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jimblejamblewritings · 2 months

Text

love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search.

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition.

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received.

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all.

Yours truly,

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there.

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea.

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws.

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed.

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom.

Yours truly,

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention.

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them.

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama.

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters.

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.”

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them.

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?”

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?”

“Everything is wrong with that.”

“Hmm.”

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face.

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.”

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?”

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.”

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.”

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said.

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.”

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud:

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered.

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her.

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.”

“Piss off.”

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms.

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.”

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell.

“I don’t want this anymore.”

“Cecilia.”

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.”

“Cecilia.”

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.”

“Cecilia.”

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.”

“Please, just give u—”

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.”

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.”

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.”

“I second that.”

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.”

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything.

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?”

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.”

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.”

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society.

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today.

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps.

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness.

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get.

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham.

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month.

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen.

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.”

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?”

“Not your room?”

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.”

“You are getting restless.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?”

“Oh yes, she’s fine.”

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.”

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name.

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact.

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.”

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.”

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.”

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?”

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.”

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you.

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?”

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.”

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?”

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And, by the way, I already washed up.”

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.”

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room.

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora.

“Oh, good. It is just you.”

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?”

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.”

“What?”

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.”

“Your Highness.”

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.”

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.”

She gasped as you hugged her.

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.”

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.”

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination.

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?”

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it.

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs.

“Is there a problem, Marshall?”

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.”

“WHAT?!”

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back.

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance.

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss.

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…”

“Beckett,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name.

“Mrs. Beckett?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all.

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.”

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.”

You nodded. “Simply Miss Beckett.”

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.”

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues.

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.”

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.”

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.”

They all chuckled when you laughed.

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.”

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you.

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?”

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.”

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?”

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time.

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.”

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.”

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.”

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x princess!reader #benedict fluff #bridgerton fluff #fic

688 notes · View notes

writingstoraes · 1 year

Text

lover 🪻

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!singer!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this is another thing i thought of knowing i have hundreds of unattended drafts lolol lmk what u think! this is like very similar to something i've posted before but only w a slightly different ending... hehe also am using mother taylor's lyrics cause they're just too good

about: you and charles seem to be really quiet, it's either one of two things — you're over or you're about to release a masterpiece that shatters all break up rumors.

wagsoff1

liked by wannabewag, norrisfan, hamilec, and 25,439 others

wagsoff1 It has been 100 days since Y/N was seen in the paddock. Her last appearance was during the 2023 Australian GP. Any thoughts? 👀

leclercsainz yeah honestly the two of them have been really quiet lately... i'm scared

ynfan this is such a reach? 😬

lecsyn4eva are we forgetting that y/n has her own career, a pretty successful one at that, it's normal for her to not be at races at times?

wagsoff1 Hmm yeah but she's missed a ton of races, apparently rumors are only ever growing that they might be over... lecsyn4eva maybe we stop sticking our noses where it doesn't belong 🤨

queenyn MOTHER WE MISS YOU pls come back

sainzstappen Classic pattern of broken up F1 couples lol miss a few races then suddenly statements are out 😆

popgirlstm stop i will literally jump off a bridge

yourusername

liked by zendaya, florencepugh, landonorris, and 2,340,923 others

yourusername At every table, I'll save you a seat.

My 3rd full-length album, Lover, is out tomorrow at 12 EST. Sorry for the surprise but see you at the premiere ❤️

lecsyn BITCH THIS IS WHY YOUVE BEEN QUIET

mothertay miss mam we havent heard from you in months how can you drop a bomb like this so casually

norrislaren IM CRYING I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING

midnightshouse y/n i need to know if i can shake my ass to this album or i will be destroying ice cream pints with tears on my face

ynalbums Judging from the title... it sounds like it's more on the romance side? gucciluv oh my god there's hope for charles and her after all 🙏

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 1,295,294 others

charles_leclerc My lover.

Beyond excited for your album, amour. Thanks for letting me be a part of it 🤍

lecsyncharles CROWD CHEERS OH MY GOD

hamilstappen im crying they broke the streak they're alive! WAR IS OVER

charlierari part of it... y/n ft. charles????

carlossainz55 Hey this counts as your musical debut? 😆

charles_leclerc I didn't sing... carlossainz55 Yeah you shouldnt c2lovers FUCK??ABSHBHWWH

landonorris Can't believe people thought you broke up you literally won't shut up about how you're in Silverstone and she's in LA

pierregasly Don't forget the calling Y/N every 10 seconds charles_leclerc ??? Please shut up

Now Playing: Lover (Music Video) - The Dedication

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris, lorenzotl, and 2,109,294 others

charles_leclerc My forever lover.

