but blew up her phone for another chance. Her women hook ups were usually more fulfilling, not leaving her feeling as empty when they went home.

Until him.

She met him at a casino with her friends, his friends and hers pairing off after a while of their groups mingling. His intense gaze, crooked smile and overabundance of tattoos caught her attention immediately. He looked her in the eye, not the chest, he paid for the entire night without so much as a frown and his laugh was contagious. The leather he and his friends wore was a red flag in itself but one night wouldn’t hurt.

Then he took her to his room.

She wasn’t sure what it was about him but as soon as he slid inside her, intense gaze locked on hers, she felt a shift. With each thrust, she became more and more addicted to the delicious feelings he pulled from her. He became addicted to her reactions, smirking as he played her body over and over all night.

She remembered watching him gently clean her up through the smoke of a cigarette he lit for her, her legs twitching at his touch. His eyes darkened and the wash cloth lay abandoned next to the bed as they started yet another round. Nobody saw her for two days, her friends mercilessly teasing her on the drive home.

But he didn’t call.

She waited a couple days, glancing over at her phone and tapping the screen in hopes to see his name on one of the notifications. She texted her group chat of girlfriends, who reassured her that he had looked at her as intensely as she thought. Then finally one night, her phone lit up with a text.

Hola it’s Coco. Been on a run. You up? I just got home.

The dance began. He would text, she would ignore it for as long as her will power would allow until she remembered the heartbeat between her legs after one particularly harsh session and she would invite him over. She would wait with bated breath until she heard the rumble of his bike, his heavy footsteps up her stairs and a knock on the door.

I’m here.

She would let him in, sometimes they would have a drink. Sometimes she would feed him some dinner, other times they would talk or he’d fix something for her. Sooner or later, they would end up tangled up together on some surface of her apartment, calling his name over and over like a prayer. He was always present, always focused on her pleasure. It was intense, all consuming and so fucking good she saw stars. After, they would lay tangled together and talk in hushed whispers until it was time for another round. 

He was always gone when she woke up.

The first few times, she would try to reach out to him. She would text him to make sure he got home safe. He would send a simple reply, then nothing for days. She felt like an addict, needing the hit only he could provide. She tried to hook up with other people but nobody could measure up. She tried to pursue more but he would always blow her off, either by not responding or by pulling her into another session until she forgot what she said in the first place.

This is the last time.

She started telling herself that. She started telling him too, whenever she opened the door for him at a late hour. He protested the first few times but then he would just smirk, kiss her and reply with a soft, “I know, baby.” It just became another step in their dance.

Her friends tried to free her from his ties. She tried to resist him. One night, she managed not to text him back but a couple hours after he texted, he was at her door. He claimed he was checking on her safety then ate her out until she had to push him away, even his glistening smirk and dark eyes too much for her overstimulated body to handle.

She felt obsessed.

He had no social media to stalk. She googled him once when she finally found out his real name. All she found was a Disney character and some old charges. She thought putting his mugshot as his contact picture would help her stop until she opened it to see his middle fingers up. 

The blowjob he got that night was her best performance to date.

She sat in her office, rubbing her temples as the numbers she stared at swirled back at her. Her phone lit up with a text from her girls group chat and she picked up her phone, needing a little reprieve from working on payroll. It was a memory from a year ago, the girls all packed into a car heading to the casino. 

It had been a year since she met him and they were still doing the same thing. She wasn’t sure if it was PMS, her mind-numbing work, the fact that she hadn’t heard from him in weeks or a combination of all three but anger sparked hot in her veins. She texted the group chat, asking for ideas on how to shake up her situationship and stop feeling so goddamn powerless. A few replies came in before one made her eyes light up.

Do what we do best bitch! Make him jealous

She walked into the bar, arm wrapped around her date’s as he led her to a booth. She was already bored and knew the date wouldn’t go beyond the night. But she had nothing else to do and wanted a drink so she sat down, ordering off their drink menu. She knew his MC frequented the place and if he wasn’t here, at least one of his brothers would be. Her date ordered them some food to share as he told her all about his recent promotion to partner at his law firm. She asked him questions as they ate, ordering another round of drinks.

A few patches walked in, settling down at the bar.

She tried not to outwardly react as her heart sped up while she scanned the group. Her date looked over and reassured her that the bikers only bothered people who bothered them, mistaking her reaction for fear. She turned her attention back to her date for the remainder of the evening, turning her phone on Do Not Disturb when it started vibrating.

Her date got a kiss on the cheek and they each went home alone.

She changed into some cotton shorts and an oversized shirt, settling onto her couch for some trashy tv and more admin work when there was a harsh knock on her door that made her jump. She unlocked her phone to see over 20 notifications from him. There was another loud knock and she jumped up to pull it open, unphased by the glare on his face. 

“It’s late and my neighbors are asleep,” she hissed.

“Should’ve answered the fucking phone then,” he walked in, “Where is he?” he started searching her apartment.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Nobody’s here,” she locked the door, “What right do you have anyway?”

He turned to her, “Who is he?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was practically seething, “No? You’re not dumb, mami. You know exactly what I’m talking about. My brothers saw you out tonight with some gringo.”

She shrugged, “He’s not here.” 

“That’s all I get?” he arched an eyebrow, “He’s not here?”

“What else is there to say, Coco?” she challenged, “I don’t owe you an explanation, do I?”

“I thought-“ he tried to explain but she cut him off.

“I’m not your old lady or whatever you wanna call it. I’m just some fucking late night booty call. I don’t know what you’re out there doing,” she snapped, “You could be married with a family and I would have no clue.”

He frowned, “I’m not married,” he looked her over, “And you’re not just a booty call.”

She laughed bitterly, “That’s such bullshit, save it for the next bitch in your rotation.”

His eyes narrowed, “I don’t have a rotation, you know that.”

“How would I know?!” she exclaimed, “You don’t tell me a goddamn thing! We’ve been doing this for almost a year, Coco! I know you’re in the club and you were a Marine sniper till you got discharged. I know you have a kid who lives with you and some who don’t. I know what you like in bed and that’s fucking it. You know what I do know though? I know I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

His eyes widened, “What?! What the fuck do you mean you can’t do this anymore?” he reached for her but she stepped back.

“You can’t fucking touch me right now,” her voice cracked and his face softened, “Nobody makes me feel like you, Coco. I’ve tried to move on, I’ve tried to hook up with other people but honestly it’s not even worth it. When we’re fucking, you give me everything. I can see it in your eyes. But outside of that? Nothing. I can’t do half in, half out. If you don’t wanna be with me, then don’t be with me.”

“No, it’s not that,” he insisted, “I do want you.”

“Then what is it?” she threw her hands up, “Tell me the truth for once in your fucking life. I’m a grown ass woman, I can handle it.”

