#i haven't been feeling too great about my writing lately

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 20

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

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The palace halls to the residency were quiet. Save for the shuffling of Imperial Help preparing to turn in for the night. Ardyn made note how there was not so much a peep while he ventured to his dwelling. He sighed while adjusting the large grocery bag he had been carrying with his left arm. The contents rattled, and at first Ardyn assumed something had gotten loose. He paused in his stride, lowering the bag to look over his wares. There was nothing amiss, and thus he pressed onward. 

After fumbling with his keys--and nearly dropping the bag--Ardyn closed the door behind him once he reached home. He sat the grocery bag down at his feet while he tended to locking up. Once that was settled, did his eyes land on the large clock in the living room. Seeing that it was 10:45pm, Ardyn furrowed his brows. He knew he had been out long, but could’ve sworn it was 8pm just moments ago. Sighing, Ardyn knew it was useless to dwell on such mishaps. He still struggled with conceptualizing time although it had been decades since he had been awakened from Angelgard. Not that he would be bold enough to admit that to anybody. The thought of it made him grimace before he picked up the grocery bag, and carried on with his mission. 

Ardyn pressed the kitchen doors open quietly. He nearly jumped when he saw Tuti at the counter, putting away some dishes from the sink. She in turn gasped, and fumbled with one of the plates in her possession. It was by the fortune of the gods she didn’t drop it, having caught the edge at the last second. 

Once the initial shocks were worn, Tuti glared at Ardyn with contempt then went back to cleaning. 

Ardyn breathed through his nose, making a face while he tried to uphold some sort of civility. He walked over to the kitchen island, and sat the bag down while clearing his throat. 

“I won’t be needing your services for the rest of the night.” 

“Noted,” Tuti replied with a flat tone. 

“That goes for Y/N as well. You’re dismissed.” Ardyn added. He observed Tuti stiffen, and with a defeated sigh, she put away the last of the plates she had been cleaning. Once done, did she begin to dry her hands off with a towel hanging from the arm of the oven in front of her. 

“How is Y/N fairing?”

“Y/N’s resting right now. The flares today were dreadful.” Tuti wiped the last of the suds off her hands with her apron, and approached Ardyn. She was careful not to get too close to him. 

Tuti let out a breath. “Will that be all, excellency? I have much work to do outside of your quarters. I don’t want to keep the Palace Warden waiting.” 

If she was going for subtlety, she’s failing at it… Ardyn bitterly thought. Tuti’s disdain wasn’t easy to cloak. She wore it on her sleeve much like her bubbly persona. Ardyn fought against his instinct to shoo her off for insubordination, but he reminded himself that although he didn’t like her, both he and Tuti cared for Y/N. 

“Before you leave, I have something for you.” Ardyn took a few steps toward the kitchen island. His right hand rummaged through the grocery bag, and he pulled out a small pink rose and an envelope. 

“What’s this?” Tuti whispered, raising a brow as Ardyn approached and handed off the items to her. Her fingers pinched at the envelope, feeling how full it was. Conflict brewed in her eyes while she admired the pink rose. As much as Tuti wanted to throw it back at Ardyn’s face, she appreciated the beauty of the flower too much to insult its radiance. She carefully tucked the flower behind her right ear, and began to open the envelope. 

“Consider it tip for taking care of Y/N on my behalf.” Ardyn watched as Tuti’s eyes nearly bulged out from her skull. He faintly smirked before going neutral. 

“That’s almost five months of salary.” Tuti murmured under her breath. By the mercy of the gods did she gather strength to peer up at Ardyn, and glared at him. “I’ll have you know, that you can’t just buy someone’s forgiveness.” 

“I’m well aware,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact and sighed. “Is it working though?” 

“Well,” Tuti breathed. She counted the bills in the envelope and shook her head. “If I remember, the gods forgive all sin on Sundays. Including someone selling their virtue.” 

Ardyn let out an amused huff, watching Tuti carefully tuck the envelope into the back pocket of her apron. He was about to say something, until Tuti held up a hand and cut him off. 

“Please, I don’t wish to have a conversation anymore Chancellor. I want to perform my duties, and turn in for the night.” 

“Very well,” Ardyn gestured with his head toward the exit. “Don’t let me keep you.” 

Tuti offered a bow, and walked over to the doors. She paused for a moment, turning her head to the side to watch Ardyn go back to pulling things out of the grocery bag. There was a lot of food from what she could gather. A soft sigh left her lips, and Tuti cleared her throat. 

“Chancellor,” 

“Yes?”

“Y/N was adamant about speaking with you despite…well, what happened. You needn’t worry.” Tuti murmured. The face she wore was a mix of disappointment and awe.

Ardyn gave a firm nod after he hummed in reply, then continued to carry on, not paying heed to Tuti as she finally left. 

Hours later, Ardyn carefully approached a large bed. His eyes combed over Y/N’s resting form that was draped under the blankets. He paused when he saw their feet dangling off the edge, noting the scourge veins bulging out. Ardyn could only imagine what the rest of their body looked like. The thought nerved him and Y/N’s shallow exhales didn’t help. If anything, he felt worse about what happened this morning.

Hovering above Y/N, Ardyn canted his head while examining their features. They were lying on their side, half their face buried into the large silk pillow below. The scourge marks pulsated when Y/N drew in breath. Ardyn closed his eyes, focusing his own darkness on the daemonic aura that coursed through Y/N’s veins. A crackling sound echoed against Ardyn’s ears, and whispers began to rise and fall. His own conscience was nearly drowned out by the noise, but he firmly repeated in mind for the shadows to cease. When he opened his eyes, the world became silent again. 

Though Y/N’s infection was not even a fraction of Ardyn’s ailment, he could feel the toll it had on their body and the struggle to remain alive despite the horrendous pain. With resentment, Ardyn glared at the dark webbing on Y/N's skin. He crouched down until he was on his knees. His face now level with Y/N and the mattress. 

Thoughts ran through Ardyn as he sighed through his nose. He wondered if Y/N would be upset with his presence near considering what happened. Ardyn wasn’t one to apologize, especially in this incarnation as Chancellor, but even with all his justifications he couldn’t let this slide. Not when he knew in his heart of hearts, that he was in the wrong. 

“Y/N,” Ardyn murmured softly. His right hand reached to touch their neck, fingers gliding over skin until his palm gently cupped their cheek. He watched the scourge veins begin to recede; the darkness having listened to his plea from before. His features perked when Y/N groaned, and their eyes fluttered open briefly. 

“Y/N,” Ardyn leaned forward. His nose pressed to their skin, inhaling their scent before drifting up to their ear. A tired mix between groan and giggle left Y/N’s mouth, and he couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. 

“I have something for you.” He whispered into the shell of their ear.

“That’s a lie,” Y/N muttered exhausted while they stirred more from their rest. “We both know you don’t like charity.”��

Ardyn chuckled against Y/N’s hair. His lips gently pressed against the side of their head before he pulled away. He met Y/N’s weary gaze, and the marks he had left upon their skin. He felt nauseous gazing over the black and blue texture. 

“I’d like for you to join me at the table if you have the strength. I made us a meal.” 

Despite how drained Y/N felt from the scourge, their brows raised in surprise. “You didn’t have Tuti do that on your behalf? I’m shocked.”

“No. Not this time.” Ardyn admitted with a smirk. “Believe it or not, I can perform menial tasks by myself. I just choose not to.” 

“What’s the occasion? I thought I was in the hot seat.” Y/N’s voice trailed off and they swallowed. 

“You’re in no such position with me,” Ardyn shook his head. He moved a stray strand of hair out from their eyes, his touch lingering. “I...wanted to do this for you.” 

“This morning--”

“No, let’s not speak on it right now. Later we will. You have my word. ” Ardyn interrupted. His amber eyes lingered between Y/N’s mouth and their hair. Before he got too lost, Ardyn retreated his hand away from them and he gestured with his head to the chamber doors. 

“Let’s get you out of bed. I don’t want the food to run cold. Do you need assistance?” 

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded and winced when they moved their left foot. 

“I can carry you?” Ardyn offered. 

“I’d like to do this myself. Just let me lean on you.” Y/N murmured. They didn’t notice the hurt that crossed Ardyn’s face at their decline. 

Taking in a few deep breaths, Y/N let out a cry and forced the upper half of their body to rise from the bed. The motion felt as if they had run their entire body through a thicket of barbed wire. With every movement they made in the trench, it only ensnared them further into the spiky ends that dug into flesh. When Ardyn attempted to help, Y/N shook their head and gestured for him to stand down. They were surprised at his compliance, given the fierce look that carried through his eyes.

Y/N started to flex their fingers, getting them to wake up. After the wave of pain died down, did they gather the strength to stand. On their feet, Y/N wobbled like a bookcase whose shelves were not properly lined up. Their feet felt static as did their blood. The scourge constricting around their calves like snakes didn’t help with their balance, and caused them to fall forward into Ardyn’s chest. Through a muffled yelp, Y/N felt their body adjust as Ardyn gently pushed them back and went to their side. He coaxed Y/N’s body into leaning against his own, while his arm went around their waist for support. After finding their balance, did Y/N motion for Ardyn to move and begin their trek to the kitchen. 

The walk was a quiet affair, minus the whimpers and occasional groans that fell past Y/N’s lips. Every once in a while, Ardyn glanced down at Y/N to assess them; noting that their body had been severely taxed. He started to second guess waking them up in the first place, seeing the grey bags under their eyes. There was also the proximity piece that had his blood quake with each step. The texture of their skin, the sweet smell of their own scent intermingling with the essence of the scourge, and the weight of their body against him had Ardyn worried he’d go haywire. His pulse rose unsteadily, wondering if perhaps he himself was becoming ill. 

The second Ardyn felt Y/N’s breath faintly tickle the underside of his jaw, he stopped and let out a disgruntled sigh. “This is taking far too long.” 

“We’re almost there,” Y/N protested, and gestured with their chin to the kitchen doors. All they had to do was cross through the living room space. From Y/N’s perspective, it felt like miles of uncharted territory laid ahead given how much they ached. Nevertheless, they didn’t want to throw in the towel just yet. 

“I don’t understand the insistence of prolonging your suffering.” Ardyn countered, furrowing his brows at them. 

“It’s not that I don’t want your help,” Y/N gritted through their teeth while feeling the scourge slide across their legs. It felt like their skin was being flayed. “If I can’t do this on my own, I'll--” 

“Y/N,”

“Yeah?” 

“While I admire your tenacity, I’m imploring you to let me help.” 

Y/N sighed in defeat. “Ardyn--”

“I tire of hearing you moan in my ear every second.” 

Of all the things he could’ve said, Y/N didn’t see that coming. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N felt blush rising in their cheeks. Whether it was from their embarrassment or wanting to play off the severity of the scourge flare, they felt emboldened to make a jest. 

“You know,” Y/N coughed. “Most guys would be into that.” 

The look he wore was priceless. A mixture of disgust and intrigue traveled across Ardyn’s face, and Y/N couldn’t help but snicker. 

“I didn’t take you for a minx.” Ardyn huffed.

“Between the two of us you’d fit the bill of that better than I.” 

“Oh, that’s quite sinful! It’s rather sweet you acknowledge my prowess.” Ardyn teased in a sinister fashion. 

“I...” Y/N struggled to speak. “I wasn’t complimenting or--” 

“Then what we’re you implying, darling ?” 

He held Y/N’s gaze for several seconds, watching their laughter turn into nervous chuckling. Ardyn couldn’t help but smile at how pink Y/N’s face had become.  When they were at the precipice of expressing fear--at how he lurked over them like a serpent hypnotizing it’s prey--did he strike. 

“H-hey!” Y/N exclaimed, feeling their body and the world shift as Ardyn swept his arms underneath their form. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I’m speeding things up,” Ardyn teased, smirking proudly when Y/N instinctively wrapped their arms over his shoulders while he carried them like a newlywed bride. “By the way, you’re quite welcome.” 

“Damn you…” Y/N muttered under their breath, trying to ignore the laugh he let out at their expense. Their pride was wounded, but Y/N would be lying if they didn’t appreciate Ardyn pulling off that little stunt. Their aching body certainly respected what he had done, giving a much needed break. 

As Ardyn walked them both to the kitchen, Y/N felt their face grow warm when they caught a whiff of his scent. He always smelled rich, like sandal and rosewood; strong and earthy. The sweet undertone that intertwined with his usual musk had Y/N feeling an impulse to bury their face into his neck. It reminded Y/N of the fermented smell the scourge gave off, without the rotting stink. Whatever it was caused by, be it the long day at work or if he was trying something new, Y/N felt their nerves tremble as scourge and blood rushed through them. 

“Here we go,” Ardyn’s playful declaration stopped Y/N from succumbing to their urge as he gently plopped them into a chair. He was careful to push it in toward the table once Y/N got comfortable, and he ventured to the chair next to theirs and took a seat. 

Y/N's eyes widened, gazing upon the meal that Ardyn had laid forth. There was a fish of some sort on their plate, topped with a brown butter sauce. It was well seasoned with a nutty fragrance akin to hazelnut. The bed of salad it was placed upon looked just as delectable as the main course, and quite unusual. Y/N could see a mixture of apple slices with gouda cheese, red onion, olive oil, sunflower seeds, and another vegetable that smelled similar to a turnip. 

Y/N had never seen a meal like this before, not at the Gala, and certainly not when Tuti or other Imperial Help delivered meals to the residency. Y/N could scarce believe that Ardyn played a hand in this concoction. 

“What is this?” Y/N asked while using their fork to poke the meat. They couldn’t help but let out a laugh, shaking their head. “This has got to be take out.”

“I assure you, it’s no such thing.” Ardyn chuckled with pride, glancing between the meal and Y/N. “It’s grilled bass, and the salad is made with kohlrabi. I haven’t made this in over 2,000 years. Try it, and tell me what you think.”

2,000 years…?  Y/N almost had the audacity to jokingly ask Ardyn if this was his first time making anything in his life. Alas they relented, but the message sunk in how long ago that was. It certainly explained why the dish looked unknown, and just like it’s creator, otherworldly in a sense. 

At feeling their stomach rumble, Y/N eagerly and with caution took a chunk of the bass meat with their fork and brought it to their mouth. They blew on the meat a few times, feeling the steam rise off the scales before consumption. 

Different tones of flavors exploded against their tongue, and Y/N had no idea how to label each and every taste; for it blended together in a beautiful dance. Their expressions must’ve been concerning, for Ardyn looked worried. That is until Y/N went ravenous and began to eat more of it. 

“Wow,” Y/N murmured in between chews. 

“Well?” 

“It could be poison and I’d still eat it!” Y/N exclaimed in between bites, causing Ardyn to laugh. 

“Where were you 2,000 years ago?” He mused. 

“Somewhere in the dark. Not even an egg or sperm yet,” Y/N teased, blushing when Ardyn snorted at the crude remark. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well,” Ardyn began to carve the meat on his own plate, taking a small bite himself. “This was a poor man’s feast by the standards of yesteryear. Not many cared for it.” 

Y/N furrowed their brows. “I thought you said you were royalty?”

“That’s correct.” 

“But you ate poorly?” 

“Hmm hmm,” Ardyn nodded. His expression softened, almost appearing morose. “When I became a healer full time, I had forsaken royal decadence and relied upon the charity of those I serviced. Many didn’t have the means to pay, so if they offered food and shelter, I took it with grace. Overtime, I grew to love dishes like this one and I learned to prepare it myself.” 

“Why did you put yourself through that?” Y/N watched Ardyn’s amber eyes curiously roam over them. They couldn’t tell if he was intrigued or appalled by the question. 

“I mean, the way you are now or what I’ve come to know of you, it’s like you’re speaking about another person.” 

There was a long pause as Ardyn mulled over Y/N’s statement. He himself was puzzled at his own discernment. Furrowing his brows, he carefully reached for a bottle of wine that was in the middle of the table between himself and Y/N. 

“Do you remember our conversation long ago in Lucis, when you asked how I became as I am?” 

Y/N nodded. Their eyes darted to the wine bottle as Ardyn popped the top open, and poured himself a glass. 

“You said your kindness cost you everything.” Y/N murmured in reply. 

“Correct,” Ardyn met Y/N’s eyes, and gestured to their empty glass, offering to pour a round for them. He smiled faintly when they gave a nod, and proceeded.

“Back then, the blight or what became known as the star scourge made it’s debut when my brother and I were both young men. As it grew, Somnus believed that culling the flock was a necessary evil to prevent the spread. I found through my practice that certain people were predisposed to the scourge, while others were not even if they were around the infected. Alas, they were still carriers. My brother justified more sacrifices because of what I had discovered. Even with the knowledge that I could cure the infected myself, he wouldn’t budge from his stance.” 

Once he topped off Y/N’s wine, Ardyn gently slid the glass to them. “One day, I excommunicated myself from the kingdoms council under the guise that I was going on a pilgrimage, in honor of mine and Somnus’s late mother. I was to be gone for six months, but six became nine and nine became twelve. I traveled across Lucis healing those afflicted; trying to show the people, and Somnus that there was another way besides bloodshed. Hence, I became quite acquainted with peasantry and cuisine.” 

While Ardyn gave no reason to lie, there were some things that didn’t add up for Y/N. If it was true, that he could cure the scourge, then why did he drag them through this whole mess? It was one of the many questions that fired off in Y/N’s mind. They mulled over his story while taking another bite of the fish while he nursed generously from his own wine glass. 

“There’s no cure,” Y/N shook their head. They glanced over him, trying to find a hint of deception behind his confused gaze. 

“Pardon?” 

“How did you heal people from the scourge?” 

“How do you think I became Adagium?” Ardyn huffed with a smirk.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Y/N countered with a laugh. It seemed Ardyn was more or less amused by the banter. Alas he sighed, as if preparing himself for a long winded speech before the Imperial council. 

“Well, I…” Ardyn bit his bottom lip while contemplating his choice of words. It had been a long, long time since he reviewed his past history. He had purposefully tried to dispose of his old self, letting the daemons inside his body eat away at him, and Ardyn was shocked he had quite a vivid recollection the longer he dwelled on it. 

“If it’s not something you want to discuss--”

“No, no,” Ardyn shook his head, gesturing with his right hand for Y/N to cease. “I assure you I have nothing to hide." 

“I can tell you’re lying.” Y/N snorted. “You’re nervous about it.”

“Am I that obvious?” Ardyn raised a brow. He smiled amusingly, seeing Y/N nod to his remark. 

“I have an idea.” Y/N suggested. 

“Let’s hear it then.” 

“If you don’t think you can tell me in five sentences or less how you became Adagium, then it’s probably something we shouldn’t discuss.”

To say Ardyn was perplexed as an understatement. He chortled before speaking. “I must’ve already drank one glass too many. Did I hear you correctly, five sentences or less?” 

Y/N nodded with a smile. “You sure did.” 

“I’m afraid I’m not following?” 

“In my experience, if a person is open and willing, they can get to their point within five sentences or less. Anything more, and they’re either lying or it hurts too much.” 

Ardyn hummed in thought at Y/N’s proclamation. He took another sip from his wine glass. 

“I suppose this mentality comes from your days as a Scavenger, no less?” 

“You’d be correct.” Y/N smiled, fiddling with their fork against some of the apple slices beneath the grilled fish. 

