#if nothing else it can get you out of immediate danger

[starogeorgina]

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Paring: Jacaerys Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing, character death, violence, smut

1.03

The cold night air blows through the castle, carrying with it the faintest scent of damp stone and dragon. You rub at your eyes tiredly. Dragonstone was full of people, yet you felt isolated walking silently down a dimly lit corridor towards the queen's quarters while hearing the faint voice of Helaena’s soft whispers in the background.

It wasn’t real.

It was just your imagination.

Distracted by the nonsense going on inside your head, you walk directly into a member of the queen's guard. “Oh, forgive me, Ser Erryk.”

“Princess.”

The look in his eyes is... haunting. A chill shoots down your spine; you get the same uneasy feeling when you were a child and your twin would tell you that ghosts roamed the halls of the keep.

“My apologies; I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

He says nothing until you attempt to walk by him towards the door leading towards the room Rhaenyra would be in. The knight steps in front of you and says, “The princess doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

“It is a rather important matter,

The knight stares at you blankly. “She was clear on her instructions; nobody is allowed in.”

You’re taken aback by his stern demeanor. “I shall speak with her grace in the morrow then; goodnight, Ser.”

—

You let out a defeated sigh just as your halls leading to your private quarters came into view. You would apologize to Rhaenyra in the morning, hopefully before she held her next council meeting. You’d even apologize to Daemon if the queen wished it; however, you would draw the line at apologizing to that fool, Ser Alfred.

“Princess.”

You blink a few times trying to process the person standing in front of you. You had walked the halls alone and had no memory of anyone else overtaking you. “Ser…”

“Ser Erryk, princess,” he offers you a smile. “Are you returning to your chambers, or do you wish to be escorted to another part of the castle? Prince Jacaerys informed me you wished to speak with her grace tonight, and you don’t yet have a sworn shield.”

The knight was giving you whiplash; the last you spoke, he said you weren’t to speak with Rhaenyra, and now he was saying he would escort you... even though he was just standing guard outside her room. “No…no, this isn’t right,” you whisper to yourself. “I just spoke with you outside of the queen's quarters.”

“I have just returned from escorting Prince Jacaerys and princess Baela from the dragon mount.”

“The princess doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

“Arryk! It must be your brother I spoke with!”

Ser Erryk immediately starts to run down the hall in the direction you just came from. “Stay in your quarters, princess, and lock the door!”

You should do as he says, but you momentarily freeze on the spot before fear and adrenaline kick in. You vaguely remember which part of the castle the members of the queen's guard slept in when their shifts had ended.

The sounds of your shoes slapping against the ground echoes off the walls as you yell until your voice is raw. Hearing the commotion, a knight steps out of his room dressed in casual clothing, but sword in hand.

“Ser Lorent! Ser Lorent! You must go now; the queen is in danger!”

—

“My Prince,” you link your arm with Jacaerys as he walks back towards Dragonstone. “Can I do anything?”

“You’ve done enough.” He lets out a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That came out differently than I meant it. What I mean is you’ve done enough already; if it wasn’t for you, my mother would have been killed.”

Ser Erryk had made it in time to save his queen, but in doing so killed his own brother, his twin. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt fell on his own sword. The queen had ordered for the brothers to be buried together, which Jacaerys thought was disgraceful. Not that you blamed him; he was frightened; it would be long until something like this happened again.

“Arryk may not deserve the queen's kindness, but Ser Erryk did. Her grace has done an honorable thing, but letting two brothers who were born together remain together in death.”

Jacaerys eyes almost completely close when he turns to face you, and the sun shines directly onto his face. “Would you want that, if it was you and Aemond?”

“No, but then he and I were never that close. I wanted to be close to him as a child, but there was always a wall between us.”

“I’m not surprised; he is a... brute. While you are kind and nurturing.”

A brute was generous wording from Jacaerys, and you knew it was for your benefit. “I sometimes feel as if I don’t belong without you by my side.”

“You are my betrothed; Dragonstone will be mine when my mother takes her rightful place on the iron throne. You belong here more than most.”

You walk in silence until you reach the gardens that overlook the sea and the long bridge that leads up to the castle. The view was breathtaking. You smile watching Midnight, Moondancer, and Vermax fly together, the dragons playfully nudging at one another. Your dragon was the largest out of the three but the most gentle, which is why the idea of flying her into battle so much.

“They never put eggs in our cradles; I’m unsure if it was my father or mother’s doing, but I believe this is where a lot of Aemond’s anger comes from. He was jealous when Aegon and Helaena bonded with their dragons, as he desperately wanted one of his own, but then I bonded with Midnight; he acted as if I betrayed him.”

“Do you think after he claimed Vhagar his anger came from what happened with me and Luke?” Jace asks, his voice shaky with emotion.

“No, no,” you tilt his chin gently so he’s facing you, his eyes glistening with fresh tears. “My brother claimed the largest dragon in the world, and things didn’t change in the way he expected.”

“What didn’t change?”

“After the incident in Driftmark, my father never once acknowledged Aemond losing his eye or claiming Vhagar. My mother treated him as if he was an adult; my grandsire saw him as a weapon of war. Aegon continued to pick on him relentlessly, to the point Cole tried to intervene. Me and Helaena tried to comfort him the best we could, but Aemond did not want to be loved; he wanted to be respected.”

Not knowing else to say, Jacaerys brings your knuckle to his lips and presses a gentle kiss. A sweet gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed.

—

A few days had passed, and the castle still had an eeriness to it. You knew they had a sworn shield; however, you didn’t feel it was necessary to have them escort you while you returned from the Dragonpit with Princess Baela and Jacaerys by your side. She bids you goodbye when she reaches her chambers so she could change out of her riding clothing and into something more suitable for the remainder of the day.

It was only a short walk to your room, but before you reach it, Jacaerys wraps his arm around your waist and pushes you up against a dark corner of the cold stone walls. You kiss passionately; his hands stop right below your rib cage, but before things can become more heated, he steps back.

“I cannot wait until I can kiss you whenever I want.”

Since Elinda walked in on him pleasing you with his mouth, he wasn’t allowed in your bedchamber unless there was a lady in the room. Although you were thankful Rhaenyra had never mentioned it directly, just a discreet comment that she wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea of a prince was seen coming and going at all hours.

“I cannot wait either, my prince,” you whisper into his ear. “I tried to touch myself last night; however, my own fingers don’t feel as good as yours.”

He clears his throat and tries to suppress a smirk. “I should walk you back before someone comes.”

You take his arm and walk beside him. “I think it will be rather good when we are married. Just think when the war is won we will be able to finally race to kings landing and back on our dragons.”

Jacaerys laughs, then kisses the side of your head. “Vermax is the fastest— your grace.”

Rhaenyra is waiting outside your bedchamber with at least a dozen of her ladies-in-waiting behind her. She looks exceptionally beautiful; her dark maroon gown reminds you of the fancy dresses ladies used to wear during feasts in the red keep. Except hers had more detailing and the fabric was richer.

“My queen.”

“We’ve been waiting for you for some time.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “My apologies, I had no idea.”

Rhaenyra strokes your cheek and smiles, “Jacaerys, there is a bath being prepared in your chambers as we speak. I will stay with Y/N and help her get ready.”

“For breakfast?”

“For your wedding.”

—

Your stomach was in knots as the sweet-smelling oils on your skin and hair filled your nostril. Rhaenyra was waiting on the opposite side of a separator as her ladies-in-waiting finished helping you step into your wedding dress. The white sleeves draped down, and the bust of the dress fitted perfectly but didn’t reveal too much. A golden fabric was used to lace the back of the dress together.

When they are finished, Elinda quietly says, “She is dressed, my queen.”

Rhaenyra steps out from behind the screen, and her eyes immediately begin to water. She looks at the ladies and says, “I can take over from here.”

“What would you like us to next, your grace?”

Apparently the great hall was currently being decorated with beautiful flowers, and a grand feast was being prepared in celebration.

“Baela and Rhaena ladies may need assistance to finish getting them ready.”

When it's just the two of you left in the room, Rhaenyra comes up behind you with a gold necklace in her hand. “This belonged to my mother; I want you to have it.”

“Rhae—my queen I cannot. This is such a precious thing, I couldn’t possibly accept it.”

She cups your cheek. “My mother was very dear to me. As you are to Jacaerys.”

“The prince has a kind soul; I’m extremely grateful to have him as my soon-to-be husband.”

Her hands shake as she claps the necklace around your neck. It was beautiful. A silver chain with a light blue diamond that dangles down to your collarbone. “You look beautiful,” she says. “I remember helping Alicent get ready before she married my father. It’s almost scary how fast time has gone by.”

You remember your mother telling you about it. It’s hard to imagine them ever being friends, especially when you grew up hearing how awful Rhaenyra is from your mother and grandsire.

“Can I ask you something, your grace?”

She nods.

“I thought the wedding was to be held after the war was over; how come it has been changed?”

“Jacaerys needs this; he needs to know he’ll always have someone by his side.” She pauses briefly. “You will remain by the prince's side, won’t you?”

To some, the question may have been inappropriate or deemed intimidating coming from a queen, but the look in Rhaenyra’s eyes was pleading. She needed to know Jacaerys would have a companion to always watch his back and be by his side.

“Yes, your grace, I will.”

“I’m glad. We need something to celebrate before... Never mind. Let’s focus on the wedding for now.”

—

Your wedding to Jacaerys was performed in secret, and on the same spot, Rhaenyra was crowned queen. Only the master, Rhaenyra, Joffrey, young Aegon and Viserys, princess Rhaenys, Lord Corlys, Rhaena, and Baela were in attendance. Although unsurprisingly, the queen's guard was close by at all times.

Following the Old Valyrian custom, both you and Jacaerys cut each other's lips with a fine blade of dragonglass, which is what led to you returning to your old chambers to change into another white gown.

When you and Jacaerys kissed, the blood on your lips mixed together and dripped onto the dress.

You returned shortly after with a couple of ladies in tow to help you change quickly so not to keep everyone else waiting, but just as you changed into the second gown, a simple plain white shiny fabric that was immediately being laced up at the back Jacaerys appeared. You dismissed the ladies, and Jace stood behind you so he could finish lacing the last few loops and tying the ribbon into a neat bow.

His touch felt like fire; you craved him. You suddenly felt freezing, and the only warmth you could get was from Jacaerys mouth on yours, his body against yours.

“Oh fuck.”

Jacaerys hips jolt upwards, causing you to gag. The sight of his pretty wife staring up at him through watering eyes while sucking on his cock was enough to make him come undone.

This needed to be quick, anyway. You didn’t have any experience in this before; however, you heard Aegon and his friends talking about getting blowjobs in brothels enough to know the basics of what to do. You needed to touch Jace so badly, but now wasn’t the time to consummate your marriage, so you dropped to your knees much to his surprise.

Your nimble fingers work in tandem with your tongue, driving him mad with lust as you expertly coax out his every moan. Jacaerys fingers dig into the side of the chair he’s sitting on when your tongue swirls around the head of his shaft. Jace completely loses control.