He sighed, “I wanted to protect you.”

She rolled her eyes, “Coco, for real?”

He nodded seriously, tapping the patch on the right side of his chest, “Do you know what this means, sweetheart?” she nodded, taking a shaky breath, “It means I do dangerous shit with dangerous people. People who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt people in my life just to get to me and my brothers.”

“Coco,” she frowned.

“So yeah, I was keeping you at arm’s length because you’re so out of my league, it’s insane,” he admitted, shaking his head when she tried to disagree, “It’s true. My mother was a whore and I never knew my father. I only went into the Marines because my other option was prison. I’ve done a lot of bad shit. You own a business, you have a fucking college degree. I didn’t finish high school and I work in a scrapyard when I’m not doing illegal shit in an outlaw biker club.”

“Coco, I don’t care about that,” she told him softly.

“I did,” he touched his chest, “I do. But I couldn’t stay away either. That’s why I always ended up back here. Because no matter what girl I was with, I was always thinking about you. Comparing her to you. None of them are even close. Then I heard you were with that dude tonight and I thought…”

She smirked, “So you were jealous.”

He scoffed, “Nah I…fine,” he rolled his eyes and smiled softly, “I can’t lie, I was jealous as fuck. And I’m sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you.”

She took a shaky breath, “I forgive you,” they both stayed quiet for a moment until she asked, “So now what?”

“What do you wanna do?” he asked, “Do you still wanna be done?”

She shook her head, “With that dynamic? Yes. But not done with you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the smile on his face, “Why don’t I take you out tomorrow?” he asked.

“On a date?” her eyes widened.

Coco nodded, “On an official date. I’ll pick you up like a gentleman and shit.”

“So poetic,” she teased as she felt butterflies in her stomach.

“Kinda is, no? Tomorrow is a year since we met,” he grinned and hooked his index finger with hers to tug her closer.

She pouted, “You remember?”

He nodded, kissing her bottom lip, “Of course I do, baby,” he whispered, “What do you say? Can I take you out?”

“Yes,” she smiled, “I’d love that.”

“I’ll behave tonight then,” he joked and kissed her softly, “I’ll leave you to your housewives or whatever the fuck that is,” he nodded to the tv, “Call me in the morning?”

“Okay,” she giggled as he kissed her again, “Good night, Coco.”

“Night ma,” he squeezed her chin and headed to the door, reaching for the handle.

“Or you could stay…”

[kawacake]

MY MISTAKE

Masterlist , My Mistake Masterlist

Paring: Toji x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content (no full on smut), Cursing, Age gap, Reader crying because of stress, I made Hakari a red flag, Reader is a whore for Hakari, if I missed any I apologize.!

A/n: i dk when the third part of this will be out & I didn’t proofread at all, but if you enjoy this make sure to leave a heart, reblog, and comment to give me feedback!!

Spotify playlist , Apple Music playlist

Part 1, Part 2,

The ride to McDonald’s was unusually quiet, making your mind spin in overdrive. Did Megumi know? Was that even possible? The silence in the car wasn’t normal for your group, and it only added fuel to your anxiety.

“Why is it so quiet? This is weird for us,” Yuji finally blurted out, breaking the tension.

“What do you even want us to say?” Nobara replied sharply, though her tone softened when she noticed Yuji flinch. “Ugh, sorry, that was rude,” she added, pulling him into an apologetic hug.

“It’s fine. Can you let go now?” Yuji asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

“You good, girl?” you teased, turning in your seat to glance at the two of them.

“I’m just hungry,” Nobara huffed, crossing her arms.

“This bitch gets hungry and suddenly turns into Satan,” Megumi joked, chuckling as he navigated the car. His laughter was cut short by a smack to the back of his head.

“Stop calling girls bitches,” you scolded, playfully punching his arm.

He retaliated with a light tap to your shoulder, grinning. “You’re a stupid bitch, though.” That rare smile of his made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped.

Finally, Megumi pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru. “Welcome to McDonald’s. How may I take your order?” a familiar voice crackled through the speaker.

“TODO?!” Yuji shouted, causing the intercom to fall silent for a moment before the voice shouted back.

“YUJI?!”

“Alright, this isn’t a damn reunion. Wrap it up, I’m starving,” you said, leaning your head against the car door.

“Hey, Y/N!” Todo chimed in.

“Hi, Todo,” you replied. “Can you just take our order?”

After a bit of back-and-forth and a few more unnecessary exchanges, Megumi finally pulled up to the first window to pay, muttering about how much he regretted bringing yall knowing yall talk to any and everyone.

Clearing his throat he started taking the orders then told Megumi to pull to the first window to pay.

As you drove home, the car was filled with the sound of munching and half-hearted insults.

“This girl really ordered a 20-piece nugget, large fries, and a Sprite,” Yuji exclaimed, side-eyeing you. “You’re one Big Mac away from turning into a Big Back.”

You flipped him off, shoving a fry into your mouth. “Worry about yourself.” You said rolling your eyes 

When Megumi finally stopped in front of your house, you started gathering your food and trash.

“Get out and TAKE YOUR TRASH!” Megumi yelled, clearly done with everyone.

“Bye, I love you guys!” you shouted as you got out, slamming the door behind you.

Sliding your shoes off you walked to your room where your car keys were but as soon as you opened the door you saw your little brother laying on your bed. “Bro, why are you home?” you asked with a hand on your hips.

“I faked being sick. Auntie brought me home,” he admitted casually, not even looking at you.

“Alright, but why are you in my room?”

“Some man said you were moving into your dorms, so I low key got sad,” he mumbled, his eyes glued to the TV remote in his hands.

Your heart softened. “Aww, don’t worry, I’ll visit. I’m only like 30 minutes away,” you reassured him, He nodded but didn’t look fully convinced.

“I got to go now I have work to do.” You explained to him while grabbing your car keys giving him one last hug before heading out the door again.

-

Sighing you fell onto your bed pulling out your phone seeing messages from everyone but one in particular caught you off guard.

Unknown Number

Hey I just wanted to say sorry I shouldn’t have done that

Y/n

Took my virginity now tryna dip💀

Unknown Number

HAHAHA😂 You said it yourself “last time”

Y/n

It was in the heat of the moment but if we continue it would have to be in secret😕

Unknown Number

Why?

Y/n

Cause me and Megumi like this🤞 and I don’t wanna ruin that I like the relationship we have 😞

Unknown Number

Ohh yeah and I honestly couldn’t believe that was your first time sorry if I was rough.

Y/n

It’s alright ima go now I have some work to do

Unknown number

Alright pretty ttyl 

Closing your phone you opened your laptop going to your email seeing one from your professor that had a link to the assignment as you clicked on the link and started to work.