tagged: yourusername

landonorris Will you save me a seat at every table?

yourusername Have my song memorized already, I see 😆 landonorris You know it!

lewishamilton Congratulations, Y/N and Charles! 🥂

danielricciardo I call taking most of the pictures 🙏

landonorris No???

ynlecs16 this is such a fucking surprise the two of you need to cool it down i'm hyperventilating

scuderiaferrari Best wishes to our favorite couple ❤️

yourusername Wait, I thought we broke up?

charles_leclerc Negative. You're stuck with me forever now 😘

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: taylor has got me wishing i was currently in love this is sick! anyway i only got this idea bc my tiktok fyp is swarmed with charles daylight edits and they are right he is so golden <33

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norrisleclercf1 · 6 months

Note

Would you be open to writing a mash up of streetracer!lando and mafia!lando? Maybe something where they met when he was street racing and he’s tried to keep her out of the mafia but she’s getting suspicious and he doesn’t want to lose her?? I love all your work!!

A/N: I know you sent this such a long time ago and I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it

Lando knew it was dangerous, keeping this 3rd side of him hidden. You never questioned how he or the boys had the money to own these cars, go to university without working. You had questions but you couldn't ask them.

You both started dating after you caught him running from the cops with Max and Carlos in the back of his car, but ever since then you've fallen more for each other with each passing day.

You knew something else was going on, with him having 2 phones, sometimes leaving in the middle of the night even after he's street raced. Something wasn't right, and the worst thought that came to your mind was that he was cheating.

Walking up to the house you knock, feeling sick to your stomach with the idea that the love of your life was cheating on you. "Is he cheating on me?" You blurt, not even caring who answered the door. "Well good morning to you too." Looking up you see Carlos there, shirtless and holding his tooth brush.

Moving you shove past him as he closes the door and goes back to brushing his teeth. "Where's Lando?" Carlos freezes, eyes going wide before narrowing slightly. "He's out," "At 8am in the morning? Please Carlos, we both know he sleeps in late after being out racing all night." You scuff at the insult of Carlos lying to you.

Carlos spits into the kitchen sink and turns around. "Y/n, really he's out." Carlos groans running a hand through his hair. "So, I can go into his room." You point down the hall and move towards it and hear Carlos growl as you rush to Lando's room and throw the door open. You freeze seeing Lando in the bedroom.

Counting cash

A lot of cash

With a gun

A shit ton of cash and a gun

"Lando?" Lando looks up, eyes growing wide filled with fear and shock. "Y/n, I can," "No," You slam the door close and move past Carlos and rush out of the house and running back to your home.

----------------------

"Y/n! Baby, please open the door!" Lando knocked on the door, has been for the past hour. "Y/n, please." Lando's voice breaks as he tries to get you to come to the door and talk to him.

"Y/n, it's true okay, it's all true. Max, he, fuck he runs this buisness and yeah maybe it's called the Mafia! But, but I was trying protect you. All I do is to protect you, don't, don't end this without facing me." He pleads, and you can hear the tears clogging his throat.

Moving you throw the door open, both your faces marked with blotchy skin and tear stained eyes. "I thought you were cheating on me, and a part of me is relieved but another part wishes you were cheating on me." You snap and Lando sniffles and wipes his eyes.

"My world is dangerous and hard. If people found out, the wrong people would be after you and I can't live with myself if that happened." Lando whispers, furiously wiping his tears.

"I need you to leave, please leave." You try to close the door but he stops it with his foot. "You are the love of my life, I'm not letting you go that easily. I'm coming back, Y/n. And I'll always come back, just know I'll be here for you. I'll, I love you." You swallow and close the door as you slide down it, the both of you crying.

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thefiery-phoenix · 3 months

Text

CONSEQUENCES (YANDERE HANGYUL BAEK X READER X YANDERE EUGENE)

Two psychopaths in the entire series lol, far worse than serial killers

You felt like you were going insane and losing your mind trapped with Hangyul and Eugene, you despised them for stealing you from your life and your family. You regretted the day you ever met them and if you could change the time and course of your actions, you'd do that but unfortunately, the time and tide doesn't wait for anyone. You hated the way how Eugene and Hangyul coordinated with each other and found out everything about you and even had Eugene's brother Yuseong spy on you and give them daily updates on what happened in your life. By the time you found out about the secret cameras they installed in your room and in your own house, you felt sick to the core. You felt like screaming and slapping them across the face for doing something that repulsive to you. You knew it would be a stupid idea to contact the police, you knew what these psychopaths were capable of and the last thing you needed was for them to ruin your life further. Even though you found out what Hangyul Baek did in his hospital and found out about his secret of trapping people in cells where they never saw the light of day again, sometimes you felt like that would be a far better option than having to endure Eugene and Hangyul on a daily basis