“I’m going to—”

Your mouth is suddenly filled with the taste of his saltiness as his seed goes down the back of your throat. You can’t help but giggle while wiping the saliva off your lips. Jace’s face was a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“We should go, my prince, before the queen sends a search party or worse comes looking for us herself.”

—

Your cheeks heat up when you take your place at the table. The dragon twins shared a knowing look before smirking; they definitely knew. In truth, it might have just been paranoia, but whatever you were feeling disappeared when Jace discreetly placed his hand above your knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.

While the meal is being served, you notice the sadness in Rhaenyra’s eyes, which was unexpected since she had lost so much in such a short space of time. Her daughter, her son, her father, her throne, and Daemon was not responding to her letters. It could also be the fact she was also murdered in her own bed, but you feared there was something else going on.

Princess Rhaenys’s face remains stone-faced, even when her husband spoke with her. She could take her eyes off of Rhaena.

A little time passes, and the mood seems to have eased slightly. Lord Corlys was to thank for that; he was keeping the mood light by telling jokes and tales that remind you of the ones your father would say before his health became so bad. You wipe the cream off the top of the small cake in front of you and turn to face Jacaerys, who is holding one of his younger brothers, and wipe the cream on the tip of Viserys nose. The young boy burst into hysterical laughter.

While others laugh as well, you look up at Rhaenyra, who is holding back tears. You hear a faint whisper that sounds scarily familiar to Helaena’s voice.

“Children are so small and easy to take. A mother must make great sacrifices to keep them safe. She will miss them dearly.”

It was only then you understood why the wedding was sprung on you that morning and why all the handmaidens had been so busy packing and moving things. At first you thought it was because you and Jacaerys were now moving into a larger martial bedchamber, but now it made sense. Rhaenyra was sending her sons away to keep them safe.

—

You find Jacaerys in the study looking over different scrolls. “It’s late, my prince; you should try and rest for a few hours.”

Approaching the desk, you look at all the different scrolls trying to figure out what he was looking for. An answer to why this happened? A few hours after you figured out what Rhaenyra’s intentions were, she announced it to her children, shortly after Joffrey, Aegon, Viserys, and Rhaena were sent to the Vale to be temporarily housed by house Arryn.

Jacaerys was heartbroken.

“I’m sorry I ruined our wedding night.”

You kiss the top of his head when he rests his head against your chest. “All I care about is how you are feeling.”

“I just feel so useless. Like I can’t do anything to help.”

“But you already have. The queen can only do what she thinks is best, but they will return once it’s safe.”

Jace picks up a small dragon toy that was sitting on the desk that belonged to Joffrey and holds it tightly. “I’ve lost them; I’ve lost all of them.”

Not knowing what to say, you pull him into your embrace and try your best to comfort Jacaerys as he sobs. Mourning not only one brother being gone but four.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Sooo, I have a thought from an ask i saw about yandere beasts towards the ancients...

What if the Beasts became yandere towards YOU instead?

Although, the Ancients have the same feeling too, which may lead to high tensions in the air.

What would YOU in that scenario?

-A Self-Aware/Yandere lover Anon

Wait, me? Me specifically? Merchant? The person answering this ask? That's certainly an interesting thought...

If the Beasts became yanderes towards me, then I would fucking panic lol. I don't condone this kind of behavior irl, it's fun to write fictional crazy people but nobody wants to endure ACTUAL crazy people. Stalkers are sick and dangerous and need to be put away, and it's a damn shame it's not taken seriously by law enforcement anywhere (not until it escalates to violence, anyway, unfortunately)

With that said, let's terrorize Merchant for a little bit

IF THE BEASTS ARE STILL JUST COOKIES:

Step on them immediately, they're like 3 inches tall wait, would that work? They have powers and are crazy strong. What can they actually do against humans? Would stepping on them just break my fucking foot?

Send my dog after them no wait, I don't want them to hurt my dog. I love my dog very much. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him. I'd never forgive myself if I let him try to eat them and he just got turned into flour or something

Pour milk on them ONE OF THEM IS MADE OF MILK ALREADY GODDAMN IT

Hide the box of cookies I like to get from the store, because they probably wouldn't appreciate the fact that I love to eat cookies (they're just like this 🍪 but still)

Try to trap them in the fridge momentarily, hope they don't destroy my nice fridge

Make a deal where they are allowed to live in and explore my house provided they damage nothing and hurt no one

Give them head scratches (especially Spice, his head looks Very Scratchable)

Give them tiny little kisses if they behave themselves (however, if I give one a kiss, I have to give them ALL kisses, or else the other 4 will retaliate against me out of jealousy)

I will also allow them to sit on my shoulders if they behave themselves and don't try to yank on my hair or my ears or something

Wait, do cookies know what sex is? Are they capable of sexual feelings? If so, how do they deal with them? Do they have the... equipment for that? WHAT IF THEY TRY TO HUMP MY FINGERS OR SOMETHING OH GOD-

Contact federal authorities and hope that they believe me when I say superpowered talking cookies are in my house, so they can come take them away and perhaps experiment on them

Probably never sleep again because there's a batch of little satanic cookies in my house that all want to fuck me for some reason (I'm ugly and a normie, wtf did I do to deserve this 💀)

IF THE BEASTS ARE HUMAN:

immediate death

panic x10000000000

I hc Spice as being at least 6'5''/198cm and 200+/90+ lbs/kg so I'm cooked 7 ways to Sunday just with him

Seriously I'm just a short nerd irl. Assuming they still have their powers, my life is literally over

Do everything in my power to convince them all my loved ones are dead so they don't go harm them out of jealousy (ESPECIALLY my SO, God have mercy, I'll probably have to tell him to go hide in his home country for a while)

Try to barricade myself in a church, hope that the "demons cannot set foot on hallowed ground/in God's house" rule applies to them, beg God to save my sorry ass while they try to break in and drag me back out

Can't call the cops because A) stalking and harassment are not taken seriously by police, B) they won't believe me when I say that 5 supervillains are trying to kidnap and marry me, C) by the time they realize I'm telling the truth, they will already have been hanged/put into a coma/beheaded/turned to flour/cut up into salt cubes

I actually only like men irl so I am in deep trouble with Flour and Sugar especially

Try to flee the country (probably won't work but I'll try anyway and hope they don't get too mad about it), hide out in the Yukon or some bumfuck nowhere village in Russia, I'd rather face a polar bear than these guys

Probably still be forced to let them live in my house in exchange for peace and obedience

...I don't know if tiny head scratches and kisses would cover it this time

Hope that they're all possessive enough to only harass me one at a time, instead of... more than one at a time, because that counts as sharing and yanderes don't really like doing that

Try to pit them against each other constantly. If they're too focused on arguing about who I belong to or whatever, then they can't focus on tormenting me

Would like to try to stab or shoot them but idk if conventional weaponry works on them at all

If I HAD TO pick one to say yes to, it would be Burning Spice. He is sexy af. Then, hopefully, I can weaponize this and get him to defend me from the others

IF THE ANCIENTS LIKED ME TOO, BUT WERE NORMAL:

Yay, sanity. I'll tell them to PLEASE get the Beasts away from me. They can sort out whatever they feel towards me later, we've got a bigger problem on our hands than that

COOKIES: I will keep them safe in my house under the same conditions as the Beasts: behave and do not harm anyone or anything

HUMANS: Look, can I just... send them back? How did any of these guys get here, anyway? Can I please just shove them back through the portal or whatever they used to get here? Even if I wasn't taken, I don't think I'd have the strength or patience to put up with anyone's shit. Can we just be friends? I'd love to be friends. I need a mom friend like Hollyberry in my life

If necessary, I am picking Dark Cacao. Seriously, I love my big, strong men. Merchant is a basic bitch at heart lol

IF THE ANCIENTS WERE YANDERES TOO:

Are you fucking kidding me

Am still picking Cacao, fuck all of you

[wimmipimmi]

Important Things

Pairing: Lara Croft x GN!Reader

Requested By: @innammoratta

Word Count: ???

Summary: You and Lara are best friends in the middle of searching for the box of Ix Chel. When she gets injured and you two stop for the night to take care of her wounds, things come out that you never thought would.

Tags/Warnings: Lara and reader are best friends, based on the jaguar fight scene in the 'Shadow of the Tomb Raider' game, confessions, kissing, talk of Lara fighting the jaguar and skinning it, but nothing graphic or violent

A/N: This has been *checks calendar* over a year in the making 🧍‍♀️I am so sorry to the person that requested this that it took me this long, me and writing are a weird one, but I finally managed to knock this out 🤩 hope it is to your liking, and to all the Lara Croft lovers out there, enjoy! 🫶🏻

-

"Shit, Lara!" You strain to shout, fear buzzing through your body as you feel your heartbeat racing inside your chest.

Your sight of her is somewhat obscured by branches and other flora, but you can see enough to watch her as she struggles against the jaguars grip, its nails and teeth clawing against Lara's skin, and the sound of her in pain does nothing to make you feel more calm.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Hands on your head, you wrack your brain as for how to help, but your brain seems to blank, the only thing it's focusing on is seeing Lara in this dangerous situation. Your heart feels like it's about to explode, and your breathing has now become quickened and shallow. You hit yourself lightly on the head, eyes squeezed tightly shut as you force your brain to think.

If she dies right now, that's on you.

The though seems to kick your brain back to life as before you know it, you've grabbed the flare gun from your left pant leg strap and thrown it under the piece of stone towards a still struggling Lara.

"Lara! Flare gun!" You shout, hoping and praying that she gets it and can shoot the jaguar in time.

Everything seems to slow down as you watch Lara move to grab the gun, just narrowly missing another attack. Eyes becoming blurry as your fear increases, you can't properly make out anything else that seems to happen.

Crack.

Blinking rapidly, your eyes finally focus, noticing little sparks. Then a quick blur passing you makes you realise that you did it. She did it. Lara is back up with her bow drawn, ready to release it.

Hope bubbles up in your stomach, releasing a breath you didn't realise you were holding. Your fingers grip the long and heavy piece of stone, trying to lift it up enough so you can get underneath and help her but to no avail.

"Shit." You whisper to yourself as you pant, most of your energy having been exhausted.

You helplessly watch as Lara skillfuly takes out the jaguar, one well placed shot at a time.

"Lara!" You cry out once you see the animal drop dead, worried about her condition. Her head turns immediately to where you are, and she makes her way over towards you.

Without a word, you both lift up the stone, and you crawl underneath to the other side as quickly as you can. As soon as she drops it, you're quick to envelope her in a hug, tears streaming down your face.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" A hiss makes you immediately release your hold, resting your hands on her upper arms instead.

"I'm so sorry Lara. I wish I could've helped you more, I-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, you helped me more than you know-"

"But it's not okay! I mean you could've-. You could've died Lara!"