Ardyn was quiet for a time. Neither he nor Y/N said a word to each other while the latter continued to eat. Once they finished off the fish, and began working their way to the salad, did Ardyn let out a breath. 

“Challenge accepted,” He proudly mused, earning a double take from Y/N. He chuckled at their expense, eyes glancing at his own meal he had barely touched.

“The gods blessed me with the power to cure the scourge at the expense of my own health. I thought it was a worthy sacrifice, to forsake one for the many. Each time I took the darkness into myself, a little bit of my soul withered away. I fought it off as long as I could, but Somnus brought out the worst in me. He took away the only anchor I had left, keeping me human.” 

Each word was a pebble, which evolved into jagged rocks. By the time Ardyn finished his five sentences, Y/N could hear the pain in his voice that he desperately tried to cover with loathing. It all made sense how he got from point A to point B, and it should’ve been so obvious. Y/N felt like a fool for not putting the pieces together sooner. 

“Your anchor was Aera, wasn’t it?” 

The gasp left Ardyn so abruptly, it startled Y/N. They carefully watched him, seeing how every muscle in his body tensed as if he had been struck. The way his eyes bore into Y/N, had them wondering why he hadn’t screamed nor yelled yet. 

“Where did you hear that name?”

“I think I saw a memory of yours this morning.” Y/N replied cautiously. They could tell he was trying hard to keep himself together, and decided not to leave too much hanging for Ardyn’s sake. “After you struck me, I blacked out and woke up to a battle. There was a lot of blood, and I was losing. The man I fought, he was going to deliver the final blow until Aera got in between us. She died in my arms.” 

Ardyn was silent for what felt like ages. He never once blinked nor took his eyes off of Y/N. 

“What did you feel, when you held her?” 

“What?” 

“Answer the question, please.” 

His demand was neither imposing nor was it gentle. Y/N was beside themself while they tried to recollect those tender feelings they experienced. It was so hard to describe, yet the memory felt as if it had always belonged to them.

“I didn’t feel real anymore. All I felt was my heart, and everything about me, shatter. I kept so many from dying, yet I couldn’t keep the one person I cherished most alive. I felt all of Eos crumble in my arms.” 

Y/N hadn’t realized they had been crying until Ardyn had passed them a napkin. They sniffled, feeling their face flush and murmured a quiet thank you under their breath. After wiping their eyes, did they swallow back the remaining tears. Y/N felt foolish. This was after all, a memory of Ardyn’s, but they felt some ownership of the weight. 

“I saw what your friends did to you, back at the Quay. Everything.” Ardyn finally spoke up. It was now Y/N’s turn to handle the shock of such a declaration. He could see the fright in their eyes, and slowly began to regale. “I see why you were so miserable when you showed up to the inn. You really loved them all, didn’t you?” 

Y/N nodded. “And you really loved Aera.” 

Ardyn sighed through his nose. He made a fist, knowing this wasn't something he could shelter away. Y/N knew too much. 

“Was this a bleed through?” 

“Yes, yes it was.” Ardyn admitted. There was no use in trying to lie for the sake of pacifying. He knew deep down that Y/N knew the truth to begin with, but they needed validation for it to feel legitimate. He lingered on what happened in the morning, and everything he had experienced up to this point. 

“Y/N,”

“Yeah?” 

“The sylleblossoms weren’t your fault, nor were they Tuti’s or even Commander Pierce’s boy.” Ardyn averted his gaze, fixating at what was left of his wine. “I had a night terror about Aera, among other things. There was much blood in it.” 

“So the flowers did make you crazy.” 

“I'm not good at apologizing,” Ardyn bit the inside of his cheek, reminding himself that he needed to set things right even if it cost him his pride. He turned his full attention to Y/N, letting the shame that had been bottling up inside of himself come through his tired eyes. 

“I know I’ve attempted to rectify the situation with a meal, but I know that can’t suffice for what I’ve done. A sorry won’t sit well with me, and I doubt the same on your end. So…name anything, and it shall be yours.” 

Y/N was taken aback. “Anything?” 

“Anything,” Ardyn emphasized. “It can be at my personal expense or not. It’s only fair.” 

“Would you mind if we did a raincheck?” 

Ardyn was visibly confused at first. In the rare event he had found himself owing someone a favor, said persons jumped the gun in a heartbeat without thinking twice. There was always something to be gained from cornering the Chancellor. That had been Ardyn’s experience in Niflheim for decades, up until now. Y/N had puzzled him many times, but this was a moment that Ardyn filed away in his subconscious; there was no hidden motive with them. Perhaps there never was. Not even when he was so certain in the early stages of their partnership. 

He searched Y/N for any sign of deception, and alas was met with a smile. It was simple and conveyed enough to give him grounds to return one in favor before speaking. 

“Just say the word when the time comes. I’ll honor it.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Y/N mused. Their body tensed for a moment as they eyed the rest of their plate.

Y/N would be lying to themself if they didn’t feel at odds with the situation they were in with Ardyn. They had their share of physical altercations. It was something that unfortunately Scavengers would come across at one point or another, be it petty disputes between fellow workers or fighting off folks who had no legitimate claim to treasures. Had this been anyone else who had struck them down, Y/N knew redemption would be off the table. Had anyone acted like Ardyn, Y/N wouldn’t have stood for it. They swallowed, realizing the vast number of exceptions they allowed for him. The epiphany was both enlightening and held alarming context.

Y/N couldn’t afford to dwell on their leniency any further. Not when the scourge pinched at their swollen eye where they had been hit. They scanned over their plate. For as good as the food was, Y/N didn’t know if they could stomach anything further. At the very least, Y/N decided to eat a little bit more of the salad and finish off the wine; out of courtesy for the labor Ardyn had put into it. 

The rest of dinner went on quietly as Y/N and Ardyn ate. Neither party said a word, nor paid much heed after the conversation died down. It was only when Ardyn saw Y/N displaying obvious signs of fatigue did he finally pipe up.

“Tired?” 

Y/N smiled. “Exhausted and full.”

“That’s quite unfortunate,” Ardyn mused. “I made dessert, but I suppose that can wait for morning.” 

“Well,” Y/N hummed in thought. Their stomach felt like it was going to distend, but much like Ardyn, sweets were a temptation they couldn’t overlook so easily. “Maybe I can have a little bite?” 

Ardyn chuckled, shaking his head. “There’s no need to force yourself. Besides, there is another matter I need to discuss with you before we depart for bed.”

“Oh?” 

“How do you feel about weddings?” 

Y/N made a face, unsure what he was driving at. The question came so far out of left field, that he might as well should’ve asked if Eos was flat or spherical. 

“I’ve…never really been to many. Well, huge ones. I’ve attended small unions before. Why?” 

“You and I are needed for an engagement in Accordo, an arranged marriage.” Before Ardyn could express anything further, he saw the shocked terror that danced across Y/N’s face along with a blush that could rival the richest of burgundy silks that Aldercapt owned. He did a double take, making a face before the dots connected and he cackled like a child who had gotten away with stealing. 

“Oh come now!” Ardyn said in between fits. “I wasn’t implying us!” 

“Oh damn the six…” Y/N let out a breath in relief, shaking their head as Ardyn continued to laugh at their expense. They shot him a glare, their face feeling warm from misconstruing the situation. 

“You know, you could’ve worded that better.” 

“The fault lies with me there, I’ll admit that.” Ardyn snorted. He let out a breath, and smirked. “I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad, considering we seem to know each other inside and out at this point, quite literally…”

“What?!” 

“Moving on!” Ardyn raised his voice with a snicker, taking hold of the reigns before Y/N had the chance to verbally beat him down for the tease. “The betrothal is between an Accordian Senator, and a Niflheim Lead of Office. The Accordo envoys are hopeful this union will quell any rebellious tendencies in their own countrymen. Given the prestige of both parties entering the marriage, the engagement not only requires the presence of my company but that of yours.” 

After Y/N got over the embarrassment of Ardyn’s not so clever flirtation, did they listen carefully. Something didn’t add up for them. 

“Not that I’m opposed, but why do I need to go? 

“Being an Imperial Icon, it’s imperative you attend and leave a good impression; not only to make Niflheim look generous for taking you in, but to perhaps sway public opinion about Lucis and the monarchy.”

“What you’re saying is, you want me to talk shit about my homeland.” 

“Maybe not so vulgar in language, but yes.” Ardyn could see the reluctance in Y/N’s features. “I had a feeling you’d have a qualm, therefore I’ve already put together a script of sorts. We can go over it along with your other obligations this week.”

“Alright,” Y/N murmured. This shouldn’t have surprised them, but there was an uneasiness in Y/N’s stomach that refused to go away.

“Given what I know now,” Ardyn cleared his throat, earning Y/N’s eyes. “I understand this isn’t easy. However, we both have parts to play in this theatrical piece until the dust settles and I can make due on my oath.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I get it.” Y/N remarked, feeling the weight somewhat shift off their shoulders at what Ardyn said. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be hard. You were once a Lucian. I’m sure it was difficult for you to fully cut ties despite what happened in the past.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ardyn replied nonchalant. He let out a huff while his mind briefly recalled his 2,000 year exile, and the months after Verstael had freed him; only to chain him to a different cage. “Be grateful Verstael isn’t the one mentoring you. He certainly ensured my wings were clipped when it came to sentiment for Lucis, whatever was left of my adoration anyhow.” 

“Trust me, between an immortal monster and a guy who ages like a balding goat, I’d take the immortal any day.” 

Although initially appalled, Ardyn laughed at the candid remark. He felt some relief as well hearing Y/N join him in that regard. 

“Ah, you flatter me so!” 

“Eh, don’t get used to it.” Y/N countered with a giggle. 

“I’ll make note of that.” Ardyn grinned. He soon faltered when his eyes locked on Y/N’s. For a split second, there was a look of awe in their gaze that had his knees shudder; as if they would buckle though he was sitting down. It occurred to him Y/N must’ve caught on that something was amiss, for they shyly looked away. 

“I’d…like to try something.” Ardyn whispered, earning Y/N’s attention once more. He himself wasn’t sure where this was coming from, and although composed, inside he was petrified. “Is it alright if I touch you?” 

“Touch me?” 

Ardyn gestured to his own face to emphasize where. 

“Oh,” Y/N swallowed. Their stomach twisted in a painful knot, only soothed by nerves that seemed to be running amok in bliss. The contradiction was so strange. “I guess so…”

“No, this won’t do.” Ardyn shook his head. He scooted his chair so he could get closer to Y/N. Once settled, he continued. “It’s either an enthusiastic yes, or nothing at all.” 

“I didn’t take you for a consent type of guy.” 

“In some circumstances, it certainly calls for it.” Ardyn mused, trying to not venture into territory that could land him in hot water. Although he was certainly tempted to make a flirtatious jest at Y/N’s expense, it wasn’t worth making his heart rock further against his ribs. 

He gestured his hands out to Y/N, palms up, as if he was making an offering to the six; all the while demonstrating there was no weapon to be had. Y/N couldn’t help but notice that some of his fingers were shaking. 

“May I?” 

The softness of his voice pulled Y/N away from studying his palms any further. With another gulp, they nodded before giving a definitive answer. 

“Yes.”

His hands slowly reached out. Y/N’s shoulders tensed as did the rest of their muscles. Their eyes fluttered shut. Trembling, Y/N could feel Ardyn's hands cup their face, thumbs smoothing over fears of endangerment while pressing firmly yet gently against their bruises. They couldn’t help but wince, letting out a pained grunt. Ardyn’s soft hush made the trembling worse, but more so in their legs and feet. It was so strange, the power a voice could have over someone. 

A voice… Y/N furrowed their brows. For the briefest of seconds, they could hear an inhuman sound cradling the inside of their skull. There was no way to decipher what was being said, but Y/N felt on a primal level, that they understood what it meant. The image of Outpost 98 and the explosion flashed behind their eyelids, and then a tender bout of pain radiated against their face; causing Y/N to grimace. 

Before their mind could follow the voice any further down its dark path, they felt something warm under their skin; as if the life force of Eos had been taken into their blood and massaged all the knots and pains away. This felt different from when Ardyn would redirect the scourge. This was something else entirely. 

The chain of events lasted for a minute, but to Y/N, it felt like forever. Their eyes fanned open, meeting Ardyn’s deep amber eyes as he carefully looked them over; his hands remained in place, daring not to let go of them. 

A crooked smile fell upon his lips, and Y/N couldn’t help but mirror him. It was bizarre, seeing him in the state of awe he was growing into. 

“You’re healed…” He muttered as if he himself couldn’t believe it. “I never thought I could do that again.” 

“The blackeye, its gone?” 

Ardyn quietly hummed with a nod.

“How did you--”

“I’m not sure,” Ardyn whispered to himself. He adjusted the placement of his hands on Y/N’s face, brushing some strands of hair out from their eyes before his thumbs began to rub small circles into their cheeks. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, faintly nodding against his touch. The sweet scent that had been whiffing off of Ardyn’s body began to make a comeback, and Y/N couldn’t help but lean in. If they didn’t know better, he was having a similar reaction. There was a look in his eyes that was intense, as if he had been put under a spell and couldn’t withhold the reactions his body was going to have. 

Y/N could feel the air from his nose hit their flesh. The hitch in his breath gave way he was inhaling their scent. Somehow, Y/N knew this had to be the scourges doing; drawing them together like two magnets. Fear and something else intertwined in Y/N’s chest as they tilted their chin up, their face gently pressed against the stubble on Ardyn’s cheek. His breath hitched again, Y/N heard him swallow, his fingers shuddered against their face, and then his strong nose brushed against theirs. 

“Ardyn--”

In a split second, the spell was broken and he let go. Ardyn hastily retreated, albeit not in a manner to suggest he was disgusted. His eyes blinked several times, seemingly confused at his actions. 

“I...I don't--”

Y/N breathed out. “That was…”

“Peculiar?” 

“Yeah.” Y/N nodded. 

They both acknowledged one another, as if trying to see if each had been hurt before Ardyn made his move. He let out a sigh then forced himself to his feet and began to gather up the plates and silverware, no longer wishing to indulge Y/N. 

Y/N furrowed their brows. “Ardyn?”

“You go on to bed,” He replied gently. “I’ll get this cleaned up.” 

As much as Y/N wanted to pry further, they found themself frozen; unable to say a word. Whether it was from their own nerves, the scourge bubbling in their stomach, or something else entirely it didn’t matter. Y/N whispered a good night, got to their feet, and somehow through the pain, coaxed themself to return to their dwelling within Ardyn’s residence. 

They didn’t realize he had long stopped collecting the dishes, and watched them walk away. Ardyn's fingers grasped the plates with a firm grip as he fought against calling Y/N back to him. 

[acid-ixx]

ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1, chapter five pt 2,

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

otherwise, i can't add anymore to my taglist so taglist requests are closed!

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[spidersoulss]

His Girl

Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x F!Reader, no out-break, Joel is in his 30’s and reader is in her late 20’s

Summary: You and Joel have been a thing in private, not wanting people, or more specifically your dad, to find out. Things have been going great…until a new neighbor rolls into town. 

Warnings: Angst, insecure reader, jealous reader, oblivious joel, eventual fluff

Word Count: 2,187

A/N: My first time writing some angst seriously, I hope I did justice. Thank you to Anon for requesting this! @disabilitymissunderstood hope you all enjoy!!

______________________________________________________________ 

You were cooling off in the backyard of your fathers house, dipping your feet in the inground pool with a drink in your hand. It was the middle of summer and your father wanted to throw a little get together cookout type thing. He invited half the neighborhood; your dad was quite popular in your little town. 

You recognized mostly everyone, mostly Joel. he nonchalantly walked over to where you were lounging, trying to hide the smirk on his face. You peered up at him through your sunglasses, “hey stranger” you smirked, earning a chuckle from him. “Hey yourself” he said. 

-Joel and you have been dating for about five months now. Your only rule was to keep it under wraps, due to the fact that you were scared of people being weirded out by the age gap between you two. It wasn't even that big of a deal, you were a grown adult in her late 20s, and Joel was 36. He had been more than willing to agree when you brought up your father. God forbid he finds out his best friend is dating his little girl, who's not so little anymore.-

You huff a laugh and grin up at him in all his glory. He sits down beside you, with some given space. “You enjoyin’ the cookout?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink. He nods, “yeah it's good, real good” he puts some emphasis on the last two words as his eyes rake over your body and you scoff, throwing him a look. He laughs and nudges you. “This texas heat is gettin to you aint it” you joke and he shrugs, “it's not just the heat” he pushes, a cheesy smile plastered on his handsome face.

You roll your eyes and bite back a grin. “Watch yourself Miller” you warn half heartedly. He throws his hands up in feigned surrender. Your father calls him over to join in on his conversation, Joel gives you a wink and wanders over to them. You sigh as you watch the ripples in the pool water.

This would be so much easier if you two went public, but it's sort of fun to keep it on the low. Even if you hate keeping things from your father. He's been so good to you, he deserves to know. But you just can't bring yourself to tell him. Lord knows what it would do to him. 

You absentmindedly stare at Joel as he converses with the neighbors. You see a woman, maybe a bit older than him, walk over. You haven't seen her before, she must have just rolled into town. She's pretty, albeit. Definitely looking good for her age, long shiny hair and a killer smile. You watch as she walks over to where Joel is, a strange unwelcoming feeling starts bubbling up in your chest. You push it down with another sip of your drink.

Joel is of course being his usual friendly self, and the woman is leaning into it a bit too much to your liking. Laughing at all his jokes, being touchy and flirty. He doesn't seem to notice her motive. You get up with a frustrated huff and walk inside the house. Joel takes notice of this and excuses himself from the conversation.

You shouldn't feel this way, of course women are going to flirt with him, he's Joel. And you two aren't public, no one knows about the relationship you share behind closed doors. It still doesn't feel good. He's yours, and you're his. He promised you that day one. 

Everyone is outside enjoying the cookout. You're standing in your fathers kitchen, filling yourself a glass of ice water. You hear the back door open and close, you know it's Joel. You sigh to yourself and take a swig of the water. “You all good in here sweetheart?” he asks, you fake a smile and nod. “Yeah everything is great” you say. He nods and steps closer to you. 

“Who was that lady, I don't think I recognize her” you ask calmly, Joel of course thinks nothing of it. “Hm? Oh yeah, she just moved down the street, said her name was Caroline” he informs you, you nod and cross your arms, leaning against the counter. “That's cool, she seems nice” you say, silently pinching yourself to push down the jealousy boiling within. 

“Yeah she's sweet, I offered to help her finish moving in tomorrow” your eye twitches and you sip your drink, chewing on an ice cube. Sweet? Is he serious? “That's nice of you” your tone is short, he catches onto this and raises a brow “You sound upset baby” he asks with some concern. “No! No i'm not upset, it's great that you offered to help, i'm sure Caroline feels so good about that” you huff. Joel squints his eyes in suspicion but raises no further questions. He does not want to argue with you in your fathers kitchen. 

“Yeah, you wanna come along?” he offers, “no i'm okay, i've got..yardwork to do tomorrow” you come up with an excuse. You do not want to be around Joel and another girl who is potentially interested in him. That would not go over well with you. You'd rather sit angry in your bedroom. 

