#i know this is a tragic ending but in some ways it's the most hopeful one!!!

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 1

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Next chapter

Word count: 3543

Disclaimer: This is based on the side quest "Geology for Beginners" so the reader is from the future and aware of some things that happen, but not everything. The reader will also have she/her pronouns and this fanfiction follows the story of RDR2. Also English is not my first language so pls forgive me for any grammatical mistakes!

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

The harsh cold cuts through your many thick layers of clothing and your limbs gradually grow number by the minute. Pain shoots through your fingers everytime you move them just to make sure they're still working. The last thing you want is to loose any body parts to hypothermia this early on in your journey.

One foot at the time. Come on.

As you stumble through the knee-high snow and fight your way through the merciless storm, you silently curse yourself out. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten yourself involved in this.

-

"Arthur Morgan? That name rings a bell, actually.", Francis mumbles under his breath as his eyes trail over the words of the journal you had handed to him earlier.

The book is in poor condition with most of the pages missing and the ones that are still attached, are barely readable. Only a few passages are intact, but it's enough to let you roughly know what happened to the author.

"I thought you might have maybe heard of him during your travels.", you answer with a hopeful tone. Your eyes stare expectantly at the red head as you wait for him to finish reading.

The author wrote the journal around the end of the 1800s which is the same time Francis likes to visit every now and then.

"I think I remember now!", he exclaims with raised eyebrows and you jump up from the chair you're sitting on.

"You do? Can you...help me out then?"

-

You have no idea why the story of Arthur Morgan had moved you so much. His life and the way he put it into words had shaken you to your core.

A shuddering sigh escapes your lips and even through the scarf that covers half of your face, you're able to see the cloud of air.

-

"You want to safe him? Why?", Francis asks and his tone is laced with utter disbelief. Yes, he met the man during one of his travels and even though Arthur didn't know him at all, he still had helped find all the rock carvings.

"The way things went and the way they ended for him...it doesn't feel right.", you explain with furrowed brows.

"It's dangerous. Yes, the country started to enforce the law more seriously during that time, but there were still so many gangs, robberies and shootings. I can't even begin to count all the things that could go wrong on your journey."

Francis' gaze is serious and stern. He's making his disapproval of your idea more than clear, but you're not willing to give up on your plan. Not yet.

"Nothing will go wrong if you help me prepare.", you answer and take both of his hands in yours to give them a reassuring squeeze.

His expression is unmoving, but his eyes betray the crumbling resistance within him. He's only a couple more arguments away of giving in.

-

The memory makes you chuckle. It's a low and bitter sound. Indeed, he had helped you get prepared for your adventure. Your leather bag is stuffed with canned food, some clothes and other equipment that might come in handy.

All the shirts, skirts and pants fit the style of the 1890s to make it easier for you to blend in. Francis had even been so kind to give you a quick history lesson that covered all the basics.

-

The cattleman revolver feels unfamiliar and heavy in your hands as you study the weapon more closely.

"Do you know how to shoot?", Francis asks and crosses his arms infront of his chest as he leans against the edge of the table.

The closest you have ever come to working a gun was reading about it in Arthur's journal, but admitting that might make Francis change his mind about the whole thing.

"Of course.", you lie with full confidence and slide the revolver back into the holster.

-

In the beginning you were a bit disturbed by the sight of the weapon attached to your belt. Feeling the weight of it now and the way it sometimes brushes over your thigh...it brings you some comfort. Comfort, knowing that you have the means to protect and defend yourself.

If only you have been aware over how soon you'd have to use that thing.

-

"There is an abandoned settlement called Colter nearby.", Francis explains and points at a spot on the map that is spread out over the table. "They will be hiding there after that whole ordeal in Blackwater."

This would be your chance to join the gang and get close to everyone. The mere thought of actually meeting these people fills you with both excitement and anxiety. You don't know any of them and it makes you wonder how they'll react to you.

"The winter was particularly bad that year so make sure to move quick and don't get lost.", he says, ripping you out of your thoughts.

"Don't worry."

-

Yes. Don't worry, I said. It will be fine, I said.

Nothing could have prepared you for the pack of wolves that had shown up right after you traveled back in time. Not a single bullet had hit its mark, but the ear piercing noise from the shots had driven them away.

Everytime you recall that encounter in your mind, the beat of your heart picks up frantically and you hear your blood rushing in your ears. The experience had scarred you for sure.

Finally, the snowstorm seems to calm down and your vision clears up again. As you blink the remaining snowflakes away, you spot smoke in the distance. Could that be the settlement?

Without a second thought you pick up your pace and quickly make your way towards the dark pillar of smoke. It's further away than you had anticipated, but after a while you arrive at the place just to be met with...well, no one.

The fire has died down and there is not a single soul to be seen in the area. You notice that the wood is still slightly warm though so whoever had camped here left only recently.

Your eyes wander around, trying to find a sign, anything that could indicate where that person might have gone to. There is only one set of footprints in the snow, accompanied with prints that look like hooves.

It could be someone from the gang who is out hunting at the moment. It's also possible that they went back to the others so maybe these tracks could lead you right to their hideout.

With a new found hope you quickly follow the tracks. Even if it isn't anyone from the gang, that person you're searching for could still give you shelter or food. Any type of help is welcome, really. You're in no position to be picky at the moment.

The tracks lead up a mountain and you see something dark laying on the ground. A pit forms in your stomach as you approach it and recognize what it is.

The sight infront of you is revolting and you fight back a gag. A horse is laying spread out in the snow with its stomach shredded to pieces and the insides hanging out. A foul stench penetrates your nose and you abruptly turn away.

Whatever happened here, it hadn't ended well. Weirdly enough, the horse is the only dead body here though. There is no sign of the owner and you stumble upon more footprints.

It must be the same person from the makeshift camp, by the looks of it. At least the size and shape of the boots are similar. You keep following them and swallow a lump in your throat when your eyes fall on blood. It seems like the person got hurt as well by whatever attacked the horse.

Could it have been wolves? Perhaps even the same ones that wanted to make a meal out of you? You banish the thought before it could make you panic. Now is not the time to contemplate about your near-death encounter.

Someone obviously needs help and that is the whole reason why you're here in the first place. Just because the person in need of help isn't the one who you're actually here for, doesn't mean you should abandon them.

The footprints lead around the mountain and with lots of huffing and panting, you climb over rocks and duck under them. It's exhausting your body more than anything you had ever done before and your muscles grow heavy.

"Hello?", you yell out into the vast nothingness and calm your breathing to be able to focus on listening for a response. Nothing.

You give it another try, but again nothing happens. Frustration boils up inside your chest and you mutter a few curses to yourself.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Now you're not only extremely tired and worn out from this unnecessary hike, you're also way off the trail that leads towards Colter and who knows if you will even be able to find your way back.

Sure, you could easily follow your own footprints, but by the way your luck has been the past few days, another snowstorm will most likely ruin that plan. Unless the thing that killed the horse earlier comes back to put you out of your misery as well.

Perhaps Francis was right. Perhaps you were being stupid and naive to think that you could possibly travel back in time to-

"Help!"

There it is. A voice. A person! You bite back a relieved sob and take a deep breath to answer the call.

"I'm over here!", the other person answers and you jog towards the source of the voice.

As you peek over the edge of a wall, you're being met with a pair of glassy, grey eyes. A man with long black hair and messy clothes, is sitting in the snow and looks up to you.

"I didn't think I'd meet anyone out here.", he jokes with a raspy voice and you climb down the wall to kneel next to him.

His face is covered in blood and there are deep wounds on his right cheek. It looks like claw marks.

"What happened?", you ask breathlessly as you hurry to open your bag.

"Wolves. A whole pack of 'em." His answer comes out more as a grunt than anything and it's obvious that talking alone brings him too much pain.

You fish out an alcohol bottle and pour some of the content onto your handkerchief. Gently, you dab the cloth on his wounds to disinfect them and he let's out a harsh hiss.

"I'm sorry.", you mumble apologetically, but he simply waves it off. He knows you're only trying to help.

None of you are saying anything while you tend to his wounds and your mind is racing with thoughts and questions. What will you do now? The man doesn't look like he can stand up and you don't have the means to carry him down this mountain.

But even just considering the option of leaving him here to the elements makes you feel a tang of guilt in your chest. Leaving him alone means leaving him to die and you don't know if you can live with that.

"Do you think you can get up? I can't carry you, but if you lean on me we could make it down this mountain.", you suggest and the man opens his mouth to answer you.

Before he can even bring out a word, a gunshot cuts through the air and you let out a startled noise. Another person? This is starting to become quite a party.

Yelling can be heard from a distance. A man. No, it's two.

"Marston!", one of them screams from the top of his lungs and the bleeding stranger infront of you responds almost immediately.

It doesn't take long for the others to find you and you stand up from your spot. The two men are standing on the edge of the wall and one of them jumps down. The next moment you find yourself at the end of a gun.

You lift your hands and take a careful step back while your eyes are fixed on the weapon pointed right at your face.

"Who are you?", asks the man. He's wearing a thick blue coat and a worn cowboy hat with a few bullet holes in it.

"Put the gun down. She found me here and helped.", answered the injured guy and for what feels like eternity the man finally lowers the gun.

You allow yourself to let out a relieved breath as he turns away to face the one still sitting on the ground.

"You look even uglier than before, Marston.", he says to the injured stranger and something clicks inside your brain.

Marston? John Marston?

While your mind pieces all the clues together, the man who is still on the wall reaches out his hand towards you. A friendly smile graces his lips and you return it before taking his hand and letting him help you climb back up.

"You guys are lucky that we found you.", he says and you nod. He's right. Even with your plan to have John lean on you while you walk back, there is no guarantee that it would have actually worked.

You're pretty sure that you would have probably slipped and fallen to your certain death. A few moments later John and the other guy are on top as well.

"Arthur, carry him on your shoulder while we go back to our horses.", the man who helped you up the wall said and your eyes fall on one with the blue coat.

Is this Arthur Morgan?

You lock eyes with him after he throws John over his shoulder and he gives you a confused look.

"What are you starin' at?", he grunts.

Embarrassed, you cough into your fist and let out a flustered chuckle.

"I'm so sorry, sir. It's just that you remind me of someone, is all.", you hastily explain and turn away to prevent any more awkwardness.

What a great first impression you're leaving. As you all make your way back to the horses, the three men introduce themselves to you and you give them your name as well.

"What are you doing out here by yourself?", Javier asks and throws you a curious look over his shoulder.

"I had to leave my home. We...we got robbed and lost the house.", you answer. It's a lie that you and Francis have come up with.

If anyone asks you'd tell them that a gang robbed your home and burned down the house. No one can check your background if you tell them there is nothing left to check. At least that's what you're hoping for.

"You said 'we'. Is anyone else out here?", Arthur asks and shoots you a quick look.

"No. I'm alone now.", you answer which is not really a lie. You are alone indeed.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

Before you're able to thank him, Javier points at something in the distance.

"Guys, I think we got company."

A small group of wolves appear on the hill a few meters away from you guys and your heart sinks. The gunshot and all the yelling must have caught their attention or maybe it's the smell of John's blood.

Arthur hands him over to Javier and pulls out a shotgun as he walks towards the wild animals.

"I'll distract 'em. You guys go to the horses.", he yells over his shoulder and you and Javier start running.

A few shots are being fired behind you, but you don't dare to look back. Your heart is beating a thousand miles an hour and adrenaline rushes through your veins. It's the only reason why you're able to move this fast.

Javier mounts his horse together with John and you climb onto the back of the one you assume must be Arthur's. Just as you turn your head to see where the said man is, he's already by your side and jumps into the saddle.

Without another word, the two horses start sprinting. The sudden acceleration startles you and instinctively your arms shoot forward to wrap around Arthur's torso. Then you notice something in the corner of your eye.

"We got more coming from the right!", you let the others know and grab the cattleman from your holster.

Thankfully, Arthur proves himself to be more than competent with his own gun and takes out the entire pack in a matter of seconds without you having to help out. At least that's what it looked like at first.

Another wolf jumps out from between trees right at the both of you and you extend your arm to fire a shot. It hits. For the first time you have actually hit something.

The rest of the ride goes by quietly with no deadly surprises. So far it's all going to plan (besides the fact that you almost got your face bitten off that is) and with a little luck and persuasion on your part they might even let you stay with them.

Once you reach the settlement, you slide off the back of Arthur's Tennessee Walker and take a step to the side when a large group of people start pouring out from the run down houses.

But the person who catches your attention the most is a man wearing a black coat and a red scarf. It's not his outfit that draws your gaze towards his direction, but more the energy he gives off. There is something about him that makes you feel like you have to be on your toes.

Maybe it's the authority that radiates off of him like the heat of a house on fire or maybe it's something else. Obviously, he's the leader of this group with the way he's barking orders. They don't seem to fear him though.

Then his eyes fall on you and he takes your whole appearance in. You recall a name from the journal as he approaches you with an extended hand and you shake it firmly.

"Dutch Van Der Linde. Arthur told me that you helped them with John."

You only manage a nod.

"Thank you, miss. I appreciate that you went out of your way to help one of my men. Come on, let's head inside so we can talk.", he adds and leads you towards one of the cabins

There is a fire burning inside, but with all the holes in the roof and walls it does barely anything to keep the cold away. Dutch motions towards one of the chairs next to the fireplace and takes a seat infront of you.

Arthur's blue coat appears in the corner of your eye as he closes the creaking door and leans against it with his arms closed. Yes, Dutch said it would be a casual talk, but now it feels more like an interrogation.

Quietly you fold your gloved hands on your lap and wait for Dutch to say the first word. You plan on telling him only the most necessary stuff and would rather avoid getting tangled up in your web of lies.

"So, Arthur tells me you lost your home?"

You avoid his piercing gaze and look down at your lap.

"I did, sir."

On the side of your vision, you see him nod to himself.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Now, miss..."

Your head snaps up to look at him as he bends forward to get a better look at your face.

"This is a harsh winter and I'd feel bad sending you out in this cold all by yourself, so if you want, you can stay with us."

His offer makes you nod hastily and you try to mask your excitement. There is no need to make them suspicious with your eagerness. No person with a clear mind would be this happy to stay with a bunch of outlaws and you have to play the part.

"We may not be good people, but we care for one another. As long as you pull your weight, we will happily welcome you."

With these words you place your bag on the floor and open it up to reveal the canned food you have been traveling with.

"I got some food on me. Agreed, it's not a lot, but it's all I have."

A pleased look spreads over Dutch's face and he nod.

"It's greatly appreciated. Go find Mr. Pearson and give these to him.", he says and you throw your bag back over your shoulder after getting back on your feet.

Once you close the door behind you, you overhear Arthur say something.

"Are you sure about this, Dutch? It's another mouth to feed."

You hold your breath so you have an easier time listening in on them. Of course, he's right to be concerned about you becoming a member. By the sound and look of it, they're struggling to keep everyone fed.

"We have been through worse.", Dutch answers and a wave of relief washes over you. It's good to know that you won't get kicked out on the first day.

So where is this Mr. Pearson?

[probayern]

trying to process that i got that ken ending and taylor sang clean at my show. in the same night. contact me in 1-3 business days

[cripplecharacters]

Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?

[large text: Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?]

(TLDR: no. literally no.)

A frequent topic that shows up around facial differences is the self-hatred, self-disgust, self-insert-negative-emotion that we must surely experience. I want to ask* writers without FDs - why? Why do you feel about us in such a way that that's the most common way of depicting us?

*- rhetorical question. I promise I know the answers, but I'm not sure if writers do.

It's frankly worrying to me. Is it really that common to assume that disabled people have this internal, never-ending hatred for themselves? The overwhelming majority of us don't. We hate inaccessibility, when people stare, or some symptoms when they get in the way, or how expensive being disabled is, but I find the concept of us being so completely disturbed by our own disabilities extremely strange. It’s “tragedy porn” intersecting “most basic ableism”.

“But trauma!”

[large text: “But trauma!”]

Trauma of what! People with facial differences don't have some sort of default trauma that we come with like it’s a factory setting. We are a group of people with tens of thousands of stories and experiences!

“Trauma of experiencing ableism/disfiguremisia” - that's better, at least this means something. If you're writing a story about this, please get a sensitivity reader with a facial difference. You can assume how we feel all you want, but in my experience these assumptions are often bizarre and unrealistic. Or just end up writing the same “disability so sad” sob story that everyone has seen a billion times. If you want to write about disfiguremisia, you need to understand the nuance and have more than just the basic level knowledge (which 99% of people don’t have either). If you can’t do that, don’t write about it. Simple as that.

“Trauma of the accident” - thankfully, the accident is an event and a facial difference is a disability. If you want to connect these two like they're one and the same, you're almost surely going to demonize disability. People with traumatic spinal cord injuries, acquired amputees, people with TBI, people with acquired facial differences - we participate in our communities, we have hobbies, we date, we play with our dogs. Disability isn't a death sentence. Media who make it feel like it is certainly don't help people who do suddenly become disabled, don't you think?

Here's a post by @blindbeta about blind characters becoming blind through trauma that’s better made than anything I could hope to write here. I heavily recommend giving it a read.

And, I can't stress this enough - most of us didn't have “the accident”, most of us are born like this! "Traumatic scars" isn't the only facial difference that exists, far from it, it's only one of thousands. It's 99% of our representation and "representation". If you want to make a character with FD - please consider that we aren't a monolith. Just like not all physical disabilities are "wheelchair user with paralysis", not all facial differences are "traumatic scar with somehow no nerve damage".

The overrepresentation of it is incredibly telling, and sometimes - or very frequently - feels like the writer doesn’t actually even want to deal with us. They want to use our disability as a way to cheap drama, moral metaphors, tragic backstories. Not to represent us as living people who are much more similar to you than you apparently think.

Now, I do have enough awareness to know that that's a big part of the appeal. “Horrific Thing #2456 happens” and boom, instant drama! Of course, it's a reasonable response that they would hide their disability for years, avoid talking about it in any way, and magically change their personality to be mean and reclusive, or at least be constantly soooo sad about how much it sucks to be disabled, right?

Do I really need to say that having your character becoming disabled be the worst thing ever is ableism 101? We have been talking about this for so long at this point. Writing about the process of adapting to a specific disability is better left to people who have actual experience in it.

To give an example that will hopefully resonate more with Tumblr users, I will use the fact that I'm also gay. It's not perfect by any means but probably much more familiar territory.

Imagine, let's say, a character. He's gay. The story he's in is supposedly progressive, certainly not trying to be homophobic. The character has experienced an incident, maybe an act of aggression or a hate crime, that happened because he’s gay, which was traumatic. Happens IRL, sure. So of course the character starts hating being gay. He talks about how gross and disgusting it is, he never lets anyone know that he could be “one of them”, certainly not take a stance against homophobia. You can't mention him without mentioning the accident, they're seemingly fused together. No gay love, joy, even basic happiness, he would actually choose to be straight in a heartbeat if given the option to and complains that he can't. This is shown as a neutral, obvious thing that a gay man would do, no one comments on it. He stays like this the whole time, unless there’s a plot twist in the last 10 pages where the world is now magically perfect ("we fixed discrimination, yay!"). This is the only LGBT character in the story.

Keep in mind that there are people similar to this in real life, living with extreme internalized homophobia.

Is this, in your opinion, realistic and thoughtful representation? How does it feel when written by a cishet writer, versus a gay writer who is recalling his experiences? Do you think that it's reasonable for the majority of media representation to be like this, or very close to it? How would it affect younger gay people who might already be uncomfortable with being queer? Are gay men the target audience, or are they not even considered as a group of people who read books? Is this helping or damaging the general public's idea of how it is to be gay? Why or why not?

The Masterpiece

[large text: The Masterpiece]

From 13 to 19 of May, we are celebrating Face Equality week (what a coincidence!). It’s important to me in general - and I wish it was more important to abled people, but I digress - especially its theme for this year.

“My Face is a Masterpiece”

Great statement, it represents the community well, I do enjoy how bold it is. Very cool stuff, I love the work our advocates are doing!

But why do I bring this up?

Well, to very non-subtly show that we aren’t a self-hating group of people. We are a community, a community saying “our faces are beautiful, look!”, we are saying “treat us equally, and do it now!”. Our activism isn’t about self-disgust. It’s about fighting your-disgust. 

Why can’t writers keep up? Why are you still stuck decades behind?

Is this the only reason I bring it up?

The Call to Celebration

[large text: The Call to Celebration]

FEI, the org behind organizing it, asks a very simple question (emphasis mine):

“Why do we so often see stories about facial difference as a ‘tragedy’, when they should be about triumph?” “Calling all artists, allies, creatives, galleries.  You can rewrite the story to bring about #FaceEquality and celebrate the unique artistry found in every face. Your participation this #FaceEqualityWeek will help to tell the real story, that there is a masterpiece in every face.”

Here. We are calling for you to stop. Directly from the biggest international advocacy alliance group that's out there. If you create, this is for you.

The last argument to not have your character with a facial difference hate themselves? Because we don’t want this. We are tired and frustrated. For me personally, I’m also offended by this kind of assumption. We aren’t tragedies or cheap entertainment for abled people to pity or be horrified by. We are people, and if you can’t internalize that, you have no reason to write about us.