She grabs your hands from her arms and holds them in front of you both. Your crying subsides a little, and you subconsciously welcome the warmth her hands bring to yours.

"But I'm not. I'm right here in front of you. And I'm not going anywhere. Understood?" She ressures you, her tone serious but with a sweet tinge.

You sniffle, a wobbly smile rising onto your lips, and one appears on Lara's too when she notices yours. Yours eyes flicker over her form, and that's when you notice just how battered and exhausted she looks.

"Are you okay?" You ask so quietly it's almost a whisper.

She releases her hands from yours and shrugs.

"I'm fine, just a little shaken up."

She turns and walks over to the jaguar to begin skinning it, and your eyes turn into saucers as you notice the huge gash on her back.

"Holy shit, Lara... your back." You exhale out. She stands up and turns to you after she's done. You grab her free hand.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Is all you can say, a million thoughts wracking through your brain.

-

It's nighttime, the both of you having found a place to start a fire and seek shelter for the night so you both can rest up and eat. Much to Lara's protest, you're in the middle of helping her clean up her wounds on her back as she's sewing something you can't exactly make yet out of the jaguar skin she got before.

"Sorry." You whisper out as you hear her hiss again from the pain of you dabbing a part of her back with an antiseptic and cloth.

"I had a dream about my mother recently."

You perk your head up, even though Lara can't see you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It was so vivid." You hear the happiness in her voice. You feel a smile perk up on your lips as you continue to take care of her wounds. It's quiet for a moment.

"I miss her."

You pause what you're doing and look at the back of her head. A pained grin appears on your mouth for a split second, then you continue to finish bandaging up her injury.

"I know you do."

Another moment goes by.

"If you had the box, then power to have any type of world you wished for. Would you do it." Lara asks you.

You ponder for a moment, a few ideas floating around your brain. But when your eyes fall back to her dark hair in front of you, you know your answer.

"No. I don't think I would."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. As much as there are plenty of things I would change in this world, everything I love is already in it." You say gently as you finish the last bandage, smoothing out Lara's back.

She feels that you've finished and turns around to face you, a small smile on her face.

"Like your stupid rock collection, or sushi, or your gaming console, huh?" She quips, an all-knowing smirk appearing on her lips.

You scoff and playfully roll your eyes, them landing back on her lips as you both start laughing.

"Yes, of course there are those, but there are also more important things than that."

"Like what?" She asks, and both of your laughing dies down.

Looking in her eyes, you notice how they're illuminated by the fire. You would walk through the fire in her eyes to truly see into her being and stay there.

Instinctively, you bring your right hand up and cup the side of her face. Her eyes widen. You gently rub your thumb on her cheek back and forth.

An owl hoots in the distance, cutting you out of whatever trance you were in. Blinking a few times, the realisation of what you've done hits you, and you go to pull your hand away.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so-"

You feel something stop you. Looking down, you see Lara's hand around your wrist. Your eyes flicker over to her face, and you notice her becoming a little flustered.

"No... it's okay." Lara whispers out as she slowly brings your palm back to the side of her face, leaning into it a little.

You swallow nervously, senses hightened by her touch. Has she always been this close to you this entire time? You were unsure, but couldn't think any further on it as you both stare into each others' eyes.

It feels so nice, you feel yourself getting warmer, an almost burning sensation in your chest. That's when the thought pops into your head.

You really want to kiss her.

You know you shouldn't. She's been your best friend for how many years? You're one of the only close people she has left. If you do anything stupid now and ruin what you two have, it'd be more devastating. But the urge doesn't leave, it crawling through your veins like an itch you can't scratch.

And then you see it.

Her eyes. Flicker down. To your lips.

You freeze at the realisation. What this could possibly mean.

You really want to kiss her.

Your eyes search hers, looking for something, though you're not sure what. Her eyes lock onto yours.

You really want to kiss her.

You notice her face move slowly towards yours as she moves her hand from your wrist all the way up your arm, around your shoulder, down your back until it sits on your waist.

You really want to kiss her.

Her face stops an inch before yours, so close you can feel her breath on your face. She looks into your eyes again one more time, as if she's waiting for you to pull back in disgust and adamantly say no.

You do nothing of the sort.

You kiss her.

The feeling of her lips is nothing like you've felt before. They're a little chapped, but it doesn't matter because you're kissing her.

You kiss her for what feels like minutes, as if you've been starved of her. Moving closer to each other, your other hand moves to the back of her neck, threading the tops of your fingers through her hair, whilst her other hand rests on your thigh.

When you both stop, you rest your foreheads against each other's, looking into each other's eyes as you both sheepishly smile.

A silence passes.

"You."

Confusion contorts on Lara's face.

"What?"

"I wouldn't change this world because you're in it."

Lara smiles lovingly at you as she rubs her thumb against your thigh.

"I wouldn't either."

~

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all enjoyed! My ask box is open and currently taking any requests! Please check my pinned post for who I write and some rules. Have a great day :)

[persicipen]

₊ ˙ ⊹ . 𝓛𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐. GACHIAKUTA ノ ENJIN ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

ৎ୭ — · · 0.9k ノ gn reader — established relationship . bantering ノ sweet fluff with a pinch of worry ノ mentioned smoking . reader dislikes the smell of cigarettes ノreader is shorter than enjin and called a sweetheart by him ノ yay first time writing for a new series, i hope it will turn out nice! ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

With a day as fine as today, there’s little to nothing that could worsen your mood. The usual work, one could say, but to you, such days mean that everything is going alright. No sudden warnings, no calls for missions, no errands, no unexpected visitors — nothing at all except the peaceful afternoon at the headquarters.

Well, it’s what you hoped for, if not for the pest that circles your personal space, a fly preparing to sit down on food, while you’re busy putting the files on the shelves because apparently no one else wanted to help Semiu with the boring tasks.

The pest mentioned, a handsome specimen with ruffled blond mane and just as strikingly yellow eyes — your boyfriend, what you have to admit to yourself with a heavy heart — follows your every move, not even paying attention to the work you busy yourself with. And still, once you huff in annoyance and finally look back at him after he pokes your side, there’s nothing but pure admiration in his expression.

“Off! Off of me!” You complain, almost a squeak of discomfort, when this large bulk of a man slops down his weight on your shoulders, and you immediately sense the stuffy, sharp smell of cigarettes. “You stink! Were you smoking again?!”

“Just came back from a break. Where’s my kiss?” The pout in his voice makes your ears wither and your eyes roll at the theatrics of his pleading gaze. Two golden orbs staring at you with the sweetness of a small child, as if it’s not a man who towers over you and is probably twice as wide, especially in that baggy outfit.

“As if you would get any smelling like that!”

“Pretty please?” He makes a childish whine and lifts you off the ground, leaving your feet to dangle, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck or risk falling face first. That piercing scent of cigarettes now hovers around your face and makes you sneeze.

“No chance!”

It’s the softness hidden somewhere beneath the layers of his coarse, sand-grated clothes, a gentleness of his bony arms that overlap your midriff. Dealing with the strong nicotine smell, your nose still scrunched and burning from the inside, but you bite any further comments back just to enjoy the short embrace. An unspoken confession, honesty spilling through the hesitant gesture, that he will miss you.

“You know I’m leaving soon. A goodbye kiss is a lucky charm.”

Sure, a few days of separation is nothing. A good heated argument could make you avoid each other for longer; that much is true. That much used to be true.

According to overheard discussions, the missions turn more and more dangerous, the stakes higher, and finally on a trail for something more meaningful than a horde of wild trash beasts. But nobody has yet explained to you what is so valuable, like suddenly someone sewed their mouths shut. The most you can guess is that it’s a discovery, a hunch, of great importance leading up to find out more about the truth, whatever it may be.

The whole team is going without you this time — cursed be the meetings that got scheduled for you by the boss himself — and they can’t help but worry about whether they’ll be coming back on time.

“I’ll miss you…” You sigh as you allow Enjin’s hug to settle, with your feet solid against the floor once more.

“Just a little kiss, please? Doesn’t have to be on mouth.”

You tilt your head and rise on tiptoe just slightly, planting a delicate peck on his face, exactly where a dimple forms as he smiles at the tiny reward. His cheekbone brushes against your own, and then there’s no distance between you when you press closer into him, still able to recognise a faint note of the shampoo he used a day before.

“Promise me to stay safe?”

“I will.” Enjin sighs.

“Promise me you’ll come back alive?”

“Why the sudden worry, sweetheart? A second ago, you wanted me out of the door.” He gives you a lopsided grin, looking absolutely charming with the half-baked expression that’s on the verge of slipping off and morphing into something far more serious.

“I’m not messing around, you idiot. I want you to promise me!”

No wonder it gets him every time, that damn cute frown of yours whilst you glare at him. He immediately ducks down for a kiss, like an apology of sorts.

“What a nuisance you are, forcing me to steal a peck from your lips all by myself.”

With the time running out, it’s only wise to accept the kiss as if it’s medicine that brings you some measure of comfort. Otherwise, you would be left with nothing but a longing in your heart and an empty pillow on the other side of the bed for the next few nights.

Right after moving away from your lips, he adds with an arrogant grin, “you know I always come back, don’t you?”

There is a break for a short cough, be it from the mess that are his emotions, still getting him flustered to admit it out loud, or the tickling of the smoke in his throat, or both.

“You’re the one who promised to always be there when I’m back.”

₊ ˙ ⊹ . AUTHOR’S NOTE — obviously, i was writing it with a certain friend in mind, but i don’t want to pressure anyone to read it lol but it just feels nice interacting with others when you read something ( ≽⩊≼ ) i just hope my skills are not awful but rather enjoyable when attempting to write something entirely new :’3

[portablecity]

my gosh @filletedfennysnake thank you for asking~!

okay! so, short answer: i think it follows many of the same beats and deals with teh same themes of destiny, pride, great acts, submission to duty/destiny/fate, and erasing of the self.

(spoilers for the wizard of earthsea below)

(screencaps from The Green Knight)

(dev patel for ged in a future adaptation filmed by someone who knows how to film the unfilmable please please please)

first we have ged, a proud boy of humble origins finding himself in a place where he has been told he has potential, power, capability, a destiny -- and we the reader are told he will be a Great Man, go on to do things that change the world, become myth

but he can't see any of it yet - he's trying to be good, but really he's feeling a bit purposeless, and he gets caught up in the confusion and frustration of youth

but! it's solstice! a festival! and games are afoot! and young, ambitious, and desperate to prove himself, Ged takes on a challenge out of pride and hubris -- and it goes wrong in a way he could not have imagined - he opens the door and lets in the shadow, right?

and the terms of that mistake are: it is his burden and his alone now. No one else can deal with it for him. And it is transparently a mortal danger from the start.

but he doesn't have to deal with it immediately! he has time to prepare himself. but he doesn't know what he is up against - no one does! so preparation feels somewhat futile.

And then it is time for him to go forth. And he tells himself he is prepared, that he is noble and capable, and that he is on a noble quest - but he can't ignore it. it is a doom as well as a quest.