“Ah okay, sure” he smiles softly before turning on his heel and walking out back into the crowd in the backyard. You slump as soon as he leaves, huffing to yourself and running a hand over your face. You catch a glimpse of him back in conversation with Caroline. You decide you don't want to be here any longer. 

You at least say bye to your father, grabbing your stuff and doing a half assed irish goodbye. The drive home is filled with too many thoughts running through your head. You're an overthinker at heart, it never comes in handy. It's a short drive to your house, you live just down the block, Joel's house is a few more down. You step out of the car and notice the U-Haul van in the driveway next to Joel's house. Great, so great, she's his next door neighbor. This is perfect.

Your eye twitches again and you storm inside, flopping down on the couch and turning the tv on to distract yourself. It doesn't work, all you can think about is how this woman is for sure plotting to take Joel away from you. 

You think Joel would favor this woman, Caroline, more than you. I mean why wouldn't he, she's his age, pretty, friendly and sparks up great conversation. He obviously likes her too, leaning into her small arm touches and smiling at her for a second too long. God why do you have to do this to yourself, he obviously loves you, plus youre dating in secret, you could at least be understanding. You wouldn't want people suspecting Joel was dating. 

On the other hand you want people to suspect, you don't want anyone taking him away from you. A part of you thinks you're not mature enough for Joel, he's told you before that you have your whole life ahead of you, why spend it with him? You didn't care, you wanted to be with him. He made you feel so special, like you're the only girl in a room full of people. 

But then you saw him with that woman, making her feel how he makes you feel. Maybe it's a Joel thing, he's always friendly with everyone, why is this any different? You fall asleep, angry on the couch, stirring in your thoughts that you wish would just shut the fuck up. 

—----------------------------------------------

The next day you wake up from the worst sleep of your life. Looking outside you actually do think you should do some yard work. You throw on some clothes you don't care to get dirty and head outside into the Texas heat. 

While tending to your front garden, your attention is turned to down the street. You see Joel helping Caroline finish moving. Lips are moving but you have no idea what they're talking about. She lets out a hearty laugh and Joel seems proud of himself. You grunt to yourself and throw your garden tools down, one of them hits your foot and cuts it. You yelp in pain and grab your foot.

Who the hell does yardwork barefoot? You apparently…stupid. (i don't mean that 😔). You walk awkwardly back inside, cursing at yourself, and at Caroline…and Joel. angry tears well up in your eyes, you are so full of emotions right now and the only reasonable way to deal with it is to just cry. It works wonders…most of the time. 

The cut is deeper than you think and you groan loudly. You do not want to deal with anything today. 

The doorbell rings and you jump slightly. You're not expecting any company right now. You haphazardly wrap your bloody foot and go to open the door.

“Joel?” you're honestly surprised he showed up. “Hey darlin’, mind if I-” he notices your badly wrapped foot and frowns, “what happened to your foot?” he asks concern etched in his tone. You laugh awkwardly, “ah its uh..its nothing, why are you here?” you ask, not meaning to sound as cold as you did. “What, am I not allowed to visit my favorite girl?” he grins. 

How can you be mad at him when he talks to you like that. You let him in and plop on the couch, he joins you. “Great job at bandaging that, you should go into the medical field” he jokes and you scoff, biting back a smirk. “Shut up, it's temporary” you excuse. He chuckles to himself and gets up, wandering to your bathroom, coming back with proper aid for your wounded foot. 

He kneels down in front of you, taking your foot gently. He unwraps the bandage and frowns when he sees the cut. “You gonna tell me how this happened sweetheart?” he asks, wetting a pad with alcohol. You sigh and press your lips into a thin line. “Yardwork” you admit, “yard work?” he repeats and you nod. “You were doing yard work barefoot?” he asks, a worried smirk on his face. “Yep, I know it's stupid” you shake your head and he grunts, dabbing the wound with the alcohol soaked cotton pad. 

You wince slightly at the sting, “i'm sorry baby” your heart clenches in your chest. “I threw the garden tools on the ground…and one of them hit my foot” you admit, looking down at your wound. Joel frowns, “why'd you do that?” he asks. 

You furrow your brows and fidget with your hands. You've always been one for communication, it would be stupid to keep this from him and let the jealousy and anger fester into something more. 

You sigh before looking at him with a hint of shame in your eyes, “I saw you helping Caroline move into her house, and you looked so happy with her and I got upset…” you finally tell him, he looks confused and you continue speaking before he can say anything. “The way she was acting at the cookout yesterday, all flirty, and you- you didn't do anything about it you just- i don't know, you were so nice to her and-” you groan softly as you frown, “and i thought you were starting to like her because she's, yknow, your age” 

Joel goes to speak but you keep going. “I thought that she wanted you, and I'm younger than you and not as mature? I don't know, I sound stupid.” You cover your face with your hands and he sighs heavily. “Oh sweetheart” he rubs comforting circles on your calf. “Baby I had no idea, I'm so sorry I made it seem that way” he apologizes. 

“I just wanted to be a friendly neighbor, I had no other intentions, and I truly thought she was just being friendly, not flirty- I'm sorry sweetheart, I should've noticed,” he goes on. You smile softly at him and he smiles back, quickly finishing your bandage. 

He returns to his spot next to you on the couch. He pulls you close and you wrap your arms around him, breathing in his scent. He smells like wood and whiskey. Your favorite smell on him. Joel rubs your back and kisses the top of your head. 

“Hey, look at me” he gently grabs your chin, you look at him with glossy eyes. “You are the only one for me, okay? I don't care that you're younger than me, and I don't care about her. I love you and you only sweetheart” he reassures you and you hug him tightly, pressing your face into his chest. “I love you too” you say softly. 

He presses kisses to the top of your head, to your cheeks and finally your lips. All your worries melt away when his lips meet yours. 

You know he loves only you, you know he wants only you. You are more than content with that because you feel the same way about him.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hi !! i read the sleep hcs for ENA and then went on a tangent and found the other ENA stuff you wrote sommmm...

what are the reactions of the ENA's friends like Moony, the Shepard, Merci, Phindoll, etc. to ENA actually sleeping for the first time... and ENA + Y/N herself ofc?? <3

Omg hey! I've been reading your Ena writing too, and it's fantastic! Never stop <3

.....

Moony

As soon as she discovers you cuddling with a sleeping Ena, she initially believes she's dead.

"Dude..did you just kill my friend in cold blood????"

After you reminded her that she's experiencing sleep for the first time, she goes "ohhhh....okay. But I'm still mad at you for making me freak out like that."

Despite how it looks on the surface, Moony cares for her a lot--even to the point where she threatened you if you ever broke her heart...only to claim she was joking and didn't actually care what happened.

You know she does. She just has an odd way of simultaneously showing and hiding it.

But she'll admit that you've done a better job at handling Ena's emotions than she ever did.

Instead of ignoring them and hoping she'd go back to "normal", you validated her feelings and helped her calm down.

When she turned into her Full-Sadness form, you stayed with her even though it made you both late to the Great Runas' celebration.

As far as you introducing her to the concept of sleep, though? Moony doesn't really mind it too much. Only that it's weird to see Ena quiet and...not doing much of anything.

But it's helped with her mood regulation a lot, so...that's a big plus.

Shepherd

Every now and then, the Guardians were allowed to live out in the overworld, spending their lives how ever they wish until they were summoned for the next celebration.

For Shepherd, her work was never done, as she dwelled in a small conservatory where she could tend to her meadow, where hourglass dogs always found their way to her.

But one evening, she discovers an intruder laying in the middle of everything, and is thoroughly appalled when she recognizes her face.

"Ena? Oh no..not again.."

Not only did the same "troublemaker" barge in here, but she had the nerve to crush her flowers, too???

"Great Runas, give me strength. Show me a reason not to strike down this pest-"

"Shep! I'm so sorry! I was looking everywhere for her!" She hears your voice, and is relieved when you come to the rescue.

As one of the first Guardians you befriended, you would often bring lost hourglass dogs to add to her flock. Even buying them from auctions for the sole purpose of rescuing them.

During one conversation over turron, you mentioned being with Ena, and she almost spits out her drink.

Not that it's any of her business, and she doesn't outright say that you shouldn't be dating any Ena. But...she's confused on why and how you two got together, and still is to this very day.

She just watches you carry your girlfriend in your arms, only now realizing that she had been sleeping the entire time.

"That's odd. I thought her kind didn't require rest."

"Yeah, well..I decided to introduce that idea to her. But I probably should've mentioned that she can't just sleep anywhere." You give her an awkward smile.

"Hmph. When she awakens, tell her that she owes me an apology." Shepherd huffs, holding her crook. "My flowers are very delicate this time of year."

"I promise." You reassure, only to feel Ena snuggle her head against your shoulder to get more comfortable.

Her eyes haven't opened once, yet she sensed your presence instantly.

You smile sweetly, and Shepherd just blinks in astonishment.

Merci

She's just patrolling the Maze as usual, talking to you while you're trying to visit Moony, when she nearly trips over something.

But very quickly, you both realize it's someone.

"What??? Who is.....oh, Ena. Why did she come back???" She lightly nudges her side. "I told her this place was dangerous! Does she not have any brains left???"

"Hey, what did I say about insulting her?" You firmly reminded her. "We're together, remember?"

"....so you can make excuses for her being a hazard??" Merci's not pleased with you trying to defend Ena, but in that moment, she wakes up and is delighted to see you two.

"Merci, my good friend! [Y/n], my sweetheart! I had the most delightful dream!"

"Eh? So you sleep now? When did that happen?" is what the mime tells her.

But the only thing Ena hears is "Eh? So you sleep now? Did you have a good rest?"

"Indeed. Thank you!" Your polygonal girlfriend jumps to her feet. "My apologies. I couldn't find my way around and decided to stay put, knowing you'd come find me eventually." She grins, holding your hands. "Fun fact: did you know it's possible to cry until you're physically exhausted and lose consciousness?"

"Yeah, but...that's not really a fun fact." You shake your head. "Let's go see Moony. We'll catch you later, Merci."

The mime simply nods, although she finds it bizarre how and why you chose to be with Ena.

But she's not gonna question your decision too much. She's got more important things to worry about.

Phindoll

It was a quiet night, when you were cuddling with a drunken Ena who had fallen asleep, her head on your chest.

She had glitched into her "demon" form and for some reason was stuck that way as she passed out, but you didn't mind it at all.

You were just petting her horns, hearing barely-audible purrs emitting from her throat.

Then out of nowhere, your phone rings and you answer, hearing a certain laidback Guardian's voice on the other end.

"Hey, hey, hey!! How's that acutie of yours doin'? Haven't seen her in a minute."

"Oh! Phindoll? Hey...how are you able to call me from the desert?"

"Don't question it, beta buddy."

"True. I should know better. Um...do you mind keeping the volume down a notch? She's sleeping right now."

"Woaaaahhh...her journey to our Great Runas tuckered her out that much, huh?" He sounds amused. "It's understandable."

"Well it's her first time really sleeping. So.."

"No way, bro. That's insane. Is that why her moods get outta whack sometimes???"

"It's possible." You answered, glancing down at your girlfriend, who seemed to be stirring. But the moment you started petting her horns again, she settles down and lies still once more.

Eventually, Phindoll hangs up the phone to give you guys some peace and quiet.

You liked chatting with him, and you liked the fact that he supports you two being together.

And you're especially grateful he didn't put her through the "interview ritual"...which you knew nothing about except for the fact it involved violence.

[asce-of-hearts]

So I have been binge reading yandere works and and idea came to my mind and if you are still open. Could I request what would happen if yandere Doflamingo were to encounter a person that reminds him of his mother or Corazon. Like the reader is young(well younger than him I’m talking like they are mid to late 20’s) humble polite innocent person visiting dressrosa enjoying themselves and the culture because they come from a wealthy background so they have deep pockets and just like traveling around so they just do what they feel like doing when they want. So in one of their trips they ended up there. The reader can be gender neutral or female whatever you feel like writing for.

Complex

Contents: Yandere!Doflamingo encountering someone who looks like his mother (fem!reader)

more Doffy content here

TAG LIST

WARNINGS: YANDERE, DOFLAMINGO IS A WEIRDO AND A FREAK, OEDIPUS COMPLEX I SUPPOSE, FEM!READER (NO ANATOMY SPECIFIED), NSFW-ISH IN SOME PARTS.

You look familiar.

Strangely familiar, to be precise. He feels like you've known him for all his life, even if you haven't, even if you have never met. But your eyes, your eyes give him all he needs to know about you. It's weird, he has never been too romantic, believed in love at first sight. But in that moment, he can't do anything other than just stare, take all of you in.

How strange, he wants you to wrap your arms around him. He wants to lay his head over your chest and allow him to close his eyes, to rest. His possessiveness comes after that realization, the realization of wanting you to care for him, to love him.

He never thought of himself as one of those. But the fact is, he misses his mother, he has missed her ever since he was a child and his father took everything from him. Maybe its a matter of reincarnation, of fate, something divine and angelic. You, have fallen from the heavens to love and adore him, to dote upon him so he can heal, so he can reach his full potential.

He ends up developing an oral fixation, more specifically related to your breasts. Whenever he has the chance he latches to them like he's an actual baby, suckling at the nipples as if they could give him milk and nourishment. It's nice, it's comforting, he has fallen asleep while you "nurse" him a couple times.

He has to admit it, he has a complex. He realizes when someone in his crew points it out. Him, Doflamingo, a god among humans, is infatuated with a girl half his age because she reminds him of his mom. And he doesn't even struggle to accept it once he realizes. It's a part of his personality, a strange one, a part that's wrong, but one that he can't help.

And he loves you, loves you so much he can't bring himself to do anything bad to you. He's weak for you, obsessed with this pristine and perfect image you give him, like you are a saint, like you are a higher being. He obsesses over the idea of your safety.

He obsesses with the idea of nobody stealing you from his arms ever again.

hope you enjoyed this

have a great day/night

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[hitomisuzuya]

Hellloooooooo😖

This is my first time sending a requestttttt-

Before I ask, I hope you're happy and doing greatttttt, I wish you have a great, wonderful, and lovely day tomorrow!! I wish you the best!! I love you and your workkkk, advanced happy birthday to my favorite writer🫶🫶🫶!!

I was wondering if you can do a Yandere Scaramouche with a fem reader where she got kidnapped by him, and when she woke up, he was about to tell her that struggling is useless because she's tied up- but was surprised that she didn't even struggle at all.

He thought that she's only trying to get his trust so that she can escape later on- but when he saw how she seems to reciprocate his actions, and even initiates them sometimes.. He eventually trusted her-

The rest is up to you-!!

(I hope I didn't yap too much😖😖😖

English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if my grammar is bad-.. T-T

And also, to be specific, please make it smut-

Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like writing it<3!!

Again, I hope you're doing great, take care of yourself, love you, bye bye-!!🖤🖤🖤)

Yandere!Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut Kidnapping. Drugging. Bondage. Degradation. Praise. Creampie. Obsessive/possessive behavior.

Porn with plot this time. This might be a bit longer than I anticipated cause I wanna work on dialogue and detail. I enjoy writing Yanderes ❤️ Smut written while sick, so bear with me🥺

You are way too good for this world, and certainly way too good for the likes of Scaramouche. He knew this. However, this was for your own good. You are strong, but that's exactly why you needed him to protect you. He had to get to you before the unfortunate dregs of life broke you down. Sank it's claws into you, and broke you into a bunch of unfamiliar little pieces.

He more than had experience in the regard.

Scaramouche spent months preparing for this. What he didn't expect was what happened when you finally woke up. The confusion was evident in your eyes when they opened, blinking a few times to focus your vision.

"You are awake," His voice sounded like velvet in your ears, your gaze snapping to him, "Before you woke up, it was real treat for me, you know?" He walked over to the bed, "Getting to see what you look like all tied up for me," His fingers brushed one of your wrists, "Though I am starting to wonder if blue would look just as pretty on those delicate little wrists of yours."

It took a few moments for everything to catch up with you. Your breath hitched in your throat, a shy embarrassed blush that he often craved to see coated your cheeks, your eyes glancing up. Your wrists were tied together and to the headboard with purple ribbons of silk. "What's happening?" You asked a little weakly.

Scaramouche was surprised at the blush. He cleared his throat. "A valid question. I kidnapped you. You dropped like a brick after I drugged you. I may have used a bit more than I needed, but you haven't been sleeping well lately," He replied, matter of fact.

You sighed softly. "Okay," You nodded, adjusting yourself on the bed a little.

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow. What was with you? What was up with that blush on your cheeks? Why were you being so calm? Why didn't you flinch away from the touch of someone who'd just drugged and kidnapped you?

Did he dare think you'd thought about being tied up for him?

"There is no use in struggling," He added, to which you only looked calm. He put his hand on your cheek, waiting for you to shriek and shy away from him.

Looking into his electric eyes always made your heart shake. "But, I'm not," His breath hitched in his throat as you turned your cheek into his hand.

"Yeah, you aren't. Now," You were no doubt trying to lure him into a false sense of security. That was usually the go to strategy for anyone who got kidnapped.

Perhaps he would keep you quiet with the few extra doses of sedatives for the first few days.

"Fine, leave me tied up for awhile. When you feel comfortable, untie me. I'll prove I won't run away," You said, giving him a soft smile that made him grit his teeth, "I promise."

Scaramouche flinched hearing the words I promise. So, he tested you. Boy did he test you. He would leave little traps to see if you would leave. He left the door unlocked. The windows open. He even left the damn door wide open. And yet when he returned, there you were, waiting for him.

Was this what love and loyalty looked like in another person? Did he finally understand what those things met?

The more he pushed his boundaries to see if you would break, the more you seemed to accept him. He got handsy and grabby with you, holding you down while he pressed lustful, harsh kisses to your lips. His teeth biting at your lower lip, his fingers brushing over all the intimate places he wanted to sink his teeth into.

Scaramouche was drowning both you and him in the obsessive passion he felt for you. And you accepted every bit of it. Even felt comforted by it. And when you said, "I want you to touch me. I want you," crawling to straddle his lap and nuzzling your cheek into his neck, every last bit of control he had shattered like glass.

"Say it," He hissed, his hand gripping the headboard tighter as he drove his cock into your sweet spot, "Tell me you want me while I make you cum on my cock, slut," He groaned, trembling as he felt your gummy walls clench on his cock.

If you could touch him, you would've. Your hands were tied above your head to the headboard, one wrist wrapped in purple silk, the other wrapped in blue (he couldn't make up his mind). "I want you, Scaramouche," You moaned, rocking your hips up to help push his cock deeper inside of you, "I want you so badly. I always have."

Fuck, your moans sounded so fucking sweet. It sent him reeling that someone like him could make someone like you, the purest thing in this world to him, moan so lewdly. Your weeping, abused pussy sucking his cock in. It was all so fucking addicting.

He drank in the sight of you, twitching and writhing underneath him, ribbons rubbing against your wrists from the force of his thrusts. Your eyes half lidded, and drool pooling from the corner of your mouth. Would you touch yourself if he untied you right here and now from how good he was making you feel? Your fingers skating over your clit, making your walls tighter on his cock?

There wasn't one intimate part of your body that didn't have dark, blossoming bruises of passion bitten into it. He'd had his fingers inside of you while he marked you up, feeling you soak his hand as he sucked and bite your skin.