You couldn’t focus on the assignment to save your life, your brain was only focused on what happened earlier today and Megumi. Pressing your trembling hands to your face trying to stifle the sod that clawed out of your throat. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.” You said not being able to stop the tears thinking of the way Toji held you and how you crave for more of his touch, but if you give in you know full well you wouldn’t even be able to look at Megumi. 

It feels like a dagger to your chest.

Tears started to fall even more at the thought of Megumi finding out, losing the bond between the two of you, of being the reason his world crumbled. This feeling is suffocating.

You closed the laptop and put it on the nightstand beside your bed because you knew you wouldn’t get any work done tonight with all of this on your mind. Now getting under your blanket and laying on your side you grabbed your phone and turned it on seeing messages from various people but ignored them because they were none of your main friends but then saw a missed call from ‘Gumi’.

You debated whether you should call him back or forget about it, but you then came to the conclusion that you would call back.

It rang a few times before Megumi picked up the phone while laying in bed “hello?” You said “I did that assignment that professor Geto assigned and why the fuck did I get a 37 on that shit.” “Is that what you called me for?” You asked, looking dead at the camera as you were met with silence on the other end.

“Yes, is that a problem? Wait- are you okay?” He noticed redness in your eyes and instantly got worried. “I’m fine Gumi, I'm just stressed.” You said as he let out a ‘hm’ clearly seeing that it was more to it.

“Alright I’ll let you be but just know you can talk to me about anything.” He says, meaning every word, “Okay goodnight Gumi I love you.” You said “Goodnight n/n love you.” You smiled then hit the red X.

-

GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY - MORNING

“Are you okay?” Itadori asked, noticing you’ve looked a little down ever since you got to the class which was rare for you. “No I’m not. I lied to Megumi, and because Hakari and Kirara are over there.” You say as Itadori looked over to his left seeing the two people you just mentioned, “First tell me what you lied to him about then we can shit talk them after.”.

You knew you couldn’t just tell him about the Toji situation so the best way to explain it was to sugarcoat it. “Alright so the person I slept with was someone he knows and I feel like if I tell him he’d stop being friends with me.” “Thank fucking god it wasn’t hakari bro, but not the point just tell him because keeping if from him is only going to make it worse when he finds out.” Itadori had a point but if he knew who it was his response would have not been that.

“And speaking of Hakari he texted Nobara asking about you but she told me not to tell you because she was scared you’d ‘Fall into his trap’.” Itadori whispered as a smile spread across your face. “Is it bad that she’s low key right?” You admitted causing him to facepalm himself with a chuckle.

“Alright bro we gotta do this work before we fall behind like last year.” Itadori said, bring up your freshman year of college, causing you to laugh a little then pick up your pencil and write down the notes that were displayed on your computer.

-

You sighed and walked into your door, slipping off your shoes, placing everything down and picking up some stuff for your shower because you weren’t planning on doing anything this afternoon.

Stripping and stepping into the shower as the water hits you, you let all your worries wash away. 

Once you were done you stepped out and dried yourself off before throwing on some random pajamas you had laying around.

Getting in bed you grabbed your laptop powering it on so you could watch a random show till you fell asleep. You hated going to sleep in the quiet unless someone was with you.

While looking for a movie you got a message from toji.

Unknown number

Hey! I’m coming over I bought you some flowers❤️

Y/n

You text like an old man💀but alr and thanks for not coming unannounced

Unknown number liked your message

Joy filled inside you knowing he was coming over as you stood up from your bed and started to tidy up your room even though it was nowhere near dirty, tucking stray books back onto the shelf and smoothing the creases in your bedspread.

You fixed your pajama pants and shirt, you wanted to look effortless, like his arrival didn’t send your pulse into overdrive.

Being lost in thought you almost missed the light knock on the door, standing up you walked to the door opening it as it revealed Toji with a bouquet. With a smile on your face you grabbed the flowers letting him into your dorm as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

“Thank you.” You said sitting the flowers down before placing a kiss on his lips, he tried to deepen the kiss but you were quick to move away. “Not yet.” You say grabbing his hand and walking over to the bed and sitting on it leaving an open spot for him.

“I think…we should get to know each other more, because last time we only talked about Megumi and that made me realize I don’t know anything about you.” You explained to him while he took a seat beside you.

“Well I have two kids, I own a bar, and that’s really it.” “Oh come on it has to be more than that.” You said, causing him to chuckle because speaking again, “I mean it’s not really much about me that I can tell you.” He said rubbing your bare thigh.

“I feel like you’re trying to fuck me or something right now.” You say looking down at his hand that was caressing your thigh “I mean who wouldn’t just look at your pretty face.” He said teasing you. His presence was intoxicating and his teasing comment just made you wet.

He leaned closer, his hand brushing against your cheek, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you. Your chest tightened as his lips grazed your lips. He was so impossible to resist. Kissing his lips he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you onto his lap. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He said pulling away from the kiss and tugging at your clothes. As soon as you took off the shirt you got interrupted by your phone dinging.

“Go on,” he said, pulling back slightly. “Don’t let me stop you.” Even though he said that you could tell he was slightly annoyed but you picked up the phone checking it away. 

Hakari

Can we talk? I want to get stuff cleared up

You swore your eye twitched at that message.

“You good?” Toji asked you nodded, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, just something I need to handle.” Toji raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press. “Alright do you want me to stick around?”

You hesitated, “No, it’s okay. I just need some time to sort this out.” “Alright well I’ll get going.” He said pecking your lips before you got off of him. 

“I’ll text you when I’m done.” You say as he nodded and walked out of your dorm.

Y/n

Yeah come over

A/n: This was going to be longer but I changed my mind and made hakari and her meet up in the third chapter, & if you want to be tagged in any of the new updates for this series just leave a comment on any of the post about this fanfic!

[luxlightly]

In line with my last post about getting good endings with companions, the writing of The Emperor really stands out in how it defies the expectations we have as players of a game of this nature. He's a very well written character who definitely wades through the very grey areas of morality and bends the truth so much he leaves you wondering just how much he's bought into his own lies,as well.

Major spoilers beneath the cut.

If you go through the same steps you do with other characters, endlessly giving him the benefit of the doubt, leaning into his comparisons of you to himself, helping him reminisce at the Elfsong. He seems to open up. You bring him back to his old home, seemingly listening to emotional secrets of his. All this culminating in him professing love for us. We expect this. It seems to be progressing normally as an ally would in a game. To the point where many might even kill the Gith prince for him.

So those who don't do so feel blindsided by his willingness to abandon us to join the elder brain the instant we won't do exactly what he asks.