He is offered false (or true but impossibly costly) protection/aid by a dragon and resists it. He is a good man and he is trying to do right, but he made this choice earlier and it compromises his ability to do right. He is vulnerable because of it.

he nearly dies.

he is humbled again and again, and in his darkest moments he becomes a puppet of fate, arriving on the sandbar to receive and give basic kindness to people so ill done by, so ruined as to seem almost beyond life, who reward him for it.

but he doesn't understand the gift they give

great history is happening around him and he cannot engage at all with it, he is trapped inside his own quest.

and as he becomes more afraid and the fear controls him, he ends up trapped in a castle, courted, kind of, by a woman who would subvert him against her lord's wishes.

She wraps him in gold and furs and he becomes a rare treasure until he realizes what is happening.

She promises him protection but it becomes clear to him that he is worth more to her while in this doomed state, and he confronts the trap. Escaping it reduces him to almost nothing - he is nearly lost as a hawk on his way out. All he takes with him is the doom he owns.

and finally he knows he must go to meet the challenge despite the horror of it

he submits to his fate as an intrinsic part of himself

in fact by turning to meet it the horror lessens, the haunting is reversed, and he becomes the pursuer - there is an incredible clarity and beauty for him now

but only once he accepts he must pursue it to the edge of life and death.

and he knows that everything hinges on this confrontation. if he fails, and the gebbeth takes his body, he will rise to great power as a shell of himself, housing only fear and darkness

so he must own it fully, he must entirely accept his own fate.

...and then he is reborn from the edge of life and death, which is perhaps a twist on many green knight interpretations

LeGuin was very interested in balance and cycles and the wheel of the seasons and the intrinsic ties between dualities, so for an arthuriana reference, this makes a lot of sense to me? But i haven't noticed till now! The movie really made the Green Knight stick in my mind in a way reading it decades ago as a teen did not.

Would love love love to hear actual arthuriana folks' thoughts! Or if anyone knows of other writing on the subject!

I'm rereading The Wizard Of Earthsea, and there is so much more Green Knight in this story than i ever noticed before.

[jellogram]

In light of the upcoming election Americans might want know that they can spend a full six months in Canada (and I believe Mexico too) without a visa.

[acid-ixx]

ch.3: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: allusions to sexual assault, prostitution, and alcohol abuse.

"hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!"

please stop.

"i know that we haven't been talking for quite a long time—"

no, you have never once had a solid conversation with him.

and you wish it stays that way between the two of you.

"—so let's catch up over coffee, yeah? i'll be staying at the manor for a week!"

you don't want to, you don't want to see his face at all, his dismissive eyes. don't want to hear his voice, how it only sings praises for everyone but you.

"(name)??? it says you have seen the messages :( are you asleep? you shouldn't sleep with your phone on, baby bird, that's dangerous!"

he doesn't have the right to scold you, he's not your older brother anymore. and you're not asleep, fuck, you regret not dozing off this afternoon. hell, you're more than awake and aware of the messages he's sending you, eyes scanning over the train of spam that clutters what was once an empty one-sided conversation.

"baby bird? c'mon, i miss you!!!"

lies, lies, lies. all he ever says are lies and you wouldn't fall for it, not anymore.

yet you're simply frozen in shock, seated up in bed as you simply watch dick's messages stack upon each other.

you watch, and wait. it's like you have lost autonomy over your body's actions.

five minutes pass.

your phone rings.

it was the only sound that fills the room other than the wringing in your ears.

it continues ringing, reverberating throughout the room, but all you do is stare, stare until the it ends, for everything to end and for all of this to be a sick hallucination your brain played on you.

there's nothing else you could focus on, your heartbeats spike the longer the call sound continues. you didn't even have the strength to decline the call, let alone move as you fear you might end up pressing the accept button.

so you wait, you wait until it stops.

and once it does cease, your sweaty thumb immediately pressed the block button on dick's profile, even going as far to delete all the past chats you had sent him. then, without moments hesitation, hastily scrolled all the way to the bottom of the list, where their other contacts lay barren of messages.

you have only used enough effort to message dick. that's what probably triggered his sudden intent on spending time with you, no? or was this all for his sick pleasure?

fortunately, all your other contacts with your past family are empty.

it will remain empty.

so you immediately blocked them, all of them. the thumps in your heart are erratic, so much so that you had to remind yourself to breath. through your nose, and out your mouth.

that's it, right? he'll get the message, definitely. that you don't want him to talk to you, to get rid of the false pretenses between the two of you, you don't want to "catch up" over coffee, or over anything.

it's all over, you tell yourself.

'calm down, relax...' you're in the safety of your own apartment, you should feel safe right now, he wouldn't bother you anymore.

not anymore would you be led to believe that they care for you.

— so why is it that you can feel that familiar rise of bile? taste it, even? why is it that your body is shaking so uncontrollably?

what the fuck.

seriously, just what the absolute fuck is wrong with you?

you never take yourself as an overdramatic person, especially not now, at the age of eighteen where you had finally learned to live for yourself, to never yearn what you knew was unattainable. your past tantrums were no more, no more you say but you wish so badly to carve a knife into your very heart.

why is it that now— now that you were out of your comfort zone, out of their empty presences and their overwhelming absences; why is it now that he just suddenly decided to appear? why is it just now that you feel your skin scorching uncomfortably at just a single message.

shit, your heart hurts so much. you want to take the beating organ out of your chest, just to make the pain stop.

your momma always told you, she said it herself that you are a brave child, her pride and joy despite the hellish living conditions you both were subjected to.

why is it so hard to believe her now?

just, why are you so weak?

when your mother hid you inside that closet - one too small for even a malnourished child like you to fit - telling you to hush for her, and that it's just a game of hide and seek with the 'bad guys', to not make a single sound at all or even come out if you hear screaming— you did what you were told, obediently, covering your mouth, trying your hardest to ignore your sore joints and heavy breathing.

"woah, mommy! is this really me?! you always make me look so nice." a young voice squeals, the sound echoing throughout the hollow room.

"yes, it's you, baby. you who are so strong, unlike me. momma will always love you." scarred hand, littered with gashes and soiled bandages run brush through your messy hair as your small form sat on the dirty bathroom sink. your eyes are drifted towards a mirror, checking out the new shirt your mother had bought for you.

"i love you too..."

you never cried that loud when light suddenly hits the cramped interiors of the closet, when you were caught and shoved outside of your hiding space by strange men, your mother nowhere to be found. when you felt the same men ripping your clothes apart, knives branding your skin like a searing hot pan; you never fought back because that's what your mother taught you. even when they pinned you down and injected you with a strange substance, head suddenly numbing and vision darkening; you still woke up alive, no?

... you woke up alive and conscious in a police station, where you had questiomed to the kind officer about your mother's disappearance, where she had bared the news that you would be taken in to a new family; a new home where your father resides in. one way cleaner, way safer she says.

yet for the next 15 years you were neglectef of the love your mother had given you. you were only raised by a butler too busy to fully focus on you. you had compared yourself to your siblings, siblings who had achieved so much in so little time.

and you?

you are only a wayne by name, but a (last name) by heart.

but you are brave, you are strong— you came from the lowest of the low, yet you pushed through and through to be a better person, and look where you are now...!

... just look at yourself now.

your phone lays untouched on the bed sheets. it tempts you, mocks your panicked state, and you want to rip that rectangular piece of metal apart. yet all you do is stare at it, sitting upright as one hands supports your weight. your fingers clench the mattress, it does nothing as your vision darkens from your lack of breathing.

breathing.

oh, breath in, breath out. do what alfred has taught you years ago, the- the one he uses whenever you would run alone in the desolate halls of the manor to alfred's room, just because you were anxious of the monsters in the corner of your eyes, where he would help you return to your senses and play you a lullaby from an old music box right after. the one he uses after you two would watch horror movies and you were too scared of any sounds that engulf your surroundings.

your throat tightens, and you want to vomit out the contents of what you have eaten— but you have to try.

five things you can see.

your eyes, although frozen wide and stinging with tears, darts around the room. everything is darker now, it's cold and you feel so small. your apartment was small. unlike the place you had lived before, it lacks of furniture, of life, of personality. the only things in your tiny apartment were basic necessities, but even food was scarce for someone like you who had juggle working multiple jobs and college just to pay for rent.

you can see your phone, the candy wrappers you had forgotten to throw, the overflowing trash bin, an empty bottle of prescription pills, alfred's gifts on the shelves counts, right? you laugh sarcastically at yourself; even a trashcan has more contents in your shitty apartment.

fuck, your chest throbs, you remind yourself to breath a little deeper.

four things you can feel.

the mattress is too hot for you, sweat already running down your forehead as if you had ran a marathon. you can feel the tears well up your eyes, overflowing with bitterness that you thought you had already buried deep down, and your hands gripping the sheets so uncomfortably tight. the weather is too cold, winter's nearing but the blood pumping through your veins scorches your very being.

that's four, three more to go and you hope this would all be over. you hope that this would all be a dream, a hallucination, anything.

three things you can hear.

does your choked sounds count? or does it need to be anything else? fuck, why doesn't it work as well as when alfred helps you through? you told yourself that you could take on anything in life, but is it all just a lie—?

focus. focus on your surroundings. you can hear your sniffling, heavy intakes of air, and a repeat of the phone ringing with dick's name as the contact.

shit, shit, shit. don't remind yourself of that. move on, just get onto the next thing.

two things you can smell or... taste? you don't remember, why can't you remember? your thoughts keep running back in circles to the messages, that stupid '<3', the way his desperation could be felt through the phone.

it reminds you of yourself.

before you knew it, your fist brought itself to punch your chest.

thump, beat, thump.

every time your heart beats too loudly, you strike your chest as hard as you can, uncaring for the pain it inflicts you, uncaring for the way you beat the air out of yourself. as long as it distracts you from the bile rising up your throat and the unsated nausea from sitting in the same position— it'll be fine if you hurt yourself. you've already done so a million times, no?