"I fucking hope you know I am cumming inside," He growled, hovering his other hand over your throat. He didn't wrap his hand around it and squeeze. He just left it there to exert his dominance over you. Cum nearly spilled inside of you seeing how much it aroused you.

Seeing your eyes light up hearing that he planned to cum inside. The intimacy made your orgasm curl tighter. "Y-You promise?" You managed, moving your head back, and exposing your throat submissively to him for him to squeeze if he wanted.

Scaramouche couldn't hold back his moans anymore, especially not after that and so sweetly said. "Fuck, I'll pump you so fucking full. What a whore," He groaned. He would pump you so full like he imagined all those nights he jacked himself off to thoughts of you.

He knew he would never get enough of the shy, adoring blush that coated your cheeks when he degraded you.

"You are mine. All mine," His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as his cock pulsed inside of you. "Do you underneath me, slut? Or are you too fucked dumb?"

"I'm all yours, Scara. I always was," Your words were said with such tender truth to them. He couldn't detect one single hint of deception in your voice, even as your words broke apart into moans and whimpers.

You couldn't help it. You are in so love with him that it hurt. You'd just been too scared to tell him. Afraid of rejection. He could see it in your eyes. But, he understood that completely. "Shh, it's okay now, kitten," He started to babble, shuddering in pleasure as he pushed one of your knees up towards your chest, "I have you now. Everything will be okay. This horrible world won't ever hurt you," His hips snapped into yours with twice the vigor, "I'll see to that."

Only he alone could taint and corrupt you. Only he could break you down and put you back together as he saw fit. It was all the better for him that you accepted it without hesitation.

"You are close, fuck I can feel it," Your walls were squeezing so deliciously tight on his cock. He placed a rough, passionate kiss on your lips, devouring your mouth for a few long minutes. "And you are crying to," He pulled away, brushing the tears of pleasure falling from your eyes away with his thumb, "Cum on my cock like a good girl. You want me to cum inside, don't you?" He cooed.

You could barely manage a nod, crying out for him as your orgasm hit you. Your cum flooded around his cock, the feeling of your walls craving to milk his cock made cum pulse inside of you.

His fingers relentlessly rubbed your clit, further making you twitch and mewl in bliss as he fucked you through your climax.

"Good fucking girl," Scaramouche said, panting as he pulled out of you. Cum dripped out of your weeping hole. He didn't give you time to catch your breath, however. He was already working his way down between your legs to lick and suck your pussy clean.

[divinedelusional]

𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠

jack schlossberg x fem reader

synopsis: it's been a while for reader and jack sooo they finally get down to it

warnings: smut so minors dni!! 18+ oral f receiving, vaginal sex, slightly sub jack

a/n: that was my first attempt at writing smut and first fic for jack too, inspired by this, obvi

You woke up to a smell of freshly brewed coffee. You hugged the pillow and opened one eye noticing that Jack wasn't by your side, but he appeared soon with a mug of coffee and a tray with food for you.

"You look so beautiful, honey" he said putting coffee and tray aside and gave you a slow kiss.

You indeed look amazing. Morning sun illuminating your frame covered in milky white sheets.

"Hey" you said looking at him with adoration. "Up so soon?" you asked taking a glass of orange juice he handed to you.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I couldn't reschedule the meeting, I forgot to tell you. But it won't be long I'm just meeting this guy about a podcast I agreed to do"

You smiled at him as he kept going.

"But after that I'm all yours. It's a little make up for it" he added pointing to the tray with your food. He made you an avocado toast with beacon on a side and an egg.

"It's great Jack, thank you so much" you said lifting yourself to kiss him. When you pulled you touched a small earring on his left ear.

"I still can't believe you pierced your ears" you chuckled.

"You like it babe?"

"Mhmm of course, you look hot as fuck"

You guys didn't see each other for the day, as Jack went out of town and you had been busy the day before. He came home on the evening when you were already half asleep. You greeted him and saw the earrings and wanted to wait for him, but you were asleep like a baby when he came from the shower.

"Would show you how much I like 'em babe, but what can I do if you're leaving me for a morning" you sighed dramatically.

"Then I'll make sure this meeting goes fast because holy shit..." he kissed you. "I want you so bad you have no idea" he kissed you again, slipping his tounge into your mouth. You almost moaned but didn't wanted to rile him up and make him late.

"Easy easy, we'll have a whole day once you're back" you chuckled.

Jack sighed and smiled at you, kissing your forehead quickly and got up from the bed.

You were eating your delicious breakfast and when he was already bundled up for nyc's cold weather he called to you.

"Bae you know what?? I haven't show my new look to the world yet"

He already posted a tiktok he recorded couple days ago, coming back from his break from social media.

"Well, give the people what they want hm?" you told him.

You saw him quickly checking himself in the mirror and then he pressed record.

"Soo basically I pierced both my ears andd" you heard him talking to the camera "I look like I've had a ton of sex in my life"

You were glad he stopped recording bc you snorted at the last part.

"What?" he asked

"Nothing babe, go you're gonna be late" you said laughing.

God, this man, you thought. He was unbelievable sometimes, but one thing you knew, you'll make sure he'd have sex today. A lot.

You've been reading your book, patiently waiting for your boyfriend. You couldn't focus on the plot as once again your thoughts drifted to the things you wanted to do with Jack. You haven't had sex for almost a week now. Both of you had really busy schedule and then Jack went to Boston. He was feeling down lately with the whole shutting down JFK's library thing. You loved how passionate he was with serving his country but you wished he could relax more. You were there for him of course, comforting him and he was so grateful for that.

But you felt like you both needed different kind of relaxation now. And God, you couldn't wait for it. You felt a growing need in you lower stomach, putting a hand over your mound and pressing lightly. You wanted to put your fingers into your cunt but decided not to. You and Jack didn't have this rule that you couldn't touch yourselves without the other, but you just wanted to wait for him. You could make yourself cum, but you were too needy today. You just knew your fingers wouldn't be enough to satisfy you. You wanted your man's cock. Badly. You wanted him to fuck you so deep you'd see a bulge in your belly.

"Oh fuck" you moaned at the thought and you knew your pussy was already soaked.

Just then you heard keys in the door and sighed with relief. Your torture was bout to end. You heard Jack taking of his shoes and water running as he washed his hands in the bathroom.

"Hi" you said when you came to him, wrapping your hands around his waist.

"Hi" he said, turning around and he pecked your lips. You didn't let him go as you sucked on his tounge. He let out a small moan and opened his mouth wider for you. Still in his embrace you pushed his chest and you walked to the kitchen, while kissing, well more likely licking all over your lips.

"Are you hungry?" you asked, pressing your hips to Jack's.

"Mhm" his voice an octave lower "not for food tho" he said and picked you up, turning around and sitting you on a kitchen island. You squealed at his action and sensation of a cold marble under your thighs. He kissed you, less sloppy this time, and you spread your legs wider when he moved to your neck.

"Jack" you moaned, when he sucked a hickey on your neck, licking over his piece of work.

"As much as I would love to fuck you here..." he said, voice muffled when he started to kiss the other side of your neck, massaging your left boob. "...i can't have my girl sore so early" he took your shorts of when he said that. "My, my what do we have here?" his eyes widened at the sight of a wet spot on your panties, one of his favorite pairs. It was thong made of cotton, burgundy red shade, with lace hugging your hip bones.

"Baby..." you whined quietly when Jack traced his finger over your clothed pussy.

"What honey? Don't be shy, what do you want me to do?"

"Jack, please, do whatever you want to do with me, please, I can't wait anymore"

"Oh baby, I don't wanna torture you. I missed this tight pussy so much. What was that, like four days I haven't felt her?" he was kneeling down, taking off your panties.

"Five"

He started by kissing your ankle, going up with his feather light kisses. He reached your thighs and wanted to tease you a little bit longer but his mind went blank when he was met with the sight of your glistening cunt and her delicious smell. His head empty, only a primal need and hunger left in.

"Fuckin shit, I can't wait any fucking longer" he panted and dived in.

He held your thighs in place, tho he knew he's going to let them go in a minute and let you crush his head with 'em. Usually he started slowly, giving kitten licks to your clit, teasing a finger at your entrance, but he was hungry today and he wanted to take what was his.

His tounge pushed through your folds, going straight for your hole. He pushed it as deep as he could, without a warning and you pulled his hair immediately.

"Oh my fucking... god, Jack please" you moaned. You loved when he tounge fucked your pussy. He would have the stupidest shit eating grin on his face if he wasn't thrusting his tounge in and out of you with such force.

God, his tounge will hurt, you thought to yourself, though you couldn't care much, when your boyfriend was making you feel like this. You were already getting close, to fast for your liking, but you knew you couldn't blame yourself. You pussy was starving for attention and your boyfriend was always so fucking good with his mouth. You were about to tell him that you're gonna cum, when his tounge slid out of you. You wanted to protest, but in the blink of an eye you felt a whole different sensation when Jack had spit directly onto your clit. High pitched whine escaped your throat and you buried your fingers deeper in Jack's hair. His mouth instantly went back to your pussy, his tounge danced on your clit, giving it just the right amount of pressure. He knew you were seconds away from cumming when your nails scratched his scalp harder than before. You were a mess above him and you screamed his name, when with one final flick of his tounge you came all over his face. He lapped at your spasming hole and his nose was pressing against your sensitive bud.

"Jack, Jack, stop, I can't anymore..." you whined and he listened to your pleas and stopped the assault on your pussy.

He lifted himself up, positioning his body between your legs. You were propped up on your elbows and were looking at his face soaked with your juices, when he leaned in.

"Taste yourself, pretty girl" he murmured, before pressing his lips to yours. Your mouth opened right away, letting him in. You kissed so agonizingly slow, but you loved when he got sloppy with his kisses, like he didn't want to leave any part untouched.

Kisses might have been slow, but movements of his hips were getting faster with each second. Suddenly you became aware of your boyfriend's raging erection, grinding on your wet pussy.

"Jack, wait"

"Nnghh, no" he mumbled pulling you to himself again, but you pushed him back before he could kiss you again. He watched you, shocked for a second, his frame resting against the headboard right know. His pupils widened when you climbed on top of him.

"You deserve a big thank you after what you just did Mr. Schlossberg" you breathed to his ear and start to suck a hickey on his jawline. He let out a small moan, as you kept talking. "My baby, did so good for me that his girl didn't even notice how hard you were... you must be already leaking, huh honey?" you asked him palming him through his boxers.

"Please, baby, I'm so, oh fuck, so hard for you, please let me..." he tried to switch your positions, but you restisted. You took his boxers off, letting his cock free.

"Remember what I told you this morning?" you asked, lifting your hips up and lining your entrance with his dick.

"Uh huh" he noded through his gasps as you began to sink down onto him.

"Yes" you hissed with satisfaction and leaned down to bite his earlobe. "Need to show you how much I like your new look, how fuck, how hot you look, Jack" with this words you fully sank down, his dick filling you completely.

"Fuck, fuck, y/n, be a doll and fuck me, please"

"Oh baby, don't worry. You have to live up to your new look right? I'm getting sure, you'll get that ton of sex you talked about this morning"

Jack shot his head back, panting your name.

Already a mess, you thought to yourself, and he has no idea that you just started his fun with him.

reblogs and comments highly appreciatated♡

[dxmedstudent]

Medblrs, who's still around?

I'm aware that it's been some years since my previous medblr list and previous medblr roll call posts. Over the years we've built a thriving and supportive medblr community, which we've been really lucky to have. I'm using medblr in the widest sense, here - nurses, PAs, pharmacists abd all sorts of other professions are welcome.

Years have passed. Many of us have continued to live offline lives or post less frequently because work, kids, other interests and just life got in the way. Some have changed specialties. I know that there have been years I've been fairly quiet because life was busy! But even if you post infrequently, youre still a valued part of the community. Please feel free to reblog and add yourself to the list.

Some left the sphere of medicine, that's cool too - if you ever identified as a medblr, there's still a place for you here.

New medblr friends have joined - why not introduce yourselves? It would be great to make some new connections in this sphere.

I'm also curious about non medblrs who lurk here for fun.

I'll start first. I'm @dxmedstudent (she/her, late 30s), I also go by Tink (that predates my blog here and is somewhat unrelated). I started my blog here over 10 years ago when I was a UK med student writing med student comics which can still be found over at @dxmedicalstudent .

I spent some years in hospital medicine before becoming a GP this past summer. I haven't changed my name or icons in that time so if you think you remember me, you're probably right.

Lovely to meet you all, and to say hi to old friends.

[hhoneyhams]

Headcanon Assortment - Laios/Reader, Chilchuck/Reader

Word Count: ~600

Author's Note: Hi all! It's been a while and I really wanted to get back in the swing of writing n' whatnot, so here is my humble offering lol 🖤 I still haven't been able to get these two off my mind and I wanted to take a stab at a structured headcanon post! I hope you enjoy 😎

I ain't gonna lie, this is just me talking about dick 😅👀🍆💯🔥

Warnings: NSFW and 18+, y'all know the drill by now

Content Warning: VERY specific gendered descriptions of anatomy and bodies

Chilchuck:

It’s easy to want to start with the ‘cut vs. uncut’ part of the Greater Dick Discussion but I feel like for half-foots it’s kind of a toss up and really depends on upbringing or personal preference. Making it race-based is kinda iffy for me, but it’s so easy to come up with a dichotomy for certain ones (dwarves being primarily uncut and the tallmen being cut). I imagine Chilchuck being cut for the convenience factor since that’s what I have the most experience with.

Chilchuck’s build is very lanky for his kind. It’s mentioned in canon that he’s one of the taller half-foots, so I like to imagine he is SLINGING…although he’s much more a “grower” than a “shower.”

When flaccid, it doesn’t get in the way or cause much distraction, but when he’s hard, he cannot hide it whatsoever.

Lengthwise, he’d be sitting at a solid 5 inches.

The tip of his cock is a bit more pointed and slender going down, while being relatively average at the base. He’s got a prominent curve to it as well.

I REALLY like (aka I’m obsessed with) Chilchuck pairings that have distinct size differences, so that size for him would be pleasurable no matter who he’s paired with, without it being seen as too awkward or unrealistic

He’s a big fan of rough blowjobs and face-fucking. He’s itching to get to that precipice as quickly as possible.

His fingers would expertly wind their way through your hair as he took hold of your head to thrust into. Although you wouldn’t choke him down, he’d still find ways to make you sputter and gag around his cock as he drives his way in and out of your throat.

In regards to grooming, Chilchuck is no animal, but he’s definitely a “what you see, is what you get” kind of guy. Whether he’s unkempt ultimately depends on whether he has a steady partner. (And YOU KNOW he’s got the salt and pepper look going down there too).

Laios:

Laios is cut and has a pretty pink round tip. His length shows regardless of whether he’s turned on or not. He’s big enough to have to adjust himself frequently throughout the day.

When hard, Laios is about 7.5 inches and is on the thicker side. 

He’s slightly curved and has some prominent veins down his shaft. 

His dick is very reactive during sex. It’s leaking, twitching, and making itself known pretty quickly. (It’s very easy to get an actual, LITERAL rise out of Laios.)

(Horrible headcanon, I know) But everyone in the Touden party has probably seen Laios erect at some point because he gets very excited at inopportune times and pops boners. Obviously, he’s not going to expose himself to just anyone, but it’s best not to draw attention to it when it does happen.

His favorite kind of attention to get is soft and slow, but he’s either quick to release or desperate to get your hands and body elsewhere before it’s all over too soon. 

His sensitivities will cause him to cuss and ramble under his breath, but praise you all along the way.

Laios loves to melt underneath your touch and craves body worship. His favorite is having your mouth kissing his cuts and scars and your hand slick with spit against his cock. 

He drools during sex as well, totally lost in the feeling to notice it trickle out and onto you.

Because he shaves his face regularly in canon, I also see Laios taking great care of his pubic grooming when it’s convenient for him during his travels. He’s great at keeping everything nice and tidy down there.

End Notes: Life has been super crazy for me lately and I'm just happy things are settling down to a point where I can write again. I've (clearly) been doing a lot of daydreaming at work and it's so nice to get all the words out again...I think I wanna start reading more too!

I'm always an ask away if you ever wanna talk about fictional men or gossip 🖤

Minor edits will be made if I find any mistakes and constructive criticism is always appreciated! (Just don’t be an ass about it 👀)

Credits: Dividers by @/cafekitsune, Cover art from the Delicious in Dungeon Manga, eggplant was something on Canva bc I can't afford to pay Adobe so I can photoshop these teehee

🖤 Rules | Ask Box | Masterlist 🖤

[strrykais]

ᝰ.ᐟ off the record

12 . i think i’m in love with you

Feeling nervous was definitely an understatement, you never been to a party. You were always worried you would make the people around you feel uncomfortable with having to have someone translate or write it down for you. 

It didn't take much convincing to convince Giselle to come, she was more than happy to accompany you when she saw how nervous you were to even ask her. It did however take forever to convince chenle to drive you both.

When you guys finally arrived at the address sion sent you, you watched chenle mouthed something to giselle and her comment back. 

Chenle turns to you ‘ when you are ready to go call or text okay? I can come get you both.’ 

‘ What if you don’t answer? ’ Chenle rolls his eyes ‘ then keep blowing it up till I do, you idiot. I can’t let two girls walk home late at night. Now can I? ‘ he had a look of pity, which made you roll your eyes, turn your head out the window, and see Sion in the doorway waving at you with a big smile on his face.

You wave back at him, tapping Giselle's shoulder pointing at Sion. ‘I'm going to head in and I'll see you there. Bye Chenle.’

They both watch as you get out the back seat walking up to Sion.

“Watch after her Gi. It’s her first party after all.” Chenle says leaning forward to see you walk in the door with him. 

“She’s a big girl Le, and plus this is like a perfect party for her to be at. Trust me she will be fine. Let her make friends, we will call you when we are ready.” She gathers her bag and starts unbuckling her seat belt.

“No alcohol, I'm not carrying either of you guys.” Chenle waves giselle out, “Yes Dad.” 

Sion was giving you a tour of the place, slowly introducing you to his friends. You were kind of glad that he was going at a slow pace. It's not that you felt uncomfortable, it was just a lot especially when the only people you interacted with were your friends and jeno. Jeno! You totally forgot to message him, you quickly pull out your phone sending him a text.

A tapping on your phone brought you back to sion who was standing over you with his curious eyes. 

‘boyfriend?’ he asks, you notice the way his hands ask almost as if testing the waters. you glance up at him to see his eyes were avoiding yours, ears slowly turning a soft shade of red to match the blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

This was all new territory, you never had a boy ask if you were dating anyone. You weren’t dating officially but you kind of assumed you and jeno had something going on. He did ask you on a date, that has to mean something right.. You didn’t wanna lie to Sion, especially since he has been so kind and sweet, but you weren't sure where you were in your romantic life. 

You rub your hands together getting ready to give him a reply, you noticed sion waving someone over with hands signing to you. ‘You gotta meet my friend, he has been a great help in getting me used to the new and bigger campus.” you only smile and give him a slight nod when he steps past you giving his friend a hug. You try to glance around him to catch his face, and when you do your eyes widening in surprise. 