But playing again, I picked options I wouldn't normally. I called him out for secrecy. I pressed him for the truth even when it seemed to truly hurt him.

And I didn't like what I found.

The Emperor is manipulative in such an organic way. He first pretends to be someone else entirely, but, when revealed, constantly poses himself as being at your mercy or otherwise making himself vulnerable to you. Every time he's caught in a lie, he says "ok this was a lie I had to keep to protect himself but only because it was basically the truth just with little details left out" and he does that again and again, each time pushing the truth a little farther, all while still insisting he has never lied to you.

He pretends that you just wandered into the prism in your dream because he was distracted and lonely, then he shows you little trinkets with cute stories attached at the Elfsong, giving you gifts in the form of his old armor and sword. He speaks so fondly of Duke Stelmane and acts so saddened by her death, then when you next see him in your dreams, he isn't wearing a shirt. All these things that make him seem so vulnerable. Like he's bared everything about himself.

Except he hasn't actually revealed anything. He tells you he was just some adventurer even though he knows how important who he was is to your quest. He acts like he and Stelmane were partners or friends. He never tells you anything about him, just anecdotes to make him seem relatable. Nothing but soft words to soften your heart and lower your guard.

And any time you express distrust or ask for proof or for him to be honest with you, he gets upset, he acts as though you are the one being cruel and unreasonable. As if you are hurting him after he made himself vulnerable for you.

So feels bad to select any dialogue choice that calls him out. That accuses him of what you suspect in your mind. Of what all the little red flags point to:

"You do a good impression of a human. But it's just an act, isn't it?"

And finally the facade comes down. He finally lets you see his thoughts. See something besides the story he concocted.

You see him torturing Stelmane, breaking her mind and reducing her to an empty shell. The same scenes he showed you before of them in a friendly partnership play again, this time revealing that she was just a glassy eyed puppet, her mind torn apart so he could use her body to serve him and control the city in secret.

"Be glad my methods have improved" he says. And tells you you were never anything but his puppet. That you never had a choice and you will not get a choice. That you are his thrall as much as Stelmane was.

And it feels like a real betrayal. Because he does a good job of acting the part. Even knowing you will mistrust him, even intending to mistrust him, you fall for at least pieces of it. And looking back the signs seem obvious and you see his you ignored them. Because that's how it was supposed to work. You were supposed to allow him to be vulnerable with you and be rewarded with his trust.

And that's exactly what he wanted you to think.

[rederiswrites]

Went walkabout today with my morning coffee. There's an old saying, "The best fertilizer is the farmer's footstep." Straightened the mulch in the veggie garden where someone--probably a stray chicken--had thrown the grass clippings from the path onto the spinach plants. Replaced the strawberry plant that something dug up overnight. I started by counting. "One, two, three--why is there a gap?" Looked around, and sure enough, there was a plant a few feet away.

Waited too long to protect the trees in the orchard, and now a lot of new leaves and growing tips have been chewed off by deer. I'm trying not to dwell on how much that sucks, because I can't undo it. The trees will recover eventually, and meanwhile I've really got to get the fence rings made and placed.

On the flip-side, though I had thought last year's drought killed every bit of my considerable investment in pond plants, looks like I have one surviving blue flag iris

I promise.

These might be soft stem bulrushes. I can't tell because they haven't set seed and I can't find any photos from that part of the life cycle. I'm just hoping, because none of the grass otherwise will grow submerged like that.

And there was a little red squiggle that could just possibly be an Arrow Arum. Maybe. Fingers crossed. I really can't afford to just throw plants in there year after year with no result.

Gave Kratos the ram some grain. Tried to make sure Mimir the wether got some but he wasn't willing to brave Kratos' greed by coming to me. They both need to be caught so that I can roo Kratos, shear Mimir (who for some reason doesn't roo), and trim their hooves. Another pressing item on the to do list.

Finally found a spot for the sunchokes where they'll be against a structure on one side and mowed on the other side. They can spread along the entire south side of the storage container as far as I'm concerned. I'll get them in later, somehow in between everything else.

And then when I came around the front of the house, I discovered a bunch of sweet woodruff under the chickweed, and spent a few minutes sitting in the grass with my coffee and carefully detangled fragile weeds from fragile herbs. Found out that a single stem of Solomon's Seal survived the chickens last year, so I'll put my remaining stash of roots there today.

The garlic patch, and the kids working hard to clear a spot for strawberries last night.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Awakened

Hi there! If you're still accepting requests, can I bls get some kick-in-the-balls sobbing-on-the-floor Virgil centric angst bls and thanks? Love all that you do – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: major character death--roman dies but it is only a dream

Pairings: prinxiety, dukexiety, intruprinxiety, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2277

    "Is it over?" Roman's voice sounded wet.

There was no color in his face anymore, none except the purple bruises under his eyes and the red along his mouth.

How fitting.

Virgil watched Roman collapse to his knees, spent and shaking, making not a sound. A blade glittered in the fiery red sunlight as it exited Roman's back. A final salute to the battle's glorious, gory end.

Virgil made his way towards the fallen hero until he loomed above his crumpled form.

"Yes," he said, "it's over."

"And did—did I—" Roman gurgled through blood-soaked breaths— "hurt you?"

They came strained, shallower.

Kneeling, Virgil focused on Roman's hands, unwrapping his fingers from his grip with deft, firm movements.

With one swift jerk, the blade slid free.

A river of blood followed, a pained gasp the only sound as Roman slumped forward. Virgil reached out and caught him before he hit the ground.

The light in Roman's eyes flickered and dimmed. For a fraction of a second, the two stared at each other—hero and villain, enemies, opposites, rivals—saying with their eyes what they never could with their lips.

Roman hiccupped once, twice. Virgil didn't move, not even as his knees grew damp with the blood pooling beneath them.

And then the light was gone.

"Yes," Virgil said after a while, "you hurt me."

He closed Roman's eyes and glanced at the sun rising higher over the horizon. He stood, staring at the corpse before him.

"More than you'll know."

Distantly, he could hear the sounds of his army. Assessing the wounded, counting the dead, searching for survivors. White flags began to gleam out of the corners of his eyes, the last few executions carried out with brutal efficiency.

No one dared approach him or his withering altar.

Slowly, with all the tenderness he could never have displayed before, he leaned down to take Roman's head in his hands.

"There is something that goes unsaid," he murmured as he brushed a trickle of blood from Roman's mouth, "about stage performers who play the dead."

The corpse in front of him was silent.

"People who play dead just look like they're asleep." He pulled the corpse closer, almost cradling it. "Dead people don't look like people, they look like things."

He bent closer, resting his forehead against cold—too cold—and damp skin.

"I don't want you to be a thing," he whispered, "you weren't supposed to be a thing."