... yet nothing works.

why doesn't anything work out in your favor?

please don't do this to me.

your fists eventually stops. everything hurts even worse.

just earlier ago, you were praising yourself for all the progress you had made. how you weren't in need of validation anymore. you try so desperately to erase any inch of evidence that you were a wayne.

it all crashes down, again and again, and again and again.

moments ago, you were laying on your bed, scrolling through social media, making plans to hangout with your small group of friends in college, trying to cling on to the good parts of your past— ignoring the empty chats of what was once family.

but even without them, even if they haven't knew that you pushed them away from your life— they're always seeping their way at the back of your mind.

you truly can not erase your past. no matter how much you shake your head to rid of the thoughts, no matter how much you try to erase any documentations, any

even talking to alfred reminds you of your stupid past. a past that eats you up every time you wake up from the nightmares, wishing that there would be someone, anyone, who would hold your body tight and tell you it's alright. your mother, your father, your brothers and your sisters— they just were never there for you for so many years. and you hate to admit it but; you still cling to the wish that one of them would...

would hug you and kiss all your wounds away. drive away the countless of dreams filled with terror and torture.

you're independent now, but at what cost? what good does it do when you still try your damn hardest to live? when you know it in your soul that you still desire for a semblence of familial love.

and now that you've pushed alfred away, you're truly alone.

alone and stuck in a loop of trying to run away from your past and failing miserably.

and all you can ever do is, well...

you cry.

the tears bursts out of your eyes like a broken faucet.

you cry because that's the only thing you know how to do. you let the waters loose, hands quickly tangling itself on your hair, ripping fragile strands apart. you cry because you've been living a such a life full of lies, of broken promises, a life where you have to constantly walk on eggshells. you cry because you want to turn back and throw away all your progress just to feel the embrace of a family who had never once held you in their arms. you let yourself heave, let your voice wail out to its deepest frustration, uncaring for the thin walls, or the sleeping neighbors next door, or the rumbling of your empty stomach.

you cry, for what seems like hours, unending like the memories of solitary isolation, like the wanting of a love that you could never quite catch. you let your eyes become all puffy and red; red like the gashes you have scratched upon your skin, like the crimson, beaded blood from your bitten lips.

you don't find any strength in yourself to stifle your sobs anymore.

not when you're so, so lonely in this world.

and when your voice dies down, when your hoarse shrieking becomes no more; you simply force yourself to stand, despite the spinning of your vision, the stumble in your steps and the lack of air in your lungs; you run to your bathroom, slamming the door shut, letting adrenaline take its course into your already tired body.

your knees, they buckle after its few wobbly steps. it's sore and lacks the circulation to be properly controlled, but you ignore it in favor of expelling the acidic bile that finally rushes itself up your tongue.

at least you find just one thing to be grateful for— that your knees slipped on the wet tiles and land coincidentally towards the toilet's rim, a loud thud vibrating through the room.

alfred says the best way to cope is to never jar your emotions.

it's painful, everything is so painful that you want to scream; you need to let it all out.

you don't care if your knees were to bruise because you couldn't help it anymore, spilling out the contents of your breakfast onto the toilet bowl. your throat constricts into itself, and all you could do is gag and force every bit of food out of your mouth.

and it tastes so bitter that you cry even more. there were some bits and chunks stuck on the sides of your tongue, you can taste the acid on the back of your throat. you feel the urge to vomit even more but there's no more to expel. all you can do is dry heave, shaking hands finding its way to cover your mouth from gagging anymore.

it's so pungent, so fucking disgusting— but all you do is force yourself to stand once more, to look away from the mess you had created and flush it away.

the tears just wouldn't stop, the throbbing in your heart could never be expelled just as easily as the contents of your stomach.

yet you chose this life, there's no more alfred to assist you on your own personal struggles. there's no more rubs on the pack, pats on the head or a warm meal that greets you every time you drown in your own emotions. it's only you who can solve your own problems. you can't depend on anyone but yourself...

if only life was as easy as it is to flush away unwanted contents from your stomach.

if only you weren't in gotham... if only dick wasn't in...

gotham.

he's in gotham right now.

shit.

shit, shit, shit.

dick is in gotham, and you know he just doesn't give up.

he can track you down, he'll find you, he might hurt you because you blocked him— you know of his temper, of his unadulterated anger; you're scared of that. just what have you done wrong? did you take something that was his? no, no, never.

you've never been in his room before. he knows yours because he had visited once, but you don't know his. you don't even know which hallway leads to it.

oh, fuck.

you stumble towards the bathroom sink, hastily twisting the faucet's valve. cold water immediately rushes down, you cup your two hands together to collect the running water.

you need to get to you bearings, prepare for the absolute worst because you know, you know the power he holds in his arms.

with the amount of times he had spammed you, called you even— there's something he wants from you, and you don't want to entertain whatever he has on his mind.

you splash your face - splotched with tears, snot and drool - clean multiple times, rub your swollen, red eyes, and wipe the bits of vomit on the sides of your mouth. you can still taste the vomit. god, it's disgusting.

so you hastily grabbed your toothbrush, pushing an insanely large amount of toothpaste on the bristles. you scrub your teeth aggressively, feeling the urge to rid of the pungent taste of stomach acid. then you gargle mouthwash, twice, and spit it all out.

your movements are too quick for your own self to catch up, but you have to do this. your brain tells you to follow through whatever it has to do.

follow through instincts, get him out of your mind.

distract yourself from dick and the cryptic messages he had sent, that you had thoroughly deleted but...

it dawns upon you that albeit all your failed attempts at bonding with him— you know nothing about dick beyond the circus incident that had killed his parents and his identity as gotham and bludhaven's vigilante, nightwing.

you know nothing about him...

and you fucking blocked him before you could ask for an explanation.

what does that message mean? what does he want to talk about all of a sudden? a person doesn't just fucking waltz in someone's life after 15 years of absence and exclaims himself as close as your friend, no?

it had been so long since you had last heard him call you baby bird, let alone even read your messages, so why spam you now?

your knuckles grip at the bathroom sink's tiles, it was the only thing that provides you balance, legs too wobbly to support the dizziness. you feel a huge lump on your throat again, but you can't just erase all the efforts you had done to get yourself together.

— but at the same time, it's too hard to ignore the panic that resurfaces on your very mind.

so what do you need exactly?

distraction, something to get your mind off of the current situation? before you run away from gotham—

you need a distraction, anything. even if it's stupid, you'll regret it later, just not now.

cigarettes? no, you don't smoke. alfred will kill you if he finds out and you can never lie to him.

drugs? you'll be shot in the head by nasty criminals scamming naive citizens for half the price before you could even purchase them.

... then what?

you look at yourself in the mirror, puffy eyes glazing with emotions you yourself couldn't comprehend.

'despite everything, it's still you, no?'

if you could describe yourself right now, you would call yourself a mess, a big loser who had let their emotions run free for too long, let themself go way too quickly, gave up too quickly, and believed too naively. you had lost so much yet gained so little. a wayne so stubborn that it was the only thing you could ever relate to your father who had estranged you without knowing it.

there was more negatives than positives, you're aware of it.

but if there's one trait that anyone could generalize off of you, it would be that you're always desperate for something.

anything.

and just one time, you tell yourself. one time and that's it, nothing more, nothing less.

once you done relaxing, you're packing your bags and making a run for it. you'll even cut alfred off of your life once and for all. no matter how much it pains you to do so, it's necessary so you could make a new identity from scratch.

it'll hurt you so deeply.

but that's why you're going to do what you wish you had done back when you were still so young—

you need a drink right now.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, is truly just an empty palace that houses buried memories.

with walls that cover the cries of one lonely child; a child who yearns for the unreciprocated love of their family. it was a cage for a child who stalks the frigid halls without any company, who sleeps in a room too small for their age, who cries for anybody to notice the pain that they had hidden with rose colored tints for so long, who yearns for a warmth that could never be provided in the spaces of harsh, black wallpaper and harsh winters.

it will always be innately lonely, and cold.

yet it's even more sullen now, an atmosphere so empty nobody could pinpoint.

no more was the voice that sings of the butler's splendid cooking. no more was the etching of ballpens on smooth paper on an intricately designed diary that stores all the rants of one's daily life. no more were the strokes on colorful canvases that paint dreams of a different life. no more was the humming of multiple tunes every morning. no more was the presence of the ghost who water the plants every afternoon. no more were the footsteps that thud in the kitchen and the hands that opens the fridge.

and most importantly—

no more were the hushed cries of the kid who resides in the smallest room of the wayne manor.

a house could be described as a building where a unit, moreover a family, lives in; but a home is what represents comfort, a place of belonging and safety.

it was a place encased with deep, historical roots.

but right now, encased in a field of damp grass - wet from heavy rain - and the overwhelming scent of petrichor— the manor is simply a house.

for it could never be complete without the presence of the very lonely child who cries for a love never to be attained.

the wayne manor, in all its worth, would never be the same without (name) wayne, a child who had always belonged, but at the same time, always wronged.

bruce wayne never considered himself the greatest father.

he could be gotham's best detective, the most feared vigilante, or the heavily beloved billionaire who donates millions on hospitals, hosts charity events, and so much more.

he could spend his entire life saving countless of other lives that do not deserve the turmoil of living on edge constantly, attend meetings, plan out his every moves, sit on cushioned seats as he broods over where the all the next criminal hideouts; he could do everything and he'll be damned great at it.

—but he will never be the greatest at being a father.

he had long accepted that fact, embraced it even, facing countless of criticism from both alfred and media alike, but it would never be an excuse to neglect or mistreat any one of his children, just like how it would never be right to just ignore a kid's cry for comfort in the barren halls of a manor.

bruce was never outright cruel towards anyone, every action of his baring significance to his moral code.

which was why bruce feels a pit of neverending regret now.

in all the years that he had spent trying to raise his children, children who, in a way, are trouble. who all differ from each other from ideals, to pasts, to habits, to preferences— he wouldn't lie and say that he never had difficulty helping each and every one of them grow to be who they are now.

living through his decisions are never easy, especially if the outcomes were unpredictable; raising a child, let alone children, could go so many ways.

the lives that he had to juggle, alongside his identity as bruce wayne and as batman, they were all an endeavor that he had chose to balance. he had come so far and stumbled so often. but at least by the end of it, he would be proud to say that he truly will never regret having them by his side when he was at the lowest points of his life.

he had his flaws and his mistakes, he had done irreversible actions that he wishes he could reverse, and most importantly, he had failed each and every one of his children indubitably.

but he really tried.

he tried his best to be there for every single one of them. he was there for dick when he had witnessed the death of his mom and dad, adopting the boy who was overflowing with rage towards the killer of his parents and utilizing his gymnastic skills for good. he was there to pick jason up when he had stolen the batmobile's tires, helping the child unlearn the past abuse he had fallen victim to (and although he had died, then resurrected, and turned cold-blooded towards criminals, murdering without hesitation— he still cares for jason deeply). he was there when tim had lost his parents. there for damian who had only been raised as an assassin since he was born. for cass, for duke, for everyone.

he really tried to be active in their lives, supporting them through their blood, sweat, and tears.

... but he had never tried to be there for you.

his forgotten third child, the biological firstborn, child of a well-known prostitute, (name) (last name), whose identity has long been erased off of the face of the internet; the scandal of a century that took the shared efforts of him and barbara to decimate whatever information the late (or missing?) (last name) has in the underground.

(name), his child he has never once bat an eye on, too preoccupied with tim, aversing his attention away from you to train the other kid; ultimately ignoring the immense trauma you must have dealt with from being raised by a mother targeted by most criminal organizations from extorting their cash. it was sickening for him to think of just how cruel were the conditions the two of you were forced to live through.

it was sickening for bruce to imagine the even lonelier years you had to suffer through after your mother's disappearance— years where your father's presence was elsewhere, years that a child has to suffer through alone without any figure to look up to.

it was your name that he had hesitated to even say, in fear of butchering the pronunciation and earning more of alfred's judgemental looks.