‘Jisung this is the girl i was telling you about. Jisung this is y/n. Y/N this is jisung.’ you were hoping sion couldn’t catch the looks you both gave each other. But he completely did. ‘It looks like you know each other.’ 

‘Yeah something like that.’ jisung signs to sion, eyes quickly going back to you. You nervously started playing with the hem of your shirt, trying to keep your hands busy because you didnt wanna talk and was too afraid to glance away from either of them in case you missed something signed. 

“I think I'll let you two talk.. The silence is suffocating and that’s all I've heard all my life. So find me later, okay guys?’ you give him a smile and a nod as jisung gives him a thumbs up.

You watch as Sion disappears into the crowd behind jisung. Jisung's eyes haven't left your figure for a while before he decides to break the ice. ‘Can we talk? Somewhere more private.’ you nod as jisung reaches out a hand for you to grab. It was weird. You and jisung were so close that physical contact was second nature, no need for asking. But now with his hand stretched out for you, you felt your heart breaking for your lost connection and one of your most treasured friendships. 

 You slip your hand into jisungs while he leads you past people, reaching outside on the balcony. You were kind of hoping giselle saw you and jisung together and followed you out, but now it was just you, jisung and the light snow that sprinkled outside.

Jisung must have noticed that you were cold, when you rubbed your hands over your arms. You watch as he takes off his jacket pulling it over your shoulders. His face was inches from yours and it felt so foreign. He felt so foreign.

‘You don't have to say anything.’ he starts off, face holding so much worry like you were gonna hit him. You could never hit him, he knows that but he still was worried you might. ‘ I'm sorry. I’m sorry for the way I acted towards you and towards jeno. I just got worried that you would leave me for someone who was probably ten times better than me. I know that doesn’t really excuse it because I should be someone who supports you and helps you, not hold you back to the point you only need me. I was selfish for thinking that, especially when I know you see me as nothing but a friend. I wrote and I practiced what I have been wanting to tell you over the last few weeks and now my mind is drawing a blank with you standing so pretty in front of me. You just make me so nervous and I forget all the time when I'm around you. Y/N if you have it in your heart i wanna become friends again, i will continue to work through this love i feel for you so it wont hinder our friendship.’ 

You quickly reach out stopping his hand movements, jisung watches your heavy breaths of white fog leave your mouth. Cheeks red with your nose to match, jisung didn’t like the expression on your face. Jisung didn’t want your pity, he already knew how you felt towards him.

‘Love?’ you questioned. Your eyes searched his face to see if he was pulling some joke. 

‘I think I'm in love with you. No wait, I have been in love with you for a while. And I let that consume me and took advantage of your trust. That little part of you was all I could get and I slowly saw it become Jenos. I have come to realize that it was never mine to take. I’m sorry for dropping this on you at your first party, but i thought i might never get the chance to talk to you that wasn't through a phone.’ 

Jisung lifts his hands to cup your cheeks, pulling your face down planting a soft kiss in your temple. He gives you a shy smile letting go of your face, taking a few steps back before signing, ‘you have my number when you are ready to talk again, and if not I also understand that. Don't stay out here for much longer, you are starting to look like an icicle. Ill see you around ynnie.’ with that he walks inside softly shutting the doors, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts and aching heart.

A figure popping in your peripherals scares you, hand going over your pounding heart to see Giselle looking completely shocked. ‘Why did jisung come to me and say you needed me out here?’ 

You let out a soft sigh, ‘im ready to go home. I can tell you there.’

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authors note: oh angst was crazy with this one

taglist: @dudekiss3r @bluedbliss @synthwxve @413ktz @mrsjohnnysuh @hyuckies18 @jeonghansshitester @multifandomania @yewshi @peterm4rker @flamingi @iamsimplyasimp @kaosuni @i-lovegood @jich3nle @melodiessvy @lampcults @smilefordongil @elsbunny @staydeardream @jeonginsbaee @t-102 @jae-n0 @sthwaaberry @snoopyjimin @flaminghotyourmom @keeryverse @haechsworld @kukkurookkoo @minkyuncutie @haechanmybaechan @oliviahyehyehye @remgeolli @xiuriii @saucyjaeyun @yizhrt @depressed-hoe2001 @jungaji @n0hyuck @charlieg1rl @thegracerammy @sunghoonsgfreal @jenohyun @jenoleeaesthetic @neozon3nha @dreamiestay @dinonuguaegi @morkleesgirl @catpjimin @lotties-readings

reblogs, likes and replies are appreciated! feel free to send constructive feedback/thoughts in my asks or comment below!

[fanged-fanfics]

Hello! Would you consider writing about Optimus comforting a depressed f reader? I'm extra emotional and having the sads for no (apparent) reason and I think cuddles from a giant softie would fix me. Thank you!

☆ Someone On Your Side — Optimus x Fem Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Hurt/Comfort || she/her pronouns for reader || Warning for themes of depression/lack of self care

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You honestly couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten out properly. Living at the Autobot base meant there was always a task or mission going on, so you had a lot of space to yourself. Even if the makeshift little room they gave you wasn't perfect, they tried their best to make a habsuite fitting for a human. The bed was a little too big and the furniture was a bit too spaced apart or not fully straight, but the effort was what mattered. You got accustomed to the surroundings after spending so much time there anyhow. It was hard to go out these days, and you didn't feel any motivation to take any invitations the 'Bots had given you. You were curled up in your bed, attempting to rest up the mental energy, when you heard a little knock at your door.

"Come in" you called tiredly, and the metal doors slid open. A tall, broad figure entered, you could hear metal pedesteps on the floor that approached you. A large servo very gently nudged you over so a heavy weight could sit beside you. You leaned your head up, seeing Optimus Prime himself. He made sure the doors closed back automatically before speaking. "Human. It came to my attention that you've been a rare sight around the base these days" he began gently. You sighed as you sat up a little "Oh, sorry if I worried you guys.. I haven't really been feeling myself lately". Optimus gave a thoughtful nod, "Have your rations spoiled? Is your berth not clean? I've tried to help the Autobots keep track of-"

"No, uh- it's nothing like that" you gently interrupted. Optimus' optics looked at you with concern. He reached a servo out, moving slowly and carefully as he did his best to pet your shoulder. "We're worried for you, human" Optimus said softly "Are you sick?". "No, Op, I'm- I'm sorry, I just- can't be out and about like I usually am" you said "I need some time". Optimus made a soft humming noise, reaching his servo down to tuck your blankets around you better. "I see. Then rest well, human. You will rise and do great things, in due time. I and the Autobots are here if you require anything" he said softly.

"Thanks, Prime" you said gently. You thought it over for a second before adding, "I do have.. one request, if that's okay?". Optimus' helm points perked up, listening intently "Anything". "Can you maybe... stay with me a bit? I know you're busy, but- I'd like the company" you asked, a little hesitantly. "Of course" Optimus said, motioning for you to make room. He waited until you shifted comfortably before laying behind you, his large arm wrapping loosely around your proximity and pulling you as softly as possible to his chassis. His battlemask slid open, and he rested his helm beside your head.

"Don't be discouraged, little spark" he said softly as you snuggled in "Even I have these moments, you know. No warrior is meant to fight restlessly". "Is that one of your many wise sayings?" You asked, and Optimus found himself smiling at the humor in your words. "It can be. I've millions of years of them to share" he said. You huffed a small chuckle, closing your eyes as his engine purred softly behind you. "If I may..." Optimus began softly, his nose gently nudging you in a tender nuzzle "I'll be happy to monitor your food intake and recharge habits. I know you've mentioned they haven't been the greatest, as of late". You hummed a bit as you thought over the offer. "Not a bad idea, honestly. Can I sleep on it?". Optimus nodded "Granted, of course"

You felt fatigue settle in your figure slowly, your mind finally feeling safe enough to nap. Optimus' rumbling system provided great background noise for you to rest against. You pressed more into his chassis, curling up the best you could while he used a servo to support your back. You sighed contently as you let your eyes fall shut, hearing melodious and deep humming as you began to drift off.

[weirdworldofwinnie]

All Tied Up

Part 2 here

The Wizard/Oscar Diggs x female reader (NSFW 18+ only)

Summary: You've been The Wizard's pet 'plaything' more or less for a while now after ending up in the land of Oz by accident. One night he decides to try a new trick in the bedroom.

Warnings: unprotected sex, age gap (much older man/younger woman), power imbalance dynamic, slight daddy kink, nonconsensual mildish bondage, mentions of kidnapping and imprisonment, drinking, drugging

Word Count: ~6,471

A/N: Ever since watching Wicked when it debuted in theaters, I cannot get over Jeff Goldblum as the absolute sexiest Wizard of Oz and so this was born out of a little self-indulgence that I'm happy to share with others who are also down horrendously bad for this man. Takes place before the main climatic events of part one of the movie and obviously not entirely accurate to canon. Reader is AFAB for this (I might write another fic that is more gender neutral) and no use of Y/N in dialogue. Also, this is my first Oz fanfic, and I haven't written smut in a hot minute, so forgive me if it's a bit rusty!

Oscar Diggs.

That isn't his full name of course; all he ever told you was that it was embarrassingly long and unnecessary. Here in the Emerald City though, he is just known as a godlike figurehead deemed The Wizard. The Great and Powerful Oz. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Oz the Great and Terrible. His Supreme Ozness. All that jazz.

You know now he is a farce, a carny drifted the wrong way west, a two-bit con man that you have no business screwing with. But you do not know the extent of his wickedness and besides, he is just too damn good at wooing and making your heart stutter triple its normal rate for you to dig deeper beyond your feelings. He has an inflated ego, sure, but he's fairly quite kind, at least to you.

You first remembered him when you were a small child visiting the traveling carnival at the state fair in Kansas. His warm olive complexion was complimented with a clean-shaven face and a head full of dark hair and he was so, so tall. He still is, but you have a different perspective now. Back then at your low vantage point, he was so up towards the sky that he might as well have been wearing stilts.

He'd crouched down to your level and displayed out a standard deck of playing cards, and exclaimed: "Pick a card, any card!"

You randomly (or thought so) plucked out the Jack of Hearts and he took it back and shuffled the deck with a flurry of motion, then fanned them back out. You didn't see your Jack among them, and you puckered, lower lip jutted out. His eyes went wide at that, and he feigned concern.

"Ohhh, no, where is it? Is it in here?" He dug frantically into the flap of his jacket to no avail, then the bottoms of his tap shoes.

"Hmm, I don't suppose it could've..." He yanked off his top hat to reveal the same card hidden under there.

You'd gasped, equal parts confused and delighted, and he looked relieved at the successful reaction.

"Here, keep it. I have a dozen of these decks. It's something to remember me by and show all your friends." He pressed the colorful illustrated card into your palm with a grin and your eyes had sparkled with wonder and enchantment.

Thinking back on it, you knew he'd probably done that trick with twenty other kids that day, it was just a ploy to make you feel special, like sure he'd picked you out of the crowd to gift that Jack of Hearts to. But that didn't stop you from hanging onto it as a prized keepsake and keeping that card tucked safely in your jewelry box.

Years passed and you grew up, temporarily forgetting about the nice funny carnival man and shoving it to the back of your mind to solely focus on your simple and hardworking life helping your folks manage the acres of farmland and homestead. One late spring day you were out feeding the flock of chickens when you noticed that off in the distance to the west, dark clouds had gathered into an angry mob, a swirling mass of foreboding. You squinted, dropping the sack of feed. That sure didn't look nothing like an ordinary twister...

A vicious wind blew up and you struggled to walk towards the house, your skirt whipping around like a flag in the pummeling gusts. Ma and Pa were in town with the farmhand picking up supplies, so you were all alone and having never been caught out in the middle of a storm that seemed out of the ordinary, you were terrified.

The tornado spun across the fields, churning up the pastures and few buildings and wooden fences in its wicked wake, until it was no more than a football field's length away. There was no time get to the safety of the cellar, there no time to save anything, and with a scream, you bolted into the barn because it was nearest and covered your head as you flattened to the floor. It occurred to you too late that you should've tied or hitched yourself to a post or something...

Within ten frantic beats of your heart, the monster twister was directly overhead, the roaring and gnashing of its raw power nightmarish. Before you knew it, the barn walls around you started to rip and shudder and then the twister had violently sucked you and what was left of the barn straight up into the air and you promptly blacked out, certain this was it.

********

To your immense surprise, when you regained consciousness some time later, you crawled out of the remaining rubble of the barn to have ended up in a strange colorful place where there were joyously curious multitudes of strangers - people that called themselves citizens of Munchkinland. You were certain you had hit your head on the way down and went bonkers, but somehow it was all very real.

After you had recovered from shock and explained your situation, they advised you to head to the imperial capital, named Emerald City, to plead your case to the ruler who resided there, referred to as The Wizard. A kindly older Munchkin couple lent you their horse and a basket of bread with a canteen of water for the journey. For miles you rode through the farmland and north through mountainous regions to what the Munchkins said was Gillikin Country, home to the Great Gillikin Railway. The train station was gleaming and shiny, and the judgmental and disgusted looks from boarding passengers and workers made you feel like a filthy stray dog. You tried your best to ignore them and strode straight up to the conductor taking tickets.

"Excuse me, sir? I need to get to the Emerald City."

He wrinkled his nose and held out a white gloved palm expectantly.

"Oh, but I haven't any money for a ticket; I lost everything from the freak storm that brought me here."

His thick bushy brows had furried together and he sniffed once.

"A storm, you say?"

"Yes, I ain't got a cent. I was told by the Munchkins to go see The Wizard for my troubles."

His eyebrows shot straight up into his high forehead, and he scoffed loudly. You started to turn away, dejected.

"Well, why didn't you say so? It's your lucky day, miss! Come aboard!" the conductor suddenly exclaimed joyfully, ushering you on.

"Only this once though. You'll go straight to Emerald City where our wonderful Wizard can sort you out."

You boarded and found a private seat by the window, instantly falling asleep as soon as the train sped off. You missed out on the wonderous views of rugged thick moody forests and bright fields of crimson poppies and only awoke when the train jolted to a halt. Once let off at the station, you took to exploring the overwhelming oasis that was the Emerald City. You'd never seen a big city before and certainly not one like this...

It wasn't hard to figure out signs of this mysterious Wizard and the most obvious was a huge statue planted in the center of the town square. With a loud gasp, you recognized the figure as the very carnival man you had met as a little girl all those years ago.

After getting directions to the palace from a couple of citizens on the street, you went hurriedly to the entrance, only to run up against the stationed uniformed guards.

"I need to see the Wizard, please," you begged of them.

They'd been extremely skeptical, but after much desperate explaining and exasperation, you were begrudgingly allowed in and warned that if you were told to leave by him, you must obey and that nothing could be done about it.

The stretched-out hallway that was the walk down to where you were supposed to meet this Wizard was ominous and your boots had clacked loudly across the shiny tiled flooring, each step echoing tenfold.

The room itself was enormous and intimidating with bursts of fire and noise almost as bad as the tornado. Somehow, you'd mustered up some gumption to tell off the ghoulish moving mechanical head mouthpiece that you weren't scared off by its overdramatic display and that you weren't going to leave until you saw the voice behind it.

"I know who you are, Mr. Deck of Trick Cards!" you yelled at it and with a great whirring of the machine shutting off, it then clunked silent.

He'd come out from behind the hanging ropey curtain of thick twisted fibers, purely flabbergasted more than angry, and declared in humbled bemusement that no one had ever told him that before. Seeing him in the vivid flesh instead of a dim memory had made you falter. He had aged, yes, but he was actually rather handsome and so well dressed, radiating off quirky charm and charisma. You properly introduced yourself and recounted how you'd recognized him from your memory of that distant festival day.

"I see, but I'm afraid I don't remember you, sorry?" He coughed into his fist while his right shoe tapped restlessly.

Your heart sunk even though it was perfectly logical, and you didn't even know why you expected any remembrance when he never even knew your name, for Pete's sake! You had been just another cute face in the crowd, a country bumpkin kid to play card tricks with at the fair for a minute of his day. He had no reason to selectively recall you at all.

"I figured as much, it's my fault. I guess I'll get going though I haven't a clue on how to get home. But darn it, you know I didn't ask to be swept up by a tornado and plopped into this freakish land! I didn't mean to travel all this way through hot fields and cold mountains and the long railway just to get turned away by a silly man who runs a giant talking head!" You hadn't meant to sound rude and whiny, but you were so tired, hungry (the bread you were given depleted hours ago), dirty, and utterly exhausted. And the hope you had pinned on this one man was extinguished.

The Wizard crossed his arms tight to his chest and his eyes casually roamed up and down your body, perhaps surveying the pathetic condition you were in. If he was offended by your statements, he didn't show it.

"You know, it's funny, I had something somewhat similar happen to me back in Omaha and that's how I ended up here... I made the most of it, though. You came from the great state of Kansas, you said?"

"Yes, sir."

He had smiled at that, perhaps enjoying the way that respectful reply just automatically slipped out from your lips, and then he had waved a hand uselessly behind him.

"I don't know how to send you home. Well, I have a hot air balloon for travel, but it's more strictly emergency purposes and I don't think it would be wise to cause a ruckus and panic the people, so... You know what? How about you, uh, stay the night? You must be so worn out and clearly need a bath."

You winced, knowing you were caked in the unappealing smell of dust, muck, and sweat, but nodded eagerly.

"There's no sense traveling now anyhow, it'll be too dark soon. How about you stay with me for a while, and we'll figure things out, alright?"

You were near tears, yet very grateful, and accepted.

You almost wished you hadn't.

Guards, which were a mix of both normal humans and (bizarrely) blue faced monkeys had come in and dragged you off to a secluded room of the palace where you were scrubbed down and dressed in green pajamas by a small team of maids before being put in a bedroom.

You were stopped at every turn you attempted to leave your room to find an exit and finally they deadbolted it. You spent two nights in confinement with delivered meals before The Wizard had entered and gently explained it was too dangerous to let you leave, that you were safer with him and better off staying with him. At first, you were upset because surely your folks were worried about how you had presumably fallen off the face of an earthly existence, but then you remembered you were definitely an old enough adult to live on your own now and maybe there was nothing left of the homestead anyway if that nasty storm had its way. You didn't miss your work on the farm, nor the pressure your family had been applying to find a young man to marry. You never admitted it out loud, but you had bigger sights than being a simple country girl who let some drunken boyish hick boss you around.

This palace was just so grand compared to anything you'd ever seen in your life, and it was complete with a man you were increasingly infatuated with. It took several weeks of being locked up to come to terms with the realization that you had a raging crush on the man who was playing captor, and you wanted him very badly, but his interactions were limited, and you wondered why the heck he kept you around and alive if all he cared about was hiding his identity.

One night though, he broke down the invisible barrier: as you were knelt down in your room removing your slippers for bed, he grabbed your chin to tip upward and within a matter of two seconds, he kissed you right on the lips before you could make a peep. After a second, you kissed back hungrily without restraint, letting desire overrule fear.

"I'm sorry," you and him both said at the same time when he pulled away.

After that, you shyly admitted your blooming feelings for him and by a stroke of splendid luck, The Wizard reciprocated. He invited you to his private room and you slept with him for the first time. Afterward, he told you a bit about himself, how he really started out just a simple man named Oscar who had become a magician and one day the man in charge because people happened to be so gullible. He was intelligent, inventive, and intoxicating with a dash of cunning.