For things could be kept, and while he had desperately wanted to tame the hero, force him to submit, have him yield, he never wanted to keep him. Roman was wild, feral at times, never something that could be caged lest some part of him that made him him would shatter irrevocably.

But the thought of letting someone else try set the skin under his armor boiling.

"Come on, then," he said, hefting the blood-soaked corpse into his arms, "you can't stay here."

The corpse was bulky, unforgiving. Plates of armor dug into Virgil's arms, the blood still leaking from the gaping wounds. The weight shifted unsteadily as he rose to his feet.

"Even in death," he chuckled, if it could be called a chuckle, "you have to be an inconvenience, don't you?"

The corpse's head lolled to the side.

Virgil began to walk, stepping over the remains and passing the results of some grisly duels. He paid no mind to the heat beginning to blister at his back, making his armor scorch. Instead, he focused on the solid weight in his arms and the dull thud, thud, thud, of his footsteps.

He paid no mind to the survivors who stopped to see them pass, a ghastly figure in blood-soaked armor with the corpse of the people's hope cradled in his arms. Their shadow lengthened as they neared the top of the hill, stretching far into the valley below.

"You would have loved the breeze," he whispered to the corpse, "it smells of wildflowers up here."

It didn't. It stunk of shit and blood and death. But it almost did.

A few stray blooms fell under his boots as he trudged onward into the valley.

The sun had yet to peek over the hill as he descended into the hills proper. The shadows fell across the corpse's face, oddly making it look flatter.

Less real.

"Come, now, don't look at me like that."

The corpse didn't move.

"Where's your boldness, hmm?" He ducked under a tree branch. "Didn't you claim to be unafraid of the dark when we were little?"

He blundered on, even as branches began to scratch at his face.

"You kept blowing out the candles. You said we'll never get anywhere in life if we kept being afraid of the dark. You said you'd be all the light we needed."

A deeper shadow passed over the corpse's face.

"How are you going to be light now? You can't even help me get through these trees. You're just lying there, making me carry you. Stop being such—such—"

What else can I be, said the corpse with vacant lips, but dead weight?

"Alright, just this once," Virgil muttered, hefting the corpse into his arms again, "but you can't expect me to just do everything myself."

He staggered up another hill, the sun beating down mercilessly. The weight made him collapse onto his knees, eyes still fixed helplessly on the corpse's face.

"This isn't fair." He squeezed the body. "You're the one who died."

Roman died. He was dead. He was dead.

"How is it that I'm the one hurting? You should be hurting. It's not fair. It's not fair."

He clutched the corpse's shoulders. The head lolled around uselessly, almost mocking him.

"Don't do that. You're not supposed to do that. You weren't supposed to do that."

Roman was dead.

"You were supposed to be the light," he cried out, voice beginning to rise, "how are you supposed to be the light when you're dead?"

The corpse said nothing.

"You can't have dark without light," he tried, fumbling to cradle the limp head in his hands, "see? You—you have to see, I can't—I can't—"

A lump formed in his throat.

"I can't do this alone," he whispered, voice cracking, "I can't—it was supposed to be the two of us."

Light and dark. As it always had been. As it always should be.

As it would never be again.

"Please," he mumbled, the rest of his armor forcing him to keel over, "please, I can't—don't leave me alone."

A lone shadow sat on the hill, a corpse in their lap, the scattered remains of their armor, still covered in blood, all about them. The sun glared down as they bowed their head.

"You were supposed to stop me," he whispered finally, reaching for the sword on his own belt, "but it wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Virgil! Virgil!"

Virgil shoots up in bed, chest burning. What—no—no, no, no—

"Virgil! Breathe, Emo, just breathe, it's okay, you were having a nightmare."

Roman's dead. Roman's dead, he killed Roman—

"In for four, remember? Come on, you can do it, just—oh, fuck, Virgil, calm down."

His armor—he grabs for his chest, his shoulders, anything—only for his fingers to meet soft cotton and buttons. He's not wearing armor. He's wearing pajamas. He's in bed.

"That's it, you're okay…"

It was a dream. It was a dream.

"Hey," the voice says as something soft touches his arm, "hey, Virgil? You with me?"

"Re-Remus?"

"Yeah, little monster, it's me." Remus's face swims into view and he waves, before making a concerned noise and reaching out to wipe Virgil's cheeks. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're safe, you're okay."

"I…why are you here?"

"I felt you having a nightmare, little monster, so I came to help."

"O-oh." He sniffles. "Uh, sorry if I woke you up. Shit, um—"

"Hey. Don't do that. It's okay, you're okay, it's—you wanna hug?"

"Please."

So Remus opens his arms and tucks him into an embrace and oh, where the fuck has this been all his life? Remus is soft and warm and smells kind of like the pond where he keeps his Kraken and it doesn't smell like death at all and shit, he's crying again.

"Shh, shh," Remus hums, rubbing his back, "you're okay, little monster, you're okay. I'm right here. It was just a nightmare. It's over now. You're safe, you're right here with me, I've got you."

Virgil sags into Remus and just cries. His chest still aches from breathing so hard and from the fear at waking up, thinking he'd murdered Roman. It's gross and messed up and why the fuck did he do that? He's—he's not mad at Roman, is he? He doesn't want Roman dead! He doesn't want any of that and he—he killed Roman and then he—he was going to—

"Stay with me," comes Remus's voice, "no drifting off again."

"So—" he hiccups— "sorry."

"It's okay, little monster. You cried out most of it?"

"Mhm." He leans back and Remus hands him a tissue. "Thanks."

"Sure. You, uh, you wanna talk about it?"

"…promise you won't get mad?"

"I'll tickle you if you start feeling bad about what your brain does when you can't control it," Remus threatens, "don't try me."

"Okay, okay, I just…" He blows his nose with a desolate honk. "I don't know why I had it."

"Most nightmares do that."

"I…it was…medieval times or something? Armor and sword fight times."

"Mhm. I got it."

"…I, um, I think—I was the bad guy."

Remus doesn't say anything, but he shifts close enough to cuddle one of Virgil's arms.

"And…Roman was the hero."

"Roro being mean to you again?"

"No!" Remus startles at the force of the shout. "No, no, he's—he's great, he didn't do anything, don't be mad at him, I promise, I—"

"Okay, okay, shh, I won't. Calm down, little monster, shh…"

He takes a few deep breaths. "Sorry."

"You're fine. I shouldn't have assumed." Remus gives him another tissue. "You wanna tell me more?"

No. No, he doesn't. What if Remus gets mad? What if he decides Virgil's awful? What if he—

Wriggling fingers poke his side and Virgil yelps.

"No spiraling," Remus scolds gently, wrapping him in another cuddle, "just talk to me if you want to."