(name) wayne.

not even a face can be associated with you, not your voice, your hobbies, nothing.

he couldn't recall a memory where he had taken you to a fancy gala, or one-on-one father-child dates, or any occasions that requires bonding with each other.

he wasn't the man who welcomed you through the doors of the manor, nor was he the father who should've picked you up at the police station.

bruce wayne knows nothing of his third child.

if alfred hadn't confronted him about your terrible living conditions as of now, living in debt whilst trying to push through college, then how long would he have ignored your presence inside the manor? how long would the years pass without him acknowledging any important milestones that you would reach?

until your untimely demise perhaps?

he couldn't even remember a time he had at least given you a gift during christmas or new year or any time of the day.

not even the name of your elementary and high school, or your college university. he doesn't know of your friends, your teachers or what subject you excel in.

you had already graduated highschool, and he wasn't even there for your ceremony. he wasn't there to walk you up the stage, wasn't there to shield you from the thousands of photographers who would've attended should they know that a wayne would attend, wasn't there to offer you a pat on the shoulders for a job well done.

then who had to walk you up the stage?

"alfred..." he stops walking, clearing his throat as alfred turns back at bruce, offering a raised eyebrow at the sudden pause and bruce's rigid pose.

"yes, master?"

"when... (name) graduated," he hesitated on saying your name again, catching on alfred's sudden squint of the eyes. "who walked them up the stage?"

he hopes you didn't have to go up there alone, that a teacher at least accompanied you or—

"i was the one who attended in your stead, master bruce." the butler replies without hesitation, as if it was a normal occurrence. he sighs again, too tired to scold bruce's surprise for absolutely dismissing all the important dates that include you and instead turns back to continue on his treck to guiding bruce to your room.

alfred's look of condescension makes him sink deeper into the void of regret. for being unable to

fuck, how many important events had bruce missed? from school plays, to parent-teacher conferences, to talent shows— was there ever a "bring your father to school" day?

oh... he really hopes there wasn't.

his hands find itself scratching his head, fingers tangling itself onto his hair in hopes of providing distraction— but his thoughts all circulate towards you, a faceless entity, an itch that he could never reach unless he sees you for himself.

the further he walks through frigid halls, the smaller the space seems to get.

how many birthdays had he missed?

when even is your birthday?

you are eighteen now, five when you were taken in which means... almost fourteen years of missed birthdays...

he didn't even give you a single gift card out of pity. not even money for allowance, or a birthday cake.

bruce was never there for you, and he has a feeling that that may have been one of the reasons of you moving out.

he needs to make up for it at least, once he contacts you he'll apologize for everything—

but first, he needs to see the state of your room. to at least have a first impression of you, of what your life was in the manor; any clues that pertains to just who his child is, as humiliating as that sounds for a father.

which was why he didn't hesitate to let alfred lead him straight to your room, albeit the shame he feels for not even knowing where his own child's room is located.

back when he had taken damian in, it was him who introduced the boy to his own room, whom had promptly thrown a tantrum and demanded someplace bigger before ultimately accepting his fate.

... how would you have reacted to your own? he wishes to at least picture your face, probably opposite to damian's, as you get to live in an entirely different space from what you're used to.

would you be pleased? would you look at him with sparkling eyes and thank him? or would you maintain a neutral stance? an overwhelmed one?

he really wants to see you, your expressions, just a sliver of your presence.

but nothing comes up in his mind. not the length or color of your hair, not your height, not anything. he could picture a vague imagery of your mother, but not you.

it makes him wonder; does any of your siblings know what you look like? were you at least any closer to them that you are to him?

he hates just how much desperately the darkness in the pit of his chest is crawling in need to hasten his steps towards wherever your room was.

the rain outside had already ceased, but a newer thunderstorm was brewing inside bruce's heart.

he needs to see you.

as he walks behind alfred through the halls of the manor, he had just noticed how barren the other side of the manor truly is.

cob webs and dust particles litter through the corners of the untouched furniture, the wallpaper peeling off itself and revealing untreated mold and even more cocoons of baby spiders that would soon crawl out, and even most of the ceramic vases they had passed by houses no flowers, instead being covered in a thin sheen of dust.

it was obvious just how neglected this corner of the house is.

just like you.

alfred was always meticulous in his duty as a butler, but bruce had advised the old man to leave unexplored parts of the manor be, seeing as how nobody would stroll by; and to only clean it whenever he would host an expensive gala in the manor with spare rooms as guest rooms.

it made bruce wonder if these halls are the path that leads directly to your room, which it actually does, and he feels even more guilty at just how... different your living condition is compared to your siblings.

it was no wonder why the butler would always excuse himself early, seemingly always making a treck towards a forgotten chamber that he rarely visited.

he'll make a note of relocating you to a room closer than his if you ever were to decide to come visit during holidays or vacations.

... alfred said it had been six or seven months since you had left, just how many occasions have he missed?

counting only fills the dread in his the growing hole of the pit of his heart.

yeah... he will get you a new room, one preferably closer to his; just so he could greet you every morning by knocking on your door and at least escorting you to the kitchen for breakfast. he'll try to make small talk, invite you over and... bond with you.

that'll be a good habit he could incorporate into his daily life.

a small part of him wishes you wouldn't look at him in disdain if he had to forcibly visit your apartment.

he swears it's in all the good of his heard; he just needs to check for himself if you were doing okay.

as him and alfred nearly arrives at your bedroom, the two had already noticed the light peaking from outside the doors and what seems to be two voices ensuing an argument.

even alfred, who had ceased his steps, looked surprised at the presence of the people who seemed to be there before them.

bruce doesn't even hesitate jogging towards the room, unaware of alfred's immediate shift to a calculating gaze, as bruce immediately opens polished, mahogany doors, inviting himself in.

... it smells of bleach and fabric refresher.

his heart clenches at the implication.

"father...? why are you here?" damian's voice cuts through the tension, bruce merely dismisses youngest child as his eyes takes in the space, ignoring how the other presence in the room - dick, with wide, feral eyes - quips about an ongoing "family" reunion.

bruce analyzes every detail, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

small... your room is way too small, and lacks of any design or life whatsoever. a tiny bed is shoved in the corner, the closet too miniscule to even contain clothes for someone your age (just where do you store them, then?), the windows barely welcome any ventilation nor sunlight, even your bedside table was too small to be considered one; the lampshade on top of it could be easily toppled over by a single sway of a hand.

everything is clean, too clean and orderly.

his eyebrows furrow at its state. even a model's walk-in closet is significantly bigger than the cramped space he calls your bedroom.

no proper ventilation, not even any space is provided for... your hobbies. hobbies that he wasn't even aware of.

is this how you had been living for almost eighteen years of your life?

how do you live like this?

just how much has he neglected you?

"bruce...?" it was dick's voice that he had now registered. it sounds out of breath, way too abnormally distraught and out of character.

he slowly looks at dick, equally befuddled at the presence of his eldest and youngest sons.

he seems disheveled, stressed even. the athlete's blue eyes were wide and dilated, seemingly unfocused as his stance was rigid. he was breathing too deep, hand clenching his phone too tight, veins popping through muscles, and he holds a... notebook in the other, this time like it was a delicate piece or artifact.

"... why are you here?" dick tries to cover his current state with an awkward laugh, but he could never hide the furrow of his brows, the flickering in his eyes, nor the anxious stomping of the his feet. sweat runs down dick's forehead; it looks like he's been inside the room the longest.

and dick refuses to get out of it. he won't, not until he finds out just why were you pushing him always all of a sudden.

he's afraid of forgetting his baby bird once more and neglecting your needs. if you were just as self-depracating as he is then... just how well would you be coping all by yourself?

does bruce share the same intentions as him? he doesn't know, his thoughts all leading to a path of thinking about, well, you.

you and your wide eyes looking at him like he was the world.

"i'm just here to visit... (name)'s room." bruce replies, a deep tremor in his parched throat, threading even further into the cramped space as his eyes seem to lock into the multitudes of messily stacked notebooks in the center of the bed.

they were all captioned '(name)'s diary', each having different fonts for every notebook and a date plastered on the very bottom.

"and you both are...?" he stares at them, demanding an answer as he sits on your too small bed (—it creaks, he hates that it does so he promises to get you a new one, a bigger one even, with enough space to fit in at least four people just as you deserve), picking up one of the diaries in his hand; it sports messy calligraphy and peeling stickers, reminiscent of just how old it was.

the hold he has on the diary is delicate as he flips through the first page the same way the eldest child had done. the papers were stained gray from the lead of the pencil, doodles littering every page, from flowers to animals and even faces that bruce couldn't recognize.

at least it provides the void in his heart food for thought, taking in every small detail about you and your hobbies.

you like documenting your life through diaries, that was the first thing he noted about you. the entries all date far from back when you were five or younger, the earlier pages highlighting, well, you and your mother's life. though the handwriting wasn't all that eligible, bruce finds himself becoming fond of the common topics you often rant about from "momma's burnt stack of pancakes" (paired with a drawing on the side, colored with dried markers and glitter gel pens), to the fairytales your mother loves to read you.

as much as it was entertaining for him to read through your mind, it's sad how aged the papers were and how some pages were crumpled to the point some contents were incomprehensible.

he'll get you even more high quality ones, rather than the cheap paper the one he's currently holding has. and he'll buy you designer pens, or do you prefer the more functional ones? would you like fountain pens or glass dip ones just to enjoy the experience?

bruce notices a pattern of the pen's strokes, an array of thinner lines were preferred in most of your entries compared to the thick pencils you sometimes force yourself to use, as there was an entry you had mentioned where if you use thicker lines then you'll run out of pages quicker, and "my mom doesn't have enough money to buy me one right now."

even the doodles in pencil had prefered line widths. finer quality for even finer details, thicker lines to emphasize and exaggerate your art on the side of the papers.

would you prefer mechanical or charcoal pencils? charcoal is messy and smudges, bruce knows as he sees small drawings of a tiny sprite that point towards a smeared sketch of a flower, a look of disdain on its furrowed brows.

he couldn't contain the upward quirk of his lips, blocking out dick's shadow that seems to get closer to bruce.

unfortunately, there were no ballpens of your preference on your bedside table for him to take for himself. he'll find out himself sooner enough though; what materials you like to utilize for your diaries and sketches. hell, it seems you like using a mix of normal and puffy stickers alongside a mix medium to obtain different colors.

journaling supplies, you'll find a lot of them in your arsenal soon.

he'll make sure of that once he finds out where you live.

he looks at damian flipping through what seems to be one of your sketchbooks.

art is, undoubtedly, one of your hobbies too— that's the second thing he notes, picking up what seems to be your second diary right after he flips through the first one, wasting no time to learn more about you.

this time, your second diary talks about your early life into the gotham manor. your anxious yet earger energy to meet your father, how the dick grayson (presumably your idol, with how you mention him as the) is now your brother, and how you almost got lost just wondering in the manor; they all highlight your innocence and curiousity about the world. you write so effortlessly, unafraid of writing down what you truly feel.

though you barely mention the incident regarding your mother, you have stated multiple times about how you miss her beautiful smile and her captivating laughter.

he's grateful that you're fond of writing diaries, exposing bruce to the deeper, more personal parts of your life. he doesn't need to pinpoint any lies or truth. all your secrets, your endeavors, your dreams and your passions are buried deep into the crevices of your diaries, etched in thousands of words and drawings that tell bruce just who you are.

and truly, you are his child.

bruce craves to know more about you in person the more he reads through your entries.

fortunately, it wasn't only him that feels an intense need to take you in, as the presence of his eldest cuts him off of the his train of thoughts.