You got down from the bed and walked into the living room, the dim lights and opulent furniture along with the beige walls and the carpets would have given you a homely feeling and looked aesthetically pleasing to the eye since you remembered saving tons of pins like this on your Pinterest boards, you had no idea how far these lunatics would go and they actually ended up furnishing the living room to your liking. You'd honestly be flattered if you weren't kidnapped and if you didn't feel like a freaking hostage. You looked around the room cautiously trying to detect any movement as you heaved a soft sigh of relief to yourself. Those lunatics weren't around, perhaps you could try leaving. You mapped out an escape route for yourself, the door was a bad idea since it had a digital lock that could only be opened from the outside and no doubt they both used some kind of high tech level security to prevent you from opening the door. The window was a no go for you as well since they were smart enough to have iron bars on the windows. But the balcony was a good shot, you knew there was a ledge down the balcony and if you could just manage to get down to the ledge and be a bit careful in climbing the pipeline to the ground, you'd be able to escape! You felt an adrenaline rush course through your veins as you felt a surge of excitement, something you hadn't felt in since a long time and you rushed to the balcony door and tried to open it but no avail. You grumbled under your breath and looked around for a way to break open the balcony door, unaware of the secret cameras that were watching your every move and action. The walls did indeed have eyes and ears

"How adorable, she's trying to escape'' said Hangyul as he chuckled and showed the footage of you trying to open the balcony door on his laptop to Eugene who had an amused smirk plastered across his face. The both of them shared the same look of malice glinting in their eyes and the way they had a sadistic smirk on their faces as they watched you trying to open the balcony door of fruitlessly. "What a naive little thing she is...she doesn't know we're watching her every move. But I'm rather hurt you know, we did so much for her and yet she feels like running away like the naughty little girl she is'' said Eugene as he sighed and had an expression of mock sadness on his face. "You don't actually think she'll leave...do you?" asked Hangyul as he looked at Eugene with a stoic look on his face. Eugene simply chuckled and shook his head. "You have the habit of worrying too much...but she won't. We won't allow that to happen... and our little sweetheart needs to know about the consequences of her actions as well'' said Eugene as his smile disappeared and a dark look crossed his face. Hangyul's expression darkened as he narrowed his eyes at the mere thought of you escaping from them, a thought both of them never wanted to entertain. Now that the very thought of you wanting to leave them was forming in your head, they had to squash it and nip it in the bud before it would get too out of hand. "Let's give our little sweetheart a surprise visit'' winked Hangyul as Eugene let out an amused chuckle as the both of them were on their way back to the residence where you lived with them

Meanwhile you were still trying to find something to break open the balcony door with so you could escape. After a few moments of fumbling around, you finally managed to get the balcony's sliding door open as you heaved a sigh of relief and you peered downwards to see if it would be safe for you to jump. It wasn't too steep but wasn't exactly too close either, you could manage, you just had to be careful. The last thing you needed was for you to end up with a broken ankle or some broken bones which would prevent you from escaping from these psychopaths who held you hostage for so long that you lost your sense of time. You entered the balcony area and as soon as you got ready to jump, you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you back inside as another hand closed the balcony door shut again and you felt the hope die inside you. You were so close, yet so hopelessly far away from your freedom. You looked at Eugene and Hangyul with a resentful expression on your face as they both stared back at you with cold and stern expressions, their usual smirks long gone

"Why would you attempt to do such a foolish thing, my dear?' asked Eugene, his voice was soft yet his tone and the look on his face indicated that he wasn't playing games with you at the moment. "You're quite the foolish little thing you know...you could have gotten hurt. We're supposed to take care of you and love you and this is what you do. You need some disciplining sweetheart'' said Hangyul as he stared at you with his soul piercing stare which sent shivers and chills down your spine. The fact that they weren't smiling anymore indicated that they were really pissed off and you felt a cold sense of dread settle inside you. "I...I wanted some fresh air'' you mumbled lamely as you fidgeted nervously. You mentally cursed yourself for uttering such a silly excuse, you felt like you should have come up with something better but the severity of the situation didn't ease your nerves

"Tsk tsk...sweetheart, you know I hate liars'' said Eugene as he narrowed his eyes at you and he lifted your chin with his index finger to make you look at his cold stern gaze which didn't calm your nerves any. "You know...we do so much for you and yet you behave like a little brat. You need to be punished. You need to learn that there are consequences for your actions sweetheart'' said Hangyul as a sickly smile was plastered across his face which made the bile rise to your throat. "Wh...what do you mean?" you asked them as your heart raced madly and hammered wildly out of pure fear from their words. You felt your blood run cold, this was the first time you've known fear as you stood in front of two monsters who were very much capable of making people's lives hell. "Don't fret for now, naive darling...just rest. Everything will be clear soon'' cooed Eugene as you felt a prick in your neck and you could feel your vision and consciousness reducing. The last thing you remembered was them kissing your cheek before you managed to fully black out in their arms