For once, celebrate us. Happy Face Equality Week!

mod Sasza

[morverenmaybewrites]

wait r we allowed to send these in for characters u write for? :o

cuz i’m curious abt this one “What freaks them out the most in a relationship?” for jason

Yes, please do!

"What freaks them out most in a relationship?"| Jason Todd

Honestly, I think Jason Todd is afraid to love again, simply because of the way he loves. He tends to love wholeheartedly, without reservation, often to the point of self-destruction.

Remember that this is the man who endured at least six months worth of torture just so he wouldn't betray his father. Not a lot of people are capable of that sort of loyalty. 

To add insult to injury, it's very likely that he never got to experience any sort of positive reinforcement when it comes to loving a person.

In my Arkham fanfics, Jason's father was an abusive drunk and his mother was a junkie. While he learned to avoid his father, I'd like to think that he did hold some sort of love for his mother. He tried, in his own way, to take care of her, keep her safe.

He'd put a blanket over her when she was lost in her heroine-dreams, he'd wipe the drool from the side of her mouth, he'd leave stolen food next to her sweat-stained mattress for when she woke up. And all it ever got Jason, I imagine, was an absent-minded sort of affection. Perhaps she'd give him a vague smile, her eyes bloodshot and glassy, as if she wasn’t really seeing him, perhaps she'd ruffle his hair.

And for a long time, he'd think that was love.

Something rare, something small, but something that kept him warm all the same (for East End was a cold place), and he'd sip it like rainwater between his cupped palms, because it was all he'd ever known.

But then he gets adopted, and suddenly his perspective changes. 

Love, he realizes, can be patient. It can be his father Bruce, who somehow never got angry at him during those early days, when hope had warmed the inside of his chest like a swallowed star.

Love can be easy, he learns. It can be something as simple as Alfred, waiting up for him after a long rainy night, bringing him towels that were somehow always warm. It can be warm soup on the days that he woke up with a sore throat and a fever burning through his skin (and even to this day, he marvels at the idea that in Wayne Manor, food can come so easily--without stealing, without a fight).

But, he'll also tragically learn (or so he thinks) that love has to be earned.

I've always had this idea (and I stand by it) that Bruce did love his kids, deeply. But because of his own issues, he couldn’t love them in a way that they needed to be loved (and isn’t that true of most parents?).

It is the way Bruce never smiled at him when he was Robin. 

It is long nights of training just for a hint of his father’s approval. 

It is the constant comparison to another son, one who is faster, smarter, and better in every way. 

It is the way he thinks–and becomes terrified–that if he doesn’t earn his place in Wayne Manor, if he doesn’t earn his father’s love, he will be back in that cold place in East End where nothing can ever keep him warm again. 

And then Joker happens.

And then Joker happens. 

And no matter how strong he tried to be, how silent, no matter how much he tried to endure. 

He breaks (clean in two, a crack so wide it will never heal, you can trace the fractured seam of him and find the exact place where his heart was broken). 

Even worse, Batman breaks: he leaves Jason for dead (or so he thinks).

And a part of him will always think: is it enough? Was I not enough? 

Was it not enough to endure? To stay silent? To keep his father’s secrets?

Had Jason somehow, through some fault in his won, not done enough to earn being loved, being saved?

(Is he always going to be that small child in East End, and all he will ever know of it are vague smiles through bloodshot, glassy eyes? Was this his punishment for hoping for more? He can drink and drink and it will never be enough, the rainwater will always slip through his palms). 

And then there’s you. 

And at first he thinks it’s easy (as easy as warm soup on days when he’s feeling sick, as easy as a towel after a night in the rain), because you are brave and reckless and you are quite pretty when you smile. And it has been so long since he’s had a friend. 

It’s easy because you’re easy to be with: you read into his silences, you calm him down when he falters and you are braver than he gives you credit for (and there are days when he wishes that you are less brave). 

It is easy until one day, Jason realizes what’s happening and the first thing he thinks is that he can’t go through this again. 

He cannot be that child in East End, who follows his mother for crumbs of her affection like a dog starving for scraps.

He cannot be the boy in the Batcave, practicing over and over just so he’ll finally get to see his father’s smile

He cannot be Robin in Arkham Asylum, with a bullet hole in his chest and a brand burning on his face

And yet, and yet, Jason does not know any other way to love. 

He does not know of any other way it does not end in tragedy (and hurt and pain and betrayal). 

Oh, he is terrified. He thinks he fears you more than any other living thing in Gotham. 

To love you, he thinks, is to give you the chance to destroy him all over again. 

And he can’t, he can’t go through that again. 

(But oh, there are days Jason thinks you will be worth it.). 

[aerynwrites]

Lost For Words

Gale Dekarios x gn!Reader

A/N: for the anon that sent in this request - I hope you and everyone else enjoys! I had such a fun time writing this haha.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: sexual content (not explicit), grinding, reader is a tease, gale is a flustered mess, suggestive talk, kissing, fluff at the beginning.

*I tried to keep this gender neutral, but please let me know if anything slipped through my editing!*

It’s not often you get any downtime, what with the parasite in your brain and all. 

But this evening has afforded you and your companions a rare but much needed free night. Most everyone has decided to spend the evening down in the tavern, drinking or gambling or whatever other pastimes happen down there. However, you and Gale have opted to stay upstairs, reveling in the unusual peace and quiet. 

Gale had been reading to you for a while, a fantasy book of some sort, but you’d excused yourself a few moments ago. Not because you were enjoying lounging in bed with him, but because a certain item in your bag has been calling to you since you received it. 

The Wavemother’s Robe. 

It has been a gift for getting ride of that machine that was polluting the bay waters, and you hadn’t really had a chance to look at it. 

But now, after you’ve retrieved it and stepped behind the dressing screen, you find that there isn’t really much to look at, at all. 

As you slip into the delicate yet butter-soft fabric, you can’t help but notice that it leaves very little to the imagination. So, in that sense, there is a lot to look at depending on who’s doing the looking. 

The neckline of the detailed collar of robe plummets down in a tragically deep neckline, the end reaching your navel. And the skirt of the robe is much the same, the slits in the sides coming up all the way to above your hip, leaving the fabric covering yourself hanging dangerously loose in the front and back. 

For half a second, you're tempted to rip the thing off and get rid of it. The whole outfit is somewhat absurd. 

But, despite your question about the functionality of such a garment, you can’t help but admire the beauty of it. The blue, scaled fabric sparkles in the dim candle light of the room, iridescent light bouncing off the walls whenever you turn. Even the small delicate chains at your hips and resting against your sternum twinkle gently. 

When you look in the floor-length mirror you can’t help but let your mouth drop open slightly. 

You look…good. If not a bit exposed. 

Without thinking much about it, you turn and come out from behind the screen, approaching Gale where he still sits on the bed reading. If he hears your approach he doesn’t acknowledge it, only flipping a page every so often as you watch him in silence, a small smile on your face. 

He’s sat propped up against the headboard, legs outstretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He cradles the book gentle in his hands atop his lap, eyes trailing over the page quickly as he consumes the story. 

You take a couple steps closer to the bed, now just an arms length away. 

He still doesn’t look up. 

“Gale…” you call in a soft sing-song voice. 

The wizard merely hums, inclining his head your way ever so slightly, but never takes his eyes from the page. 

“Yes, my love?” 

You huff, rolling your eyes as your smile tugs further at your lips. 

“I wanted your thoughts on my new clothes.” 

You watch as his brows furrow, his thumb sliding down the page to hold his place as he closes the book before slowly turning to look at you. 

“Your clothes-?”

His questioning is cut off with the audible clack of his teeth as his mouth slams shut, his eyes going wide as they finally take you in, trailing from your head to your toes before whipping back up again. 

He blushes. Actually blushes - his cheeks turning several shades darker as his eyes flit over your form once more before he’s back to looking at you all wide-eyed and scandalized. 

A shit eating grin overtakes your earlier soft smile as you take the last few steps to the edge of the bed, reaching out to pluck the book from his hands to toss it to the side. 

“So…what do you think?” you ask, voice dripping sweetness. 

“W-what do I-? I - ehm…it’s certainly - revealing-“

You drop your lips into a pout as you crawl onto the bed, your nose barely brushing his own as you swing a leg over his hips to settle on his lap. The robe pools between you, but the position causes the silken fabric to rise up your hips even further. One wrong move and even less would be left to the imagination. 

Something Gale must take notice of, as he instinctively reaches out to tug at the fabric on your hips, keeping it in place as his fingers dig into the flesh beneath it. 

“Do you not like it?” you ask, feigning disappointment as you reach down to toy with the chain running down your chest. “I thought it was pretty.” 

Gale clears his throat and shifts his hips, the evidence of just how much he likes it evident against your inner thigh. 

“N-No not at all I -“ He coughs, the blush reaching down to his chest now, making his orb mark stand out against the flushed skin. “I simply was not expecting…”

His words taper off as you begin to trail a finger over the mark on his chest, following the tendrils up over his collarbone and onto the sensitive skin of his neck, making his breath hitch. 

“Not expecting…what?” 

“Well - I was deeply entrenched in m-my reading and then you come out like t - that!” 

His last word pitches up when you grind your hips against his own, his fingers now digging into your hip bones. 

You lean in close, lips brushing his cheek as you speak. 

“Thats a very…lackluster description,” you pout. “Have I left the great Gale of Waterdeep lost for words? What happened to your supposed verbosity? And I remember something about a practiced tongue -“ 

Your teasing words are cut off sharply as Gale's arms wrap around your waist and he flips you both over on the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft this just as his lips claim yours, swallowing your gasp of surprise. 

He wastes no time, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. 

Something you happily grant him. 

The kiss is eager, frenzied, leaving no room for the teasing banter you had established earlier.

His hands move to slide down over your bare thighs before hiking one of them up over his hip and holding it there as he presses his hips down into your own. 

Only when his hips meet your own in a desperate grind does he pull away from you, lips moving instead to trail kisses down your cheek and jaw. 

“If you had given me a moment to collect myself,” he chastises lightly. “I would have gathered my wits enough to tell you how magnificent you look.” 

“Ravishing.” He presses a kiss beneath your ear. “Captivating.” Another on the junction of your shoulder. 

“Absolutely sinful.” 

A sharp nip to your collarbone has you gasping, just as a calloused hand slides up the exposed expanse of your chest, fingers hooking beneath the delicate chains there. 

“So…” He trails off, his lips traveling down to where his hand lays and then lower, pressing lightly to where the deep plunge of your robe ends. 

“Since you were so impatient, I suppose I’ll just have to show you as well. To make up for my lack of…verbosity.” 

A moan slips past your lips at his words, and you can't stop the shiver of excitement that runs through as his hands slip beneath the fabric of the robe. 

Maybe you’ll keep the robe after all. 

[telephonedear]

no because do you ever think about the apollo cabin?

they were one of the biggest cabins, probably second only to hermes’. as the healers and the archers, they were key players in the battle of manhattan. without will solace, annabeth would be dead, and without the cabin as a whole, so many other campers would be, too.

 the archers had to go fight on the front lines, which we literally see in the book. think of how many monsters and demigods they probably fought off- think of what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been there. would camp half blood still have won the war? how many other demigods were on the bridge with michael yew, defending it? how many of them died when it collapsed? did they get confused in the midst of the battle field and shoot eachother?

and the healers. gods. not only were they working in the building, but it’s likely that they were in the midst of battle, too. many of them were probably sent out to try and save and revive campers all across the city, or offer ambrosia and what little supplies they had left. healers are made to protect, and so that is what they did. think of how many demigods they must have saved, and then think of how many healers probably died saving the lives of their friends.

but the apollo cabin was full of dreamers. they prioritize art and poetry and music. they were dancers, mediators, idealists. they were creators and lovers. the apollo cabin was a light around camp, and kept camp half blood together. they were the glue. they saved olympus and all demigods in the war, and held them together all throughout it, until the end.

the apollo cabin lost the most campers of any cabin, because they were there. they were present. so many of them died with a bow in hand, defending olympus and camp half blood. so many of them died while pushing campers out of the way from attacks, while giving stitches or ambrosia. think of how terrified they must have been, knowing that they wouldn’t return back to their cabin. think of all the bodies that littered manhattan in the aftermath, and then think of how many of those bodies belonged to the apollo cabin. think of apollo, when he saw his children, his beautiful, lovely children, radiating light in death. his beloved children, who knew the risks and chose to save, to heal, to love, to hope.

without the apollo cabin, kronos would have won the war. the apollo cabin went from one of the biggest cabins to one of the smallest. they were, undoubtedly, some of the bravest demigods alive. they gave their lives saving those who couldn’t save themselves, and i think that it is tragic.

[redbayly]

Zutara Shipping is Canon

Let me explain myself.

I was enjoying an afternoon walk (as I mercifully live in a decent area to go for walks to clear my head) and I started thinking about the Ember Island Players episode when it struck me.

Shipping Zutara is canon.

Now, don't get me wrong, this isn't about if Zutara itself is canon or not (it's totally canon and I will die on my hill of willful self-delusion), but about shipping it.

I'm sure most Zutara shippers still get a little thrill whenever we rewatch the show and our majestic bounty-hunter June, captain of the Zutara ship, calls Katara Zuko's girlfriend.

But, as I said, this is about Ember Island Players.

It never truly occurred to me before that, in canon, Zutara shipping is just a thing. Like, an actual, accepted aspect of the world.

When Puon-Tim wrote "The Boy in the Iceberg," he just outright included a Zutara subplot. And as annoyingly melodramatic as it was, it was still there. He even went out of his way to discredit the idea of Katara and Aang being together. And, even though the play is Fire Nation propaganda (which has since confused me since the wiki says that Puon-Tim is from the Earth Kingdom; though that feels like a retcon), it doesn't seem to show a Zutara romance in a negative way.

And it could've gone in that direction. As propaganda, it would have been only too easy to portray Katara as an evil seductress who corrupted Prince Zuko and convinced him to betray his country. But it doesn't. The Zutara scene is embarrassingly saccharine and schmaltzy, but it's not shown as being bad - except for the episode trying to frame it that way because it hurts Aang's feelings.

And, because of how popular the play seems to be, we can reasonably assume that there were audience members who left the theater as die-hard Zutara fans. Even if they were cheering for Zuko's death - because, y'know, Fire Nation - there weren't any boos at the Zutara scene. Like, some of those folks who cheered Zuko's death also probably regarded Zutara as a tragic love story. There were probably even a few who quietly whispered to each other that they hoped Prince Zuko would run off with Katara and have a happy ending instead of fighting for the throne and dying, as shown in the play.

And with how the war actually ended, Zutara shipping probably only got more popular as Zuko started reforming stuff and being an actually stable ruler as opposed to his psycho dad and sister.

So, with this in mind, Puon-Tim is the ultimate Zutara shipper. Zutara shipping is canon.

I don't really know what else to say.

Any thoughts?

[throwaway-yandere]

FLAWLESS (Yandere!Various Genshin/Reader)

A/n: This is a complete interactive fic w/ CGs! There’s an HP system and 4 possible endings (yandere!Scaramouche, Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Kazuha). This is my final fanfic and I really put my best effort into drawing and writing this. Have fun!!! Your choices matter so read the evidences properly and try not to get a bad ending hahaha. (Pls answer this poll after and feel free to send me memes about who you got hAHHAHA)

Unreliable Synopsis: (Danganronpa!Genshin AU) If this is your last dance as an idol, then you do not want it. No. You’ll make the real criminal sing instead.

CW: yandere themes, blood, murders (well duh ansy–), and brief mentions of suicide.

Kazuha frowned. "For (L/n) (Y/n), this whole ordeal must seem like a flawless crime."

"They don't know the murder weapon, the suspects— no nothing." Kaveh sighed.

Alhaitham interjected. "Indeed, but the real questions will begin in a moment."

Words punctured the air in nameless accusations. Each time people enter this room, only distrust looms acting both as a safety blanket and suffocating plastic. You stared at the people left. One, two, three, four, five... You clenched your fist, and all those fingers pointed back at you. 

The sixth. 

There are only six survivors left.

"Say, (L/n) (Y/n)." Your Akademiyan companions stared at you as Kunikuzushi’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. "Where were you at the time of the murder?"

You gulped.

The Teyvat Akademiya. Home only to the most renowned student of their craft. The faculty carefully picks out select groups of students to be their new freshmen- and it can only be counted by hand how many had declined such a generous offer. It was a government state university, but it was also a golden ticket to knowing people from high places.  

Each student was known for contributing something in their fields of interest. In fact, both your adoptive siblings were alumni of this prestigious school. Your brother Aether was a famous "adventurer" (as he loved to call himself instead of an artifact-obsessed archeologist) whereas your sister Lumine was a remarkable swordswoman with a straight-edged track record. Even your older friends, Dainsleif, and a certain glasses-wearing individual you had forgotten the name of were graduates and now boast incredible resumes befitting of an Akademiyan. Each alumnus you've met wasn't someone any person with a head on their shoulders would dare disrespect. 

But that was not the reason for your schoolmates’ evident intimidation.

“Allow them a moment to process,” Alhaitham scoffed. “The Body Discovery Announcement was approximately 2 hours ago. It’s challenging for individuals from the entertainment industry such as them to comprehend complicated matters in a few seconds.”

“I would’ve fainted at your rare attempt at empathy if it wasn't obviously pointed,” Kaveh scoffed before turning to you with a soft stare. “(Y/n), don’t listen to these two, I’m sure we can find out if you’re innocent or not later.”

You gave a short nod of assent.

Tragically, murders had become the norm for college students like yourself. No one has flinched at Kaveh’s grim mention of a suspect lurking by and none had the insanity to deny what had occurred.

It began when you first woke up in one of the Akademiya's classrooms. You stirred awake on a desk near Shikanoin Heizou, the "Detective Prince". He was a famous figure, so you instantly believed him when he said you were both hauled into this location against your will. You were enthused by his infectious desire to uncover whatever was behind the “kidnapping” you found yourselves in. He told you not to worry, that despite the barred windows and inaccessible exits, you'd both "probably" find a way out.  As you both wandered around the area, you found fourteen other students (some familiar faces, some not as much). For a brief moment of hope, everyone thought escape was possible. 

That was until a certain cold-eyed puppet entered the scene.

A heartless puppet you’re sure was waiting for everyone just under that elevator.

“Is… Is this everyone?” You asked like a mouse, frightened as your eyes darted for any hints of twinned cyan hair. Nothing about your recent behavior had gone unnoticed.

Senior Faruzan is missing…

Yoimiya frowned, grabbing your hand for comfort. “(Y/n)…”

Kunikuzushi scoffed. “Enough of this dumb ohhh boohoo exhibit. Let’s go.”

The most mysterious of the bunch left for the stairs immediately, punching the button on the elevator to its ground floor. Yoimiya huffed, muttering complaints about Kuni’s behavior while the three other men followed her silently. No one took the stairs two at a time and walked at a snail’s pace. A clear indication that no one wanted this to occur. 

And just like in the previous cases, Kazuha’s eyes were on you the entire time but spoke nothing of this behavior.

The elevator door opened. You looked at the camera above it. If the Shogun's words are to be trusted, then the outside world is watching your every move like reality TV.

If that's the case, might as well give them a show.

Kunikuzushi stepped aside, royally ushering everyone— and specifically YOU— in.

“Idols first.”

Everyone entered the trial room. If the mood from earlier was tense, it is worse now that you’re inside. Stepping into the cold room makes the situation all the more real.

There is an execution waiting to happen, but without a hint if it’ll be “us” or “them”. Every bright person inside the room here had previously partaken in 4 of these court sessions by force. Since no one can exit the premises nor contact the outside world, the only key out was to kill and avoid getting caught. 5 people had attempted to commit murder, and considering how you’re still breathing, none of the “blackened” had succeeded in getting their way.

How… How did it come to this? 

You enrolled in the Akademiya in hopes that you'd also find the subtle clues as to why Aether went missing, this wasn't in your plan.

Getting roped into this killing “game” was on no one’s to-do list. You received an invitation to enroll in the Akademiya because of your stark idol career, although your siblings being famous alumni may have greatly increased your chances of receiving that privilege. You would’ve thrown that paper into the fire if you knew you’d get dizzy upon arriving in the Akademiya and will wake up in such a heartbreaking dilemma. Hearing from a grapevine, you discovered that Kaveh was invited for his architectural drafts, Kazuha for his poems and a bit of swordsmanship in his repertoire, Yoimiya for her firework shows, and Kunikuzushi?… You don’t know. But you are wholly aware as to why Alhaitham is here as your senior— you were there when he opened his letter after all.

The “mascot” is yet to make her entrance. So, as “obedient” students, you’ve uncomfortably shuffled to the places you were meant to stand. Bile rose inside your throat as you looked at the last five students excluding yourself circling the room— with Faruzan’s crossed-out portrait to your right while Kamisato Ayaka’s on your left. It would appear that most of the dead students were on your side and the closest breathing person next to you was Kunikuzushi, who was two photographs away.