"y'know, before you forget we're even here, bruce," dick quips with a fond smile as he looks at his bruce's unkempt state, taking a seat next to his father who seems to be in his own world just like damian. the bed creaks against their weight, both cringing at the sound before bruce returns to his own world of... analyzing you, just like he did hours ago.

but he knows that his father knows how to multitask, so he doesn't hesitate to answer.

"i'm also here for (name), i promised to take them out for dinner month's ago." that seems to actually catch bruce's attention, as he looks up from reading your second diary, gazing at dick as if to urge him to continue.

dick proceeds with a sigh, a smitten smile plastered on his face as he recalls the only memory he has of you.

"(name) really has a knack for writing and all, right? i love them for it. when i first met them, they were just so adorable. my baby bird tried to ask me for an autograph!" dick couldn't help himself from yapping, chuckling lightly as he remembers the deathly grip you had on alfred's cuffs, how you were hiding behind the butler's legs and looked at dick so enamored. he couldn't contain his unhinged smile, the goosebumps on his skin made shivers ripple throughout his entire body.

bruce (and even damian, who had all his attention on your sketches) had listened in on his monologue.

"i was the one who helped lead them to their room," he continued confidently, tapping his phone with his fingers, "they clung really close to me when we climbed up the steps, even tried to hide under my jacket..."

looking back, dick wishes he had carried you up the steps. thing was, you were incredibly small back then, and the manor's staircase is particularly hard to transverse through when ascending, so you must've felt exhausted and leaned onto him for support. your tiny legs must've been sore once you two had arrived by your room.

oh, he should've noticed. dick swears he won't make that mistake again once he gets you back in his arms, he promises to carry you the moment you even show the slightest bit of fatigue.

he swears he will, and he'll make sure to spoil you rotten with all the affection you deserve.

oh, dick really wants to see his baby bird again.

"yeah, that's, uh, the only time we had only ever talked." he admits shamefully, opening his phone for what seems like the thousandth time, looking at your profile over and over again, one that had him blocked.

he bites his lips, nibbling his skin in anticipation, in hopes that in the good of your heart that you just, unblock him.

it was just so unbelievable, despite you having all the reasons to push them away from your life, he just doesn't want to accept it. doesn't want to think of the worst outcome; of you hating him.

his baby bird blocked him and he just couldn't comprehend the amount of hurt he's feeling right now. what's wrong with checking up on his baby sibling? on someone he hasn't talked to for a long time already?

scrolling up through your previous messages fills him with both dread, and another emotion he doesn't want to admit— the slightest bit of pride he feels that you chose him over everybody else. you chose dick grayson as your idol, as someone to look up to and eagerly wanted as your older brother.

he was the favorite.

yet he feels terrible at the same time for taking it for granted, for forgetting your his own younger sibling. and bruce? bruce feels terrible just looking at how much your disappearance - an existence he didn't even know existed not until a few hours ago - impacted the atmosphere of the house.

is your absence the reason why the manor had felt too empty, then...?

even alfred seemed to sulk more often, always having his phone around and... talking to someone?

does alfred know where you are? or at least maintain communication with you?

it seems like the family was equally keen to find out just who you were.

whilst the two engross themselves in their own personal matters, damian continues to stand near the middle where the light hits the brightest, analyzing all the pages of your sketchbook. the youngest couldn't even afford to miss a single detail, green eyes mulling over the poses of your human sketches; the anatomy, the composition. all the progress, the mistakes, the erasures... his mind seems to eat up every drawing as if it was a piece of art hung in a museum.

which it should've been— but he wouldn't even let worthless critiques lay their eyes on any one of your sketches. they wouldn't understand you as much as he does.

it's his to look upon, nobody else could understand the meaning of your art, the meaning of his older sibling's art.

the older sibling who he used to threaten with his sword, who he called vile names — a bastard child, he told you one day. he was unable to ignore the glare you sent him, how he felt a pang in his heart after — the older sibling who he ridiculed endlessly in front of his best friend, whose actions he criticized without end; who had started to avoid him like the plague after all of his incessant bullying.

his older sibling who he had used as a punching bag for all his negative emotions, who he was incredibly jealous of, who he felt the need to fight, to compete with, all for the sake of grabbing your attention without seeming frail in his intentions.

his weak and incapable older sibling, who he knew hated him with all their gut.

the unwanted and undeserved treatment he had subjected you to was gruesome.

it was just exactly like your drawings... gruesome and brutal, to say the least. as if it was a medium of releasing all your unparalleled anger. charcoal strokes violently covers the entirety of your pages, it was unpredictable where the lines meet and end, whenever there is color, they blotch each other without harmony, all the subjects of your art either human or anything else within your vicinity.

if someone else with inexperienced, undeserving eyes were to witness your sketches, they would not understand and dare say, criticize your art pieces for being too contemporary, for letting your emotions run free through cheap quality paper without any ounce of care for the rips and tears of the pages.

but damian likes it... he likes the rawness of your pieces, likes it when you incidentally find a way to express tragedy, grief, and all the antagonistic traits a human could bare. he likes just how all thr subjects you paint were muddled with dull colors, sometimes too vibrant, sometimes too neon, sometimes a mix of all— your hectic personality bleeds through the pages.

you should've... shared your talents with him. albeit the jealousy he feels towards you, the sense of competitiveness— a small part of him admits his desire to bond with his only blood sibling... he doesn't even know why he treated you like trash, yet felt so incredibly heartbroken whenever you would retaliate with a blank, soulless stare.

he doesn't know why he felt so compelled to melt into your embrace, despite never once being physically close to you. your warmth always emanates off of your body; he hates that he wanted your validation, your praise and your attention.

he'll apologize to you sooner, damian will drag you back even if he has to, he needs to, actually.

needs to get you to forgive him, to look at him fondly, and to love him without bounds. he's on his path to redemption, he acknowledges his wrongs, all the wrongs he had done to you, he couldn't list it all out but he knows just much it affected your views on him.

damian knows he should've dismissed your reactions— he was raised by assassins for gods sake! he should not be so perceptive of every micro expression of yours, but the connection he feels towards his blood sibling is stronger than any bond, a bond that he himself chose to sever and came to regret afterwards.

he remembers one specific expression of yours after he had criticized your anger issues when he had heard news of you being transferred into another school. it was a glare that lacked any fight or bite, you had long since given up on him and allowed him him harass you whenever he felt like so. but that day was the same day you had snapped, nearly choking on his

he told himself to ignore it, that you were merely throwing a tantrum (despite how hypocritical he seemed)

yet he didn't expect to be overcome with regret.

with hurt.

with empathy at the tears that welled on your eyes.

damian doesn't want to admit it but, that was one of the first times he had hesitated to retaliate with an even crueler comeback to your glare. he wanted to so badly run to you and bond with you and your unadulterated anger, to comfort you and provide you the affection you had so desperately needed— but in the bitterness and the jealousy of his heart, he had forced himself to leave you be; a decision even until now he regrets because... you had no longer seen him as a younger brother, let alone treat him as one, as he desired to.

after that incident, you tend to avoid him more and more, not even eating in the same room as him, let alone ditching whatever you were doing in favor of keeping to yourself.

he should've held himself back from hurting his older sibling, the one who, despite doning no skills or talent in combat whatsoever, who knew that he was more of a threat than a younger brother; was brave enough to approach him with a tray of alfred's baked cookies and a hesitant yet welcoming grin.

and yet he had replied with a sword to your neck and an insult to your origin, calling you a bastard child; the product of a whore and his father's terrible decisions.

he had simply watched as you had left the hallway with a knick on your neck and a wobble on your steps, nearly dropping the tray of untouched goods due to the inconsolable shivers you must've felt.

you hate him, no? he could see it in your eyes, no matter how defeated it may be, there was always a tinge of resentment towards him that he knows he couldn't undo.

you hate him, you must've hated him so much and he hates that. hates how he wants to throw a rampage over the fact that you would never consider him as a younger brother.

... if things were different, if he had never let his emotions and his past dictate his actions, would you love him?

for the first time in quite a while, he had felt tender longing and desire, his hands caressing the pages of your sketchbook as if it could bring you back to the manor.

for the first time in a while, damian allows himself to want, to dream about a fantasy where you would cherish him, allow him to melt on your chest whenever he feels the pressure of the world getting to him, let him sulk about his deepest darkest insecurities as you would run your fingers through his hair and tell him it's all alright.

for the first time in so long, he would openly admit the immense regret he feels, wishing for an opportunity to turn back time, to never unsheath his sword towards you and to never open his mouth to allow vile words to spew out of it.

time passes by oh-so quickly when you are left alone with only your thoughts to accompany you.

it had been quite awhile since the trio were left pondering about your very existence, alfred noted, watching the three scramble about through their minds. they had seemed to have forgotten the very butler who had been observing every single one of their actions.

alfred had waited so long for this moment to come, for them to realize just how crucial you are to the family, how you are the very final jigsaw puzzle the complete the picture perfect definition of a home, how much they need you if they wish to maintain even the slightest bit of sanity.

it was only right that he decides to place the final nail in the coffin.

after all, this was all to get you back to your safety, to where you rightfully belong.

—"it seems like the family has finally taken notice of young master (name)'s disappearance...?" alfred buts in by the door, a single eyebrow raised, crossed arms, an all-knowing look that just screams 'i told you so'.

he continues once he had their complete attention, "i would like to say that i am heavily disappointed in how it took more than a decade and a half for all of you to find out about their existence. if it wasn't for the long months of their absence and even a personal sermon towards master bruce about their financial struggles, they would've long been gone. well... they would be gone soon if they are unable to pay this month's rent for their apartment."

his tone was sullen as he nitpicks every single one of their reactions, a mixture of confusion, shame and regret a commonality between the three.

"(name) is in financial debt?" it was damian who asked first with furrowed brows and wide eyes, unbelieving of what alfred had just stated. "but father wires money to all of his children, right?

the youngest turns back to his father's seated form, expecting a nod of some sorts, but all bruce had was a tense jaw and a solid stare. it speaks of volumes, all damian could do was shut his mouth, looking back at alfred with a pout.

alfred expected this reaction. it was truly unfortunate how the family would never know just how important you were in their life.

yet all he could do was press on, further their guilt and desperation.