You woke up a few hours later and you instantly knew they'd injected some kind of sedative to make you feel drowsy and weak. You could still feel the after effects which made you groggy but you were still able to decipher and comprehend what was going on around you and needless to say, you were not liking the situation one bit. "Ah...how wonderful, you're awake my dear...now, we know you might have been feeling a bit lonely and bored, which is why we'll play a nice game. A fun one which we think you might enjoy'' said Hangyul with a smile on his face, that didn't match the sadistic gleam shining in his eyes. "What do you mean?" you asked hesitantly as you looked at them with fear in your eyes. They both loved the way your pretty soft lips quivered in fright from the mere sight of them, it gave them such a rush of power as they found it rather endearing and adorable

They led you to the living room and made you sit in between them on the couch as they switched on the TV and 3 of your best friends were in a white room, blindfolded and gagged and tied up as your eyes widened in horror. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? LET THEM GO!" you screeched on top of your lungs as you glared at both of them. "You look so adorable when you try to be intimidating my dear, but you need to understand that your actions have consequences...'' cooed Hangyul as he had a sickly grin on his face and stroked your hair gently. "You know...I've always despised your pathetic little friends. They're like flies you know...but I don't really blame them for wanting to be around you, your personality is sweeter than honey...of course, we aren't really THAT heartless either, my dear...'' said Eugene as he smirked at you. "We'll give you a choice, since we're feeling...merciful at the moment. We simply cannot stand seeing you so upset...'' whispered Hangyul as his lips teasingly brushed against the nape of your neck

"What choice?" you asked as you raised a brow apprehensively. You REALLY did NOT like where this was going. "A choice for you to save one of those annoying little pathetic friends of yours. Which friend is more dear to you? Which friend would you be willing to save to be able to sacrifice the other two insignificant little pests'' asked Eugene as his smirk widened when he saw you squirm and look uncomfortable at the situation. They both loved it when you started squirming and felt pleased that they had such an effect on you. "Are you both insane? I won't choose between my friends! Please, let them go! They have families, they have their lives to live for! I'm the one who should be punished, I'll accept whatever punishment you give me but leave them alone'' you pleaded with a desperate expression on your face. "How endearing, you have such a noble heart...'' laughed Hangyul as his tone was laced with slight mockery and amusement. "How noble indeed but no, my dear. They've also had the audacity to get close to you and look at you and be with you...time's running out my dear. Choose before we choose for you. Tick...tock...'' said Eugene as he held your hand in his while you stared at the TV screen in front of you with tears streaming down your face, the fates of your dear friends lives resting in your hands

"Please don't do this...please...I'm begging you'' you whispered as you sniffed and more tears ran down your face. "You need to learn your lesson my dear. Now choose'' said Eugene with a slightly stern voice as you shook your head. "Not to worry then, we'll pick for you'' spoke Hangyul as he pulled out a remote and pressed the number 3 on it. The room in which your friends were trapped in glowed red as the number 3 was visible on the wall. A few men with masks grabbed one of your friends and twisted your friend's neck and you could literally hear the sound of their bones snapping before they fell down to the ground limp and lifeless. "NO!" you screamed as you flailed around and tried to escape from their strong grasp but no avail. "Please let them go! Please...'' you pleaded as your tears continued to flow. "Awww...darling don't cry...this is for your own good you know'' whispered Hangyul as he kissed your tears away and Eugene caressed your other cheek with his cold fingers in a nimble manner

Eugene pressed another button on the remote as the room glowed 1 and you could see the men in the masks drag your other friend and they pulled out sharp knives and stabbed your friend till the ground was covered in a crimson pool of your dead friend's blood while you watched on with horror, angry at yourself for being so pathetic that you couldn't save your friends from their deaths. "You...you said you'd spare one at least. Please just spare the last'' you pleaded weakly, hoping against hope that they'd concede and give in. "Hm...let us think about it for a moment'' mumbled Hangyul as he tapped his chin playfully as Eugene spoke "I don't think they really deserve it though...would you like to do the honor?" asked Eugene as he handed the remote to Hangyul. You tried to snatch the remote from his hand as Eugene restrained you by pulling you onto his lap and caged your body with his arms while you struggled to free yourself from him. The button was pressed and the last of your friends fell down to the ground lifeless and dead as a single bullet to the forehead painted the ground of that room with the spilled blood of your dear friends

You sat there still and motionless as you just witnessed the deaths of your dearest friends and hated that you were powerless to stop it from happening as silent tears streamed down your cheeks and you trembled slightly. "We would never hurt you my love...I hope you've understood your lesson now and the consequences of your actions...'' whispered Eugene as they both kissed your cheeks, sealing your fate to be with them forever....