Alhaitham, Amber, Tighnari, Ajax, Albedo, Kamisato Ayaka, You, Faruzan, Xiao, "Kunikuzushi", Kaveh, Cyno, Yoimiya, Layla, Yunjin, Kaedehara Kazuha, and Shikanoin Heizou.

The deceased faces had been crossed out in bright violet paint, a nauseatingly unsubtle reminder that only six remained. Yet, the one that was meant to sit towering above was missing.

“… Where’s The Shogun?” Kazuha asked.

“Ah, so you do have a voice. And here I was about to call you a cricket. I thought our poet lost his words, considering how the previous trial ended,” Kunikuzushi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Just wait and see.”

You sighed, hoping it was quiet enough for Kuni not to have heard it. 

The last trial broke everyone’s spirits and sense of camaraderie the most. Before trials, the puppet gives everyone an incentive to kill. In the Ayaka-Heizou murder case, each student was given a videotape that raised more questions than answers. Yours was a clip of Lumine, your fellow theater actors, and idol mates congratulating you for your enrollment before it cuts off to a scene of your home burned to cinders. As for Ayaka, hers was a short-lived message of her older brother asking her to come visit the clan for Thoma’s upcoming birthday— before it cuts to a gruesome scene of her brother fatally wounded on their living room floor. 

“Find out what happens once you graduate!”... and then the tape ends.

Whoever was the mastermind behind this killing, you had to admit, they were an expert in psychological torture. And unfortunately for everyone, Ayaka was a smart individual— killing the most trustworthy student, Heizou, to cover her tracks better. She put up quite the fight in manipulating everyone to think that you and Kaveh were possible culprits.

You even got into an argument with the calmest person around. Kazuha was “convinced” that Ayaka was right, which led to you two entering an incredibly heated argument that left him depressed with his rejected apology. You were on "good terms" with him before, that being he would always offer to cook food and accompany you often. 

… Perhaps that was a good thing. Discreetly, you thought he strangely knew you to a degree that makes you far from comfortable. It still bugs you how he knew you all too well and yet you know nothing about him other than his aspirations: traditional Inazuman poetry writing with a bit of karuta on the side.

Maybe he used to be a big fan of yours? Even so, the foundation of your music, choreography, and persona was weaved through a tapestry of feel-good lies. And yet, he was wise enough to speak your true thoughts before you even hesitated to voice them in your cheery idol tone. 

But that’s not the issue right now. 

The issue on your plate was that you had no evidence to prove your innocence except for the list of school rules on your E-Handbook because you were convinced someone will kill you during the investigation.

You laughed to yourself bitterly. Might as well review those rules now.

You opened the E-Handbook.

As per “school rules”, there are regulations to be had in a murder game, but none stick to you as these three. Rule #10 and #7: A class trial will commence after three or more students have discovered a corpse, and a Body Discovery Announcement will play as soon as it occurs. However, a trial will be held if and only if every survivor is present; failure to do so will result in class “expulsion.” 

And the last rule that never left your mind was Rule #8: If the guilty party is exposed during the class trial, they alone will be executed.

By the end of Trial #4, she did not receive a proper execution. Ayaka was compelled to restore her honor and raised her sword to…

…

… You couldn’t hate her for it. Even though you were close friends with Heizou, you couldn’t hate any of your fellow students. They all had family, hopes, and visions for the future. Each one here was "a fledgling barely out of the nest." You couldn’t deny that you would’ve done the same.

"Since the Shogun isn't here yet, let's get a headstart," Kaveh gripped the court fence, eyeing everyone with a nervous stare and stiff posture. "What's your alibis?"

Nobody raised their voice initially. You cast a pitying glance toward Kaveh. When it comes to your closest friendships, he comes in second only to Heizou. As someone who had seen the horrors of the media which is essentially a mirror of the world's social issues, Kaveh's one of the few decent individuals left on the planet, in your opinion. In moments of quiet, you, Kaveh, and Faruzan used to chat together, with Heizou periodically interrupting to share his findings regarding everyone's entrapment.

Considering how Kaveh is your last true friend left, you volunteered yourself.

"I never left my room," you spoke audibly depressed, no longer caring that you appeared un-idol-like. "And I refused entry as well. I heard a couple of angry knocks at 9:37 p.m., but I didn't open my door for anyone."

You looked at Kazuha, hurt and accusingly.

You'd never forget how Kazuha called you a murderer. That intense argument made up 30% of Heizou's class trial. He lost his composure and called you a "dishonorable monster". The whole back-and-forth was very much unlike him. After the trial, neither of you talked– and you never left your room unless it was to get something to eat without anyone in sight.

If he was the one who killed Faruzan because he can’t get to you, then you’ll…

"9:37 eh? You got a watch now?" Kunikuzushi pointed at your wrist.

You snapped out of your aggression and nodded, which made him break out in a fit of laughter. 

"HAHAHA!!!" Kunikuzushi grinned, wide. "Learned your lesson, huh?!"

You scoffed, but your ego was humbled and your heart sank at his harsh words. 

Everyone in the room nearly lost their lives because of your time-blindness. It's precisely what made Kazuha suspicious of your motives. You were always unsure of the time, hence, you didn't have the most watertight alibi compared to Ayaka. Before you entered your room to lock yourself, Alhaitham blocked the door with his shoe and handed you his spare wristwatch. He was the last person you saw before your self-isolation.

"Good," Alhaitham said. "And you, Kunikuzushi?"

"Are we going to ignore that angry knocking thing?" Kaveh rightfully asked.

"Let's complete the first task first," Alhaitham answered. "Let's follow the circle; it's (Y/n), then Kunikuzushi, Kaveh, Yoimiya, Kazuha, then I."

"Conveniently putting yourself last," Kunikuzushi snarled. "But whatever. I was napping in my dorm. Woke up when I heard footsteps outside and decided to investigate. The discovery alarm rang off when I entered the nurse's office the second time."

Kaveh fell silent, his face pale.

"I… never went to m dorm that night"

"Oh?" You and Yoimiya curiously said in unison.

"I-I was with Alhaitham, patrolling!!!" Kaveh defended; his arms in the air. "I swear on my life, I was with him! We're probably the footsteps Kuni heard."

He spoke as if it was a good thing with his mouth, but he was whispering that it wasn’t with his eyes.

"Can't be certain," Kunikuzushi threw in a quick grumble and snapped his fingers. “But I think that's probably the case.”

"That makes sense. I mean, if Kuni was telling the truth then that just means there's more chance it's just those two hopping around. Oh, and I was actually on the second floor at the time. I was in the recreational room cause I wanted to get tokens for the cute little Shogun Stall.'' If Kuni’s side comment lasted a month, then Yoimiya's would be a year– but her good cheer is just what everyone needed to alleviate the tension.

"I wasn't in my dorm room either," Kazuha said. "I was in the cafeteria. I couldn't sleep so I decided to fry fish."

"True, I think. When I checked the cafeteria a knife was missing from the shelf."

"We’ll keep your fact-checking in mind, Miss Naganohara." 

No soul was sure if Alhaitham was being genuine about it except for you. And the answer was yes, he was being warily appreciative. Admittedly, you don’t know any of these people before this killing game started, except for one person…

Alhaitham looked away, conscious of how you looked at him.

In all fairness, Alhaitham was closer to Lumine than you and Aether, and he wasn’t your favorite neighbor either. As a kid, he was the type who would leave in the middle of hide-and-seek simply because the ordeal wasn’t “stimulating” to his developing intellect. He had a habit of causing uncomfortable situations just to “observe” your reactions with an emotionless stare. Alhaitham had once given you a sumeru rose with a startling grasshopper to see how you would behave, and the worst part is that everyone knows he did these without malice. His grandmother had to force a sorry out of him for your tears to dry. “He probably has a crush on you, you know how boys are,” was the excuse the old lady tried, but your twin siblings were quick to shut that thought down. You and he were simply oil and water, nothing more, nothing less.

But there were times you two got along. When you aired out loud sentiments regarding how stuffy his room must be, you snatched the book he was reading and dashed up the nearest tree. Despite his grumbling reservations, he was thankful that you taught him how to climb that afternoon. That was the first you saw him smile wider than usual and offered to narrate the book you stole: The Little Prince. 

However, that version of Alhaitham you’ve come to love remains awol amidst this killing game.

"As for my whereabouts: Kaveh is correct. He and I were patrolling just the first floor and exchanging conversation. Neither of us could sleep. We started at 9:15 and ended abruptly at 11:05, when we, along with Kunikuzushi, found–"

"The body." Kunikuzushi finished.

"Yes," Alhaitham said.

Kunikuzushi smirked. From your perspective, the worst part about this was not Kunikuzushi’s inappropriate smugness, but the look in his eyes that mirrored what Heizou used to have— what your good friend used to be. The light in his eyes, his more forward demeanor, the way he crossed his arms and snapped his fingers– it was as if he was copying him. 

Mocking him.

You hate Kunikuzushi. You detest just how much you don’t know why he’s in the Akademiya or anything else about him other than his first name. You loathe how he had made it his job to be the antagonist of every damn class trial. You hate how he looks at you as though you’re beneath him. You despise how much he is willing to withhold vital information till the very end.

Kunikuzushi is like a commedia dell’arte stock character. A Scaramouche. An unreliable servant. You can’t trust a man who said he was moved by your acting in all your filmography only to act like he wants nothing more than to crush your spirits once lives were at stake.

After listening to everyone’s alibis, your intuition screamed from something deep within a place you had begun to trust after experiencing these trials:

Out of six survivors, FOUR of them are hiding something.

“Is everyone present?”

Before you could speak up, a low and refined woman’s voice stole everyone’s attention. All turned to gaze at the long synthetic-haired lady with a katana by her side. She returned the stares with an unfathomable coldness as she strutted to her throne, the silk of her grand kimono touching the floor. 

There she is. The lone audience and judge. The puppet: the Almighty Raiden Shogun. Undoubtedly made of metal and not flesh. Xiao had learned that firsthand when he sacrificed his life in an honorable duel against the captor— but seeking freedom by force was of no use when she herself is capable of the murders she wished to witness.

“Very well. We shall begin.”

“W-Wait, hold up, ma'am!”

The last vaguely extroverted cheerleader raised her hand; her bravery to interrupt the Shogun was acknowledged.

“... Can I share my E-Handbook data with (Y/n)?” She asked, high-pitched.

The medical and criminological technology of this era eluded everyone. Trapped inside the Akademiya with no phones or any signal to the outside world, each student only has their E-Handbook to rely on. It contains information the owner investigated regarding murders and records testimonies made by their peers. A handbook is only “handy” for both people who were hoping to survive and those who were hoping to twist the facts. 

And that offer is exactly what you need.

“You see– they didn’t leave their room during the investigation period– probably worried that the killer might be after them next and they kinda turned into a hikikomori for the past few days. I’m kinda worried they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves on this trial so… So, uh… Pretty please?” The blonde girl smiled nervously.

The Raiden Shogun stared, calculating.

“I shall allow it.”

“Thank you so much!” Yoimiya tapped her E-Handbook as fast as she could, more eager than you were in watching the loading screen fill up.

(SYSTEM: RECEIVING NAGANOHARA YOIMIYA’S E-HANDBOOK DATA…)

(SYSTEM: TRANSFER COMPLETE.)

You smiled at Yoimiya but it came out crooked and jaded. She didn’t complain that you weren’t at your top form today, but she did send you a loud “Do your best!” in her native tongue.

The Shogun walked to the throne and took her seat.

“Now then, let the class trial begin.”

Out like a bolt of lightning, the doors behind you were completely shut with metal bars in her flick of a wrist. In her twisted form of justice, she hammered the circular surface with her gavel.

“Court is now in session.”

(SYSTEM: TAP HERE TO CONTINUE)

[missaengg]

Indecently Dreaming Of You

Day 11 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Ikemen Villains | Jude Jazza x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, wet dream, sexual fantasy, nipple play, fingering, piv sex, multiple orgasms, some degradation if you squint, pwp Prompts: Wet Dreams/Sexual Fantasy | “Go on, put it in yourself.” ao3 link here.

Crown Castle was surprisingly empty, which was unusual given that a member or two were always lurking about during the day, especially on the weekends – mostly Victor who always seemed to be present or Roger who was always working on some experiment – but today, the large castle was blissfully quiet.

You made your way to the parlor, your latest novel – a torrid romantic fantasy – in hand, one you generally kept hidden in your room, one if any of the castle’s occupants caught you reading would end with you dying of embarrassment.

Today, however, you felt safe reading it in the sunlit window you loved in the parlor as the only occupant in the castle, and with a delighted hum, you entered the peaceful parlor stroking the book in your hands. Last night you had gotten to the part where the tragic hero, a tortured vampire, rescued the damsel in distress, a woman with a heart of gold, and he was finally on the verge of giving in to his passion after pages of thick sexual tension.

“Tch.. can’t ya see I’m readin’ here?”

Shrieking, you jumped, heart pounding furiously in your chest, fumbling to hide your book behind your back. Turning to the speaker, your eyes widened, squeaking in surprise. “Ju–Jude?!”

Because in the very bay window you hoped to occupy sat Jude, nonchalantly draped on the cushion, cigarette in one hand, a dry looking tome of a book in the other propped up by his knees. You gripped the novel in your hands tighter, pressing it closer into the folds of your skirt. When you roamed about the castle earlier, you hadn’t seen a hint of anyone, let alone the languid Crown member in the room.

“If ya got eyes, then ya know to get the hell outta here.” 

Jude didn’t look up from his reading, but you didn’t need to see his face to know he was feeling irritated with your presence. You turned to go, but you hesitated, eyeing the velvet couch in the center of the room. It was late afternoon when the sun was at its most gentle warmest, your room at its most stuffiest, and the couch looked so plush… You snuck a peek at the pre-occupied man who was currently paying you no attention, and wanting nothing more than to sink into the velvet cushions, you strode over to the couch. The parlor was designed to hold multiple occupants and plenty large enough for the both of you to read quietly without acknowledging the other’s presence.

“Oi.”

You looked in Jude’s direction whose amethyst eyes were glaring at you with displeasure.

“Ya deaf? I said get outta here.”

Holding his glare, you defiantly settled yourself on the couch until you were perched against the armrest with your legs stretched out along the couch length. “I’ll read quietly.”

Jude clicked his tongue and sighed, a huffy, impatient sigh, but returned his attention to his boring, complex book.

You exhaled slowly. It wasn’t that Jude scared you, but he was rather imposing, and he had this way of pinning you with his intense glares, much like how you imagined a wolf would pin down a defenseless rabbit. Absolutely certain his attention was most definitely off of you and would remain off of you, you relaxed into the heavenly soft cushions, cracking your book open to where you had left off the night before.

Just as you expected, it was delicious. The male love interest, Silvio, had vowed to never love again after being betrayed by his love in the past, but had reluctantly fallen for the main female lead, Emma, who helped him heal in her kindness, and despite trying his damndest to push her away, her love prevailed. Silvio had Emma in his arms, capturing her lips in a heated kiss, his passion overtaking him. He slowly undid the buttons on the back of her dress, never once letting her go, and as her dress fell off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Emma stood before Silvio, naked and exposed. Silvio’s eyes darkened, and his hands trailed down her back, one grazing Emma’s leg, fingers teasingly running up her inner thigh, reaching for the sweet honey that–

“Ya read this crap?”

You jumped for the second time that afternoon, although thankfully, you didn’t shriek like a fool this time around. Whipping your head to the side, you startled at Jude’s leering face peering at the book in your hands from over your shoulder, a sadistic grin playing on his lips. 

God damn it. How did you not hear him move across the room?

You blushed. Of all the people to be caught by, Jude honestly had to be one of the worst because it was highly unlikely he would let this go, at least not until he tortured you into the darkest depths of humiliation.

“Ain’t that some lewd shit?” He glittered wickedly at you. “This what yer into, princess?”

You groaned, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in your hands, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how affected you were by him in this given moment.

“What’s wrong with reading ‘this shit?” you pushed back.

“Nothin’.” Jude leaned in closer. “Expected nothin’ else from an indecent woman like ya.”

His face was so close to yours, his nose, a mere inch or so from brushing against your cheek. You could feel the heat of his body on yours, and suddenly, the room felt stifling and sweltering, as if the sun burned instead of glowing through the large windows.

“Clearly I’m not the only one if you’re familiar,” you spat, attempting to mask the strange tightening sensation in your chest and your rapidly rising heartbeat.

The look Jude was giving you was frighteningly predatory, his eyes flashing with a devilish heat. You gulped, his intensity robbing you of your ability to breathe. His eyes lazily trailed from you back to the book in your shaking hands.

“Yer at the part where he finally gives in to his desires, are ya?”

You blinked, several times in rapid succession. How would he know that unless he… “Did you really read this?!” Jude read a lot of things, but this… you never expected him to read fantasy let alone romance. 

“Wouldn’t ya like to know, princess.”

God, you wished you could slap that infuriating smirk off his face… or maybe kiss it. 

You flushed. Where the hell did that come from?!

Your body’s state of discomfort didn’t go unnoticed by the devil of a man teasing you.

“Ya want me to show ya what happens next?”

You felt the flush on your face spread, creeping further down your neck and disappearing into your blouse. You swallowed thickly as you watched Jude follow the bright red of your skin disappear into your clothes, and the temperature of the room increased by a few more degrees. 

Why was it so damn hot?

“No, I’m quite alright.”

Why was your voice pitching an octave higher?!

“Ya sure? If ya dream about such… lewd things, I can make it happen for ya.”

Something in your brain short-circuited when his slender finger began tracing along your collarbone and down your sternum. His finger was feather-light against your body, but the way your body fluttered from his touch felt so shamefully good, you didn’t want him to stop.

“That’s… that’s not necessary,” you hoarsely retorted, kicking yourself internally when your voice cracked.

Jude’s finger stilled, and pulling away, he straightened back into an upright position. “That’s yer choice then? Suit yerself.” He shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. 

You faltered. The sudden loss of his proximity felt enraging. There was a fire smoldering within you, all caused by him, and he was just walking away. You gaped at his back, oscillating between wanting to hold onto your pride and wanting him to come back and finish what he started. You watched Jude move further and further away until he reached the entrance to the parlor.

“Wait!”

You grimaced at how quickly you folded and how flustered you were at his teasing, but… the sudden absence of him felt hollow… and you wanted to know how the book went… in person, demonstrated by Jude’s own slender hands.

Jude paused.

You licked your lips, feeling parched at what you were about to say next.

“What happens next?”

That piqued Jude’s interest, and he turned to face you. You couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, and he remained silent, scrutinizing you.

“Ya really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

He held your gaze, something dark and stormy brewing on his brows. He took a menacing step forward.

“Ya want me to show ya?”

“Yes...”

Jude crossed the distance back to where you sat, keeping his eyes trained on yours, and then he smirked, the devilish grin back again, teasing you.

“No turnin’ back now, princess.”

“No…”

Jude reached down, crashing his thin lips against yours. You hungrily pushed back, the fire blazing into an inferno. He pulled back, lightly panting, a thumb roughly swiping against your bottom lip.

“Where’d ya leave off? Where Silvio takes off her dress?”

You nodded. Jude pulled on the ribbon holding the collar together, pulling it down your shoulders. You closed your eyes, biting down the sensual moan building in your throat as he trailed feverish kisses down your neck and shoulders. His hands deftly undid the buttons along your back, each graze of his fingers on your skin leaving behind a tingling buzz. Soon your blouse was off and tossed to the side.

“Heh… it goes down just as deep as I figured…” You heard Jude delightfully mutter to himself eyeing the pink flush covering your torso.

“Jude,” you whined, drawing out the vowel in his name. “Give me a minute, princess. Let me look at ya.”

You knew you turned even redder at his statement, feeling vulnerable at the way his burning eyes raked over your naked flesh, admiring how deep the flush had crept down. Inhaling sharply, he brought his mouth down to your breast, taking one pert peak into his mouth, biting down and soothing it with his tongue.

You gasped, the sensation of him on your breast even better than you could have imagined – not that you imagined it, except maybe once or twice when alone in your room reading that stupid novel… definitely not because Silvio reminded you of a fiery version of Jude…

“Gotta get yer skirt off.”

He moved to unbutton your skirt, and you pushed your hips off the couch so he could yank both your skirt and your underwear down your legs and carelessly discard them to the floor, all while still taunting you with his skillful tongue. You briefly wondered in your dizzy, pleasure-riddled mind where he had learned to be so skilled with his mouth, wondering if it was learned from his smoking addiction, but that didn’t seem to make much sense at all.

“Jude… what– what does Silvio do next?”

You could barely get your question out, so breathless and enraptured in the way his mouth was playing with you, the ripples of rapture you were feeling from his tongue alone coursing down to your belly.

“Heh… I’ll show ya.” Jude rolled your sensitive peak between his teeth, trailing up your bare leg, stroking your inner thigh dangerously close to where your arousal pooled. “He strokes her… here.”

His fingers brushed along your folds, coating themselves in your slick desire, lightly pressing on the sweet nub sitting at the top of your slit. You arched your back, a strangled moan escaping you, unable to hold back the vocal expressions of your gratification any longer.