Of course, you weren't sure if the "love" that he extended was out of pure benevolent generosity or you were merely just a glorified whore, but either way you were happy because you loved him, albeit stupidly. He must genuinely love you back though; what else could all the flowers left on the nightstand and weekly gifts of expensive jewels tucked into tiny ornate boxes with trailing lime green silk ribbons mean? He even gifted you an entire handpicked wardrobe of fine clothing from pressed skirts and beautiful dresses to day-to-day blouses to pajamas and revealing lounge wear, many of which match the colors of Emerald City.

The only downside to this whole odd arrangement was that due to the fact that you already knew too much about him, he'd grounded you to the palace indefinitely. From day one you were not allowed to step even a toe outside the palace walls, you weren't let out to leave the premises even accompanied by guards, and you had to keep to yourself in the designated permitted rooms, of which he had many for a single man. When you asked why he needed the excess of rooms, he chuckled.

"They're for my inventions and all the things I collect. I'm rather sentimental, you see."

"Am I now one of your 'things'?" you asked, to which he had smiled almost impishly.

"You could be, if you want."

********

So it is without resistance that now, many months later, at eight o'clock in the evening (he insists on an earlier bedtime, strictly nine o'clock at the latest) in his grand bedroom, you splay fully naked on your back across the rich emerald green satin sheets like a starfish waiting to be swept away by the power of the tidal force he thinks he is (maybe sometimes he's more of a lukewarm swell but no matter).

The Wizard, or Oscar as he prefers only in private, is a surprisingly fit man for his age with a decent sex drive in bed when he's in the mood, which is at least once a week, but there are dry spells when he's too busy or unhappy. While you spend time reading in the library, he spends hours off somewhere building things and tinkering with models which you've never touched. You sleep in separate bedrooms, but on such nights he's ready for passion however, you're expected to be there and stay the night with him. Enjoying his company isn't hard to do - you've fallen head over heels for the man.

Presently, he's removed his long coat to hang up and is in the process of undressing further, the bits and bobs and chains clinking softly from his vest, when he pauses significantly, humming to himself in the depths of the spacious walk-in closet off to the side.

"What is it?" you ask, perplexed and a smidge annoyed at his distraction. He'd promised - no, ordered - an intimate evening after a long while of leaving too much alone. He's been swamped with work and meetings with other influential folk and plotting and planning that he always keeps quiet and stuffed away from you.

"Do you want a drink, my beauty?" he asks abruptly, turning around and holding a tiny green bottle of his famed elixir that he procured from somewhere.

"What kind of game are you playing at, sir?" you wonder suspiciously, watching candlelight glint playfully off the glass.

"It'll loosen you up, just a sip or two."

"It's just alcohol, isn't it?" You can hear the uncertainty reverberate through your tone and the guilty twitch of his eyebrows doesn't deny anything.

"My very own special blend. Take some," he insists, coming over and pressing the cool bottle into your tender hands.

"Why?"

"It's, uh, for a surprise. I promise it's not poison, by golly."

"Not funny." You narrow your eyes but pop the cork and bring it to your lips to take a quick swig. It goes down smooth like syrup, just not as sweet.

"That's my girl," he praises, and you shiver in delight as he climbs up on the bed, holding his hand out expectantly for the elixir, but you aren't done with it. You drink more, feeling the inexplicable urge to quench your thirst. You finally press the nearly empty bottle back to his hands, swallowing before lying back with a flump onto the plush pillows.

Within two minutes, you feel entirely airy and floaty, like your mind has taken an extension cord out of your body to stick somewhere up on the ceiling.

"This'll 'ad better be gooood..." you slur out.

"I guarantee it will, at least for me." He watches in satisfaction as you doze off to dreamland in a daze, a heavy weight of comfortable numb blackness settling over your bones. The room is bathed in a cozy glow from the candles, and it smells deliciously heady.

********

Not too long later, you stir awake from your short-lived nap and when you roll over to your side, you find you can't. Your back is flush against the satin sheets, arms raised up above your head and pinned to the headboard.

"W-Why am I... all tied up?" you ask groggily, looking down at your spread apart legs and ankles, which are stuck in place to the bedposts by a sturdy soft green rope snaked expertly and securely.

"I thought, uh, we'd try something new here..." Oscar says, seeming hesitant now, as if he's two inches away from regretting playing out this fantasy. Or maybe he's not guilty at all and only perceiving the act of being so (you could never tell with a sleazy con man after all).

You tug uselessly at the bindings, which aren't that uncomfortable; the mossy green rope coils around your wrists and ankles snugly, leaving a bit of room for circulation. The only part that truly bothers you is the restricted mobility and lack of control.

Oscar approaches slowly, as if gauging your reaction and his self-preservation if you should decide to fight back... How exactly, you don't know. Yell at him, cuss him out? Bite him like a lowly animal? Scream until a guard comes in to see if you are being murdered?

You writhe slowly, testing the limitations as he settles down at the foot of the bed, a patient parental expression painting his face, coloring with concern yet intrigue. In the time while you were asleep, he's removed his button down and trousers, leaving just a white undershirt and green boxers that pronounce his male package quite well.

He runs a slow hand up along the length of your left thigh and then alternates to the right, his fingers tracing lines of pleasure into your veins. You automatically whimper and he rigs a sly smile up to one side of his cheek.

"Do you like this?"

"I don't know..." you murmur truthfully. It's not exactly unpleasant, but the loss of control is unsettling.

"Well, I happen to like it. You know, the sight of you like this." He gestures a wide sweeping path across the whole of your body, and you grin sheepishly, chest rising and falling with anticipated breaths.

"You can't squirm from me as much."

"I don't squirm," you protest, raising eyebrows.

"Oh yes, you do. I know you don't mean to."

Before you can react to that, he lunges forward and his hands go to your sides, stroking up around to your breasts, fondling them like priceless treasures. You moan, arousal heating your core even more than before, and he rubs a thumb over the hard buds of your nipples while speaking lowly.

"I thank my lucky stars that you were blown in from that storm, it sure was a lonely handful of years before you stumbled into this place. And to have someone so obedient to all my whims..." he trails off, a hungry glint in his eyes.

He bends down to lick and smooch along your throat, inching upward until he nuzzles the nape of your neck with his nose. His close cropped and trimmed mustache/goatee tickles and scratches at your skin as he leans so close, cupping the opposite side of your face with a firm hand. You whimper as he latches onto your mouth possessively, his tongue hot and heavy in your mouth. He tastes faintly like Oz's finest toothpaste and his aftershave should be sold as a candle. Maybe you can suggest to him to market his own line of merchandise; the people of Emerald City will buy anything with their great ruler's handsome face on it even if the product is utter shit.

You feel your hips trying to buck up, needing more contact than of the oral kind, but he's teasing tonight.

"Just keep making those pretty noises, darling..." he whispers, sucking numerous hickeys.

"Please, Oz..."

He moves his head, hot breath on your earlobe as he mutters the words.

"What is it that you desire?"

You struggle to speak, all senses haywire, and he waits patiently as you breathe erratically.

"You-I, please, I need... Oscar, please! Touch."

"Oh, you want me to touch you there? Now we're getting somewhere, darling."

He backs off to run a hand down the length of your body and two of his solid warm fingers slip down into your entrance and out, a give and take motion he does for a bit just to get you hot and bothered. His fingers toy expertly with your moist clit like one does with levers to machines, pressing up and down, rubbing a swiping warm thumb over the knob... When he curls them internally, you cry out cataclysmically, stomach undulating in peaking waves of pleasure as you squirt on his fingers. He chuckles, keeping his grip on your hips, and without the ropes keeping your limbs in place, you'd be thrashing. It's torture, but in the very best way.

When you calm down enough to gaze at him heavy lidded with blown pupils, he focuses on removing his undergarments, taking the white undershirt off first and throwing it to the floor for a maid to pick up later. Then he gets to the main event, the showstopper. You don't focus long on his erect cock because his fingers get in between your legs again. He dips one in, two, then three to stretch you out and your warm slick folds welcome him back in with relief. He holds his free hand down on your stomach and you orgasm once more, yanking in frustration at the bindings that dig into your skin.

"Easy, easy," he says as if trying to tame a wild mare.

"I want... to touch you!" You've fondled his balls and cock before, but even just throwing your arms around his neck would be better than this look-but-don't-touch load of hooey.

"I know, I know. Hey, I'm doing the work here alright? Just enjoy the ride and you'll thank me later."

He looms over before settling down over you and it's strange not being able to grab him in return, to claw at his back, to wind your legs around his waist and claim him as your own for the evening. This power play dynamic is right up his alley, to make you feel utterly vulnerable and pliable underneath him, and it's only fitting for a man who loves to pull the strings of everything and everyone around him. He prefers being on top in bed, but you're definitely known to ride him cowgirl style a time or two (this is your favorite position).

The head of his cock pushes in at a tasteful pace to bottom out and burrow inside that it feels like up in your stomach - and it's taken practice to get to this point; the first time (and a few times after that) hurt and he couldn't get too far mostly because he was just so big. You wonder dimly if taking elixir and being in a relaxed state of mind affects your ability to take his girth. Either way, he never gets angry on nights he can't go all the way; he finds his climax just as well outside. Tonight, though, he's persistent and when he glances at your face which is not screwed up and wincing, he gradually nods in approval to continue.

Oscar moves slowly in rocking rhythm, gentle and deliberate at first, then faster and rougher, nearly growling in pursuit of his own pleasure. His silver hair falls out of its careful coifed style to hang over his forehead, and he keeps his melted milk chocolate-colored eyes dead set on yours as he fucks, a predator to his prey. He has you right where he wants, you can't move away, and you moan as your walls clench tight around his cock. He holds his stare steady, but his frame is shuddering and it's clear he's close to his pinnacle, the one he's been aiming for since you entered this bedroom.

He has made it no secret he has cravings to be a father, even though you're sure he'd be a somewhat inept, possibly even lousy one due to his measurable amount of selfishness. Not to mention the detail that he's old enough to be your own daddy and you oddly don't have a problem with that... But he knows he mustn't intentionally knock you up (a scandal that would cause if word got out) and it was you who had to sadly school him on this fact of life, having been around enough farm animals all your life to know how babies are easily made and knowing friends who had become mothers at the ripe age of 18 back in high school, and you do not want to be that careless. It's lucky there hasn't been any "mistakes" so far in your bedding with Oscar, but you know he almost can't resist spilling inside.

Instead, he pulls out with difficulty at the very last minute, and hot ropes of gooey cum splatter your stomach and splash against your chest. He groans in ecstasy before heaving, out of breath.

"You okay?" you whisper as his lightly sweating chest rises and falls with exertion. He cracks a lopsided smile, steadying himself by using his arms to brace against the headboard above you.

"Are... Are you kidding? I've never been better. Just - just give a man a minute, will you?" He retracts an arm back and holds up a single finger with a dangerous glance.

"And don't you dare make a joke about my age. I'm as fit as a fiddle, just like when I was thirty."

You nod absently, thinking of him as a younger man. The portraits and statues scattered around are decent, but could never do him justice. He's aged like the finest high-quality wine and the silver hair and sprinkling of wrinkles only enhances his austerity.

"You're incredible, your Ozness."

"Flattery always works best, my dear." He ducks his head down and sloppily kisses you softly on the cheek.

"And you deserve to be untied, don't you?" His hands wind around behind your head and with one quick motion, both your wrists are untied. He does your ankles next in a flash and flimsily bundles the short ropes up to toss onto the bedside table.

He climbs off and helps you up ease up to a seated position. You feel suddenly dizzy and droop forward, your brain rushing with slush, and blood flushes into your cheeks.

"Woah, it's okay." He sucks in a breath, catching you against his chest.

"Spinning," you gasp out and he keeps his arms securely around you for a minute before you wiggle, antsy, and he props you up.

"Still on the Tilt-A-Whirl?" he asks, lines deeply creasing his face.

"I... It's gettin' better." You shake your head as though that will dispel the imbalance that you have a strong hunch is a side or after effect from his mystery elixir, not just the sex.

"Thank goodness. You scared me for a minute there, if this is too much..."

"No! I love you," you blurt out and he comfortingly pets your head, raking fingers through and tousling your hair.

"Alright, sweetheart. And to think in addition I was going to experiment with a blindfold and gag- uh, never mind. Maybe that's too advanced; we'll hold off on that one for the foreseeable future."

You gape at him as he gets off the bed with no further word but a grunt and reaches over for a towel on the bedside table to give to you. You take it to wipe up some of the mess while he leaves momentarily off to the nearby bathing chambers to freshen up.

He comes back five minutes later dressed only in a fresh pair of tight fitting boxers predictably of his favorite color that you have to tear your gaze away from lest you foolishly admit to wanting another go around. He clears his throat at your staring, rubbing his jaw and jerking his chin towards the door.

"You can go clean up now," he says a bit gruffly, pointing.

All of Emerald City is extravagant and even the humble washroom is no exception. The first night he'd fucked you, Oscar had given a tour of it.

"See what money and power can buy? It'd do you good to remember that," he'd said as he ran a hand across the shiny marble tiles and gilded gold faucets.

"I came from humble beginnings just like you and now look at me!" He spread his arms out wide in exaggeration and you giggled, utterly enamored.

"Just don't let it go to your head." He chuckled deeply at the ironic fitting joke.

You shuffle off now to wash and wipe down your body in there, using an dark green washcloth that has his moniker of "OZ" stitched on it, and you feel aching soreness all over your body - but it's a good kind, like a full day's work of physical labor accomplishing what you really needed to do.

********

Once you are done in the washroom, you tug on a plush robe the color of jade and return to the bedroom to go to lay back down on the king size bed next to him. He pulls you in with the crook of his arm, the other holding a different bottle than the elixir. This one smells very much like whiskey.

"I should tell you..." he begins with a pause, clearly not in any hurry as he takes a breath and then a couple sips. You can tell by his slightly unfocused gaze and relaxed body that he is getting a tad drunk.

"We're gonna have a special visitor soon from Shiz University, you know Madame Morrible?"

"Yes." You've seen her come and go around the palace, but aren't advised to get within ten feet of the powerful older woman, let alone speak to her. All you know is that she can do impressive magic (unlike him) and is a very close loyal confidant who provides important insider information.

"Well, she invited a very special student with promising magical abilities here for something I'm working on, and I'll need you get out and to stay out of our hair for a while," he explains causally, playing with the neck of the bottle in his fingers.

"You're casting me out?" you ask, disappointment surging up like a muddy river during a flood. This set-up is only too good to last, isn't it? You're so in love that you've almost forgotten all about home, not that you'd really loved your old life there much anyway. But if you truly can't get home ever again, you'll have to start looking for some kind of work in the city to make meager money and hopefully figure out how to cobble a life together if that's even possible. You'll never find another man to depend on like Oscar, that's obvious. Funny that mere months ago, you had been somewhat distraught at the notion of being held against your will in this unfamiliar palace and world. Now you just feel stupid for letting him lead you into a false sense of security and preying on when you were most desperate.

"No, no, of course not," he replies in a scandalized tone, slicing sharply through your spiraling thoughts.

"I greatly value your, uh, commitment to me and keeping my secrets. You're a very delightful girl who doesn't go snooping for trouble and you try to keep out of my business."

You don't mention that you are technically locked indefinitely in this palace, forbidden to go outside off the grounds, and hadn't really had a choice in the first place. But he appears so sad and frustrated, so you nestle and snuggle further into his side, your hand tracing lazy circles on his chest.

"Perhaps only though for your safety, if the upcoming meeting and arrangement doesn't go well, you might have to leave permanently. But, uh, in that case I'll make sure you get you set up with decent accommodations outside the city. Perhaps Munchkinland, Governor Thropp there owes me a favor..."

"Okay," you murmur quietly even though this prospect partially frightens and worries you, and you feel relief oozing from his bones.

"Thank you for always understanding my dear. You know I have such a responsibility and I need everything to go right when this special young lady comes - Morrible is counting on it and you damn know it you don't want to get on her bad side."

"This student of hers must be something else," you mutter more to yourself than him. How much does she know, anyway?

"She sure fucking is from what I've been told. She'll change everything and put me in a greater position than before if I can get her to work with me. Morrible seems cautiously confident and cheered as well by the prospect, which is a sign to be taken seriously. She can often have a stiff stick up her tight ass, huh?" He laughs, deep and throaty, and you know his guard is down when he swears openly in conversation.

"Right." You're silent for a little while, just letting him hold you and trying not to dwell on the implications of whatever this mystery meeting could hold. You could ask for more information, seeing as to how he could be looser lipped from the effects of the alcohol, but you frankly don't care. The post orgasmic state you're basking in is too all-consuming to break out of (plus you are fatigued), and so you let the less business side mood of tonight seep back into the conversation.

"Hey, I liked this tonight, what we did. I really thought the ropes were, um, creative and even though I was nervous at first, it was actually... pretty hot? Maybe we could do that again sometime, sir?"

He smiles tentatively, the gears of his diabolical mind whirring on another track, and your words clumsily snatch him back to the present.

"That's just what I like to hear, sweetheart. That's what I love best-"

"-making people happy," you finish for him, having that line down pat after overhearing him parrot it as part of his political approach.

"Atta girl," he replies with a smarmy smirk and then a contented sigh, ducking his head and resting his chin on top of your head as you lay on his bare chest, listening to the even drumming of his heartbeats.

The palace is delightfully quiet this time of night, the guards in immediate range having been dismissed for the evening so there would be no eavesdroppers. Light from the waxing moon outside the large glass windows curtained with heavy drapes parted a couple inches beams through weakly down, leaving a six inch pale strip to highlight the heavily polished floor.

Kansas and its cornfields feel like worlds away. This is almost like a dream in of itself, but I know it isn't because every day I wake up and I'm still here, you muse sleepily.

Maybe you're staying with the wrong man, and it will end badly between you two. But honestly at this moment, you are too smitten by this lavish lifestyle you stumbled into, his seemingly sincere ongoing affections, and the raw primal love you extract from his flesh on passionate nights like this to give too much of a hoot about it.

[coupsctrl]

heey can you write about jealous choel? but in green flag way:3 i love your fics sm

hii anon!! thank u sm for requesting, i hope u like it <3 i didn't know if u meant headcanons or a fic, so I just did a fic, but if you want headcanons let me knoww!! enjoy!

Just You

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PAIRING(S):

Boyfriend!Seungcheol, Female!Reader

GENRE:

fluff :)

You and your boyfriend are at a party, and you haven't gotten out of your house for a while because of midterms. They've been killing you recently, and you just want a fun nice out with your loving boyfriend. Since you've had your midterms, you haven't been putting makeup on lately, but tonight you wanna feel pretty and confident. You're wearing a short black dress with a square neckline, showing off your collarbone and gold necklace Seungcheol got you. Your makeup is a bit heavier than usual, but nothing too crazy. And as for your hair, its curled perfectly, showing off the layers and dimension.

You feel pretty, for the first time in a while, and so does your boyfriend...(when does he not). He's always been clingy, but whenever you look extra gorgeous, he's extra proud he gets to call you "his". Right now Cheol is grabbing punch for you both, and you were catching up with your friend, Joshua.