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anama-cara · 5 months

Text

Take care

Boston Era!Joel Miller x you

Part 2

Summary: You're a nurse working in the Boston QZ and when a handsome new patient comes in you just can't help yourself. Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, +18 minors dni, handjob, somnophilia, noncon. reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color or body type

You fucking hate it here- you hate Boston, hate FEDRA, hate your job, hate the world, hate your life. You need some excitement, something new. You're working as a nurse in a dirty QZ hospital. It's such a fucking joke. The hospital (if you can even really call it that) looks like an abandoned building. The lights flicker, the glass windows are shattered, the floor is always covered in grime, some of the brick walls are even crumbling in the front. Whenever a surgery needs to be done they just dip the instruments in a bucket of alcohol, theres no such thing as a sterile procedure anymore. There aren't enough supplies or staff left to properly function as a real hospital. There are only a few doctors for a ton of patients, some people that come in don't even get seen by a doctor. So that's where you come in, the nurses. You aren't even an actual nurse, you've never been formally trained. Before the outbreak you were a radiology tech, and once the QZ was set up they went around asking for anyone who was in the medical field. You volunteered, but you had no idea it'd be for a job like this. They just threw you to the wolves and over the years you've improvised and learned what works. It was messy in the beginning, you were scrambling and scared and had breakdowns almost daily. But now you feel like a hardened nurse, numb to most things.

You're sitting in the "break room" munching on some jerky and absentmindedly kicking at a smudge mark on the ground with your boot.

There's a flurry of commotion the hallway and the door flies open.

"Jen?"

Your friend pokes her head in. "Oh good you're here, come on, we've got an intake. Male in late 40s, early 50s. Stab wound. "

"Is the doc coming to take a look?"

"Nope. Busy. It's on you."

"Me? He's not my patient and I'm supposed to be on break."

She laughs. "Yeah sorry. I would. You know I would. But my plate is full. I got a gun shot wound that's infected that's taking all my time. I wouldn't throw you this one if I didn't know you can handle it."

"Of course Jen. I got your back." You're following her down the hall rushing towards the emergency entrance.

"Thanks. Two guys brought him in." She nods to a room at the end of the hall on the left.

"OK thanks Jen." You give her a nod and head towards your newest patient as she bustles down the corridor.

"Hello I'm- shit." This is the kinda shit you're getting sick and tired of. The men just dumped him and left. Your patient is fully unconscious, laying flat on his back on the exam table, wound still bleeding. This guy needs a doctor, but you're all there is. You sprint for the supplies closet, grabbing alcohol wipes, gauze and suturing materials. With your arms full you rush back to the room. Good thing he's unconscious, you think, because this is going to hurt and the hospital ran out of pain meds long ago.

You tug and rip his flannel shirt open, making the buttons pop off. You're tearing open packets of gauze and trying to clean his wound so you can get a good look at the entry point. Finally after wiping away the dried and fresh blood you get a clean view. You begin disinfecting. There's an open gash about four inches long running underneath his ribs on the right side.

You blow out a deep breath, pull up a chair and get to work closing the laceration.

An hour later you push yourself up, set your instruments aside, wipe the sweat from your brow and look over the stitches. Given the circumstances its looks pretty darn good, you're actually proud of yourself.

You look your patient over, eyes moving past his wound and taking him wholly in for the first time.

He's probably in his early 50s, patchy graying beard, tan skin, ruffled hair. His flannel shirt you ripped open reveals his hard chest and soft tummy. You study his sleeping face, the creases in his brow and the hard angles of his jaw and nose. He's undeniably handsome.

You notice the blood on his flannel and you sigh as you stand up from your stool. You stretch, back aching after leaning over him to sew his wound. You reach for his flannel and begin tugging his limp arms out of the sleeves. You pull the bloody shirt out from underneath him and toss it on a nearby table. His arms are muscular and you notice a few scars here and there. Your hand reaches out on its own accord to lightly trace over a jagged white line on his bicep. He twitches at your touch and your hand quickly pulls away.

You move down to his jeans. After unbuckling his belt you slowly pull them down, trying to be as gentle as possible. Now that the immediate danger of the bleeding stab wound has been dealt with you need to do a physical exam and make sure he has no injuries elsewhere. You toss his pants on the table and walk back to your patient, examining every inch of his beautifully tanned skin. You can get him a hospital gown later. Your hand traces up his leg and you watch it as it moves over his dark hair, over his knee and rests on his thigh at the edge of his boxers. You shift your gaze higher and to your surprise you see his hardened bulge pushing against his boxers. You gulp and your hand lightly glides up and down his inner thigh, tracing along his muscle. You shoot a glance up to his face - he's still out. You look at the closed door and try to listen. You don't hear anyone in the hallway. The only other nurse on duty in your unit of the hospital is Jen and she's definitely still occupied with that gunshot wound...