“Ya liked that, didja? Ya nasty woman.”

His glee at your writhing from his provocation was clearly evident in the pleased tone of his voice. You knew you should be upset, the way you normally would when he called you names, but something about his taunting was only adding to the torrential mix of him, his touch, his voice, his scent.

“What… Ngh…” Your hips jerked sharply as his finger circled firmly above your slit yet again. “What… Jude, what does… haah… Silvio do next?”

“This.” 

Jude unceremoniously plunged two of his fingers inside you. The most animalistic guttural groan ripped out of you, surprising not just Jude, but also yourself. You couldn’t ever recall when you made such a primal noise before in your life, but the sensation of him inside of you was unholy, curling against a part of you that you didn’t even know existed, but had you violently arching your back at the white hot flash before your eyes.

“God damn, princess.” 

You heard Jude bite out as you clamped down on his fingers, lewd whimpers tumbling from your lips. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t had any experience, but nothing… nothing… like this. You were on fire, and he hadn’t even fully touched you yet.

“And then?” you barely rasped out, breathing erratically shallow, disoriented and dizzy from the onslaught of his fingers inside of you and his thumb pressing your clit. 

“Eager, princess?” Jude teased, but there was less of a taunt and more of a feral growl in the way he replied. 

“Jude,” you pitifully whined, bucking wildly against his palm, trying your hardest to keep up with how quickly his fingers were pumping in and out of you. The coil in your belly was taut, ready to snap at any moment.

“He uses his mouth.”

The sudden absence of his fingers snapped you back to reality, but your reprieve was short-lived because the next thing you knew, Jude was between your legs and hauling you towards his face by the bruising grip he had on your hips. Settling his mouth on you, he ran his tongue up your slit.

Your breath hitched.

Oh sweet heavens.

You threw your head back, grasping the soft cushions below you in a vice grip as Jude ravaged you, holding you in place, digging his fingertips into your supple flesh. He explored every inch of you with his mouth, feasting on you like a man starved, the coil in your belly only growing tighter and tighter.

He nudged his mouth up higher and sucked down hard.

“Jude!”

The coil snapped. You saw stars as shudder after shudder of ecstasy overtook you in waves, mind devoid of any thoughts save for the intense pleasure running through you and the sensation of Jude continuing to mouth you through your tremors.

“Don’t think that happened in the book,” Jude snickered, using his sleeve to wipe your essence off his mouth and chin.

“And.. and then?” you asked weakly, laying there dazed, staring at the ceiling and thinking that this couldn’t possibly be the end.

“And then…” 

The sound of rustling had you craning your head to see Jude at long fucking last removing every piece of clothing until he was just as exposed as you, his dick standing at attention. You marveled at how it was just like him, tall, sinewy, thicker than it looked, maybe even slightly irritated with a permanent scowl on its face. You wondered how it would feel in your mouth. In you.

Jude sat back on the other end of the couch, legs spread open. “Go on, put it in yerself.” He arched an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth flicking upwards, that smug smirk you wanted to slap – or was it kiss now – daring you to come closer.

You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, ignoring the damp spot forming beneath you staining the velvet below. “We’re not following the book anymore, are we?”

“Very perceptive of ya, princess. So, ya gonna come here or not?” Jude patted his lap, mocking you with that shit-eating smirk of his.

You glowered at him, but your gaze fell back to his lap, and you felt yourself move, crawling towards him on all fours, fully aware you were giving him a show based on the scandalous look on his face. He leaned back even further into the cushions, resting both his arms along the top of the couch, spread out and proudly on display.

Cocky bastard.

Sweetly smiling at the infuriatingly smug man in front of you, you rose on your knees, and straddling his lap, feeling emboldened, you kissed him furiously, guiding him into position. Without breaking the kiss, you sank down, hard, burying him to the hilt.

Jude choked on his own breath.

Oh. You grinned villainously into his mouth. He wasn’t expecting that.

You ground against him wanting to provoke him for taunting you mercilessly, relishing each choked groan he uttered. You squeezed your thighs, intentionally clenching around him as you pushed yourself up, preparing to slide down agonizingly slowly, to tease him for a change. 

Smug, arrogant, sadistic, fucking sexy jerk.

Jude snapped, thrusting into you without abandon, the tip of him ramming into your cervix. You exhaled sharply, the pain radiating from your center not wholly unwelcome, your vision flashing white. Jude flipped you onto your back during your dazed confusion, and he slammed into you repeatedly.

“Then, princess,” he grunted, brutally jerking his hips into you, a primal frenzy overtaking him, “they fucked.”

He moved against you with such force you could only cling to him. Seeking the tiniest bit of respite, you wrapped your legs around him, accidentally pulling him deeper into you, causing Jude to growl ferociously and only increase his frenzied pace.

You were trembling. For the second time, Jude had you seeing stars, writhing from the unbearable pleasure building deep in you. You didn’t want him to stop, desperate for him to make you cum, to make you quake and shiver and quiver, to make you unravel in the throes of passion, to come undone by his hand.

“Hah.. princess, yer so tight.”

Jude’s groans were right in your ear, his voice vibrating through his body into yours. A thrilling ecstasy was overtaking you, heading towards an explosive peak only he could bring you to, building, building, building until–

“Oi.”

A nudge.

“Oi!”

You cracked open an eye, wincing as the bright sunlight invaded your vision. 

“Oi, princess, wake up.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and blinking heavily, you rubbed your face with the palm of your hands.

“Jude?”

You blearily focused on Jude, confused as to why he was facing you by the couch instead of towering over you and way more clothed than you remembered, why you were suddenly fully clothed. Squinting as you adjusted to the light, you sat up on the couch, your book falling off your lap and tumbling to the floor below. 

Was it all just a dream?

As the tendrils of sleep faded away, the full reality of the dream you had hit you, and you blushed a furious shade of red. Oh god… you didn’t moan or utter his name in your sleep by any chance… did you? 

Wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole, you glanced at Jude, anxiously searching him for any signs he had an inkling of the indecent dream you just had, but he only had that same infuriating smirk on his face, which widened when he caught you staring at him intently.

“Hah… why’s yer face so red? Ya have a lewd dream or somethin’?”

“N–no!” you cried out, and face burning even hotter than you thought possible, you swiped your book off of the floor, running out of the parlor to put as much distance as you possibly could between you and the arrogant jerk who was starting to get that dangerous sadistic glint in his eyes.

You didn’t give him anything to torment you about, right? Right?

Groaning internally, you hurried back through the large castle to the safety of your room cursing yourself for being so careless.

Unbeknownst to you, however, you left behind a darkened patch of velvet where you had been laying. Jude ran a finger over it, lips curling when he realized it was damp right where your hips had been on the cushion. He snickered, a sound you thankfully were not around to hear, rubbing his pointer and thumb together.

“Hopeless.”

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret Chapter 5

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist | Next Part

Sooyoung realized it immediately when she walked in.

“Oh wow, someone’s in preheat.”

You sighed. “Is it that noticeable?”

She dropped her bag on the counter. “Honey, it smells like you took a shower in unicorn pee.”

“Unicorn pee?”

“I can’t imagine anything else smelling so good and yet so overwhelmingly bad,” she said with a shrug, turning to rummage around the cabinets. “You going to take the day off when your heat hits?”

“Oh, um.” You shrunk down in your seat on the couch. “Not exactly.”

The alpha paused, turning around slowly with narrowed eyes. “What did you do?”

“Look, hear me out,” You started. “It’s only Monday. My heat will probably hit on Thursday, and then I’ll have to call in sick for two days.”

“Wow, two days off work. How tragic,” Sooyoung said sarcastically, still standing with her arms crossed.

You gave her a look. “However, if I can hold off my heat until after work on Friday, I can ride my heat out during the weekend. No need to call in sick at all!”

“Right. And go back to work immediately after your heat?”

You could tell that her alpha wasn’t pleased with the idea of you working after such a harsh experience. Most omegas took at least a few days off after their heat to recover, but it wasn’t impossible for you to function the day after.

Betas wouldn’t need a day off to recover.

“It’s only my second week at this job, Youngie. I can’t afford to be using up my sick days so soon!”

“And yet I know for a fact that you’ll use some other excuse the next time your heat comes up.” She paused, narrowing her eyes as she realized something. “Wait. The only way you’ll manage to delay your heat is with suppressants.”

You looked down.

“You know how badly those affect you!”

“It’s only two days!”

Sooyoung threw her hands up into the air. “Fine, you know what? Do what you like. You’re a grown adult capable of making her own stupid decisions. But don’t come crying to me at the end of the day when those symptoms wreak havoc on you.”

You watched through silent fury as your roommate practically stomped to her room. The door slammed loudly behind her, and you were tempted to comment on it just to get the last word in, but you held your tongue.

In reality, you knew she had every right to be worried. Heat suppressants were normally only used for emergencies, not because they had any negative consequences on the body itself, but because the symptoms were so horrible that no normal person would willingly subject themselves to them unless they absolutely had to.

Headaches, fatigue, heightened senses, heat flashes, brain fog, stomach cramps. Heat suppressants forced the production of pre-heat hormones and suppressed the actual heat from happening for a short period of time, but, as an unfortunate side effect, it enhanced all the pre-heat symptoms and dialed them up to a 100.

Compared to the milder heat symptoms (slick production and high libido) it seemed odd to want to endure two days of all that. But your heat would make your scent so strong, to the point that your scent blockers wouldn’t work anymore, so it was a necessity.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

-0-0-

You weren’t sure what to expect from the Alpha you were bringing home. The entire ride in his car, besides giving out directions, nothing was said between the both of you. Even now, awkwardly standing in your kitchen, he looked like he was losing the motivation he originally had, and you wondered if you would end up being left high and dry.

“Do you want some water? Or something else to drink?” You leaned against your counter, hoping that a simple conversation would help him relax.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look like your seconds away from bolting.”

“Ah, am I that obvious?” He let out a chuckle, reaching up to scratch at his forehead. “I’ve never really done something like this before.”

You tilted your head in interest. “Oh? What makes me so special?”

He didn’t say anything at first, instead choosing to move forward until he was leaning against the other side of the counter. The two of you were close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, but part of you was curious to see if he would make the first move.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“You sure it’s not my charmingly good looks?” You said it jokingly, but he rested his chin against his hand.

“No, it’s something else. Something … special.”

You felt your omega perk up at the compliment, and you could smell your scent begin to grow. You pulled back from the counter to stand up straight. If things were going to progress any further, you needed to take this back to your room. You didn’t want Sooyoung to have to deal with the scent of arousal lingering in the communal areas.

“Well then, mr. charmer. How about we take this to my room?” You held out your hand, and he took it.

His hand was warm and heavy in yours.

You opened up your bedroom door, and you found yourself staring at his ass as he passed. “What’s your real name anyways?”

“My real name?” The alpha looked around your room with a thoughtful look. “It’s not that important.”

You raised your eyebrows” What do I call you, then?”

“Hmmm.” You couldn’t see his face through his mask, but the way he gazed at you made you feel like you were being stripped apart to your bare bones, and you could imagine the curl of his lips. “You can call me Alpha.”

His scent began to come out stronger, like a breeze on a hot day, and you found yourself hoping it would linger long after he was gone.

You shut the door.

“Well, alpha,” You said, deliberately drawing the word out. “You going to wear that mask all night?”

He seemed to grow almost … shy. “I- actually, I think I’d prefer to keep it on.”

“It’s okay,” You assure him, not wanting him to feel insecure.

“I mean, I do want to kiss you,” He started, taking a step towards you. You could see the moment he hesitated to reach out to you, his hand dropping down to his side in a clenched fist. “If you want, that is.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “Oh sweetie, I’m pretty sure inviting you over was an invitation for much more than just a little kiss.”

This time he didn’t stop himself from reaching out to you, his hands lingering on your waist as his eyes flittered across your space. You reached up for his mask, the idea of kissing him the only thing you can think of. You wanted to know what he looked like. How soft his lips would be.

He grabbed your wrist. “I can’t let you see my face.” He sounded almost regretful.

“It’s okay,” You reassured him once more. “I can close my eyes.”

And you did. You stood there, eyes closed, and let your smile grow as he dropped your wrist, the sound of fabric shifting in front of you. For a second, he left you waiting. You didn’t open your eyes, but you did reach out to place your hand against his bare jaw.

His lips were as soft as you hoped they would be.

Your hands roamed down from his face to his neck, using your grip on his to pull him closer. It felt like he was inhaling your very essence, His scent covered you, and you moaned against his lips as his body pressed against yours. He smiled, lips still pressed against yours.

You pulled away from the kiss, but immediately pushed your face into his shoulder to keep yourself from the temptation of opening your eyes.

“You good?”

“I think it’s going to be a little hard to remember to keep my eyes close if you keep kissing me dumb like that.”

His chest rumbled as he laughed, grip on your waist tightening. “Sorry?”

“Hmmm, it’s not a complaint. Just an observation.” You pulled out of his hold completely, waving your hand in his direction. “Turn around for a second.”

You didn’t wait to see if he did as you asked, moving towards your closet with a goal in mind. It took a little bit of rummaging in the farthest corner of one of your drawers, but eventually you managed to find what you were looking for. You pulled it out with a shout of triumph.

“Is that a blindfold?”

“Yup!” You slapped a hand over your eyes and turned around, wiggling the cloth out in front of you. “Genius, right?”

“You just happened to have that lying around?”

The cloth was pulled out of your hands, and you turned around. “What can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

Warm arms wrapped around your waist. The heat of his body was hot against your back, and as his hands began to trace up and down your sides, you felt something in you shifting. You shuddered, body responding by releasing a wave of your scent, and he responded with his own scent of arousal that made your body feel almost pliant.

“So you are.” The blindfold was pulled over your eyes, and you shut them instinctively. The cloth brushed over your eyelids as he began to form a knot at the base of your head. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Your mind began to grow heavy as your omega pushed forward, the smell of alpha heavy on your tongue. When he finished tying off the blindfold, he leaned against your back, his mouth pressing a soft kiss to the juncture of your neck. You tilted your head to the side, an ache to feel his teeth pressing against the skin running through you and causing slick to drip down your thighs.

You let out a whine.

“Easy baby girl. I got you.”

His warmth disappeared, and you opened your eyes. The blindfold made it so that you could make out the shadows of the dark room, a vague shape of a person as they removed their clothes. You reached down to grab the hem of your own shirt.

“No, don’t,” He said, voice thick. “Let me.”

You grabbed his hands, using your newfound sight to reach out wrap your hands around his neck. This time, you were the one to initiate the kiss, eyes falling closed not out of necessity but on instinct.

“You okay?” He asked you again when your knees suddenly buckled.

“Like I said. Those kisses of yours are dangerous,” you breathed out.

He decided to take it as an invitation to pull you back in for another kiss, although this one was quicker and sweeter.

It almost felt like love.

His lips pressed against yours once, twice, and then a third time before he trailed them down to your jaw, sliding them slowly down to your neck. When he began to suck against the skin there, you pulled away with a whine.

"No marks, please. I have work."

He moved his hands under your shirt and began to pull it up. You could only barely see his figure as he leaned down, his lips reappearing against the tops of your now exposed breasts.

"I assume you mean no marks where they can be seen?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." He pressed a kiss to your skin, tongue darting out to glide from the tops of your breast towards your nipples. He teasingly pulled against them as he passed, moving to press another kiss just to the side. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," You said, voice breathless.

He pulled your shirt off completely, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He began to lead you towards the bed. Even without your sight, the mattress was familiar under your body, and you instinctively relaxed into the sheets.

You made grabby hands at him. He laughed, kneeling on the bed next to you and allowing your hands to roam across his skin. He still had on his boxers, and when you moved to pull them down, he grabbed your hands and pressed them gently down against the bed.

“Patience,” He told you, his voice rumbling.

You pouted, and he kissed your lips with another laugh. He continued where he had left off, his mouth on your breasts as his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling them apart so he could slot himself in between them. The motion pressed his clothed cock against your center, and you moaned at the feeling.

“Please,” you found yourself breathing out.

His mouth trailed kisses down your body, hands swiftly pulling both your pants and underwear down in one go. “Got to get you ready first, sweetheart.”

“Awfully confident in yourself, huh?” You joked.

“Hmm, something like that,” He drawled.

You expected him to get straight to it, but he took his sweet time. Laying kisses along your inner thigh, caressing your legs up to your hips. You wiggled your hips impatiently, but he just smiled against your skin.

“You’re doing a really good job at getting under my skin,” You told him, running your fingers through his hair. “If you don’t hurry up, I might just have to get myself off.”

He nosed your center, and your body flared up with want. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Alpha, please.”

“That’s it.” He rewarded you by finally mouthing at your core, licking a stripe up to your clit where he sucked gently.

You were already wet with slick from all the teasing and foreplay, but his mouth on you made you gush, your core clenching around nothing, When he pressed a finger into you, you bucked your hips, and he laid a hand across your stomach to keep you from moving.

You let out a moan, fingers gripping his hair tightly as he ate you out. He added another finger, and the sound was filled with wet squelching sounds as he fingered you gently, softly crooking his fingers to press against your spongey insides as he sucked against your clit.

Your orgasm built up slowly, but it hit you quicker than you expected, your body writhing under him as you whined. He pulled away, his other hand reaching up towards his face, and you could only imagine the sight he made.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he said, finger rubbing small circles against your clit. “Could stay here forever.”

“Please, alpha,” You whined.

“Please what?”

“I need you.”

He moved up your body. “Need me to what?”

“I want you to fuck me,” You said impatiently.

He grabbed your body and flipped you over so quickly that it made your head spin, and you pressed you forehead to your pillow with a gasp, “Ask and you shall receive,” He told you, and you could feel him moving around behind you.

You lifted your hips and presented for the alpha, your omega instincts taking over. His scent intoxicated you, filling your senses and making you feel dizzy, wanting nothing more than to submit to him in every way possible.

He took his sweet time once again, rubbing his member through your folds before he slowly pressed into you. He was right to have prepared you because he was thick, stretching you and filling you up completely. You couldn’t even moan, like your breath had been stolen. Your fingers dug into your blankets, eyes shutting behind the blindfold.

“Fuck.”

The alpha gave you a second to adjust once he had bottomed out, rubbing against your sides gently. “You good, omega?”

“So good,” You mumbled.

When he started to move, it made you whine. He thrust into you slowly at first, but his hips began to speed up slowly, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You let out a moan as his fingers gripped your thighs, sure to leave marks. You pressed your knees against the mattress and moved to sit up, hands reaching behind you in an attempt to feel his skin against yours. He pressed himself to your back without having to be asked.

His warm breath against your shoulder, mouth teasingly close to your scent gland, had you reaching your release quickly.

You let out a whine.

“Shh, I got you,” he whispered into your ear. His hands roamed from your thighs up your chest and towards your neck, fingers gently pressing against your throat. “God, you’re so tight.”

You whined. “Alpha, please!”

“Just a little longer. You can hold on just a little longer, cant you? Hmm? Don’t you want to be good for your Alpha?”

You were so close. Your body felt like it was on fire and your head spun, the darkness that seemed to engulf you left your nerve endings so sensitive, and you couldn’t see him, could think, couldn’t do anything more than accept the pleasure he was giving you. He seemed to know that you were at your breaking point, because as a whine began to build in your throat, he pulled away.

His fingers pressed right where you needed them most, and you found yourself spiraling.

“Cum for me, Omega.”

You woke up with a start, your mind still heavy with lust and sleep. It took you a moment to realize that you had been dreaming, and then you were falling back to your bed with a groan, swiping a hand down your face.

It was your memories from that night with Chan.

It seemed like your pre-heat sex dreams were making their appearance. Usually they were some random fantasies, but you supposed it made sense that you would be hit with a memory this time around.

Your thoughts wandered to the shirt still in your drawer. It almost seemed to be calling for you.

You let out another groan.

This was going to be a long week.

-0-0-

You were convinced that heat suppressants had to have been created as a form of torture.

The headache made every noise feel like a punch to the brain, not helped by the fact that your hearing was so sensitive that everything above a cough sounded like an airhorn to your brain. Even the painkillers you took that morning were doing little to dull the hammering in your head.

And yet, you tried your best to keep a smile on your face, made ever difficult from having to deal with the managers.

You had been thrown for a loop when you found out on Tuesday morning that Felix had gone into heat. It was all the staff members were talking about. You hoped that the idol’s heat and rut cycles weren’t normally a topic of interest for the company, but you understood why this time they all were freaking out about it.

Stray Kids’ comeback was scheduled for next week.

It would be hard for you to have to go back to work the day after your heat ended, but finding out that Felix was expected to be on stage and promoting less than a week after his almost made you feral.

“What do you mean the comeback will continue as planned?”

Jeonhui gave you a hard look. You knew that as a new employee, and only a translator who was in the meeting to be kept up to date with the upcoming schedule, the idea of speaking out was unheard of. But when the news that the comeback would still be happening on the expected date, your mouth opened before your brain could catch up.

The head manager, Soojin, gave you a puzzled look. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

The entire room was looking at you, but you forced yourself to focus only on the manager. “Felix finished his heat less than a day ago.”