"It's so great to see you again, Y/N!" Joshua says with a bright smile, looking down at your outfit. "And you look great."

You smile. "Thanks Josh, so do you."

You can feel his eyes still lingering on your figure, clearly checking you out. You feel a bit uneasy, but don't think too much of it.

"You surely didn't come here alone, right?" He asks, sipping some of his drink not breaking eye contact.

You shake your head, wanting Seungcheol to get here faster. "Nope. I'm with my boyfriend, he's getting us drinks."

You can see the disappointment on Joshua's face, but that quickly fades as he speaks,

"Boyfriend huh? You two long term?"

You nod, feeling a bit more uncomfortable, and you cross your arms just below your chest wanting to cover yourself as much as possible.

"Very. It's a serious relationship."

He nods, not in the way you would think though, almost like he's thinking of something. He takes a step closer, and you can almost feel his breath onto your face as he brushes his hand against yours.

"You sure?" He asks, looking down at you.

Before you can even process what's happening, you feel a strong hand grab your waist gently and pull you back slightly, giving you some distance from Joshua. You turn your head slightly, and immediately recognize its Cheol. Thank god.

"What's going on?" Seungcheol asks, handing you your punch he just got.

Joshua clearly looks flabbergasted, but he tries to mask it as he speaks. "Nothing man. Just catching up. You're the boyfriend, I see?"

Cheol just nods, and I can notice his jaw is tight, like he's just barely holding on not to tell Joshua off. "Touching other people's girlfriends now, are we?"

Joshua scoffs, shaking his head. "It's not like that man, I just wanted to get a closer look." He says and looks back down at my figure. In that moment, you just wished you stuck to your normal attire. Because now Joshua is staring right at your bare legs, making you more & more uncomfortable by the second.

As if Seungcheol can tell your feelings, he speaks in a firm voice. "Eyes are up here."

That makes Joshua laugh, but as you glance at Cheol, it looks like he wants to break every bone in his body. He's clearly not in the mood for laughter.

"You look good....." Josh says, almost like he's ignoring Seungcheol's presence, before continuing. "pretty."

Seungcheol tenses up, looking down at you before speaking.

"We're gonna go now." Seungcheol says, gritting though his teeth. He tightens his grip around your waist and gently pulls you away from Josh. Just as you're at a comfortable distance, he turns you around and looks down at you, his expression worried and protective.

"You okay Cherry?"

You just nod, looking up at him like he's the only person in the world. "Yea. I'm sorry I didn't know he was that weird."

He just chuckles, but instead of one filled with amusement, it's out of frustration. "The guys a jerk, touching and looking at you like that...he should know better."

That makes you smile a bit, and Cheol notices. "What?" he questions.

You just shake your head, laughing a bit. "Are you jealous, Seungcheol?'

He smiles a bit, scoffing as he shakes his head back. "No."

"Right...right." you say, cuddling into his arms as you sigh, looking at the party in front of you.

He kisses the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you. "Maybe a little.." he mutters.

You giggle, tightening your grip on his strong arms. "Well lucky for you, I only have my eye on one handsome, slightly jealous man."

He turns you around, looking down at your big innocent eyes. "He called you pretty."

You tilt your head, blinking. "Am i not?"

He huffed, shaking his head as he runs his hand through your hair. "Obviously you are. But I tell you that all the time."

You bite your lip to keep you from laughing. "You really are jealous, huh?"

He scoffed, even though a small smile escapes his mouth. "Nope. Just reminding you who said it first."

And you just think to yourself....

At the end of the day, he's the only one I'll ever want.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Hey I saw your old post asking which fanfics you should do next. I know it didn’t win but could you please please please do “Tell Me You Love Me Again” with Eddie. Im in dire need of some good angst ❤️

Tell Me You Love Me Again

Sorry this took me so long to write! I have had some massive writer's block. Hopefully, this is okay!

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x reader

Story Type: Angst

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, Eddie's a bit of a greedy ass ngl

Summary: You've been with Eddie since before he was famous. It used to be a loving relationship. As the years have passed, things have changed. Can you save the dying spark between you?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

"Baby, you wanted to talk. Why are we just sitting here in silence?" Eddie asks with a grin. He casually flips through a music magazine, observing all of the new instruments for sale.

I take a deep breath. How do I even start this conversation? He's been so busy launching his band's new line of merch that I doubt this is a great time to talk about our relationship. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity? This is the first time I've been able to see him privately in weeks. I don't know how long I can keep harboring my frustrations.

"We do need to talk...here goes nothing." I sigh. "It's about our relationship."

Eddie pulls his eyes away from his magazine, his smile fading into a serious expression. "What about it?"

"I've been feeling very frustrated lately. I feel like you're never home, and I never get to see you anymore. I miss you." I reply honestly.

Eddie sets the magazine on top of the coffee table that separates us. "I know it's been busy lately, but it's great for us! Now I can take you anywhere you want to go. Name any place, and I can bring you there." Eddie's playful smile returns.

I let out a tired laugh. "Eddie, that's nice and all, but the problem is you don't have the time to take me anywhere I want to go. I just want you to dial it back a bit, please. Spend more time with me, and I'm sure Wayne would love it if you spent some time with him, too."

I'm not even sure if Eddie has time to call Wayne anymore. I might be the only one talking to him regularly.

"I spend plenty of time with Wayne." Eddie's expression is slightly offended.

"It's just the past year; you've rarely been back. Can't you take some time off? Cancel a few tour dates or reschedule some photoshoots?"

"I can't just abandon my career, Y/N. My band has worked so hard for this." Eddie argues. "It wouldn't be fair to the boys."

"What about what's fair to me, Eddie?" I let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not asking you to abandon anything, Eddie. I just think you should prioritize our relationship a little more. We barely see each other anymore!" My heart pounds. "When you're not on tour, you're constantly doing promotional videos or photoshoots. We haven't gone on a date in almost a month."

My flurry of emotions has caused tears to prick the back of my eyes. Fuck, I can't cry right now.

Eddie's shoulders are tense. His usual animated and playful exterior is replaced with a frustrated and angry one. One I rarely see, especially not when talking to me.

"That's part of the job. I'm a fucking rockstar, Y/N. I can't exactly blow off the world tours and photoshoots. My label and manager expects me to get shit out quickly. You don't understand! The moment I stop making songs and producing new shit, the moment all of this, " He gestures around the room to all of his expensive nicknacks and furniture. "disappears. I'll become irrelevant. My band will become irrelevant. This is my life, Y/N. And you're going to need to learn to accept it."

My frown deepens. "Do you hear yourself? How can you not see how greedy you're becoming? What happened to just loving music? Loving the art of creating, no matter how many people heard. When did this all become about money?" I stand up from my spot on Eddie's couch, needing to put some distance between myself and the man. I avoid making eye contact with him, knowing if I do, I'll burst into tears.

This room suddenly feels so suffocating. "Is this really all you care about? How many shows you can sell out? How deep your pockets can get?"

"For fucks sake, Y/N." Eddie groans as he leans back against his recliner. His head hits the back of the seat, an annoyed expression flashing across his face. "You're being so fucking dramatic."

I shake my head. "This is not what I signed up for. You are not the man I signed up to be with."

Eddie stiffens. Hurt crosses his eyes. His face turns stoic as he looks me dead in the eye. A dark anger replaces his hurt. "Things change. People change. Obviously, I've changed. If you hate me so fucking much, why don't you get the fuck out and find someone new? Someone who better suits your lifestyle since you're not happy with me."

I freeze. My heart drops at his bitter words. He's never spoken to me like this before.

He's so different than the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Life seemed simpler in Hawkins. I'd work the night shift at The Hideout and he'd play with his band. I was able to see him regularly while he was still able to do what he loved. No massive world tours to separate us for months. No partying until early the next day. Just the two of us, supporting each other and doing what we loved.

I feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment and anger. He's right. He's changed, and it's obviously been for the worse. "You know what, you're right."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly in surprise, like he didn't think I'd agree.

"You don't want to work this out like an adult, so I'm going to leave. We're done, Eddie. I can't do this anymore. I deserve someone willing to set aside time for me. I shouldn't be the only one giving 100% to the relationship. I need someone who respects me and what I need. You can't give that to me." I grab my purse from the couch. I pause right before I reach the door. " Eddie, " I turn to look back at the man.

He doesn't meet my gaze. His eyes are trained on his locked hands. He looks like he's in disbelief.

"I hope you find what you're looking for. Just know that you'll never have enough money or fame to please yourself. Materialistic things can only bring you so much happiness. You'll suffer until you realize that. I just hope it isn't too late when you finally do."

With that, I leave the apartment. As soon as the door behind me clicks shut, the tears begin to fall. I lean against the wall near Eddie's door and wrap my arms around myself for some sort of support.

I wish he loved me enough to apologize. I wish he would come out here, tell me he was wrong, and that he was going to try to fix things.

I finally garner the strength to push away from Eddie's wall and make my way downstairs. With every step, I think of new things I wish Eddie would do.

When I take my last step out of the apartment building, disappointment settles in my chest as I realize none of my wishes came true.

Eddie's a rockstar. He'll never love me as much as he loves his lifestyle.

I was stupid to think he'd always be the man I fell in love with in Hawkins, Indiana.

[mbsneur]

My Love

Aitana Bonmati x Reader

Summary: your Aitanas girlfriend

Warnings: Pure Fluff, maybe bad ending

My Masterlist

please read this text before going to the story

please don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

(its a very short one)

aitana is your girlfriend, she is the most tender and sweetest person you have ever met

You know that she would drop everything if you called her and said you weren't feeling well

It was match day. You've been playing for Betis Sevilla since your childhood. It was the game against FC Barcelona. You already knew that you wouldn't have a chance

You're going to play against your girlfriend. You kept your relationship secret long enough until you went on vacation together during the summer break and decided to post a picture together so that everyone knew you were together. Since then, your team has been annoying you and keeps telling you that you are togheter with the best player

Also today they teased you about playing against Aitana, you haven't seen her in a long time, it was already overdue. You both have been very busy lately and have neglected your relationship a little, so you didn't really like the jokes your teammates made

“Can you please stop” you said slightly annoyed and pulled your jersey over your head The jokes will probably never stop

"Aww we're a little baby again today" Paula joked and pinched your cheek lightly. You clicked in annoyance and let Noelia braid your hair. It's a little ritual between you to braid each other's hair

You were all excited to play against Barça again. You finished lacing up your shoes and went into the tunnel. You acted as captains and stood right next to Alexia, the captain of Barça. You cracked your neck one last time before the referee announced it was time to line up

You stood there, gave a little applause and shook hands with your opponents. Aitana took your hand firmly in hers and gave you a little wink, which you accepted with a smile

it was kick-off. The game went well, even though you lost 5-1, you were still proud to be part of this team

//

1-0 Barcelona: Claudia Pina 26‘

2-0 Barcelona: Mariona Caldentey 44‘

2-1 Betis Sevilla: y/n 45‘

3-1 Barcelona: Caroline Graham-hansen 75‘

4-1 Barcelona: Salma Paralluelo 88‘

5-1 Barcelona: Salma Paralluelo 90+1‘

//

Even though you lost so much, you were still proud that the times were so far apart

After the game you all gave each other a handshake

Aitana ran up to you and hugged you tightly. "Hey you were great" she beamed at you with a huge smile

“Thank you aita you were pretty good too” you joked, smelling the sweet smell of her hair once again

"Would you like to come with me? I mean you're in Barcelona and I think your team will be able to do without you for the night or not?" she told you and put her arm around your shoulders to start the way to the cabins

you took a deep breath "okay but only if you cook for me" you raised your hand aitana laughed "sí I'll cook whatever you want" she said laughing and let go of you "well I'll wait for you outside my car" She said as she walked past and you nodded at her

You took a shower and told the coaching team that you would stay with Aitana and fly back alone tomorrow

//

About an hour later you were finished. You said goodbye to your team and headed towards the exit. The evening warmth of Barcelona hit your face. You looked for Aitana's car until she drove close to you

"Hola chica necesitas un conductor?"

She asks laughing and you ironically bump into her car. You walked in. It's been a long time since you looked in her car. After a moment she immediately pounced on you and bit lightly into your neck and cheek. You squealed and tried pushing her away laughing "aita aita stop" you say breathless with laughter

"I missed you so much" she tells you and places kisses on your cheek. You took her hands in yours and gave her a long kiss on the mouth

When you let go she looks at you with her sweet gaze. She licks her lips and blushes with embarrassment. You have kissed so many times but after such a long time it is always unique to kiss her again

"I missed you too" you say and smile slightly, everything is the same as before, her light ponytail, the smell of peppermint toothpaste when you kiss her and the gentle rose scent of her shower gel that is distributed in the air

"Do you want to go I'm pretty hungry" she said and rubbed her stomach lightly. She sometimes behaved like a little baby but that's what you loved about her, her funny faces that she sometimes gave you or she tickled you awake in the morning or crawled under your shirt you loved everything about her

"Yes we can go" you say, laughing slightly and giving her one last little kiss. She drove through the gate. On the car ride, you sang your favorite songs. Her hand didn't leave yours for a second

When you arrived at Aitana's house she opened your door and took your hand to escort you out. She carried your suitcase and looked for her key to the door

“You can take something from me to wear you know where everything is” she says and gave you a kiss before disappearing into the kitchen

You went into her bedroom and the smell of freshly washed laundry from her laundry basket immediately hit your nose. You did a little tidying up and taught the basket and carefully placed everything in your closet and looked for something to wear yourself You decided on a loose shirt and shorts. You changed your clothes and saw your selfie together in a frame on her dessert. A smile immediately came to your face you loved this woman.

You went into the kitchen and the smell of fresh ham hit your nose. You watched Aitana for a moment until you walked up to her and hugged her tenderly from behind. "Ay baby you're wearing my favorite shirt" she said, laughing slightly and frying a few tortillas in the pan you place your head on her shoulder and place small kisses on her neck

"can you promise me no matter how long we don't see each other or neglect each other that you'll never leave me" You say lovingly and notice how Aitana's stomach falls and rises

"I'll stay with you until you can't stand me anymore and even then I won't let you go you won't get rid of me that easily" she says with a slight smile

you beam across both cheeks "I love you Aita" you whisper in her ear

"I love you too cariño"

[troloxyn]

Self Control. (Jason Todd x Reader)

TW- Smut, drinking!!

One night at a party, you and Jason hook up, and now you're both too afraid to speak to one another. That is until he decides to help you with homework two weeks later, breaking the silence.

Listen, I haven't been able to do any school work because my mind decided it HAD to finish this first. so i hope yall enjoy! Deadass over five thousand words, I think my brain melted a little bit writing this.

Word count: 5,366

--

Having aspirations outside of vigilantism was ideal, as long as you could keep up with the pressure. Piles of overdue assignments, paperwork, case studies and unread emails clawed at her from inside of her computer. You should have something outside of your nightlife escapades- it was encouraged, expected. Keeping up with the workload was just second nature. Which right now, she could not. If she gave into the pressure of her inability to focus, she would have dropped out of her bachelors classes two semesters ago. However, the eating force of fear of failure won her over. Not only was she not one to accept failure, her entire ride to college was free- on behalf of the Wayne estate- and she definitely couldn’t disappoint him of all people. 

This one was destroying her. A case study in her criminal psychology class. If the world hadn’t moved digitally, her entire desk would be littered with notes. She avoided this project on purpose- and now that she came to face it, she realized perhaps waiting until a week before it was due was giving herself too much credit. She whisked through photos, police reports, fake-autopsies, psychologist interviews- the pages were on a never ending loop. She was tearing her hair out by the time she made it to the end of the information portion, her wrist becoming sore from endless clicking. Time to focus. Lock the fuck in, girl, she tried to tell herself. 

“How’s the six figure amount of debt going?” 

She jumped out the sound of his voice, turning in her chair to face him. Standing in the door frame, leaned against the wooden, cherry kissed wall of the library with his arms crossed. Of course, he looked incredible. She could tell he just got back from the gym, his sleeveless black shirt over his toned frame and a pair of gray sweatpants she wouldn’t let him walk out of the house in if they were a couple. His face gleamed as if he was sweating, his hair pushed back in a mess. She didn’t do a double take because she knew she’d lose some form of her composure. 

The other reason she couldn’t focus. 

“Great, considering I'm not paying for it.” She scooted closer to her computer, as if it could pull her away from his magnetizing grip on her. She could feel his eyes behind her in the grazing of an awkward, heavy silence. 

“So, what are you working on?” 

One could say the two had gotten closer within the past couple of months. Before, he practically ignored her. As they got closer, their main interactions were chastising her over being late to school. Scolding her, as if Bruce didn’t do it enough. It was never condescending- when she slept in for classes, Jason would be pounding on her door or dragging her out of bed. 

The pressure caused by him came to a halt, though, after a drunken night of intimacy. Now she was definitely waking up late for school. She’d gotten sort of used to him forcing her out of bed.  It was an accident, she thinks to herself over and over every time her body recalled his touch. That’s what was really bothering her. The two would meet eyes around others and he wouldn’t tease her the way he usually did- something lingered behind his gaze and it bothered her- the way their eyes would meet when everyone got together. The way she’d catch him looking over at her from across the room- even before that night, but more often now. Neither of them spoke about it, she didn’t think they really had the guts to. Besides him initiating a few conversations, they haven’t talked at all. It happened rather quickly between them. He had her in the bathroom on the sink, tearing off her dress and squeezing her exposed breasts, his thick and strong legs pressed between her thighs so intimately. Bites all over her neck- bites that certainly bruised her collarbone and shoulders, uncaring for her sleeveless dress as long as it came off. A party on the outside, people babbling in conversation and music blaring louder than Bruce would have liked. Dick had poured heavy drinks that night. In those moments, nothing else mattered. It was between Jason and her, the clothes he was tearing off of her and all the frustrations he’d ignored. His free hand around the back of her neck, forcing her into a sloppy, messy, kiss- her lathered moans of excitement and the friction of his jeans to her thin panties. Quieting her with his lips, drenching her entire face with kisses. rubbing her swollen clit, unzipping his jeans- slipping her panties to the side, pushing himself in. Her gasping, parted lips and wide eyes- “Shush, baby- fuck- They’re gonna hear us-“

“A case study,” she replied, snapping out of her memories into reality. She could feel his presence behind her chair, feeling a hand come onto its back rest, gently making contact with her incidentally. She cleared her throat. “It’s a research project and a case study. It’s very long. I decided to ignore it for.. a while.” 

He hummed. “Shouldn’t be too hard. We’re used to this kind of stuff anyway.” 

“It’s not that,” she replied, scooting away from his touch. “It’s uh- Just can’t focus.” 

“That’s no excuse.” She rolled her eyes at his comment. She tried not to look at him too much- His ungloved, veined hands that trailed up to his tight arms. His fingers tapped one by one on her desk. He towered over her, he was so huge- “You need help?” 

“Help? No way,” she replied. She could smell whatever cologne he was wearing and she remembered it vividly from that night. She cleared her throat awkwardly, laughing a little at his suggestion in sheer intimidation of his looming  presence. “No. I wouldn’t want to bother you with this.”

He shrugged. Finding an excuse to at least be around her since it all happened. “I ‘ont got shit else to do. Plus, might be fun. You got other homework?” 