You reach up and with one hand you pull the waistband and his boxers out while your other hand slips underneath, wrapping around his hard cock. His cock twitches when you first touch him and you smile. You slowly move your hand all the way down, feeling the full length of him. Damn he's got a nice one. You swallow the spit that's pooling in your mouth. You drag your hand back up and your thumb runs through his slit and circles around the head. You look at Joel's face again. He's still completely out but you think his brow looks more furrowed and his mouth a little more opened. You continue to gaze up at him as you twirl around his head, feeling precum beginning to bead at his tip. You swipe and gather it on your index finger before popping it in your mouth. Salty and warm and deliciously masculine. You pull your finger out and hold up your hand as you tounge it, licking your palm and fingers.

Your grab his cock again, pumping him faster now as your hand glides over his warm smooth skin. You hum to yourself as you work.

Minutes later and you feel him tightening. You quickly grab a cloth from the table and tuck it under his boxers just in time. He erupts under your hand, ribbons of messy cum spilling into the cloth. When he's done your pull the cloth out and wrap it up neatly, keeping everything it caught tucked into the middle. Joel's eyelids flutter and he makes a groaning noise. He'll be waking up soon. You place the dirty cloth in the laundry bag and step into the hallway to grab a patient gown from the clean linen cart. You wash off your sticky hand and quickly dress him. You're tidying up your instruments when Joel finally wakes up, groaning as he tries to sit.

"Woah mister careful, you got a pretty good gash in your abdomen there. Easy. Just relax. You're in the hospital now. I'll take good care of you."

You smile pleasantly at him.

#joel miller the last of us #post outbreak joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dead dove do not eat #non con #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

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copperbadge · 3 months

Text

One of the things I used to do when I was having creative difficulties was to declare a moratorium on creation -- say to myself, "Well, you're blocked or frustrated with everything. Maybe no more writing for the rest of the month," and then no matter what, I would commit to doing no more writing until the set date. I was just giving myself permission to take a little space without guilt, but once I'm not allowed to create, I tend to want to, so it's often been not just restful but rejuvenating. I have other coping methods that I've built, so I haven't had to do it in a long time, but apparently it still works.

The last two weeks have been a lot of travel, socializing and work, and I haven't had a ton of time or space to myself. It's been for good reasons, and overall very positive, but I've done essentially no fiction writing, especially since before that I was getting Royals/Ramblers out the door and pulling the Omnibus V2 together. But this morning I sat down before the day really began and realized I did actually want to write. I didn't get to actually do much because R and baby U woke up and I wanted to cook breakfast and hang out with them, but at least I wanted to write, and had a vague idea of how to attack it.

Life keeps feeling unreal -- I keep thinking something's profoundly off, and then realizing yeah, I've been putting my entire normal existence on hold for weeks on end. Even when I've been in Chicago I've been sick and work's had some unusual challenges, and there have been a few novel personal life events. A lot of what I have done has also been laced with an anxiety I don't normally have to deal with, for one reason or another.

Tomorrow are the last few hurdles -- I have to get to the airport and I have a non-direct flight to Chicago for the first time in over a decade, which are always stressful. Once I'm home, it's just the usual travel recovery: laundry, cooking, reassuring kitties. I have to get through the rest of the week's work, but at least there's nothing too intensive. The weekend is mainly free, though I'm going to try and see if I can see a few people socially and do some shopping for a party I'm throwing the following weekend.

It does feel like the hits keep coming, like this hectic pace is just my life now, but I know that I'll be home, with time and resources I haven't had in a while, and things will slowly ease up. I was telling myself I had to hold on until April 10th, and really it's going to be more like the end of April before silence truly descends, but at least after tomorrow I'll have time to write and finally the motivation as well.

I do feel sometimes like there was a "normal" that I had established which started slowly vanishing after the ADHD diagnosis, and I'm not sure I'm equipped to build a new one in the same way. That said, I'm sure I'll settle back into a groove once I'm sleeping in my own bed for more than two nights running.

It feels like the space I had carved in the world for myself now doesn't quite fit me anymore. It's a neutral kind of sensation -- not comfortable, but not painful, and equally not very productive. But it's not like I evaporate if I don't figure it out immediately, I suppose.

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starwrighter · 1 year

Text

Two out of three prompts baby!!