“Yes?”

“Even for a normal person, a comeback is stressful. Long nights, early mornings, practices and schedules and stage performances and interviews … do you really think that’s the best thing for an omega who just had their heat to deal with?”

There was a moment where Soojin looked almost understanding, his eyes soft and a small smile on his face. You thought that you might have actually gotten through to him. You thought for a second that maybe you could make an impact on this company, give them some knowledge of the artists they were supposed to be managing and caring for, and that you could actually change the way the industry worked.

But it shattered with his next words.

“I appreciate the concern, but I assure you our omega’s can handle the load just fine. We’ve had both omegas and alphas going back to work right after heats and ruts, and there’s never been a complaint in the past.” The other staff managers nodded along as if what he was saying was common knowledge. “If they needed more time to recover, they would have said something.”

You thought about the pressure building in your head, the way your skin felt like it was crawling, the constant cramped pain your stomach was enduring, all so that you wouldn’t go into heat. All so you could keep pretending to a room full of betas.

All so that those same betas could make decisions about omega’s and alphas they knew nothing about.

It made you want to scream.

“Maybe,” You managed through clenched teeth. “They never say anything because they know that if they do, the company would use it as proof that omegas are more trouble than their worth.”

Soojin and the other managers gave you a surprised look. From the corner of the room, Maya was given you a proud smile, but the other stylists around her looked confused and even annoyed.

“Why do you care so much about this anyways? What are you, an omega expert?” One of them said.

And his words felt like a bucket of water had been dumped over your slightly overheated body. You immediately bowed your head, realizing that you had brought more attention on your head than was necessary, and it was obvious you were fighting a losing battle.

“I’m just … worried. Just seems like those boys could use some rest,” You mumbled in excuse.

Stupid. How could you be so stupid.

Now everyone would know you as that one translator who argued about an omegas needs. At best they would think you were out of line, but at worst …

“It’s quite alright,” Soojin assured you, although the look Jeonhui gave you told you that the two of you would be talking later. “But like you said, comeback is stressful for all of us, including the staff. This is why we put in all the hard work! I want to take a moment to thank all of the staff for helping make this a possibility-“

And just like that, your little outburst seemed to be forgotten.

It didn’t make you feel any better to know that your words were so easily dismissed. As Thursday turned into Friday, you made the conscious decision to not take your heat suppressants that morning, knowing you would need your heat to start either than night or early Saturday morning if you wanted your heat to end by Sunday night.

You ignored the looks Sooyoung gave you as you left for work.

Just as promised, you had been avoiding her all week. When the cramps hit you late at night and you cried out, you muffled the sound with your pillow to avoid waking her. She didn’t mention the quickly dwindling supply of pain medication (you reminded yourself to pick some up after work).

It made a part of you ache to know you had disappointed your friend. But it also made you feel proud to know that you were still doing what you had dreamed of doing for so long.

You just had to keep moving forward.

Friday went by normally, and almost easier than the past three days. The suppressants started to flush out of your system around noon, and the symptoms you had been dealing with started to fade, making it easier for you to work. The heat symptoms would come around soon, but you weren’t too worried about it hitting you fully until you were back home.

You were just finishing up your last assignment of the day when you caught the scent of a familiar smell.

“Oh no.”

Minho appeared at your doorway within seconds, and you secretly cursed the enhanced sense of smell that had yet to wear off, because the strong scent of alpha had your omega perking their metaphorical ears up instantly.

He had probably just finished dance practice judging by the sweat covered shirt he had yet to change out of.

You forced your eyes away from him and back to your screen. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You paused your typing, risking a glance to look at his face. He looked straight faced, almost bored at first, but you could smell the shame that was hidden beneath the rest of his scent, and you turned to face him completely.

“What are you sorry for?” You asked him.

He looked away. “I yelled at you when we first met. It was … inappropriate.”

“You were protecting your pack,” You corrected him, turning back to your work. “You did what you thought was right.”

Minho continued to stare at you from the doorway, not saying anything. You finished what you were working on and began to wrap everything up so you could leave. In the few minutes it took you to do that, he didn’t say anything.

You grabbed the files you had to drop off to your manager before you left. “I’m serious, Minho. It’s fine.”

When you stood up, a few papers that had been caught under your files fluttered to the ground. Before you could move to grab them, Minho was there, picking up the papers and tapping them on the ground so that they would be stacked up together, lifting his head up to look at you.

And you immediately felt something in your stomach twist, and your head spun.

He stood back up, unaware of your internal freak out, and handed you the papers. You took them with shaking hands.

“Thanks,” You breathed out.

Minho frowned. “Are you okay?”

No, you wanted to scream at him. I’m going into heat and a stupidly handsome alpha was on his knees looking up at me and now I’m losing my goddamn mind.

But instead, you forced a smile on your face. “Fine.” It came out squeaky, and you winced. “I, uh. Gotta go!”

You rushed out of there as quickly as you could.

As if your day couldn’t get any worse, you completely missed an equally sweaty and tired looking Chan as he was walking out of the elevator, and he had to grab your shoulders to keep you from running him over. His scent, equally as strong, only made your chest ache more.

Chan smiled. “Ah, just who I was looking for!”

You eyed him curiously. “Wow, I’m really popular these days, huh?”

“What?”

“What did you need?” You asked him as you walked into the elevator. He followed you in.

“I wanted to let you know that I talked with Felix.”

“Oh, how is he, by the way? I heard about what happened.”

Chan gave you a soft smile. “Ah, he’s fine. He …. He wants to meet with you.”

The elevator opened, and someone stepped in. It was a random staff member you didn’t recognize, probably not even a stray kid’s staff member, but both you and Chan remained silent until she left. You turned to Chan as the elevator made its way up to your manager’s floor.

“I think we should wait until after your comeback,” You told him.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Chan sighed. “We’ll have enough on our shoulders this week.”

You scowled. “Ugh, don’t even remind me.”

He let out a laugh. “Ah, I heard about what you did yesterday.”

You covered your face in embarrassment as the elevator door opened. “Uh, I’m just going to go before I say anything even worse.”

Chan was still laughing as you left, but he called out for you before the doors closed. His smile was one of the last things you saw as his words reached you.

“Thank you.”

[unofficial-writing]

HIII! I loved your, “Sunlight” fanfic! I was wondering if you could do an elrond x fem!elf!reader (close friends who have feelings for each other) fic where after the battle for eregion elrond is upset and depressed abt it, and the reader finds him crying alone on a cliff or by a tree (like on outdoor setting) and begins to comfort him and finds out that he’s been dealing with this for a long time? thank you!

Gravity

✵ Pairing: Elrond Peredhel / f!elven!reader

✵ Word count: 1.5k

✵ Summary: Nothing was the same after Eregion’s destruction. But you had yet to discover just how difficult it had been for Elrond.

✵ Warnings: Angsty but still touching. Pretty heavy theme of depression. I think the summary paints a good picture of what to expect

✵ A/n: Thank you anon for the beautiful request. I absolutely love how this turned out and I hope you do too! I think this is now a favorite of mine ♡

Time seemed to pass slowly following Eregion’s downfall. Hours stretched into days, and days stretched into weeks. One by one, each elf found themselves able to let go of their sorrow. But each would be bound to carry the tragic memory until the end of their days.

Despite the new-found acceptance, a feeling of grief still lay heavy in the air. It was a gravity that tugged at each soul that walked there. You could feel it in every part of your body. It was as if you were being pulled toward the ground by some force invisible to your eye, making each step more difficult to take than the last.

It was taken this way by most. For the race of elves did not take a loss of their own lightly. Even those who were not directly affected by this massacre felt its sharp sting.

Today, however, your feet felt lighter to you. It was the subtlest of changes, but it brought to you a small flicker of hope. Like the first sparks preceding a great flame. It was a welcome relief following the past several weeks. You could only hope those close to you had begun to feel the same.

Elrond concerned you most. He had closed himself off from everyone around him, yourself included. You didn’t believe he was to blame for any of what occurred, but you knew he had taken on that burden all the same. It pained your heart.

Despite your best efforts, he would not share his thoughts aloud. At least not all of them. There would be no way to know the full extent of his grief unless he shared it with you. Therefore, you could not do much to comfort him.

A gentle breeze touched your skin, returning to you your optimism. It was then you decided to seek out Elrond, in hopes of seeing an improvement in his state.

The temporarily built camp was quiet, for stories had been told and songs had been sung late into the night. This was how your people found comfort in even the darkest of times; by finding comfort in one another.

In the silence, you could feel a gentle shift from sadness into peace, making it seem less like something to be avoided. Normally, you would relish in this peace. However, today it only brought to your notice the absence of just the person you were searching for. You had sought him out in every place you could think of within the little sanctuary, but you were so far unsuccessful.

A new thought crossed your mind and your eyes drifted beyond, out over the freshly discovered land. Elrond was likely not in the camp at all. He would prefer a quiet place away from the weight of the group. A place where he could feel his burden lifted, even if only for a moment. You changed direction, weaving your way back through the refuge toward where your instincts led. You could only hope those instincts would prove correct.

Your feet brought you far from the rest of the elves, high into the cliffs above. The sound of rushing water crowded your sensitive ears, covering up any quieter noise that could not succeed in the fight to be heard. It led you on toward the spot where you first looked over the valley many weeks ago. A quiet spot tucked cleverly into the cover of rock and greenery. This is where you found him.

Elrond sat on his knees, his body facing out over the land so you could only see the backside of him. As you approached, his frame stiffened a little, sensing your sudden presence. The sight of him there made your heart sink, dwindling your enthusiasm away. “Oh, Elrond—” You started quietly, only to be cut off by the faintest of sounds managing to climb above the water. It was a muffled whimper, barely audible to even your ears until you were closer.

The little noise stopped you before another step was taken. Even after all the time you had known Elrond, you had never truly seen him cry. The sound felt like a wound to your heart, dropping it in your chest. It was then you realized why he had chosen this particular place to escape to. It concealed him perfectly, sight and sound. And it was not the easiest to find either. Even you did not think to search here for many hours. How many times had he come up here?

Wordlessly, you approached Elrond and settled onto the ground beside him. He tensed initially, so you set a hand on his arm to wash it away. Out of shame, he hid his head in his hands, but it was not before you caught a glimpse of his face. Tears stained Elrond’s cheeks and dampened his usually tidy curls. The sight enabled you to feel for a moment the weight of sorrow he carried on his shoulders. Oh, how you desperately wished to lighten it for him.

“I am sorry, y/n.” He managed to get out shakily, ashamed to have let you see him in such a state. The words twisted at you. Elrond thought it best to hold is tears inside, only expressing his pain in isolation. This way he can protect those he cares about from his feelings

You set a hand on the side of his face, using your thumb to brush a fresh tear off his cheek. “Do not apologize for what shadow weighs down your heart. It should have never been yours to bear.” He took a much steadier breath upon hearing your words, which was a small victory. However, he sensed your thoughts. You still wished for him to share his sadness with you, and he was still reluctant to do so.

“If you continue to carry this burden alone, it will become unbearable.” You told him, searching for any sort of give. Elrond gazed back at you with round, tearful eyes, giving him an almost childlike appearance. It only furthered your longing to relieve his misery. “Let me carry it with you.” Your words pleaded directly with his soul.

Something in him finally caved, willing to give in to you. But his next words came out slowly, as if he had to force himself to say each one. “There is a heaviness that has made home in my heart. It feels as if I am underwater, being pulled further and further below the surface. And every time I try to swim to safety, I can only sink deeper.” Elrond’s eyes fell away from yours, tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks. He had to take a shaky breath before continuing, preventing himself from breaking down completely. “At times, I feel like I am drowning, suffocating. All I want is air and it is always just out of my reach.”

The pull of your own tears burned in your throat. He had hidden these thoughts so well from you when you could have provided comfort. “Elrond,” you whispered, feeling his body sink lower toward the ground. “How long have you suffered this alone?”

His gaze was drawn back up to yours, hesitant even after what he had already said. A sigh escaped his lips. “It has been longer than you know,” Elrond admitted quietly, his voice barely touching your ears over the raging waterfall. “I often longed to share my feelings with you, but I did not wish to place my sorrow on your shoulders.”

The statement was enough to split your heart into several pieces. Elrond had isolated himself out of fear. Fear of burdening you with his pain. You moved to kneel in front of him, taking his hands in your own. “You fear increasing the weight of your burden. But if you let me, I would help you lighten it.” You gave his hands a careful squeeze. “Elrond, the only sorrow I have is in knowing you feel this way. And that is something given to me by my love for you. Not by the thoughts you have been afraid to tell me.”

Something inside Elrond gave way. He freed his hands from yours and pulled you into a deep embrace, burying his face in the dip of your neck. You held him tightly in return, a hand finding home amid his soft curls. It was there he wept, his body shaking with tears that dampened your skin. You could not tell how long you stayed there, but you did not move until he had freed every ounce of pain that had been caged and stored away. Elrond had finally given you the opportunity to comfort him, and you would not take it for granted.

Your embrace had begun to heal a small part of him in a way that words could not. Though it would be a long and winding road to being free from this burden, you had been able to relieve some of its weight. Just enough that he could begin to feel the same hope that flickered in your mind. Hope that it would not always be this way. That one day you both would come out better than even before everything that had happened. Even though it was only a small fraction of the hope it could be, it was a vast improvement from only moments ago. And for now, that was more than enough.

✵ Find more like this here

[starryschoolgirl]

Good Husbandry

Summary -> While you view preparing for your honeymoon as finding all the hottest destinations in Honolulu for tourists, Elvis knows that he must help you, his soon-to-be virgin bride, understand all that comes with the honeymoon. What a good man he is, to give you a little hands-on lesson on what good husbandry is.

Warnings -> Lovely domestic things, innocence/purity kink, religious undertones, smut, just the tip trope, hinted breeding kink, swearing, Elvis gets a little rough, mention of RFK's assassination, the reader is overbearingly sheltered when it comes to topics like sex, cum eating, fantasies of "ruining" a girl's vagina, there's definitely some plot here I won't lie, loved writing this a little too much.

WC -> 7.3k

A/N -> This is an installation of the Baby Love AU. Find Masterlist Here!

The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotion for everyone. Elvis was doing press conferences for the NBC special he was about to start filming for, and while you usually go with him, with the recent assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, it was decided unanimously that it would be best if you were at home.

Elvis would have liked to keep you by his side, but given your family’s public connection to the Kennedys he knew that the press might behave in an uncalled for manner toward you.

It was also to be noted that he’d been very patient with you the entire week, after all you did know the man. He was a close family friend, a lot closer to your father, mother, and older brother than you. But there were still tears shed a few nights ago when it had occurred.

Most of that week you sat around the current California home, keeping the couch company like you were the prettiest of pillows as you spent most of your time on the telephone with your hysterical mother and being soothed by your childhood nanny who now watched your younger brother. You’d decided to write a letter to Ethel, she was no doubt being bombarded with phone calls from press and other family with the recent death of her husband. 

It was a rough way to start the month, it was only 6 days into June when something as tragic as that had occurred. 

You were certain things would change in regards to the guest list of your wedding just a little over a week away, for one you could understandably count on the possible absence of Ethel Kennedy and her children. Aside from her it wasn’t Elvis’ side you were worried about, because when Elvis says jump they all say “how high?”. It was your own side that worried you.

You knew it was selfish and stupid to be thinking of that at a time like this, those poor Kennedys have been through so much. But you couldn’t help the worrisome thoughts that lingered in your mind. Your parents already didn’t approve of Elvis all that much, with the influx of emotion that this event caused they might just cancel all together and then you’ll be left without anyone from your own family.

And that alone could cause an emotional storm to brew in Elvis. He always expressed his own disdain for your family, but you knew there was guilt deep down that he felt. And if he realized that he were the reason your wedding day went without family, he would be angry with you and himself. But that was only because he felt things very deeply, he was caring in that way.

So you made sure the past few days to get in as much reading as possible, so that even if your wedding doesn’t end up being the dream you hoped for, that your knowledge of your honeymoon destination would make up for it.

It had to be perfect. You had to be perfect.

"We better get up and get changed soon..."

You hummed absently at Elvis' words as your eyes continued to skim along the page.

"Wouldn't want the rest of the boys seein' ya in ya nightie"

You hummed once more at whatever he had said, much too focused on your book to pay much mind. Elvis noticed this and laughed softly as he asked,

"What are ya readin' Honey?"

You looked up from the book that you had been enthralled in for the past half-hour to see Elvis staring at you over one of his religious books, he had a crooked smile and a quirked eyebrow, his facial expression likely from the fact that you were actually reading a book.

You smiled cheekily and crawled closer to him on the bed, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you quickly card your floral bookmark in between the pages you were on before closing it and presenting it to Elvis, your fiancé.

"It's a book all about Hawaii, it has some of the best secret locations on all the islands, including Oahu"

You smiled up at him as his eyes scrolled to look over at you then at the book, a smirk playing on his lips as he did so. He set his book down on his lap to grab yours, one of his fingers tracing over the cover as he murmured honestly,

"Well Babylove, I don't think these locations are all too secret anymore considerin' the book is 7 years old"

You hummed softly at the statement. Truthfully you only picked the book off the shelf because one, it said Hawaii which is the place you and Elvis were planning to be your honeymoon destination, and secondly, it was pink.

Elvis shook his head fondly and brought a hand up to ruffle your hair, thankfully at the moment there were no rings on his fingers to pluck and pull at the strands of your hair. With that in mind you happily leaned into the touch like a cat getting its fix from its owner.

You roll your body closer, dragging one leg over Elvis' legs as if he were one of those long body pillows. You snuggled your face into his chest, feeling the silky fabric of his short ascot scarf. He'd recently begun wearing them often, you didn't mind it because you could tug him by his scarf whenever you wanted a kiss.

Your voice was soft and murmured into the fabric, "I wanna start our marriage off right, our honeymoon has to be perfect, and this book,”

You pull back for a moment to grab the book and open it to the first page. Elvis watches with an amused smile as your dainty little finger flies across the dust-colored pages to the sentence that you read aloud,

"These spots will guarantee a sweet time with that special someone"

Elvis’ voice is laced with harmless sarcasm (that you don’t quite catch) as he says,

“Oh well if the book says so, it has to be true”

You then excitedly close the book and show Elvis the back cover, where a quote from what must've been a review was laid out in bold, "Has the hottest places for America’s hottest honeymoon destination"

Elvis laughed softly. His arm wraps around your shoulder as his hand runs up and down your back, calluses grazing the delicate fabric of your satin nightie with a scratching sound before taking its rest on the curve of your ass. He explains, "Well little one, there's a bit more to honeymoons and marriage than that"

Your eyebrow quirks in the way you learned from watching Elvis' own eyebrow within the span of your relationship. It looked as if you were suspicious of Elvis, thinking he was trying to pull the wool over your eyes.

With a gentle hand Elvis removed the book from your hand and set it on the nightstand where he then set his own book on as well. You laughed softly as Elvis’ hands pulled you into your place, till you straddled his lap innocently for him to explain something,

“Well Babylove, a big part of marriage and honeymoonin’ is good husbandry.”

You go silent for a second, thinking to yourself as your fingers trace little shapes on Elvis’ chest absentmindedly. When you come to the conclusion that you’re clueless on the subject you ask,

“What’s husbandry?”

Elvis’ hands run along your sides, running up to your ribs, down to your hips, then repeating their cycle, it was in his own absentmindedness that he did it as he explained,

“Well, husbandry is kind of cultivatin’ and makin’ use of land, sorta like plantin’ a seed and takin’ care of it.”

“Like farmers do?”

“Very good girl, like farmers do. Now ya see, that comes into play within things like marriage and honeymoons. To be a farmer, the first thing ya gotta do is plant a seed, then ya get your farm goin’ and everythin’ is just dandy as long as you keep takin’ care of that seed.”

You nodded your head along to what he was saying, it made sense. But what did that have to do with your honeymoon?

“Just as that goes, to be a husband, you also gotta plant a seed. So ya see, in marriage, instead of a farmer plantin’ a seed, it’s the husband who plants the seed, and he plants it right in your petals”

You grimaced with embarrassment as you heard Elvis mention your “petals”. Such talk was still very new to you. Having been raised by the church most of your life, and having only attended catholic private schools, you’d been taught that such talk was deplorable and vulgar. 

Elvis seemed to be trying to undo all their teaching as he was very free and open with topics such as that one.

He could see the way your face began to dust a precious pink along your cheeks as you stared down at your hands scrunching up his shirt’s fabric within them. He couldn’t help but adore his sweet girl and lift your chin to take in the entirety of your innocence, the privilege of being innocent and naive having been fed to you with a silver spoon since you were a baby with your family’s fortune.

Your education didn’t span too far, it was done under the assumption that you’d be protected from the roughness of the world, the riff-raff. And though Elvis was a fair match monetarily-wise to your parents and the people you were raised around,with enough money to keep you as far away from the world’s roughness as possible, he was still considered to be in that riff-raff crowd.