Virgil sniffles. "I…we fought."

"Okay?"

"It was bad."

"I'm sorry, little monster."

"I…"

Remus is quiet, letting him finish. Virgil turns his head into the crook of Remus's shoulder and—and—

"I killed him," he whispers, "I killed him."

"Oh, Virgil…"

He's crying again. Remus hauls him up and nuzzles into his neck, making soft shushing noises and rubbing his back again.

"Shh, little monster, it's okay. Roro's okay. You didn't hurt anybody, everyone's okay."

"I know that, I just…"

"I know, I know." They sit there for a moment longer before Remus nudges him. "You wanna see Roman?"

"…isn't he asleep?"

Isn't he dead. lying on a hill, covered in his own blood?

"That's enough out of you," Remus growls against his temple before softening his voice, "that's not what I asked, little monster, do you wanna see him? I don't think he'd mind."

He does. He wants to know Roman's okay. He wants the feeling of carrying Roman's corpse in his arms to go away.

Remus reaches out and summons Roman.

"This better be good, Re, you woke me up for—"

The instant Roman sees Virgil in Remus's arms, still tear-stained and so, so small, he melts.

"Hey," he coos, coming over to the bed and taking Virgil's face in his hands, "hey, little storm cloud, what's wrong?"

Roman's thumbs brush his cheeks and he's so real, he's so warm, he's so alive that Virgil throws himself at him.

"Oof, hey, there, shadowling, you're okay, you got me, see? You're alright, shh, shh, it's okay. You're safe, shadowling, it's okay."

Roman is big and warm and safe and he can hear his heart thudding under his cheek and he's fine, he's safe, he's alive, he's alright. Remus must tell him what's going on because Roman lets out a noise of dismay, quickly shifting his grip until he's cuddling Virgil right up against his chest.

"Hey, baby, it's okay, I'm okay. I'm okay, see? You got me, I'm right here, I'm all good." He grins, big and goofy, right in Virgil's face and kisses his forehead. "I'm okay. It's all okay."

He keeps murmuring and crooning reassurances, kissing Virgil's cheeks and his nose and the top of his head. Remus cuddles up to his back, wrapping his arms around the both of them.

"R'man?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"You…good?"

"Yeah, shadowling, I'm all good. We're all safe."

"'M sorry, I—ah!"

"Remus," Roman scolds, pulling Virgil away from the fingers tickling across his sides, "not now!"

"Told him I'd tickle him if he started feeling bad about his brain doing things he couldn't control."

"Ah. I see. Well…"

"No," Virgil whines, "no tickles…"

"Then I guess you need to stop feeling bad about it," he teases gently, "it's okay, baby. You're okay."

Remus huffs but lets him be, carefully reminding them that they should sleep.

"Do you want us to stay?"

"Will you?"

"Of course, shadowling. Come on, let's lie down and go back to sleep, hm?"

Virgil doesn't let Roman out of his grasp for more than a moment, latching on again as soon as they're all under the covers. Roman just chuckles and pulls him close.

"You go on back to sleep, shadowling. I'm right here."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[starcrossedjedis]

Charlie Barnett for the sex+romance ask game! 💗, 👠, 🏩, 👮, 😳 annddd 💝. Enjoy! ^_^

I hope it's okay that I lump the questions about (negative) past realtionships together into one rant on Charlie's last relationship, as it is a big part of her character and how she thinks and acts.

👮 Has my muse ever had sex in public?

Charlie's not really someone who gets a kick out of the possibility of getting caught, BUT sometimes things happen and situations don't allow for a cab ride... Alas, it doesn't get much kinkier than the Hard Deck's pool table after hours and the parking lot.

🏩 What was my muse’s first time like?

Just your average first time, really - two college freshmen celebrating their shared venture into adulthood with clumsy, fumbly sex after a frat party. But everything was fine - everyone consented and they stayed friends until things naturally fizzled out after graduation.

💝 Does my muse like Valentine’s Day?

Charlie's not super excited about it (she's more of a christmas girlie), but that doesn't mean that she's immune to the magic of a sweet gift ☺️

💗 Has my muse ever been in love? 👠 What was my muse’s last serious relationship like? 😳 What was my muse’s worst romantic/sexual relationship?

(Under a cut, because it's kind of a prominent plot point)

Charlie has only been in love - like real, proper adult relationship in love - once and it was with the ex she had before Jake.

Her ex was a doctor in the hospital where she did her residency and - despite definitely knowing better - they started going out.

Things with them were pretty serious even though they kept it a secret in the hospital.

He was a good bit older than her and more experience, which might have been the reason that Charlie missed some red flags along the way.

In the beginning she tried telling herself that he was going a bit overboard trying to down play their relationship in the hospital, but after a while it became increasingly hard to ignore those moments where he would berate her over nothing in front of others or worse, go and take credit for things that she did at work. Then he'd either flat out try and gaslight her about it or try and make her believe it was all part of his act to avoid suspicions of favouritism.

Charlie generally avoids talking about her ex and how exactly things ended, but she was pretty messed up about it - so much so that she dropped her residency and moved back in with her dad and returned to her summer job as a bartender rather than face him again.

It's also why Charlie is so reluctant to give Jake a chance and why she then keeps playing down what's happening between them - she's so scared of missing another red flag just as she's finally starting to feel like herself again.

Things are further complicated by the fact that her well-meaning, but meddling in the wrong kinda business dad doesn't like the military in general and cocky pilots in particular. He was however strangely fond of "the successful surgeon who visited his daughter over christmas that one year" and even goes as far as to invite him back into their lives; having him pretty much turn up on their door step just as Jake and Charlie finally stop to face the reality and depth of their feelings.

[rune-writes]

The Stranger

Fandom: Final Fantasy XVI

Word Count: 2546

Rating: G

Pairing: Clive Rosfield & Jill Warrick

Summary: When Jill first arrived in Rosaria, fear had been the only thing occupying her mind. That is, until a friendly face decided to appear before her.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

I was six when I first saw him. He was leaning over the parapet above the city gates along with several men on guard. He had jet-black hair and wore a simple black and white tunic with a red shirt peeking underneath. They all wore red, as did the flag flapping beside them. 

Rosalith, I thought. One week’s ride from the capital. One week since Archduke Elwin took me from my home. It is your duty, Father had said, as it is mine to obey the terms of our agreement. I’d wanted to cry, but all I’d done was nod. There had been nothing to be done. Father had looked so sad—even sadder when we finally had to part. His only gift was a silver pendant that now rested over my chest. Something to keep with me, he’d said, to remind me of home.