She cried, shrinking into her arms. “Fighting with you guys and being a college student- I don’t know which is gonna kill me first.” 

He was silent for a little bit and it ate at her. She was anticipating a sly remark, a comment about needing to get her life together, pull yourself up by the bootstraps, not an invasive silence- 

“You should be proud. It’s not easy.” 

His comment almost left her crippled. 

“Huh?” She looked back at him, giving him a look. He immediately froze up, frowning at her, flustered by her reaction. “Dammit- I try to be nice for once- I’m saying you’re doing a good job. I certainly couldn’t give a fuck enough to do what you do.” She smiled a bit and turned back to her screen. 

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He smacked his lips and leaned in closer to read the text on her screen, shaking his head. “Don’t be weird. I won’t do it again.” 

Except, that wasn’t the nicest thing he’d said to her. Maybe while sober, but that night in the bathroom through the suffocated echoes of laughter and music, he practically fawned over her. Spilling words of affection, calling her a goddess, treating every part of her body with an intense passion she didn’t expect he held for her. She’d never expected him to be like this, thrusting himself into her and gripping her ass tightly, mouth pressed against one another and still looking for oxygen through painted moans. Kissing every area of exposed skin he could breathe near, worshiping her body like it was a drying resource. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he moaned, pulling back while fucking her into the sink to get a look at her taking him. His thumb brushed her clit with enough force to form a knot in her stomach.  “J-jason-” He cut her off moans with more kisses, never stopping his rhythm.  “Better be quiet, baby,” he said through her lips. “You want this whole house to know what I’m doing to you?” Her moans were muffled by her whining, biting her lips closed as he looked into her eyes. “You want everyone to know how good I’m fucking you?” She nodded her head yes, barely able to manage the words out of her desperate mouth and he chuckled. “Oh yeah?” His voice made the knot in her stomach tighten like a balled fist. He could see it in her face and feel it inside of her, each word he spoke and every thrust she was being knocked over the edge. “Keep up them pretty moans then, baby, everyone’s gonna know who’s making you feel this good-” Her moans peaked and through his drunken state he wondered if anyone really heard them in here. He couldn’t care less, being knuckle deep into the girl he’d had dreams about for months and constantly stealing looks when he thought she didn’t notice. “You gonna cum for me, baby? That’s it, keep going, I won’t stop until you do.”

She wondered how he could act so cordial now. 

She didn’t forget any moment of that night. How they took shots together from a nearly failed mission, how they argued over comics, how they fought or threw their jackets at each other. How during their fake fight, he picked her up by her legs, slamming her into the couch. How easily he moved her around, how huge he was in comparison. How his arms felt on her body. How she swore she could totally beat his ass and how they had to fight- she just wanted him to put his hands on her for some reason, badly. How he had opened up to her in such a way she hadn’t seen before. How she noticed that night how incredibly handsome his smile was, or how his eyes gleamed in an almost squint when he laughed. How Dick had teased him for fighting with her. How when the party got louder and they kept talking and stumbling into each other, giggling and pushing each other into walls. Or how she’d pulled him into the bathroom and almost immediately were kissing, pressing into each other’s bodies like they’d been together for years. How the next day they couldn’t even look at each other. 

“Why don’t you start by organizing your sources? I can help with the interviews,” he said, snapping her out of her day dream. “You’re really gonna help me?” “Don’t think you could do it without me,” he smiled, something she didn’t catch him doing often. 

After a solid thirty minutes of reading, she realized she was going in circles. Each part of the overlapping case study was drowned out by the wretched banter of her memories. It felt impossible to not steal glances at him. Ever so often she would feel eyes on her and she would let him stare- moments at a time felt like minutes, they traded glances awkwardly.  She watched him as he intensely scrolled on the spare laptop, taking physical notes in one of her journals. His fist propping up his head as he wrote, eyebrows knitted in concentration. Recently, she started to notice how handsome he was. How the intensity of his personality took over his dark features in contrast to that pretty smile he gave when he was drinking the other night. He looked up at her, catching her stare red handed and she smiled. “How’s it coming?” She asked. She felt flustered and nervous, unable to diminish the little smiles that came to her face as she took glances at him. He closed the notebook and stretched his hands into the air, lifting his black shirt to reveal some of his stomach. “I should be asking you that,” he said in a yawn. “What’s the matter? Still can’t focus?” He asked. She shook her head no. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she muttered with an awkward laugh, turning back to her computer. She knew exactly what was wrong with her- and so did he. 

“Lemme’ see,” He said, sliding past her to her computer. Now they were dangerously close- his arm going underneath hers to reach her keyboard, their hands brushing against one another so he could move the mouse. They stayed like this for a few minutes, slowly getting closer to one another, his broad shoulders near her face. Gently, she placed her temple against his shoulder, scooting closer to him. She noticed him stop typing, the silence in the room drowned out by her laptop’s fans thudding every now and then. Snapping his concentration once more and putting him more on edge than he thought she could, “Do you wanna sit?” She asked. “We can sit together,” she was being bold.

 For ignoring his existence for almost two weeks, she had an awful lot of forced confidence. That whiplash scarred him, made his stomach turn, assuming he heard her incorrectly. He thought maybe he came off too strong that night, in the bathroom- perhaps it was the way he talked to her while he fucked her. Maybe it threw her off, perhaps he said too much. He was a passionate man and she had gotten a hold of him at the height of his yearning. She wanted to be close to him again- even if not in the same way, to be engulfed by his arms might be enough to help her focus. He agreed with great hesitation, feeling flustered and unlike himself. It wasn’t often when he felt put on edge, and everything about her was making something in him tick. Her soft touches, whatever perfume or shampoo she used, her quiet hums while she tried to work. He almost resented her for making him feel so self conscious. 

Watching her sit down into his lap, biting down on his tongue. For two weeks, ever since that night, he’d been trying to suppress the feelings that got worse with time. Confusion, anxiety, yearning for her all over again. He had a whiplash that he couldn’t lick to heal like other wounds. Approaching her was incredibly difficult, especially since she’d disappear whenever he came around. Months of dreaming about her in those positions were taken to reality and he savored every moment of licking up her body and taking her over and over again- but when he had felt that coldness from her, he wished he hadn’t even been there that night. He would have rather suffered in silence longer than for her to not talk to him. The night of the party was an accident, sure, but not a bad one- just not one he would’ve expected. Not one he knew how to confront properly. How could he be around her and act like nothing happened that night, when he had to cover her mouth to not let veracious moans leak out of the bathroom? Neither of them expected it to get to that point. He didn’t know where it came from. He had a certain amount of self control, self control that was tested- self control that failed with every racking thrust he slammed into her. He thought about it almost every minute of every day, slamming inside of her and grabbing her hair, the way she moaned and sighed in appreciation- the way his name rolled off her tongue like an orgasm building up in his body-

He had to stop thinking about it. He could feel an erection press his sweats and he huffed, moving her away from his crotch with ease. What was he doing here anyway? He wanted to talk to her- he’s wanted to since it happened- but it was too much to confront. Everytime he even got near her he could sense her discomfort. Dick asked him about her several times after that night. “Everybody knew you guys were flirting. You were body slamming her into the couch and twirling her around, and then you guys disappeared for an hour-” He was nervous, maybe even scared of her emotions, not knowing if she resented him for that night. But the way she was leaning back for comfortability against his chest, and the way she held onto his free arm so innocently, he sincerely doubted it now. With an arm wrapped around her waist, she moved back to the center of his lap. 

Maybe they would just never bring it up, he thought. Maybe they’ll just keep moving forward and with disdain or limerence for one another. He didn’t wanna do this every couple of weeks without talking to her in between, or having to pretend a part of him wasn’t deeply infatuated by her. He felt her shift and he could’ve let out a whimper- he had a feeling she knew what he was doing and it was torturing him. A hand fell to her thigh. He traced it a bit, as if it were casual- he was beginning to get light headed. She wore a skirt and thigh highs, so he played with the elasticity of her socks, snapping them onto her skin gently. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, his heart pounding like it was his first time. From over her shoulder, He looked at her thighs. He remembered that night, spreading them apart and pounding her. He buried his face into her neck, his member twitching from the memory, her smell, her ass pressing and shifting on him. He knew she could feel it and now he wanted to ask her all of those questions he had asked that same night while he had her on the sink.

 His hands slid down her thigh, squeezing them firmly, lightly parting them over his knees. She hummed. It was rather meak and it made him nervous with excitement. “Hmm?” He asked. “You’re distracting me,” she told him. Not like she didn’t enjoy it. 

“Excuses,” he mumbled into her neck. “What you need to do is focus.” He said, traveling further up her body. Bold, very bold. She could feel tightness in her stomach and her face flush with heat. “I’m trying,” she stuttered out as he explored more coverage of her thigh. His fingers traced her flesh, drawing closer and closer to her skirt. “Good,” he huffed. “Keep going.” His voice was more gentle than it usually was, slower and muffled into her shoulder. He watched as she organized her work, skipping through her case file and summarizing the prompt questions. His hands met her panties and her entire body tensed, he watched as she began to mistype on her keyboard and fumble with commands. Through the cloth of her panties, he felt damp fabric as he slid down her slit, coming back up and making full circles around her clit with his other hand squeezing her thigh. He held her thighs open with his own, fully spread out, only covered by the cloth of her skirt. She whined, hummed, mumbled his name, shifted against his stiff erection. “Why’d you stop typing?” He asked, his fingers in locomotion. She whined through closed lips, thighs twitching and tensing against his own. “Jason- It feels good-” “You’re gonna get in trouble if you don’t finish that work, girl.” He taunted her, quick but heavy moans escaping her lips. “Keep goin’,” he demanded. She did as she was told, trying to write sentences through a building orgasm. He could feel it from the way her thighs tensed and how her back arched that she was close. He wanted to give it to her so badly it made him ache, make her cum over and over again- he didn’t know if it was right, if they could be friends after this. He didn’t know if he could watch her act like he didn’t do these things to her after it was over. Was this worth whatever relationship they had left? Even as he contemplated it, his hands couldn’t stop roaming. He couldn’t fake it- he couldn’t act like he didn’t want her and he wouldn’t, either. He watched as she struggled to type and flip through files on her computer. “Good job, baby. You’re being sucha’ good girl.” He kissed her ears as she let out a soft moan, slipping his free hand up her loose fitted shirt, going under her bra. “Jason- I’m-” “Keep saying it, say my name again,” the friction of their clothes were making him raw with desperation, bucking his hips up as she melted onto him. He felt her tense up, longer than before, letting out a sigh of his name, gripping the sides of the chair and the mouse. He continued to touch the fabric covering her swollen clit, letting her ride out her orgasm as he kissed her face. The way she moaned and moved around in his lap could make anyone fall in love, he thought. That was dangerous. She was pressed completely into his back, humming his name, touching his face with her soft hands. He brought his fingers back to that sweet spot, making her finish even faster the second time. He could feel the dampness on her thighs, sweating onto his pants and he hadn’t even fingered her. 

He stood up, holding her by her waist as he did so, bending her back over the keyboard. “Keep working, baby. Don’t mind me, okay?” He kissed the sides of her face while he was pressed against her back. She heard his sweatpants shift as she worked his boxers. She tried to look back but he grabbed her face, pushing it down into the screen. “Work,” he ordered, more intensely this time. With her bent over her keyboard, her lifted skirt exposed her thin panties, working them halfway down her thighs. He removed his member from his boxers, precum staining his clothes and dripping from the tip. “What are you working on now, baby?” He asked. His voice made knots in her stomach as she tried to flip through pages and explain what she was doing. Her mouth parted to speak but was interrupted as his erection poked through her thighs, rubbing against her leaking mess. He had a strong grip on her ass, moving her hips back and forth on his cock, watching the gleam from her soaked cunt make noises. He moved slowly and with ease, her thighs were soaked from his teasing. “T- I’m- I’m working- Trying to-” He gave her ass a firm slap. “Speak up,” he groaned. His cock ached with every sliding motion, he could probably cum himself but he held back, satiating every movement. “The introduction- to my- my um..,” she panted. He laughed as she scrambled through her moans. “Please, Jason?” He hummed in appreciation. He kept working his dick back and forth against her slit, pushing himself faster each time from pure bliss. Now he was a moaning mess, low groans he tried to silence as he fucked her thighs. “Keep working,” he huffed. “You still have so much to do. You’ve been waking up late every day for classes, and you expect me to let you get away with that?” He watched as she cried, trying to type and retain information. Her brain, too distracted by his aching cock pleasing himself between her. She wanted to protest, to blame him for not waking her up like she’d gotten used to. So spoiled of her. Firmly she squeezed her thighs, earning a moan from his parted lips, stroking her hair with his free hand and tightly gripping it. With a quick gasp, he pulled her face back, kissing her gently. “I missed you,” he mumbled into her mouth. She almost didn’t hear him but she spoke through his moaning kisses when it registered. “I missed you so much, Jason,” he was now squeezing her breasts and rocking against her hips, steady moans he didn’t care to suppress anymore. “I thought about you everyday,” he admitted. “I thought about you in every single way.” He moaned, bending to kiss the back of her shoulders, trailing down her neck to the sensitivity of her spine. His words earned a yearning cry from her, and the part that wasn’t enjoying every engulfing moan of hers felt a slight dread about their future. As he kissed her shoulders, he wondered if she would come back to him after this. If they would be able to be normal like how it was before. Her back arched from the sweetness of his lips as he ran his hands underneath her clothes. Great, he thought. Go ahead and say a bunch of sweet shit to the girl you won’t talk to for the next month.

Pulling out his soaked member from her thighs, with ease, he pushed himself into her. Honest, drawn moans escaped their lips, saliva trailing from their lips as they departed. He grabbed her hips, forcing her down into the keyboard once more, taking in every part of her soaked cunt and moaning her name. She shifted, struggled against his hips, his length believably long for a man of his stature- something she was not used to. ���C’mon, baby. Take it for me, like before,” He cooed, keeping his hand firm on her back as he fucked her, louder, sloppier moans of pain and pleasure from him poking parts of her that had only been reached by him. He was so different when they had sex, she had realized. So sweet and affectionate, intensely passionate and loving. Meekly she reached her hand to his hip, stopping his motion momentarily- he chuckled, grabbing ahold of the hand and holding it to her back. “What’s wrong? Can’t take it?” He asked through thrusts that made her unable to form words.  “Jason- feels so good, it’s so much,” she stuttered out, rocking her hips slowly. He grabbed her other arm, holding her back like a pair of handcuffs as his breathing hitched.

 “Oh yeah?” He asked. “You want me to keep going?” He said, slowing his thrusts. Her hips rocked promptly against his throbbing member, “please, please don’t stop,” she mumbled, her face now down into the coldness of the Wayne manor’s library desk. “No problem, sweetheart,” he spoke with confidence, picking up his speed, giving her no time to adjust. Fucking her almost senselessly, her moans now cries as his mercy ran thin. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t slow down, mindlessly knocking over her book bag and other school supplies as he broke into her. His pace was rapid and without any consideration of how she was going to sit down for the next few days. Slamming a hand down onto the table for added pressure while still restraining her, “-Tell me how much you enjoy this,” he panted, watching her struggle against him as her ass bounced against him every time he plunged into her. Her words were melted ice cream, scrambled word vomit, he fucked her so hard she could barely manage to spit anything but the word Jason out, which she mumbled with each thrust- and it drove him over the edge. “Tell me how much you missed this feeling, tell me how much you missed me,” he spat, grabbing her hair and forcing her face up. He looked at her with sincere need- not just a sexual one. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you Jason,” she confessed through stutters. It made him smile, a sweet, almost drunken smile as he laughed through huffs of pleasure. “So good for me,” he said through kisses. Her stomach fluttered from a softness she’d only seen once before in him. 

He picked up her leg, throwing it on the table to make sure he fucked her thoroughly enough to get his point across. With her arms now free, she grabbed onto the table for dear life, biting her tongue from letting out a scream she knew someone would hear from above the floorboards. They didn’t need Alfred coming in to check on if someone was getting murdered down here. Holding one leg up as he pounded into her, his breathing racking from every thrust that brought him closer to satisfaction, he grabbed a fistfull of her hair. “You’re gonna talk to me tomorrow, right?” The question threw her off guard, her moaning dimming as she tried to piece the words together. The grip on her hair tightened and she winced. “You’re not gonna ignore me after I fucked you this good?” He asked, getting closer to her ear, making sure he heard her right. “Because,” he panted as his hips bucked further into her, the grip on her elevated leg almost bruising. “I’m gonna fuck you like this every chance that I get.” The words edged her, he felt her body tensing, aching for release as he picked up his pace. “You don’t have a choice- me ‘nd you- we’re gonna do this a lot more.” He felt her cumming, squeezing around him, her back arching as he muttered filth into her ear, indescribable moans and thank you’s. “Don’t thank me yet,” he told her. “You’re not getting rid of me, girl. Try to ignore me again. You won’t forget how much I made you cum. You won’t forget how good I fucked you.” Her face felt hot and so did her entire body, more of a promise than a threat and she was fine with that. “I won’t forget,” she repeated as he kissed the lobe of her ear.  His chest now pressed against her back with a hand around her throat, “You’re mine. You’re all mine. You’re not going anywhere. I’ll see you tomorrow, and the day after that- everyday,” She felt herself cumming again as he beat into every corner of her walls, nodding profusely. “I’m all yours, Jay,” she whimpered. “Thank you- thank you-” She forced, her entire body squirming under pleasure. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Where do you want me to cum?” He asked. “Inside of me, please,” desperate and filled with need. “You want me to fill you up, princess?” She nodded, begging. “Look at me,” he demanded, forcing her face to his, eyes interlocking. “-Need to see that pretty face when I cum-” It was less of a demand and more of his own whimpering pleading. His hips bucked one last time into her, her mouth open for a kiss as she watched him finish, a range of emotion hitting his face as he tightened the grip on her leg, stroking her face with his free palm. It was incredibly hot, she thought, watching his face while he came.

 He pulled out with a sharp gasp. He bent over, kissing her exposed ass before pulling up her panties and fixing her skirt, fixing his own clothes afterwards. He grabbed a hold of her, sitting back down into the chair, stroking her hair and giving her small pecks on her face. With a sigh of content, he kissed her temple. “Alright, baby. Can you focus now for me?”

Meanwhile, upstairs. 

“Alfred,” Dick interrupted as Alfred tried for the door. “Why don’t you ever hangout with me anymore?” Alfred raised his eyebrow at the young man he practically raised in front of him. “Master Dick, whatever do you mean? Is our spare time spent with one another inefficient?” “Yes, right now it is,” Dick said with crossed arms. “We could be hanging out, right now.” “Sounds lovely. I just need to check the library-” “So, you don’t like me anymore?” Dick huffed, covering his face. “Can’t we go make cookies? Please?” Alfred sighed. “Master Dick, is there something wrong?’ “Yes, Alfred, there actually is.” Alfred raised his brow once again. “But if you bake with me right now, there won’t be. And I will be much happier.” “Is there something going on downstairs you don’t want me to know about?” Alfred asked with a concerned look. Maybe he didn’t want to know. “I think we should make sugar cookies this time,” Dick said with a grin, placing his hand on Alfred’s shoulder and leading him away from a now closed door.