Oh, what a shame for your family and the rest of your upper-class culture to have a rare purity, like you whisked away from your family made up of good breeding and a pure bloodline by a man like Elvis who would screw it all up when he one day planted his seed into your womb, making your once purebred French bloodline his own as he mixed himself into the history of your DNA to make a child that you will carry for months.

A child you will love to no end while your ancestors roll over in their graves.

Just the thought of it all made Elvis giddy.

His smile is cheeky as he grabs one of your nervous hands to soothe you while also keeping a grip on your chin with his other hand, his voice is breathy from speaking through a laugh,

“Now don’t let me lose ya, still got some splainin’ to do”

You can’t help but continue to duck your head away into your shoulder to hide your embarrassment, till Elvis pulls you out of it with his sweet little nickname for you,

“C’mon now Bubbles, need ya to keep listenin’ f’me”

You look up to meet those dark blues of Elvis’ that pierce with a strange softness.

“To seal the marriage a man plants his seed in a woman, and from then on he has to take care of that woman, that’s good husbandry. That’s part of what happens on a honeymoon. Understand?”

You nod slowly, and mumble a soft, “I understand”, before laying yourself down on Elvis, making yourself comfortable as you lay your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso, somehow squeezing their way between Elvis' frame and the mattress.

Marriage seemed scary. Ever since you had gotten engaged to Elvis you felt a different weight begin to fall on your shoulders. And though you were excited to marry Elvis, you couldn’t help but remember how your mother described marriage to be with your father.

As Elvis dragged his hands along your body tracing every poke of a bone through your skin he closed his eyes, showing his affection through the action, you thought back to how marriage was represented to you as a little girl.

There were nights when your father stayed late for work that you’d sit on the floor between your mother's legs as she sat on the sofa, by then she would be nursing her 4th glass of wine that night, and let her braid your hair before bed.

You’d whimper softly as her diamond-littered gaudy engagement ring, which was comparable to the one you now owned, would catch on some strands of your hair. But you wouldn’t voice any complaint as she was too busy voicing her own, complaining to an 8-year-old you about your father’s “wandering eye”, how he loves work more than he loves his family, and that he can’t even function without a pill, in what sense she meant “function” you’d never know, because you only saw your father as a personal superhero. The man who would bring gifts like Santa, the man who would read you to bed on the rare nights he could, the man who held the whole world in his hand every time he held you.

You didn’t recognize the man your mother would drunkenly describe. And soon after you wouldn’t recognize your own mother as she would break into tears and talk about how it’s her fault, and that she knows it all falls on her to make the marriage work, she just needs to try harder.

You’d caress her knee and try to soothe the adult, “It’s okay Mommy”, while mustering up the courage to promise her that, “It’ll be okay”

And then at the end of the night, she would turn you around and slur with as much affection as she could muster,

“Always tend to your husband Sweetie, don’t make a prude of yourself like me, don’t make a nagging wife, be pleasant and pliant and you’ll be a happy wife”

Of course you weren’t married yet, and that might’ve been what was causing you to be such a worrywart, because you were scared of the unknown. That’s why you’ve been trying your best to find ways to start the marriage off in the best way possible.

But you now had a whole other thing to worry about perfecting, husbandry. 

It would all work out though, as long as you heed your mother’s words and be a pleasant, pliant wife, you’ll be just fine, and you’re confident that Elvis would never turn out to be the kind of husband that your mother described your father to be.

You mumbled into the fabric of Elvis’ shirt,

“How does a man plant his seed in a woman?”

Elvis’ hands came to a halt at your words. He thought he’d gone over this kind of thing with you before, then again there was never much need to. You never prodded for more than you were given, because you were simply unaware there was more you could get out of the pleasures of your body.

Elvis stared down at the top of your head as you kept your cheek resting on his chest, he realized how abstract your thoughts must’ve been compared to his within your relationship. He had spent countless nights holding himself back from making you his completely, there were so many times he easily could’ve done so. So many times you put yourself in the position to be vulnerable to the disgusting thought of a man who knew the pleasures you could give.

Had Elvis been a different man he would’ve done so by now, taken you shamelessly and left you crumpled on the floor next to your crumpled up clothes.

But he’d be reigned back by the thought that God wouldn’t make something like you, something so pure and holy, for sin. Had Elvis not been a god-fearing man he would’ve had his way with you.

All those nights he spent eating you out, listening to you finally break that voice box of yours in, the only thing he’d thought about was how much louder you would be when he could finally fuck you, meanwhile you thought that the sensation guided by Elvis’ tongue that momentarily blinded you was as good as it got, was as close as you’d get to God.

Oh Elvis could show you so much more, teach you so much more, touch you so much more. And as shameful as it is, he’d be a liar if he said that the fact that he wanted to be the one deflower you didn’t play a role in your engagement.

“I could show ya how it’s done Honey, would ya be alright with that? It’s a little different from anything we’ve ever done”

You sat up on his lap and nodded as you kept a hand to support yourself up on his stomach. He basked in the sight of you with a small smile, digging his hands through your hair like roots in the dirt, so deep and entangled it could be hard to tell where your hair began and his hands ended.

It wasn’t at all painful in the way your mother’s hands used to rest in your hair during her drunken stupor.

It was gentle as Elvis always was.

He used a gentle force to pull you close enough for him to press a kiss to your forehead for a moment and hold it there, you closed your eyes and let out a breath, any stiff stress in your body leaving at the touch of Elvis’ lips.

He pulled away, lips and hands.

“Lay down Baby”

Elvis patted your side of the bed and you quickly laid down as you usually would, and with a quick fwip of his hips Elvis’ knees rested just outside your thighs, his entire body hovering above yours as he reached over to your nightstand.

You heard the clink of glass, no doubt the two glass figurines you’d had since you were a child, your voice was soft but panicked as you felt a pang of protectiveness over your childhood trinkets.

“W-What are you doing?”

His response was immediate as he knew your sentimental feelings toward your figurines,

“It’s alright Honey, jus’ turnin’ Dottie and Lottie around”

“Oh.”

You let out a sigh of relief before having a blush spread like a wildfire in the summer across your cheeks. When Elvis had first touched you, you felt the need to turn your glass figurines Dolores and Charlotte, also known as Dottie and Lottie, around before he could continue any further. When he asked you why you could only mumble a quiet explanation about wanting to preserve their innocence. Elvis didn’t mind the strange gesture, he thought it was rather cute actually, it was something so girlish and sweet, something he’d never think of, it further instituted that you really were an endearing little girl.

And ever since then anytime Elvis touched you, he’d always turn your figurines toward the wall for you. And him doing it now meant that to plant his seed in you, he had to touch you.

You close your eyes as you relax into the mattress completely, and feel a shift in the bed then the cold air began to linger up your nightie, or rather Elvis made your nightie linger up your skin, giving way for him to view the cutely contrasting color of your pastel yellow panties to your pastel blue short satin nightie.

As the bed shifted a little more you allowed Elvis to part your legs so he could slide off the piece of fabric, his hands caressing the skin of your ankles a few seconds longer than the rest of your leg, and then he intricately removed your panties off your feet he laid them on the outside of your thigh, within arm's length.

You assumed what you’d be feeling next was what you always felt whenever he touched you, those calloused fingers of his walking their way up your thighs as he made himself comfortable right between the two limbs, his mouth and nose inches away from that bundle of nerves that he so lovingly explained was the bud of your little rose. 

His fingers would then drift down to what he called the petals of your rose, separating them gently, exposing your hole to the cold air of the room making you shiver like the scared little girl you were as he did so. But he liked it, liked how visceral all your reactions were from your inexperience.

Only this time, you’d been wrong as you heard the familiar shink of his belt, and as if you were a trained dog and his belt were a clicker, your eyes shot open as you knew what that sound meant. It meant you got to do the touching, but, why were your panties off if you were doing the touching?

As you sat up you saw Elvis shucking his pants and boxers down, you watched with a blush as you saw his dick, it wasn’t yet completely hard, it more so at half-staff if anything, with that it maintained enough loose skin so that the usual image of his veins bulging profusely through the thin skin was not a sight you’d yet see, but you could change that.

As you sat up with your legs still spread enough so that Elvis once he was free of his pants was able to swiftly kneel between them. You leaned forward with an eager hand but Elvis had caught your wrist before you’d made it to your target, you batted your eyelashes up at him in confusion.

“Elvis?”

He had a crooked smile on his lips and asked, “Don’t ya remember what ya gotta do first? C’mon Hon we’ve been over this a dozen times”. You had to think for a moment but felt flushed with embarrassment at your own mistake.

Elvis’ eyebrow ticked upward as he caught your realization, then he slowly raised your hand up to your mouth for you to lick a stripe along it. When he didn’t immediately pull away you knew to keep lapping at the skin till Elvis saw it suitable.

His head tilted down a little as he made eye-contact with you through the cracks of your fingers, staring at you as you licked lines of wet along the lines of your palm, he was mumbling a praise or too like “There ya go”, and “Just like that”. You only shut your mouth as his free hand came up to cup your cheek and gently push you back from your hand.

With your newfound view of his cock it definitely looked less limp than before but Elvis had taught you how to get it standing, and you wanted to show him that you could. He’d been loosening the reins lately and had been giving you more independence to touch him in the way you knew he liked. But at the perfect moments he’d step in and be a helping hand, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he showed you what kind of pace he liked when his dick twitched a specific way.

It was him helping you build this muscle memory that was slowly etching its way into your brain, on the walls of your skull, and in the nerves of your hand

With the softest of groans leaving Elvis’ mouth your eyes shot up from his cock that maintained the attention of your palm, wanting to see his face, see the preview of your own triumph as you continued to stroke with the pace his hand guided yours along.

His smile was gone as his mouth twisted slightly to let out the low noise, he licked his lips quickly and tightened his hold on your hand, in turn tightening your hold on his cock as he ran your palm up and down it, your voice was hesitant and soft as you questioned, “L-Like that Elvis? I do it like that…”

He hummed an affirmation and mumbled, “Keep at it”, before pulling his hand off yours, leaning back on the bed on his palms while watching you with lowered lids, had they been any lower they would’ve been closed.

You tried shuffling yourself closer by planting your heels into the mattress and scooting yourself closer, but it was hard to focus on both things. You didn’t want to louse up what a good job you were doing, but you felt you could do better if you were just a little closer.

Elvis must’ve read your inner turmoil as he leaned off his palms and cupped the back of your knees with each hand, pulling you closer at the top of your calves where they connected with your thighs. As you continued with your strokes you noticed how close you now were, your bare pussy had never been so close to Elvis’ cock.

With the realization a strange curiosity shot through you, a kind of curiosity that had filled your senses one of the first times you’d sat on Elvis’s lap. He kept you on one knee easily, and it had been the leg that he often bounced absentmindedly, and as he easily bounced you on his leg you felt a weird sensation, and that damned curiosity of yours got the best of you subtly shifted on his leg, and suddenly the jumbling of your legs on his knee had shifted to a jumbling on a small bundle of nerves between your legs.

No you wouldn’t let your curiosity get the best of you again, you wouldn’t.

As Elvis pulled his hands away from your legs he leaned back on one palm and the other he reached forward to rub that very bundle of nerves you’d just been thinking of about. Just the slightest bit of force made your body react with what could be described as a convulsion as you breathed out a noise of surprise.

Elvis’ almost dazed look on his face didn’t shift as he glided his calloused thumb down between your folds, scooping up whatever was beginning to wet them, then using it as a lubricant to give your clit a good rub down, his facial expression unwavering as he watched you twitch and struggle to focus on doing a good job.

His voice was low and almost sounded slurred as he mumbled,

“Now this is hard ain’t it Honey? Tryin’ to pleasure each other at the same time?”

Your face shrunk and your lip quivered as you tried to maintain that you wouldn’t break under the sensations of it all, wanting to do good.

Upon gaining no answer Elvis’ eyes glazed up to meet yours, they now shifted to sympathy as he reassured you gently with little circles of his thumb around your bud,

“It’s alright Baby, I know it. I know it’s hard, that’s why through marriage a man can plant his seed in a woman, makes it easier y’know? A man can help you while he helps himself, ya shouldn’t have t’be doin’ work Honey”

You don’t know when you started nodding along to his words, you hardly understood them, but the way his eyebrows arched, the way his lips curled, the way his voice drew out, he seemed like he knew everything in the world. He was so in his element that you wouldn’t question it if he told you a cat were a dog.

But you had to ask, through your soft pants and whimpers, “H-how?” How was it possible to both be pleasured at the same time? How was it possible for both of you to reach that special spot just between the earth and the heavens where all felt impossibly right?

Elvis’ lips grew to a smirk once more as he removed his thumb from your clit and his hand wrapped around yours to pull you away. As you looked down you saw that familiar sight, that thin skin stretched out to show that long vein that started at the side of his dick and traveled down the center.

His other hand ran up your calf, to your thigh just to rest on your stomach, still covered by the top of your satin nightie, and with a firm force and a, “Lie back f’me” you were laid down on the bed with your legs spread.

He spread them a little further, and you watched as best you could while still laying down, craning your neck painfully to see what he was doing as he made a ring out of his thumb and index finger.

Elvis’ eyes met with yours, making sure you were watching before lining the tip of his cock up with the little makeshift hole he made of his fingers for demonstration.

“When a man plants his seed, he fills you with himself. This right here,” He lifted the little ring he’d made of two fingers, “This is like that little hole between your petals, so what I’m gonna do is fill it just slightly,” he slid the ring over the tip of his cock, leaving you to watch with a mouth slightly agape as his movement stretches the foreskin.

It’s not like when you stroke him though, he stops much too short, and doesn’t even go near the base of his cock, he ends at the base of the tip only.

“Now, this much is just till the wedding Hon. We can only do just the tippy top Baby, can’t break ya in just yet, we gotta wait till we’re unified under God to make that kinda connection-”

“...cause it’s special”

Elvis looked up at you, surprised to hear your soft voice so suddenly, it seems the words left your mouth with a little thoughtful pout. God, let this man hold back today. Let him be graceful and kind to his babylove, Elvis thought to himself as he smiled softly and hummed, 

“Yes it is sweet girl, it’s somethin’ special”

As a moment of sweet silence filled the air the two of you made eye contact, you smiled, feeling unsure of what was to come, he smiled back knowingly.

“Are ya ready Babylove?”

You bit your lower lip nervously and could only nod with trusting eyes. Elvis’ figure suddenly shut out most of the light from the ceiling as he supported his body above yours with one hand while he used his other to line up the tip of his cock.

You let out a shaky breath as he parted your fold with the tip of his cock before running it along your leaking slit. From the bottom up past the top till he hit that bundle of nerves that he could find with a blindfold. You squeaked softly at the bit of force he was using to circle your clit with his cock.

Elvis swore he’d do everything with you in mind, but as he watched the way your big eyes would crinkle to little bouts of eyelid folds and as he saw the way your lip quiver with every squeak and breath you let out, he couldn’t help himself but gauge your reaction to a little something.

Your breaths came out one by one in panic as you suddenly felt the tip of his cock begin to bat around your little bundle of nerves from the top, from side to side, even attacking from the bottom. Your eyes shot open from their little crinkles of stress and just before you could open your mouth his little batting around of your sensitive bud turned to slowed drawn out circles rubbing along the edge.

“That feels good huh Honey? It’s gonna get even better, just need ya to relax. Uh huh, that’s good, you’re doin’ good”

You relaxed into it, your jaw falling slack and your breaths coming out shallow. As you sank into that warmth that always accompanied Elvis’ gentle touch, Elvis pulled his neck back slightly to get a better look at your hole, with your folds parted he had a perfect view if he could look past his cock. He craned his neck a little to the left and found the target, wide open from your relaxed state, he licked his thumb to lubricate it and like a veteran, he navigated his cock down and at the forefront of it as his thumb took its place and pace in circling your clit, had you not been watching through lidded eyes you wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Here it come Baby, here it come”

Elvis couldn’t even look at you to gauge your reaction as his head fell back immediately as he was engulfed by your heat. Somewhere in the distance he heard a high-pitched noise but he was too high on the feeling- No, the knowledge that the first thing to fill you, to really fill you was his uncut cock’s head.

He breathed out to the ceiling, or rather to the Lord,

“Fuck…”

How could a feeling like this fill his mind, body, and soul from just the tip going in. Shit if he hadn’t already proposed to you he would do it now, just so he could one day feel the full effect of your body on his.

And then he finally peered down at you, and you were a sight to behold. He hadn’t been with a virgin in a long time, and the ones he had been with, you made them look like the most experienced girls in the world.

Your face was crumpled and your clenched fist was brought up to your mouth, you bit down so hard on your knuckles Elvis could see the skin losing its color around your little teeth. His hand slid down to your hip, running along the skin soothingly, as he hummed out, “Relax, it’s alright, just relax”

You nodded and pulled your fist from your mouth to show you were relaxing, but as your lower lip trembled Elvis could only softly remind, “Relax…”

And after a few moments of Elvis running his hands along your hips you spoke in an unsure whisper, “I-Is that it?”, Elvis sighed with a smile, “No Hon, don’t worry, but I can’t show ya the rest till ya relax, alright?” Elvis could feel you tightly around him, if he tried to pull the head of his cock back out he’d hurt you, he knew that.

"I-I am relaxed"

“No ya not Babylove”

You sighed softly, feeling a bit frustrated, this wasn’t what you thought it would be, it hurt. And it was obvious that you weren’t acting in the most pleasing way, so you lied through your teeth with a bit of an edge to your quiet words, “I’m relaxed.”

Elvis’ soft smile fell slightly at the tone of voice, and his eyebrows rose as he stared down at you, only now you avoided eye contact and opted to look at the wall. You tried to focus on the paint of the wall as best you can but it was thrown out the door as you felt a painful pull.

You whined at the feeling, and watched as Elvis pulled out, now you attempted to look him in the eye but he didn’t even spare you a glance as he muttered before lining himself up again, “Call that fuckin’ relaxed? If you’re so relaxed it should be easy goin’ back in”

Before you could voice an apology he’d already shoved the tip back in. It was much rougher than the first time he had put it in, it had you release a loud whimper and kick your feet, your heels pushing you away from his body, but his hips only chased further.

And those hands that were soothingly rubbing along your hips earlier now had them in a bruising grip to keep you from moving.

“Said ya relaxed, so fuckin’ act like it-”

Elvis let out a low groan as he stroked his cock while your little hole contracted from the stress of it all, it was like you were trying to swallow him, trying to suck him down into you. Almost like your body knew you needed his seed. And had he been a different man, or more accurately, had you been a different girl, he would’ve given it to you without shame. But you were different, you were special, you made this special.

He pulled out once more just to push back in, and then he repeated with no time in between, leaving you gasping at the rough push and pull of his cock head and whining at it, before blubbering out a series of apologies to him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, ‘m not relaxed..! I-It hurts Elvis..!”

He’d ignored your apologies, but the way you said his name, like he could solve all your problems while also causing all of them, it was like you had this type of innocence. A pure innocence that no matter the pain he’d cause you, you’d still love him. Like if he kicked you, you’d come running right back.

Elvis stopped himself from pulling out once more and stared down at you, his grip released and one of his hands cupped your cheek and rested a thumb at the corner of your eye just before your temple, ready to catch a tear in case those teary eyes of yours spill over.

You stared up at him with a frown and pulled your hands to rest nervously on your stomach, feeling a sudden sense of awkwardness mixed with discomfort at the idea of Elvis being upset with you. But instead he seemed to sympathize with you,

“Now you see, ya gotta listen to me Babylove. I don’t expect much from ya, all I expect is honesty, now, be honest and let me know when you relax.”

You let out a shaky breath and soft noise as Elvis’ thumb landed back on your clit, beginning to rub those circles that make your hips twist a little from instinct. Elvis’ lips had been on yours in the blink of an eye, but his kiss was deep and slow, it wasn’t like when he’d kiss you so hard and so fast that your teeth knocked against his. Instead you felt his tongue explore each and every inch of your mouth carefully, could feel the way his tongue swiped along the small space between your lower gums and teeth.

His nose lightly grazed against the start of your cheek as he tilted his head to get a different angle. 

And in what would be one of the only moments for you to catch your breath within the kiss, you managed to breath out, “‘M ready”

It was a different kind of tug due to the efforts of the both of you. You were relaxed and open and Elvis was only rocking back and forth into you, no complete pulling, you couldn’t handle that yet.

With each rock of his hips, you let out a little breath or squeak. For a moment you lost focus as you watched the way Elvis used the thumb on one hand to stroke your little bud while using his other hand to stroke himself, but you were pulled back into your moment with Elvis as he groaned lowly, followed by a groan that sounded a bit more throaty. He was close.

And knowing that it was because he was in you made you feel a sense of excitement, and sense of sexuality, realizing you could make a man feel this way by doing nothing but laying there like a pliant doll.

Be a pliant wife. Your mother was right.

Your hips dragged upward slightly, crashing into his hips that were rocking down into you, the collision of skin made you moan softly as your manicured nails reached for the sheets, one hand gripped them brutally while your other hand ended up in Elvis' hair, not gripping, only carding through the dark strands.