The shadow of the gate loomed closer. I could hear the horns now, blaring loud and clear in a rhythm I now knew was the Rosarian anthem. I’d heard it enough times in the North, heard the guards singing phrases to the tune around campfires. A movement drew my eyes upward and I saw the boy staring right at me. He pointed. I didn’t catch what he did afterwards, because I’d shut the curtains close and ducked beneath the window sill.   

Before I could process what I just did or whom I just saw, shouts were hollered to open the gates and then shadows slid past. Then light came, and with it were the cheers of a thousand upon thousand voices. People hooted and cried and clapped and sang, their voices rising as one like the high tides against the northwestern cliffs. I suddenly felt trapped.

Father had said that I was to be a ward, that I was no prisoner taken hostage after the fall of my homeland. I’d like to believe it so, what with the rich red velvet cushions in the carriage and the gentle ways the soldiers had treated me during our travel. But the wood now felt pressing; the bolted door was the only thing keeping me safe from the showers of praise and exclamations of triumph—triumph over a war that had lasted for several years before I could even remember. 

And then the cheerings stopped, as did the carriage. Horses huffed and neighed and all around, mailed feet dropped onto the hard ground. I pulled away from the door, fighting against fear and trying to remember what Father had told me. “Your Grace,” I heard someone say. “Welcome home.” And then locks clicked. The door swung open. Blinding light entered the doorway and for a split moment, I could not see anything. Then my eyes found a hand, outstretched and not frightening at all, followed by a grizzled face I recognized who’d never strayed far from the Archduke’s side. 

“My lady,” he called me, a quiet prompt to take his hand. After another heartbeat, I took it and stepped into the light. 

***

The boy stood next to a woman with eyes as cold as the northernmost reaches of home. Blonde hair tied to a perfect bun, back straight, her posture spoke of nothing but regal pride. My heart quivered but I refused to let my shoulders droop. Head tilted just at the right angle. Meek. Just like what Father had told me. When the Archduke called me forward, my feet moved by themselves. I curtsied and murmured, “My lady.” Her disdain was plain in her upturned nose and refusal to acknowledge my greeting. And then I turned to the boy and murmured, “My lord.” I took a quick peek and found his eyes—the richest blue like blazing sapphire—locked into mine. It was impossible to look away, but I did so anyway, though not before I caught his smile blooming like an unfurling lily from ear to ear. 

His name was Clive—Clive Rosfield—first born son of the duke, and he was nine. The grin didn’t last; a glare from the duchess cut it short. They then directed my gaze to the other boy on the duchess’ other side. Blonde fluffy hair unlike his brother’s jet-black strands; but his eyes were alike, albeit brighter like the sky. 

“And this is Joshua,” the Duke went on. 

Joshua’s smile was a shy curl around the edges. I’d barely offered my greeting before the duchess pulled him aside and called for the maidservants to take me to my room. “Dress her in a more…proper attire, if you please,” she said before turning in a swath of layered dress up the leftwing staircase with Joshua in tow. I heard a groan and realized it came from the Duke. The Duchess reappeared soon on the second floor, before disappearing again behind the first door. I caught a glimpse of Joshua’s bright blue eyes looking back at me before the door shut behind them. 

“Well,” the Duke broke the silence. He turned toward me; I tried not to cower in front of him. “Welcome to Rosalith, the proud capital of Rosaria. This will be your home from now on.”  

I kept my eyes downturned—it was not good to meet the eyes of your liege, as Father said—but I noticed the change in tone. 

“Lift your head, girl.” 

And I did. And whom I saw was not the sovereign who’d crushed my father's army, but a father. 

He gestured for one of the maidservants. One stepped forward.

“Show her to her room and attend to her needs,” he said.

The maidservant bowed her head. “Right away, Your Grace.”

***

Perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind, I had imagined a lone room at the top of a tower, small and cramped, with furnishments barely enough to suit my needs, and I would need to call on a maidservant every time I would like to go to the washroom. Instead, what I found was a space big enough to possibly hold a host of ladies for an afternoon party. A draped bed to one side, a dressing room on the other, then a fireplace and a set of couches and coffee table along with several shelves of books lined one corner. I even had my own washroom, where hot water had been prepared in time for my arrival. She had me shed my clothes. My skin tingled as I stood naked amidst the unfamiliar stone. The light was bright enough that I noticed how pale I looked compared to my maidservant’s southern skin. 

She was gathering my dress from the floor when I remembered what the duchess had said and immediately asked her not to throw my clothes away. She looked surprised, though a gentle crinkle quickly took over her hazel eyes. 

“Of course, my lady,” she said. “I’ll just have these washed. For the time being, I’ll lay out a dress for you on the bed.”

She couldn’t have been more than ten years my age, I thought as I gingerly stepped into the water. My skin hissed, but after the coldness of the North and the long trek hither, the warmth was welcome to the touch. I eased into the tub and settled in the corner. My necklace, still attached to my neck, floated in the water. 

The Silvermane, they’d called my father, for the unruly silver hair that ran down his shoulders akin to a lion’s mane. The necklace he gifted used to belong to Mother. A light blue crystal hung from its diamond-shaped pendant, upon which was fastened a black-indigo jewel. It looked icy cold yet somehow felt warm on my palm. When Mother was still here, I would look upon the jewel hanging around her neck with awe. I’d heard tales of Shiva the Ice Queen and had once entertained the idea that the pendant carried her essence. Mother had laughed, of course, but she’d told me afterwards that, with the right bearer, the pendant held enough magick to freeze an entire kingdom—or so her family had said, at least. She’d told me that it brought her comfort, that wherever she’d gone, home would always be with her. I felt no such comfort now. No matter how I thought about it, home was thousands of malms away, and the only thing left of it was probably already burning away in the furnace somewhere in the depths of the castle. 

A heavy sigh lay over me. I let the pendant go, leaned further against the tub, hugging my knees close and submerging myself until all anyone could see were the bubbles rising up to the surface.

*** 

I didn’t stay long in the water—only long enough until my skin grew pink and my head hazy from the heat. When the maidservant returned, I’d finished my bath and was reaching for a towel. She fussed over me, said I should’ve stayed in the water longer. It felt odd, yet familiar, to be fussed over, so I let her. 

She helped me dry myself and led me back to my chambers. A white dress made of soft silk lay on the bed. It reached my shins, the light fabric hugging my body loosely. It was a bit too big, which the maidservant also noticed, and the high neck felt rather stuffy. She promised she’d get the measurements right for my other dresses and it surprised me that I would have other dresses. 

“Shall I bring some food, my lady?” she later asked. “Supper wouldn’t be until another three bells.”

I would’ve said no—I could wait another three bells—but exhaustion seemed to finally take its toll and my stomach grumbled before I could answer. The maidservant let out a chuckle, which she quickly disguised as a cough. 