Another take on the Lazarus waters= corrupted ectoplasm

While not all the batfam has been revived by the Lazarus pits, they've all either been in contact with the Lazarus pits / in the general vicinity of a Lazarus pit. If we go with the idea of Lazarus water having certain qualities of ectoplasm but not all of them couldn't people exposed to Lazarus water become a form of ecto contaminated from the waters?

For this prompt let's let Lazarus water keep the qualities of ectoplasm that contaminants the people who are exposed to it. Except Lazarus water doesn't contaminate people the same way ectoplasm does.

With ectoplasm you can spot when someone is contaminated almost immediately. Whether it be physical sickness or the physical mutations it causes (i.e fangs, pointed ears, glowy eyes, anything else you hc liminals having) it's easy to detect.

However, Lazarus water is a bit more... Discreet. Not that it's trying to be discreet it just doesn't have the same umph that ectoplasm has. Most of the pits effects are a ditch effort of getting/making ectoplasm.

Lazarus water desperately wants to be ectoplasm again. It wants to be stable but it physically can't. Not by itself at least. The people who are effected by Lazarus water are more prone to violence and bursts of anger and paranoia that can hurt or kill the people around them. All those symptoms can create ectoplasm but it will never be enough they need a powerful consistent source of a specific type of ectoplasm.

If you see where I'm going with this good. All the batfam are corrupted liminals/halfas.

Most of their symptoms are dormant but it's still there running through their veins imbedded deep in their brains, some worse than others. Everything they've been doing is a way to create ectoplasm but they can't absorb it. Not only are they not making enough, the ecto they do manage to make is corrupted and just adds fuel to the flames.

Now let's add Danny to the mix. It's no secret that Danny is canonically overpowered to a ridiculous amount so Danny would logically be emitting tons of powerful ectoplasm all hours of the day. The ectoplasm Danny emits is a godsend to corrupted liminals/halfas; the blood type O- if you will.

So when Danny comes in contact with one of the corrupted liminals/halfas (it's up to you if he's on the run or just visiting) they latch on immediately. Unfortunately there is no quick cure for corruption just like how radiation lingers years after an nuclear explosion corruption takes years to purify fully and it gets much worse before it ever gets better.

As mentioned before Lazarus water wants to be ectoplasm again and it doesn't care how long it'll take to get there. Which leads to some... Odd behavior from the contaminated

Danny with his crap luck runs into each and every member of of the batfam vigilantes and civilian persona's. He ran into babs at the library while trying to figure out his schooling. He ran into Tim at a cafe. Signal woke him up when he fell asleep on a park bench and thought he was dead. He literally ran into Jason and Dick. Damian was his seatmate cause they both skipped several grades. ( The angst of the portal accident happening earlier is something I would die for) Robin saved him from a mugging.

When he inevitably got kidnapped Bruce Wayne was called. Spoiler and Red Robin saved him from said kidnaping Batman evacuated him and some dude named duke from riddlers game. He saw Red Hood and Nightwing at bat burger.

Now the meetings in themselves weren't the problem, honestly it was just a typical month with Fenton luck. The problem was when he didn't stop meeting them.

It started with how seemingly there was always a vigilante there when he needed help, it made him nervous but could be chalked up to typical vigilante behavior. Then it was Tim always being there first no matter which Cafe or coffee shop he picked even the ones in the lower district. That was understandable since it was obvious the man was a caffeine addict and high end Cafe's in Gotham typically limited the amount of caffeine they gave you while the ones in the lower districts couldn't care less if you died. It was however annoying how he would comment on how "Danny, you shouldn't be drinking coffee this young" like he had the room to talk.

Next it was the way he constantly ran into Jason at the library. Apparently he was Barbara's brother. He did however help Danny with his English homework in a way he actually understood it! For that impossible feat Danny would forever be in his debt til the day he (fully) died.

Damian was his classmate,Duke and Tim went to the same school as them so he couldn't exactly blame them for that. He actually considered Damian a friend, they talked and ate lunch together. They were also paired together for pretty much everything since nobody else wanted to be Danny's partner for some reason.

He kept running into Dick and Cass whenever he went to eat at bat burger. Dick was funny and Cass started teaching him sign language. They were also Gothamites so he had no reason to tell them not to show up at a public place.

It got to the point he was always running into one of them no matter where he went! And the meetings were getting creepier and creepier.

They started inviting him places specifically to their homes. Danny was smart enough to know not to go home with someone he'd only known for a few months. Danny actively started to avoid them when their asking became more frequent and harder to safely decline.