“E-Elvis, it’s- I’m…”

You couldn’t describe it, what was coming, but thankfully you didn’t have to as he mumbled into your lips,

“I know Baby, I know. It’s comin’ f’me to, comin’ fast Babylove- H-how’s it comin’ for you?”

As the upward grind of your hips turned to little upward thrusts that your feet could manage on the slippery sheets of the bed you could hardly choke out a word as his thumb had entertained that warmth just below your stomach for too long, it’d been teased and tugged along far too long from the rubbing of his thumb on your little bundle of nerves that at its peaking point, it snapped, leaving you to try and choke out the words,

“It- I- It’s-”

As your mouth remained agape but your voice fell silent, and those pitiful attempts at thrusts of yours fell back to wishful grinds of your hips. Elvis thanked the Lord, he’d been trying his best to hold on for you, to slow his rocking when he felt himself get a little too close, he’d been edging himself almost the entire time for you.

And now as he pulled out and continued to stroke his cock with one hand, the hand previously fondling your clit reached for the pair of panties he laid aside so long ago.

As you caught your breath you watched as Elvis’ hand stroked twice, thrice, four more times along his length before he buried his cock in your crumpled up panties, letting his head fall back and a guttural moan fill the room as he reached his peak.

After a few moments of silence accompanied by the pants of the both of you Elvis removed the metal ring holding his short ascot scarf together at the center of his neck, you heard a clink as he tossed it somewhere on the wood floor, then you watched as the fabric got closer to your face, closing your eyes at the contact you could feel Elvis wiping away the dampness building on your head and cheeks from the heat what you just experienced. As the feeling left you watched as he wiped his own face off before bringing the satin scarf down to your petals, wiping off the proof of your pleasure from your pussy’s lips then wiping off your thighs that happened to be the victims of the heated juices that spread through your body which were shoveled out from the earlier pulls of Elvis’ cock’s head.

After Elvis caught his breath and pulled the panties away from his cock to see his work, then he flipped it toward you, and you saw that familiar white liquid that Elvis told you was a reward for your hard work.

“When we get married and I fill you with my seed, this is what I’ll be fillin’ ya with, I promise…”

Your eyes were lidded and tired, but full of love as you took in the sight of your fiancé, his once perfectly coiffed hair now ruffled, you could see sweat stains forming on the blue silk shirt he didn’t bother to take off before starting, and those eyelashes of his must’ve been batting so much as he now had a stray on his cheek, he must’ve missed it with his scarf.

As Elvis prepped your reward, scraping it off the pastel fabric with a finger you parted your lips, and as he finger-fed you his seed you accepted the finger into your mouth, closing your lips around it as you sucked it clean. “Atta girl, did so well” 

Your own little finger guided up his cheek to swipe the eyelash off his cheek, he watched with confusion at the way you smiled around his finger, then you flipped your finger around to show him.

As he crawled over your body to lay down beside you, removing his finger in the process you spoke with a bit of hoarseness, “Make a wish”

Elvis smiled fondly and put a hand over your thigh, “You can have this one Babylove”

You smiled before checking once more, “Are you sure?”

He wanted to laugh at how serious you were taking it all, and with a gentle rub of his hand he reassured, “I’m sure Honey, I’m sure”

You smiled down at the little eyelash resting on the middle of your index finger. And you wished for all that you could want, you wished for a happy marriage.

I had so much fun!! I really liked writing this, and I'm so happy I've had requests to write this character to the point I can turn it into a whole au!! hope you liked it.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!

@fadedsummerlove, @lialocklear, @astral-eyed-cat here it is lovelies

[newtkelly]

Not to word vomit on you but I can't stop thinking about Oliver wanting a love story like Tarlos and how it all accidentally lined up.

Knowing that Carlos and TK were about to move in, and then Carlos made that romantic gesture and TK got scared because it was, "too good to be true."

Carlos is left, confused, puzzled and nursing a broken-heart but still just as in love. What do you mean that TK and Carlos saw a future together, one got scared at that prospect and left before Carlos was the one to leave??

What do you mean that happened after Oliver said he wanted Bucktommy to have a love story like Tarlos; where it was always going to be them?

Then you consider Oliver saying that we might see Tommy and Buck interact during a call and it'll be awkward and who can't help but think of TK and Carlos running into the furniture store and seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

Anyways, sorry to be delusional in your ask box. I'm deep within the Tarlos trenches so this is all starting to look eerily familiar lmao (it could also be Tim is out of ideas, which is most likely the case)

Please feel free to word vomit on me always, I live for it.

Receiving this ask has actually prompted me to share some thoughts that I’ve held back from sharing, just because I wasn’t sure if it was worth it to throw more speculation into the void. But this message is so lovely, and I agree with it so much and so… okay I will share some of my mixed bag of thoughts about this whole situation.

Firstly, I adore Tarlos and LS (even if I don’t post about either much), TK is my baby, and the interesting thing about them for me is that I wound up caring for them more AFTER they broke up and got back together. If Buck and Tommy’s story is formatted as a rom-com, TK and Carlos are a tragicomedy. TK, the heartbroken recovering addict thrust into an entirely new city, a new career, who doesn’t want to let himself get too close to something good because he is misery incarnate. Carlos, the hopeful hopeless romantic who sees TK and doesn’t see something that needs fixing, but someone who his love could help heal. It’s such a gorgeous story, and the symmetry of both characters shockingly losing a parent in a tragic way is painfully beautiful. I LOVE their love story.

That brings me to Oliver and Tim’s comments. Throughout the Buck and Tommy relationship, my belief that this would be Buck’s final relationship only ever wavered twice. The first time was in the immediate aftermath of their first date (I spent the whole episode thinking that Tommy was actually reintroduced to kick off the bi awakening plotline and Buck was not acquiring a boyfriend) and the second time was towards the tail end of the summer hiatus when I legitimately began to doubt Lou would want to come back given everything that transpired. Other than that, I had full faith that this was it, this was Buck getting off the “hamster wheel”—Tim’s words, not mine.

I had confidence for a few reasons. 1 – the story was always handled with care onscreen and gave us no reason to think they weren’t going to work out. 2 – the chemistry was insane, and I knew it couldn’t just be me because an entire fandom was born. Tim and tptb must have seen what we saw. 3 – the supplementary information funneled to us through articles and Tim’s social media, literally up until post-8x06 never seemed to indicate that their relationship was headed in this direction. A big part of that was the comparison to Tarlos.

In order to protect myself (should I name the list of shows, movies, couples that I’ve fixated on that wound up playing out in dissatisfying ways?), I am awfully pessimistic. The post-episode interviews, articles, + hearing a bit from LFJ and OS has me wondering if this was some mass hallucination. Did we truly cling to something good and blow it up, run with it? Was this always the plan? I’ve wondered if because S7 was so short and S8 required that other characters get the spotlight first/other stories needed to be told and wrapped, and if because of production and scheduling and whatever external reasons, did their relationship wind up having a longer life than was ever intended. Were they ever supposed to make it to six months? Were they ever supposed to make it past the fucking wedding? I have been asking myself this stuff a lot. Alternatively, did something happen that made them want to or have to part ways with LFJ? So many questions, and I’m not sure we’ll ever know.

But… then there’s the delusional side of me, and the reason I haven’t totally abandoned hope is because when I was watching 8x06 live, EVERYTHING in me told me that this is a necessary section of the rom-com formula. Even the call-backs throughout the episode made me feel like the writers are so painfully aware, and that the narrative wants these characters to be together (Miceli’s, Abby, basketball, going to the movies, calling an uber, the loft kitchen, “you’re not ready”)—the motifs were absolutely popping off. I did not think it was the end when the episode ended. I wondered when and how they would find their way back to each other to fulfill the rom-com genre, but what I did NOT expect was to open social media and see articles framing this as the end. I wasn’t surprised when I found out who wrote the articles, and listen—if they bait one side of the fandom, can’t they bait the other? I still have some hope, because at the end of the day, anything can happen with network television. Maybe this is all part of the plan, and the interviews should be taken with a grain of salt. I just don’t know.

Interviews with Tim and Oliver from day one positioned the Buck and Tommy relationship as a queer love story devoid of trauma. Okay, well… huh. From where I was sitting, there was A TON of explicitly queer trauma exposed in 8x06. Their “hurdle” is tied utterly and completely to queerness. Tommy runs because he is a gay man who doesn’t trust that his bisexual boyfriend should “settle” for him, and who would rather be alone than heartbroken, and if that truly is the last of Tommy, it has to be one of the coldest and cruelest exits we’ve ever seen on this show. Do they simply not realize how deeply traumatized both characters come off in that episode, or is it all part of the plan? If the interviews positioning this as the permanent end of bucktommy should be taken at face value, shouldn’t the other interviews that position them as a rom-com (with the formulaic third act breakup, boils and all) be taken as the truth as well? If there was some misinterpretation, why hasn’t Tim said anything—he clearly knows a lot of fans were hurt by what they watched. He must have seen the outrage—why radio silence? Did we truly blow this out of proportion? Are the wheels coming off behind the scenes? I need a tell-all at this point lol

Thank you for the lovely ask, I’ve been sitting with these thoughts all week so this was a good excuse to finally articulate them. <3

[frownyalfred]

Saw the ask about the HC for a justice league origin and my favorite to play with has always been one where Superman and Batman meet and over five years get incredibly invested in each other's schticks, a year or so after they meet they end up working with Diana for something maybe world ending but quiet and years down the line when the Justice League is formed they're all incredibly in this weird limbo position. They're used to working together, but they're also used to defending Batmans position as a cryptid with their lives. That is not a habit that dies easily.

Everyone knows Diana and Kal formed the league, but they routinely reference a third member (who apparently did most of the "research" ie stalking on who would or wouldn't be admitted or considered for the league). They don't give a name. They don't give any kind of acknowledgement of who or even where this person might be stationed. When outright questioned about it both of them answer with some variation of "Who?" The league is convinced it's some hacker or just a civilian the two know. Maybe even a government person?

Up until the point that Bruce is actually forced to start working part time and most of the newer league members can't stand him. He gives orders and just *expects* to be listened to???

But Bruce has been the guiding hand behind almost all league strategy for at least five years now. Clark and Diana go to him for advice when they're uncertain on the course of action. He's the one making the training plans and the monitor schedules and the one who sorts through all of the requests or complaints Leaguers file. (A good half of which recently are about the fact that there wasn't a vote on Batmans sudden admittance into the league)

It takes some massive alien invasion and an almost complete wipe out before Clark forgets to switch to a private comm when someone manages a direct hit and asks Bruce if that's why he picked that guy for the league, cause he definitely wasn't on Clark or Diana's radar.

Cue the slow dawning horror as they realize that there wasn't a vote on Batmans admittance to the league because he's been a member from day one.

(the funding can be revealed later, better not to break all their brains at once)

Sorry that got long, this is an AU I've wanted to write for ages but tragically will never do justice to

Oh my goodness, the way I would read the shit out of this idea! I hope you write it someday! It’s such a delicious flavor of identity porn isn’t it??

[siolixz]

♔Of Love and Loyalty♔

+18

Part 3: the end.

<Part 2><Part 1>

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She has already been through enough by now and Oz's ruthless ambition finally meets the satisfaction of power. Hope you guys like it- I spent most of my day writing this and I apologize for any grammar mistakes. I'll fix them when I wake up. Please, remember that MY Oz has been changed a bit from the show Oz- in order to make a "x reader story" I gotta humanize him, while also keeping him at least half true to the masterpiece Lauren created. I have enjoyed writing this story sooo much. Everyone is 18+ and consenting.

Words: 6.2k

Enjoy and give feedback If you want :)

Warnings: mentions of violence, vulgar language, age-gap relationship, smut ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° )

You don’t remember how you got here. 

First you remember talking to Oz about something on the phone early in the morning after a delivery- then you remember going home to sleep and when you arrived- there was nothing. 

What the fuck happened? There was a guy- he came towards you. Then you looked at him- then he; he punched you? So that’s why you have a splitting headache. Everything felt like a dream- were you dreaming right now?

Are you sleeping? Why is everything so dark? 

You could hear voices, faint voices but they were there. Someone grabbed you by your arm and forced you upright. Now there was light everywhere and your eyes felt like they were on fire. Why is everything so fucking bright?

You blinked a few times and looked around the room; wow, how fancy. Where were you? The walls looked like they were carved and you only saw furniture like this when you looked at the TV. You saw a man there, a big guy; an enforcer, you thought, and in your dazed state you asked him “Where am I?” he looked at you and remained quiet. Great.

Your head was killing you. Jesus. Your hands and feet weren’t tied however- how odd.

You rapidly lifted your head when you heard the sharp sound of a pair of heels on the expensive floor, the door opened and- Oh, it’s her. 

“Look who’s awake.” Sofia softly smiled at you, she’s gonna kill you probably. Why does she have a plate of food?

“I brought you breakfast- you’ve been gone quite a while you see.” She walked across from you and placed the plate down on the table. 

“I bet you’re wondering what you are doing here.” she came over and sat next to you- crossing her legs and leaning back “You and I have a lot to talk about.”

She looked you up and down. You looked like the complete opposite of her, in your jeans and t-shirt, you were sure your face was smeared with blood too- where you got punched.

“Are you nervous?” she asked- her eyes were examining every inch of your face, trying to search for any signs of anxiety or sadness. You shook your head- “No.” you said. 

She said your full name and gave a long description of your family- what they did, what jobs they had, she mentioned your sister too, your poor sweet sister- how dare she speak their names. 

“When I saw you at Oz’s apartment or at the club, I didn’t get a good look at you. But I did see the way he looked at you.” a small smile danced on her lips “ like he would look away and you would be gone, like in a dream. How fascinating I thought. Some girls spend their whole lives wishing someone would look at them like that.” You listened to her and she came closer to you.

“You know, I really never noticed at the time- how young you are.” She once again looked you up and down, her voice became quieter

“Guess this is the same old tragic story, ‘orphaned street kid falls prey to some maniacs silver tongue’ . Yours won’t be any different, I can assure you. Maybe you believe it will- but it won’t.” She got up again and walked towards the table. She picked up a piece of toast and sat back down next to you.  

“W-why am I here?” you asked her, your throat was sore and that stupid headache was still there. 

“Why?” she looked surprised “Didn’t you figure it out by now? You’re our bargaining chip- you’re gonna help us. Greatly. Sal already has Oz, now all we need is to find a way to kill him.”  There was an indescribable emptiness in your stomach at her words

“Of course after I make sure he feels the same sort of sadness he inflicted on me-that’s where you come into play. ”

You looked down at your feet, trying to find words to pronounce. This is what this sort of life brings you, death. Only death and pain.

“What ma-makes you think he’s gonna su-suffer as much as you?” you muttered- more to yourself really. 

“The way he looks at you and sure- looks ain't enough, but the way he talked to me about you.” She exhaled loudly, like a schoolgirl talking about a crush, mocking you.

“Some people could only dream about that. You know, he talked about you at my brother’s funeral and the way he would compliment you before the deal at the club; but besides that-” her face got serious.

“-you’re the closest person to him. The only person who knows the in’s and out’s of the massive drug operation he built; his second in command, you have his ear and loyalty. You’re the last thing he has got left in this world, without you, he’s all alone.” she leaned back again.

“I almost feel sorry for you.”

You blinked, trying to make sense of her words- she continued, disgust laced in her words “You’re just a fucking kid.” 

There was a silence that followed that only made the gravity of her words more apparent.

“He put this on you. It seems to me- like you had a pretty good life- before all this. You studied well, you had a lot of friends- it seemed like your life couldn’t get better. Then the floods came and you turned into a street rat. Now you think him saving you was what you needed- but no. He’s a manipulator and a liar and he will stop at nothing to achieve his goals.” She took another deep breath and squinted her eyes at you in judgment.

“I mean, don’t you ever think what your parents would say? Seeing you with a man like that?”

“Don’t talk about my parents-” she was pressing your buttons and you knew that lashing out at her was at the cost of your own life right now.

“What would your mother say? Huh? I bet she wanted her little girl to find herself a good man, with a nice job, but no.. she found herself a drug lord.” Sofia snickered, half in disgust and half in pity. 

“You kn-know… Oz-“  you started and she cocked her head to the side

“He’s gonna kill Sal, just like-like he did his wife and son and th-then he’s coming straight for you.”  

“You have a lot of faith in him.”

“Yes I do.” Yes you did. If there was one thing you knew about him is that he was unstoppable, one way or another- he was going to get his way and he was going to win in the end. He had to. 

You lowered your tone and leaned closer to her “He’s always-always two steps ahead. He will come for you.” There was a twinge of something on her face, was it- was it fear? 

She got up and left afterwards. Thank god. You didn’t want to see her again.

Some time passed; your stomach was rumbling but you didn’t eat the food she prepared, you had time to think- think about what she said. 

What would your mom say? It almost brought tears to your eyes thinking about them. 

Late at night before you would go to sleep, since you were young she would always come in and kiss your forehead. That was your ritual. 

You smiled before it was quickly wiped from your face when you remembered what sort of life you had now. What would she think?

“My little girl” she would say “so brave” she’d probably be disappointed, so disappointed. Her and your dad too. They despised people like Oz, people shouldn’t murder and cheat their way to the top. He was the complete opposite of the man they were hoping you'd be with. 

They loved Robert, always inviting him at home to eat together, he was a good boy, he listened and he studied well, it’s better he left Gotham.

They would probably be frightened by Oswald, afraid to even look at him. This man couldn’t look acceptable to the parents of a young girl like you in a million years, from the big scar on his face to his gold teeth and manner of talking. 

They would rather hope for him to be your sugar daddy than you loving- loving him?

You knew at this point there was no going back, you loved him- you did. However wrong this was. You loved all of him and you were disgusting, both of you. 

You blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. 

Was he gonna be sad you were nowhere to be seen or heard? Was he turning the place upside down when he saw you were gone? Was he for a split moment thinking you tried to leave, and this time, you were successful? Was he thinking all those nights and days spent by his side, next to him- over him and under him were all a facade when you stopped responding to his texts?

Someone called out your name.

 “I’m doctor Julian Rush... I am a psychiatrist” He looked at Sofia who was also next to him then back at you “I’m here to help you.”

Dr. Julian Rush weirded you out, severely. He put you down on a sofa and started asking you things, about your family, about how you felt- he had this ginormous light that would flash red that only worsened your state of defiance. It induced this sort of feeling in you- seeing it. 

It toyed with your emotions and feelings; it made you remember. You remembered everything.  

You told them everything.

From your earliest memories in Gotham, to your latest. Riding your bike down the street as a kid, running with your friends to your favorite diner before it closed, family nights, the happiness you felt when walking in your home, even if your parents or sister sometimes annoyed you- you were so rich in their love and warmth- so happy.

 You told them how you saw your apartment get swallowed up by the waves- how you tried to call; warn them, but to no avail.

At this point you were definitely crying your eyes out- holding yourself and trying to find some comfort.

Living in a FEMA camp was a nightmare, a nightmare that was never ending and it seemed to only become more like reality every damn day. You scraped by, you had to eat and live not just survive. So you joined some of the local boys there when they said they were going to find something to sell.

You never thought you would be stealing; you knew it was wrong and evil, but you did what you had to do. Life is cruel. 

You tried to remember everything. Not wanting to lose even a bit of detail. 

You had to be quick. Until he comes back. The first look at the Maserati waiting out there was like a piece of pie ready to be eaten- one of the boys went “wow” when he saw it and you were next to it like some hyenas soon enough.

At the first shot, you saw everyone scream and pick themselves up to run. You acted too slow that night, too busy with doing a good job to notice you were the one closest to him. 

The first time you looked at Oswald, you thought he was the scariest man you’ve ever seen in your whole life- especially because it was night time and because he just tried to fucking kill you. 

You told them how he made you do all those things. How lonely he was- how he touched you and looked at you sometimes. You told them you found kinship in one another, how you weren’t that lonely anymore and how utterly frightened he made you feel. Every.Damn.Day.

How you cried yourself to sleep all those nights, how you wanted to be better- be something more and this was the only way. This or death.

You told them about Robert too- how you hoped he had a better life, find someone who will love him and treasure him. How he tried to make you go with him and you tried to. By God you did, until he came back that night at the club. How he pushed a gun in your face and-and-

You blinked yourself out of it slowly, you knew you wanted out. This sick piece of shit was toying with you. With your emotions.

She brought you back in, reminded you about how he looked that night- what he said about you “you can remember, just tell us” the Doctor said.

His smell and all of him. A sick man, he was sick.

He wanted you all to himself and would kill you if that’s what it takes. 

You remembered your mother’s words to you at every family gathering or dinner “She’ll find a good man, one who takes care of her. I know it. Maybe a doctor, let’s hope.” You heard everyone laugh; so clearly- like they were there with you.

It seemed like they were taunting you now.  They expected so much more from you. 

You felt better whenever he was around you, how he would talk and walk to his jokes and smile. He was everything to you now. Late at night you would talk about all the things you wanted to do or have. You told him about your biggest dream in the whole world:

“A pen-penthouse” you whispered next to him as you were looking down at your fingers from your place on the couch. Maybe he thought it was stupid, how could someone like you ever achieve that?