“I’ll see what the Cook has ready in the kitchens.”

She backed away and the door clicked shut behind her. The silence that followed, somehow, felt deafening, much more so than the crowd that had flocked our carriage on our coming. The walls loomed around me, dark and foreboding. A single fire lit the entire room, no doubt powered by the same crystal from the bath chamber. Yet despite it, I shivered. I blamed the light fabric; wished I had my old clothes back. I hoped the maidservant hadn’t really burned them in the furnace somewhere. I longed for the fur-lined cloak, the emblem of my father’s house, the way it snugly ensconced me throughout my long trek.

I longed for my father, and my mother, and the mountain peaks and the snow. 

A sob threatened to burst through my tightened throat when a knock suddenly broke the silence. 

“Y–Yes?” I managed.

I figured the maidservant would’ve opened the door by herself then, but the knock came again, so I wiped my tears and took deep breaths. It wasn’t the maidservant waiting for me on the other side of the door. It was the boy, first son of the Duke who, for some reason, was not the inheritor of Phoenix’s flame. 

Clive Rosfield stood agape with his eyes slightly wide, and for several heartbeats we stood in silence. He spoke first, his voice sounding uncharacteristically high-pitched to me who had been surrounded by gruff old men for a week. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. 

And that was when I regained myself, realizing where I was and whom I was addressing. I dropped into a curtsy and stammered a “m–my lord.” 

He disregarded it, taking a step forward and leaning down to peek through my bangs. I instinctively dipped my head and shuffled back several feet. 

“Is there something you need?” I asked, then hastily added, “my lord.” 

I felt his scrutiny and wished the walls would swallow me whole. But he didn’t push. Instead, his shadow receded, and I dared myself to look up. 

He was looking at the hallway for whatever reason I didn’t know, his finger reaching up to scratch his cheek. I had half a mind to follow his gaze, to see if maybe my maidservant was back, but before I could, he caught my eyes, and I averted my gaze on instinct once again. His following chuckle was not something I’d expected to hear. It was light and breathy and…free somehow, like the way the winds on the mountain peaks felt free. Cool and comforting. It pulled me in. Propriety be damned. I looked at him and found him smiling—not the ear to ear grin he’d shown me before, but a small smile, restrained yet gentle, and it made my own lips waver.

“I’m sorry if I surprised you,” he said. “I saw Lady Ada step out of your room, and I wanted to see how you were holding.” 

So that was her name. I hadn’t asked. 

I cleared my throat. “Lady Ada said she would fetch me something from the kitchens.” 

“Are you hungry? I can bring you to the kitchens if you like.” 

“Is…is that all right?” 

“The Cook wouldn’t mind,” he said, but he seemed to remember something, because then he added, “My mother probably would, though. Decorum and such.” 

“Are princes not allowed in the kitchens?” I asked, because back home, they never minded my presence. I even sometimes helped the kitchen hands.

“It’s more about the proper way of things, I would say,” Clive said. 

He sighed, then looked around the hall again. He never crossed the threshold. Another proper way of things, probably. This might have been a guest room before, but it’d be my chambers from now on. This would be the place I called home. My heart lay heavy at the thought. Then Clive spoke again: 

“Would you like to see more of the castle? Lady Ada wouldn’t be for a while. I’ll show you the garden or the library or maybe if Joshua manages to escape Mother’s grasp, we can meet him, too. Though, maybe we could make a quick visit to the kitchens so Lady Ada will know where you’ve gone to lest she panics when she finds the room devoid of its resident. As long as Mother doesn’t know, I think it’ll be alright.”

“What if she finds out?”

“Then I’ll say it was all my idea.”

“My lord—” I began in protest, but he shook his head. 

“Please, just Clive.”

“Then—Clive—” The name rolled easy on my tongue. Clive’s face brightened at the sound. I resisted the urge to look away. Looking at his face had been making my stomach knot in odd ways. “I will not have you take the blame for something I did.” 

“It won’t be something you did but something I prompted you to do.” He then held out a hand, and with a little smirk to his smile, said, “Well, my lady?” 

A part of me would rather stay and wait for Lady Ada carrying a steamed bun or whatever it was these Southerners serve for supper. Yet being alone in the room, with the pressing walls and distant shouts and hollers drifting in through the window would only emphasize my solitude. Mother's pendant lay heavy over my chest. Home would always follow me, Mother had said. Rosalith would be my home now. 

I dispelled all unwelcome thoughts with a shake of my head and took Clive’s outstretched hand. “Alright, then,” I said, and attempted a smile.

~ END ~

[silverwasafukintrainwreck]

i'm bored and sleep deprived, so here i decided to share my danganronpa kins (as in relating to the characters) and why i even kin them! except they get more personal with each one. (i'll get into a bit of a rant for both of these so- be warned and stay safe reading cause dark humor about my trauma is my coping mechanism!)

1: ibuki! i swear she is literally just me. before i even knew what danganronpa was my friends would tell me i reminded them of her. absolutely her entire personality. i can't even begin to explain because iit's literally. everything. i am ibuki's sillyism fr

2: gundham! because i, too, have created a fictional reality and alter ego for myself that i get so engrossed with that i forget it's not. real. and i like to be very dramatic and extra about said alter ego and fantasies.

3: nagisa! ok to be honest my biggest red flag when it comes to this fandom is that i watched udg when i was like twelve and related a little bit too fucking much with the WOH. each of them in some ways, but the only one that still holds up to this day is nagisa. being a younger sibling of someone who is very academically smart when you're completely uninterested in that type of intelligence is a nightmare. the school i currently am enrolled in has an entrance exam. my sister passed one year before me, scoring second place. when i took the exam, i passed first place. not like i had a choice. i needed to be equal or better than her. i was better. but it still wasn't. enough.

4: celeste! picking up from gundham's "living in a fantsay" part, we have actually fulling embracing said fantasy and personality due to absolutely despising normalcy and being boring. this, along with a very important part of her character which i'll explain more in the last kin.

5: mikan! i have already made a post or another about kinning mikan, but here goes again. again on the topic of the not being boring thing, being ignored completely is my biggest fear. i literally rather have people hate my guts and insult me and lash out than them leaving me. i got caught up in a few bad relationships due to this. speaking of which, the smallest crumbles of affection or praise get me head over heels for people. lovebombing works like a charm on me!

6: the character who i hate relating to the most, kokichi. he used to be of my least favorite characters in the franchise. i couldn't figure out for the life of me why. recently i finally did. he remind me of ALL the worst parts about myself. it's probably self-explanatory what exactly i'm talking about, but it goes so deep that i can't even bring myself to talk about it in a silly tumblr post!

wow. that went a LOT deeper than i expected :D i think i'll shut up for a week after this