He finally did go to one of their houses when Damian asked if he wanted to come over and work on a project. The teachers actively encouraged him to go saying everything from " Damian has trouble making friends, he's trying really hard for you ya know?" To" the project needs to be done either way might as well pair yourself with a friend" To just telling him to go because "It'd be good for your future to have connections with people like Damian and his family,"

Eventually Danny caved on his own, he trusted Damian, he was with the dude every hour of the school day for Ancients sake. So Danny goes to the Manor and everything goes as it should until it's time for him to leave. Damian tries to get him to stay longer and when he attempts to leave on his own he is blocked by the batfam.

Now Danny is confused and kind of scared. The fam sit him down and try to have a normal conversation with him but Danny is just asking when he's going home. Bruce then reveals he has full custody of Danny and that this is his home now. Danny starts freaking out even more since this is the second billionaire who's set on force adopting him.

They try to comfort Danny but he's not having any of it he attempts to phase out but he's blocked, the entire Manor has been ghost proofed to keep him in. Danny is full on panicking right now, trying to keep his cool. The batfam are upset because they just saw Danny attempts to escape but they go back to trying to comfort him. Saying it's okay, they understand that he's not ready yet but they couldn't let him keep living the way he was (being homeless or just the Fenton parents in general) inevitably Danny freaks out with a little power use hoping to spook them into letting him go.

Obviously they have ghost proof tech and are only slightly inconvenienced by Danny outburst. They're patient after a few hours of them trying to talk with Danny he finally exhausts himself trying to phase out and the fam take him to "his" room to settle in.

Now Danny has to figure out how to escape or live with this people until whatever effecting them wears off. The butler Alfred said they didn't normally act this way and with how concerned the man looked Danny trusted him.

Tldr: all the batfam are liminals/halfas that need the ectoplasm Danny emits. They go kinda crazy and kidnap Danny cause they are corrupted. From the batfams pov it's a wholesome adoption but from Danny's pov it's a irl true crime episode

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dcxdp #I'll add to this later #Signal when Danny actually wakes up after he shakes him: oh shit meow meow I thought you was dead

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friend-crow · 25 days

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Hi crow, hope you're doing well. I have a question for you and/or your mutuals reading this.

Im usually too sick and unwell to cast spells anymore, gathering all the ingredients is the biggest problem because i have to walk and thats really painful with my crps. I feel i have the emotional energy for spellcasting but not the physical energy. I have so many spells I'd like to cast but am just stuck in bed too often to do them. Whats a bedridden friendly way to cast spells? I've heard someone in the community mention "energy batteries" but i didn't really look into it. I feel my most useful spell I've done is a wishing necklace, i enchanted the necklace years ago and occasionally make wishes with it that come true, but i don't think i can rely only on that for spellcasting when im not feeling well. Im starting to ramble so I'll end it here. Thanks for any advice.

Hello! I'm sorry to hear you've been struggling. I'm not sure how applicable my advice will be for your situation, especially without knowing what sort of magical framework you're working with, but I'll give it a shot!

Something that's helpful for me is having premade spell vessels for the main sort of categories of needs I might have, which I can recharge and repurpose as needed. There's still a certain amount of set-up involved, but if you can manage to work on them when you're having a relatively good pain day, then you can (ideally) have them on hand for when you're not feeling up to a whole crafting process.

Example: I enjoy planetary magic as a system because you have 7 "planets" (the classical planets include the sun and moon), and they each have their things they can help you with. Between the 7 of them you can basically get your needs met. So I have a book that I made for Jupiter, which has images of the planet, the symbol, seal, kamea square, Orphic hymn, etc. in it, and inside the back cover is a little envelope where I can put petitions for what I currently need. The idea is that it's supposed to function as a sort of combination talisman and portable shrine, so when I want to do something under Jupiter's rulership, I basically just need pen, paper, a candle, and incense to repurpose it.

Side note: I don't know if you're interested in planetary magic, but I plan on making a series of zines that's basically a zine version of what I described above, one for each planet, that people can print out and assemble for free. Eventually. When I'm not drowning in work and other projects.

Along these lines, I recently posted about the fact that I do my job from bed about 60% of the week. I don't have a laptop, so I've had to get creative with my computing setup so that I can use my PC while reclining in bed. It's taken a few years to get my setup dialed in, but something like getting an overbed table can make a huge difference (I think mine was like $70 and worth every penny). Burning candles in bed is iffy, but maybe you can set up an extra bedside table or something for spell work, and really dial in the most basic components you need and can keep within reach. Simple is good! You can really do a lot with just pen and paper.

I also know people who do a lot of spell work during astral travel, which requires no materials or movement. I don't have a ton of experience in this area as I tend to really enjoy working with physical materials, but that might be an avenue to explore.

Alright, that's my thoughts on the matter for the moment. Opening it up to mutuals!

#ask #wishful-seeker

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lily-radiance · 3 months

Text

Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

#x reader #fanfiction #batman begins #dark knight #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #drabble #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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