“Yeah?” he turned to you “That what you want?” he asked, a small smile was gracing his lips.

“Yes. No one is above you or beside you; the c-city skyline.” If you closed your eyes, you could picture it—clear as day.

“With b-big windows so I can look outside and great big rooms with high ceilings- like in the movies.”

Julian told you Oz took all of that from you. Your old life- if he cared, if he truly cared he would’ve let you go that night. The bastard.

Sofia told you he manipulated you, he molded you into the woman he wanted you to be, you’re just a kid. You should have no part in this. 

It must’ve been hours since you haven’t eaten or drank anything.

You wanted to go back to Crown Point, have him tell you it’s all a bad dream “Let’s cook something, I’m starving-” he’d say and you two would chat until late at night. You slept the best with him in bed with you, even if he snored and it was hard to get him to turn over on the other side. You missed that. 

They grabbed you again- taped your mouth shut and stabbed you with something tiny, like a needle; it felt like a pinch. You proceeded to drive into the city and they shoved you through the back door- and then you saw him.

Tied down to a chair with tape, a towel shoved in his mouth, he started yelling and struggling when he saw you- making a gesture towards Sofia- like he wanted to strangle her.

This felt like a movie, like something you weren’t experiencing yourself- more like something you were watching from afar. Was this it?

The last moments of your life; they got you two and now everything has gone to shit again. 

Well you couldn’t say you weren’t close to getting what you wanted. 

You looked at him as they sat you down on a chair, trying to remember everything you could about him. You felt like crying but no tears came out.

“So, now that everyone is gathered here-” Sofia started “-I wanted to bring some stuff to the surface. Shine some light regarding some things.” She walked around you and back towards Oz.

He looked at you then back at her; confused. 

“Oz, while you were getting blown up- me and your ‘Bonnie’ had a talk. It was a real eye opener, I would say.” she glanced back at you

“Do you wanna tell us why you decided to spare her life that night? Let’s have your side of the story.” Sofia took the towel out of his mouth-

“What the fuck is this shit? You’re a sicko- ya know that? Jesus Christ” He yelled while looking at you and her.

“-Oz, you wanna tell us, huh?-”

“Fuck you!” 

“Alright. Well I already know everything. Your little girl here sang like a bird-”

“-Fuck did you do to her?!”

“Nothing. We just had a conversation, girl to girl.” she gave him a smile “She told me everything.” 

Oz looked at you, confusion clearly written on his face. You couldn’t even shake your head no- something was wrong. You could barely lift it. Did they give you something?

“You think she’s in love with you-” Sofia cocked her head to the side “-I’m here to tell you, she’s not. This whole thing that you two have- fear, fear ties her to you. It was all a lie. All of it.”

Oz looked at you again. Fuck you could barely lift your head, it looked like you were staring at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with him, your vision became blurry too.

You tried to blink away the feeling of falling asleep, what was happening?

Oswald called out your name and you heard him yelling at you that he was going to get you out of here. 

“You’ve ruined her life. Because you’re selfish and greedy and lonely. That night at the club- she wanted to leave- to escape, and you brought her back. You held a gun to her face and told her she’s not going anywhere-”

“Fuck you-”

“You know what Oswald? I think she would like an apology. Right here and now. An apology for the life she could’ve had.” 

You don’t know how but you managed to lift your head and look him in the eyes. You tried to move your legs- tried to wake the fuck up. 

“She wanted this.” He said. 

Julian grabbed your hand and placed it on the table. “From which hand was the finger that you cut? The left or the right- It was the left.” Sofia said.

It must’ve been the pain that woke you up halfway from the episode you must’ve been having because your eyes fully opened when you realized that they were cutting your finger. Shit, shit, shi-

You heard Oz call out your name and throw profanities towards Sofia. “All you gotta do is apologize, Oswald.-”

“-She knew what she was getting herself into I-”

“-Say you’re sorry-”

“-I told you I ain't got-”

“-Just say you’re fucking sorry!” 

The pain almost made your ears ring and you screamed into the tape that was on your mouth, trying your best to get away from the pain you were feeling. 

“This is fucking insane!” 

The pain stopped and you grabbed your hand, trying to get some relief. 

“You would’ve let me cut it.” Sofia’s voice was filled with disgust “Rather than admit you made her life worse, you would’ve let me cut it…you’re fucking despicable.”

You saw Julian grabbing something from his suitcase and bringing it closer to your arm. It looked like- like a needle. 

“I never realized it till now but this is almost like a high for you, isn’t it?” Sofia's voice was almost a whisper “Having someone so utterly dependent on you, her sole reason for existing is because you let her. You have her whole life in your hands… you’re a fucking bastard. What were you thinking huh? One day you were gonna make her Mrs Cobb and you two would live happily ever after?” 

Julian managed to get the needle in your skin and you felt a warmth spread across your whole body. You looked at Oz and saw how hard he was struggling against his restraints and the look of fear on Sophia's face when he actually freed himself.

What was she thinking- binding a 250 pound man with duct tape on a chair as old as this restaurant? You heard the commotion and you tried to stand up but black dots started to appear in your vision-

“She fell and hit her head- “ you felt like you were dreaming but you could hear and feel certain things. Like when he put you in the back of the car or when he placed you on the hospital bed. Maybe you died. 

“She’s gonna be alright, yeah?” 

“We’ll do anything we can, sir.” 

You thought you died and instead of the devils in hell torturing you for all the injustice you have done- there was nothing. Nothing. Just the sound of something beeping and the sound of voices sometimes, you could also smell- was this a hospital? 

There was also yelling and a voice. You knew that voice. 

“C’mon doll, open those big eyes for me. Please.” a hand brushing your hair back and one touching your hand.

“I did it. I’m the fucking king- all this shit ain’t gonna mean anything if you don’t wake up.” you heard him whisper.

“Please open your eyes, sweetheart. Please” 

When you finally woke up, it must’ve been late in the afternoon. The sound of rain softly touching the window and the beeping of the monitor was the only sound in the sterile room.

You swallowed, trying to wet your throat.

Your eyes felt like they were opened for the first time or like when you want to take a short nap in the evening and you wake up at 12am, they felt like they were sewed shut and only now you could open them.

You looked around the room and saw that your hand was being held- There he is, you thought to yourself. 

He was sitting on a chair, his head uncomfortably placed on his shoulder- ouch- that's gonna hurt later. You raised your right hand; placing it on your stomach and squeezed his with your left.

Once and then twice. 

“O-oz, Oz.” your voice was hoarse like you yelled all night long, you squeezed his hand again- harder this time. 

He finally lifted his head and looked at you. His eyes were so red and bloodshot; he must’ve been crying. 

Oswald looked shocked and then relief flooded his face- his eyes lit up- “Hey-” he said, then kissed your forehead.

“-you’re finally awake.” He hugged you and you placed your arms around his neck, slowly- but you did. 

“I did it.” his voice was muffled by the pillow and your neck “I showed all those sons of bitches.” You rubbed his back- not knowing what exactly he meant by that.

“I thought you weren’t gonna wake up.” he lifted his head and looked at you “They gave you something, pento- something. I thought-” He was getting choked up. This big strong bull of a man.

“Ye-yeah well, I was halfway to hell when I remembered I forg-forgot you here so…” you whispered.

He started laughing at that- touching your foreheads together; gold teeth gleaming.

After you left the hospital you told him you just wanted to sit and talk. So he drove you to a park, it was very secluded- you two sat on a bench overlooking the river.

 He explained to you everything he had done, from throwing Sofia in Arkham to getting all the crime bosses murdered by their second in command and now having something to hold over a congressman- Oswald would be running in the upper circles as one of them, not a lieutenant or a cripple- one of them.

 “What a smart man” you said while hugging the jacket you had on closer to you. Winter was already here. The city lights softly illuminating his face, he had the expression of a man who won it all- he was on top of the world. 

“Fuck- ya' know, I couldn’t have done it without you.” He looked at you softly and with admiration

“You are really something special kid.” he smirked at you, leaning back a little- trying to take all of you in. 

“Oz, you’re like fam-family to me.” You told him and saw as his expression shifted- something laid beneath his eyes- you couldn’t place a finger on what.

“You see - “ he grabbed your body and pulled you closer to him, his face mere inches from yours “You showed me, doll- you can be my greatest strength. But the thing about family is… they make you fight harder than you ever thought you could. They show you what you’re really capable of- even when you’re not seeing it.” he grabbed the side of your neck, gently brushing his thumb over your face. 

He was hesitant, a man so full of words and phrases was left without any in this moment. 

“It weakens you too and I think- I think all of this would not mean as much if you weren’t by my side.” He kissed you. 

You never in a million years thought you were ever gonna drive a Maserati- now you were in a Rolls Royce.

 A gorgeous purple color, something that once only showed his flamboyance now signals his power and influence over everything that moves in the underworld of Gotham, he was “the king” and you couldn’t be more proud of him and you. When the car rolled down the street people stopped and stared at it, talking among themselves and taking pictures. 

He told you that night, after a very expensive dinner- he had a surprise for you “Somethin’ real special” he got. 

You entered a very fancy apartment complex, the opulence of the place immediately striking you as the elevator whisked you up.

In the mirrored walls of the lift, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, catching a glimpse of the two of you.

 “You two look like a match”, you remembered Roxy’s words from the club. You were both dressed in black—the most expensive dress you owned, a gift from him- and Oz, who looked as if he had stepped out of a Fred Astaire movie. So poised, so polished. People with your kind of money didn't even open their own car doors.

You’d asked him where you were going, and he only replied, "It's a surprise," with that familiar glinted smile of his.

Oz was a man who relished in the influence his newly acquired power gave him. He’d been rapidly reconstructing Crown Point, making a name for himself not just among Gotham's underground elite but also rubbing shoulders with the high society.

It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that one day he’d run for mayor- and you’d be right by his side.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped out into the apartment, breath catching in your throat.

It was... breathtaking.

The entire space was so grand, it felt almost unreal, as though the world had bent its will to cater to him. To you. You almost couldn’t take it all in at once.

The high ceilings stretched above you, the living room expansive and bathed in the soft glow of a fireplace, the crackling warmth spreading throughout the room. But it was the view that stole your breath. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed all of Gotham, its lights twinkling below like a blanket of stars.

You moved toward the window, your feet almost moving on their own as you absorbed the beauty. The city spread out endlessly, like a maze of lights and possibilities, and here you were—at the top of it all.

The heat from the fireplace surrounded you, making the space feel so warm, so alive, and for a moment, everything outside of this apartment, faded away. This was your world now. You could hardly believe it, after everything that had happened.

After everything he’d done to get here.

Oz stood behind you, his presence so steady and unwavering. You could feel his eyes on your back, his gaze warm, yet calculating, as if he was still analyzing the moment.

"Ya' like it?" His voice was soft but full of that familiar edge- he wasn’t just asking about the apartment.

You could tell there was something deeper in his question, an unspoken desire to know if you truly liked the life he had built for you, for the two of you.

You turned to face him, the firelight catching his features, casting soft shadows across his face. His eyes were dark, intense, as though he was trying to read your every emotion.

You met his gaze, the warmth of the room matching the heat you felt in your chest.

This is it, you thought. The beginning of everything, everything you’d ever wanted. And somehow, it felt like the end of something else.

You took a step closer to him, and for a moment, you simply stood there, breathing in the air between you. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heady. 

“Of course” you proudly announced. You loved it- every inch of it.

Oz stepped forward, closing the distance with one smooth movement. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, the simple touch sending a shiver down your spine.

His voice was low, only for you to hear, “I made it happen for you... for us. All of it. Tell me, doll... you proud of me?” He came closer to you, grabbing your face. 

“Of course,” you said. Excitement gripped you and you knew him asking that sort of question meant he was in need of some love and appreciation. 

“You know-” you got out of his grip.

“-I actually want to see the master bedroom- maybe the sheets are purple too.” You laughed- the adrenaline you felt when his face changed to one of excitement as well turned you on and you left your shoes near the staircase that went upstairs- to the second floor of the massive penthouse. 

The icy cold feel of the floor didn’t matter to you as you almost sprinted to one of the doors upstairs - you heard him climb the steps and your heart started pumping. 

Even after all this time of making love to Oz, the electric rush that shot up your spine every time you saw that wild spark in his eyes- made you crazy.  You quickly took your panties off and got on the gorgeous bed. The bedding was so comfortable- like a cloud.

The door opened and you saw him. 

“You got some nerve, runnin’ away like that.” he said as he came close to the left side of the bed and grabbed the upper part of the dress, almost testing how easy it was to pull it off, you simply giggled at him. 

How were you ever afraid of this man? 

You rubbed your hand on his hard on and he gave you a shaky breath- still crazy about you. 

"Wouldn't be the first time you tried to disappear." He paused, eyeing you intently, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips "Turn around."

He unzipped your dress and undressed you- gasping when he saw you weren’t wearing anything underneath. You got on your knees and helped get him undressed too- before he would always leave his clothes on, always preferring to have only you naked when you were with him. Things change.

He climbed on top of you and you welcomed him between your legs. This man- all of him, you loved him so much. He gave you the whole world. You both groaned when he entered you and set a very gentle pace while kissing your neck. You put your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. 

“Tell me you’re proud of me.” He whispered in your ear

“I’m so proud of you- “ you gasped as he pressed himself even harder inside you “You’ve done so much for us-” he did it again, harder this time “And I love you” he started fucking you even harder, the feel of his greater thighs touching the underside of yours and the sound coming from your pussy were louder than your soft moans and his groans of pleasure. You squeezed his body with your legs.

“There’s-there’s-” the feeling of having him in you, while he pressed himself deeper and deeper, his body over yours as he was holding himself up on his forearms next to you- you’ll never get tired of it “There’s nothing-nothing standing in your way.” 

He kissed you, putting his tongue in your mouth “You’re so beautiful, doll” He kissed all over your face as he said that and squeezed your breasts as he pounded into you. “So fucking beautiful” his eyebrows were furrowed and eyes closed, deep in thought about how you felt around him. 

“Fuck- com’ here” he pulled himself out and got on his back, slowly touching the side of your body as you lowered down on his penis with your lips. 

Oz wasn’t the sort of guy that enjoyed small kisses near his manhood and soft touches, if he wanted you to suck him- he wanted you to get to business. 

He grabbed hold of your hair- not for dragging you up and down him but to help you. You climbed on his leg- to pleasure yourself while you’re at it, no? 

Your lips enclosed around his head and as you bobbed your head up and down him you tried to breathe through your nose and help yourself with your hands. One cradling his balls and one on his penis, up and down. 

His moans were like music to your ears as you pleasured him, whenever you would stop at his head and lick the underside of it, he would press himself even higher in your mouth.

“I love you, doll. I love you-” he would chant as you took him. 

You rubbed yourself on his thigh as you sucked him, your legs were almost shaking.

“You take me so good- you’re such a good girl- my good girl.” This man and his words. 

When you would get off of him to breathe, he would push your head down to lick his balls and then make you get up to suck him again. His grip on your hair was becoming even tighter, bringing you down on him until you almost choked and then back up again.

 He would thrust up into your mouth as he got closer to his peak, chanting your name and how much he wanted to fuck you.

“I wanna fuck you so bad-” He pulled you on top of him and you gave him a giggle as you sat on top of his cock- only exciting him more.

“You wanna ride daddy baby?” it was a new nickname he enjoyed to give himself, you don’t know what changed in him, maybe the way people in society looked at you two, Oswald Cobb and his much younger woman. You nodded excitedly and grabbed his length from down below.

Fucking such a powerful man- he was the king, you should be proud of yourself.

He ran the Gotham underworld with an iron fist, everyone was afraid and respected him while also loving him too- he gave them jobs, he gave them a place to sleep- he took care of people. 

“Oh, baby..” he pulled you out of your daydream as he grabbed your waist and dragged you up and down him “I wanna get you pregnant doll” 

Your stomach twisted when you heard that-in a good way. You felt butterflies in your stomach and your pussy only got wetter. His eyebrows were furrowed and his groans were becoming even louder- you loved how loud he would get when he got close to cumming.

 He grabbed your breast in his hand while the other held your waist- fingers gripping into the skin there and you grabbed his chest to steady yourself as you rocked yourself on him. 

His fingers readjusted themselves on your body, gripping even harder this time- he would push himself into and his movements became erratic when near his climax. You smiled at Oz as you saw him gasp and hold you still. 

As he held you in his big arms that night, you had a clear view of the city from the bedroom window- you couldn’t believe you were here.

After everything you had to go through- finally, maybe your parents wouldn’t be disgusted with you. 

You had everything you ever needed here, with him, he was gonna keep you safe from now on.

 Maybe your mom, dad and little sister were happy- their girl found herself a man who fought tooth and nail to get where he was now; his ambition never ending and his resilience like iron, he loved you, he was going to give you children and give you a life you only ever imagined in your wildest dreams. 

Was he a bad man? Mayhaps, for some. His profession required him to be- but he was also sweet and kind and good. People weren’t black and white. 

Your eyes were slowly closing with the soft snores of your soon to be husband lulling you to sleep.

Gotham winked at you from down below- reminding you it took you right where she wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: AHHHHH its been so much fun writing this- thank u for reading and I hope it was good. Thank you to @fat-bottom-demons because I don't think I would've been this quick in writing this big ass chapter without her nice words.

The Finale made me feel like I got punched in the throat lol. I hated Oz, like I didn't even look at the scene in order to reproduce it here in this chapter- something I usually do and poor Sofia, hope she wrecks his shit in the movie.

I wanted to keep Oz's nature of a manipulative and horrible man in this story as well- it's just that he CAN love and he can make himself vurnelable enough to love someone like he loves the reader- which he is also kinda obsessed with.

Maybe I will revisit this story- once we see what he's up to in the movie ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

[gguk-n]

Tragic Circumstance (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Summary- In a world where you are destined to be with someone forever, a hopeless romantic lives her life in hope of finally finding her soulmate.

Part 1 Alt ending

ENDING Oscar's POV

I felt uneasy leaving 'my soulmate' behind that day. But that was the right thing. I loved my girlfriend. We'd been together for so long. She was my comfort. I couldn't leave her for some random girl who said was my 'destiny'. I didn't look back, I didn't want to give her false hope. She deserved to find someone, someone who would love her and appreciate her; I couldn't be that someone.

I was genuinely happy with my girlfriend, now fiance. We had recently gotten engaged at a beach in Sydney. The thought of that fated soulmate of mine hadn't crossed my mind in so long, until today. The uneasy feeling was back, my heart started to ache and it was a weird kind of ache, like it knew something I didn't. I spent the next few days with my fiance and family, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. We were supposed to leave on Monday but I couldn't leave not when I felt this shitty. I lied that I missed my family and wanted to stay here for a little longer, she understood and left without me.

Today was Friday, the ache in my chest had increased and my throat was dry and constricted. I tried drinking water and going out for a walk. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who to go to, so I went to the person I went to for all my problems, my mum. She was making dinner when I asked to speak with her. She told me to wait on the couch and that she'd be right with me. The pain in my chest kept increasing, what if I was having a heart attack; my brain had the most morbid thought. I sat down trying to control my breathing.

My mum sat next to me and smiled, "What did you want to talk about, darling?" It took a lot of effort to speak, "My chest hurts, mum. I think I'm having a heart attack" I said. She looked concerned and ready to call the ambulance asking since how long this was going on for? I replied, "a couple days, this is the reason I didn't leave on Monday." It was like a switched flipped in my mum's head. She gave me a weak, sad and knowing smile; like she knew something. She patted my chest, near my heart and started speaking "I remember when my grandma passed away, she had been sick for a few days. You'd think she was the one in pain but really it was granddad who was nursing a chest ache like no other. He prayed to stay alive until she left and had no qualm leaving with her. The day grandma died I heard grandpa wailing, she took my heart ache with her, I wanted to leave with her. In his hand lay his red string of fate attached to his pinky finger. It was like his heart knew she was leaving and couldn't bear it. He spent the next few years nursing the thread until he passed away one summer morning."

I couldn't understand why she was telling me this. I don't love my soulmate to feel these strong emotions. She gave me a hug and consoled me, "Your soulmate is probably sick or about to pass, that's why you've been like this. I know you rejected her but your connection still persists. She is still your soulmate and your heart will yearn for a love that was meant to be yours." I felt tears well up in my eyes. I looked down at my hand and saw the red string of fate severed at one end. I pulled away from my mother cradling my left hand. My mum saw my hand and started rubbing my back. "She was so young, we were about the same age." I spluttered. How could she have died? A million thoughts ran through my head. "That is a mystery we will never be able to solve, sweetheart. Let's just hope she was able to pass peacefully." my mum spoke. I buried my head in my palms and started crying. The ache in my chest slowly fading. The tears started to pour as the ache subsided. I felt responsible in a way. I shall carry this guilt for the rest of my life.

Me and my fiance got married in a small wedding a year from the day my soulmate passed. I even named our daughter after her. I never found out what happened to her, but that is a burden I am meant to carry. The red string sits in the drawer of my study table, secured in a glass box.

I hope you liked it, there's an alternative ending if you like happy ending