"young master damian, i am aware of bruce's willingness towards providing for his children, but (name), like you, had adopted your father's stubbornness to accept any financial aid on their part..."

the silence was defeaning now, tension so thick that not even a knife could cut through it. fortunately, the people alfred were with are trained combatants, formidle not only through fights but with words.

it was a shame they had never used their brains to connect the dots with just how sullen the manor was the moment you were gone.

"how do we...?" this time it was dick who talked, albeit hesitantly. "bruce could at least send a few thousands to them, then? or i could do it, you could just give us their location and—"

"unfortunately, there is nothing i could do about it, master dick," alfred interrupts dick's sudden onslaught, "for even i do not have master (name)'s address. they refuse even the slightest bit of a clue, hence why i have confronted master bruce about it."

it was like a needle had dropped on the floor, an intense, numbing feeling everyone present was subjected to feel.

... what?

it was dick who had reacted first, springing up from his seated position as he stared at alfred's defeated eyes incredulously.

"are you serious, alfred? (name) could be anywhere in gotham right now? unprotected, unsafe, and in debt?"

a long, defeated sigh was what he had merely received from the alfred.

"yes, master dick, you hear exactly what i say."

"but the world outside is too dangerous for (name)! we can't just let them loose in a street filled with criminals who can take advantage of their innocence!"

"they're eighteen, dick." all of a sudden, it was damian who cuts back with a roll of his eyes, "i'm sure they can survive on their own."

"yeah right, and have you even read their latest diary, or are you just gonna pretend like you aren't going to keep their sketchbooks all for yourself, huh?" dick retaliates with clenched teeth, letting himself be swayed by his own emotions. "or... you're planning to track their location without us so you can get a reservation to visit them first?"

"calm down, dick—" bruce stands, immediately holding dick back, gripping the athlete's tense shoulders.

"why should i, bruce?! (name) can be anywhere, we— i can't afford to bide time on anything but them!" he glared back at his father, slammimg his fist onto your bedroom walls without hesitation. cracks immediately formed on the chipped wallpaper, a testament to dick's strength; you'll be relocated to another room, a better one anyways and they'll... they'll turn this one into a bigger atelier for you.

dick just needs to let his anger out, yeah... unfortunately, his father seems to think otherwise.

bruce retaliates with a snarl, "we need a solid plan, dick. we can't just randomly search where they are—"

"look, if none of you are willing to help, then fine, i'll track (name) all by myself—"

"— i've never mentioned not coming, grayson." damian cuts him off with a glare, possessively holding all your sketchbook in one hand. "i'll be the one spending time with them first."

"yeah, right... and you, bruce? you coming with or no?"

defeated, bruce replies, "... you already know the answer, dick."

"of course, dad. glad to know we're on the same team after all," dick lets out an airy laugh, returning to his old demeanor. but bruce could easily pinpoint the sharp edge to his giggles, how calculated it is and how it's all merely a cover up to hide the unbearable itch to get you into his arms.

not like bruce could help it too, feeling the same way dick does— all he wants to do is see you for himself after all.

"then call the others into the batcave, now. tell them it's a priority mission, don't let them say otherwise, and don't settle on any excuses."

bruce is so grateful that he had his hands on your diaries, that he was given the grace to read through your entries and embrace even the slightest clue about you.

although there was no face to associate with your name, no photograph nor portrait— he at least has an idea of your personality, of what you like and prefer; something that bruce would hold dear, something that feeds the growing urge to find you.

find you to not only correct his mistakes, to make up for all the lost time, but to also get closer to you. to bond with his child, the one he should've focused on all those years ago. the one who, despite showing disinterest to vigilantism, chose to not fall deep into the pits of resentment, of committing heinous acts— you had chosen to run away from them without any intentions of badmouthing your own family even after the years of neglect.

his child, (name) wayne.

you were a symbol of what he had strived to cherish, to protect. it was your innocence through these pages, your eagerness to the world despite its cruelty, that relays the message to bruce that he should've centered his attention on both you and tim instead of just tim.

maybe then the dispair he had felt after jason's death would've been less devastating, maybe then you'd act as his source of light in the darkness he had choose to brood in. maybe then he wouldn't have acted so rash, so impulsive and tense.

after all, you had lost your mother too early, and your father was just somebody you can watch through the television and read through the newspaper.

and you? you were forced to take the short end of the stick, without any familial attention nor emotional support whatsoever— a substantial failure on bruce's part. you didn't deserve anything you were subjected to, didn't deserve to know what pain and despair felt like.

bruce should've been the father who had to shoulder all your burden. he should've been there for you as he was there for all your other siblings.

he should've been the man who would kiss your wounds away whenever you go out to the park with him to play. he should've been the man who would sit on the crowded bleachers to watch you perform on a talent show. he was supposed to be the father who would hold you close to your chest as you cry about your first heartbreak, about your overdue projects, about the bullies in the school.

but he wasn't that father for you. and now, you seek love and attention from people who weren't even family. because they had failed you, he had failed you.

there was so much things about you that he doesn't know of, so much he had missed out on. his absence was a constant in your life; what would you have felt if he suddenly barged in on it then? especially now that you've moved out on the presumption of neglect?

but could he help it if he does?

could bruce help it if he was already concocting a way to bring you back? alfred had explicitly told him that you were living off of debt

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,100+ words. no beta we just die. undertale reference. this is my least favorite chapter LMAO, despite it's length i had to waste blood sweat and tears for this and i hate it so much. anways guys pls comment or send as ask if u like this and what's good abt it bec this chapter literally made me question my ability as a write 😭 erm im gonna take a break after this and mostly answer asks bec istg my energy is so drained. also is it jst me or does everyone default the reader as female ^^' it's jst weird for me bec i always write them as gn/male. oh and if anyone is wondering, yes i am gonna add the batgirls too bec they r family !! the entire family (universe) is obsessed with u !! also yall i cant add anymore to the taglist, tumblr won't allow me.

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku , @okaybutfullhomo , @trasshy-artist , @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa , @ilovvmyhusband , @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony , @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts , @darling006 , @starringyau , @samanthahanes, @rosecentury , @jaythes1mp , @pi1nkl0ver , @i-thirsty-boy, @sharks-are-cool-l, @silverklaus, @traumaramacenter , @maddimoon , @anxrq, @thedarknesslord , @h0rr0r-10ver-69 , @lazy-idate , @cupids-pretty-boy , @alishii, @mel-star636 , @sitepathos , @freakyotaku059-blog , @dirtydiavolo, @sunbleachedantlers, @24hrsoflanii, @ceramic-raven , @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit , @tdickensstuff4 , @thickerthanthieves , @arlandvery , @distressed-lezbo, @bunbunboysworld , @bellethesleepypotato, @nebuluma, @alliwantisadonut, @alishii, @kusakiguzen, @sirenetheblogger, @emmbny, @ryukyuin, @solkara, @starsdotalk, @nightstarblue, @huhuhhuhh, @shadowpup163, @sunshine-skz, @24hrsoflanii, @bazellawrites, @pato-spoiler-27, @harumy07cat, @rains-mae, @funnybunnyxxx, @littlelilithspost, @howisgroguthiscute, @yuyuzi-ling, @tullipam, @coldcrusadehideout, @princessloveweird, @hybridcon

[angelfic]

— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…��

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

© angelfic 2023.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Touching kny men's frogs by accident

Pairings: Sanemi x fem!reader; Giyu x fem!reader; Rengoku x fem!reader; bonus: Tengen x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Warnings: Not smut but it's getting heated y'all, heavy inspiration from apothecary diaries hehehehe, enjoy babes

I didn't feel like writing for quite some time and would totally appreciate you showing some love and support 🤍

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“I can’t fucking stand you”, you hiss through gritted teeth, body feeling like exploding any given minute.

Out of all the people around you, why does it always have to be him you’re assigned with? Why not Giyu, why not Rengoku? No, it’s always the asshole himself, the devil in person.

“Join the club. I can’t stand you either, but at least I’m having fun with it”, he jeers back, the veins on his forehead almost popping.

If there’s one thing he hates more than anything else on this planet, it has to be you. Sanemi’s eyes glare you up and down as you walk in front of him, feet stomping onto the ground demonstratively while you make your way to the mansion you were assigned to.

No, that’s not true. If there’s one thing he hates more than anything else on this planet, it has to be that you hate him.

“Let’s just get this shitty mission over with”, you mumble under your breath.

Fuck, you’re almost able to feel his gaze burning through your back while it takes all your focus not to trip like an idiot. You hate to admit it, hate to even think about it, but somehow…

Why does the way he holds his sword have to be so damn attractive? Why does his voice force your heart to skip a beat, your knees to feel oh so weak? Why does it have to be him, the guy who hates you more than anyone else? You’re nothing but a fool for falling for him so hard. God, you really need to pull yourself together. Maybe telling yourself over and over that you hate him as well will finally force some sense back into your brain.

Will it? Or maybe, just maybe telling him about those things might help. Maybe you need to get this off your chest, maybe you need to feel him rejecting you to finally move on. You clench your hands into tight fists, heartbeat picking up in an instant. Yes, you just have to do this. There’s no way you’ll be able to act like that forever. And after that, after he rejected you like the asshole he is, you’ll definitely be able to hate him like you’re supposed to.

“Sanemi, I really have to-“

But just when your courage took over, you aren’t able to complete your sentence. A pair of razor-sharp teeth shoots just barely past your throat. An animal? A demon? You didn’t even realize that the sun is already fully set, didn’t even hear this lower-ranked demon coming. A dangerous mistake that right now, might cost your life.

“Watch out!”, Sanemi cries out behind you.

Images start to blur and overlap, you feel your body falling towards the cold hard ground. Are you dead, injured? Time seems to stand still, the only thing you’re able to do is pressing your eyes shut.

Until you land.

Softly.

“(y/n)…”

You clench your hands even harder, body not able to comprehend what just happened. You were on your way to the ground, without any doubt. How is it possible that you landed so softly? Did the demon eat you, eventually?

“Can you just…stop?”

“Sanemi?”

Immediately, your eyes dart towards the sound of his whiny voice.

Underneath you.

Sanemi Shinazugawa is lying under your very own body, trapped between your legs, kept in place by your hand.

Your hand…What is that soft feeling? A frog, maybe? You squeeze a little tighter. To be honest, you never really touched a frog-

“(y/n)!”, Sanemi cries your name in a way he’s never done before, his cheeks so bright red that it leaves worry lines all over your face.

“Did you catch a fever? No wonder considering that cold wind you’ve made earlier while training. I told you over and over that-“

“Your hand”, Sanemi presses out.

“Remove your fucking hand.”

Your hand? You shake your head in sheer confusion. What on earth does this have to do with your hand?

While one of your palms rests flat against the cool ground, the other still holds onto that squishy but somehow comforting thing. Your eyes wander down your own arm, searching for what might be a frog.

You swallow hard, hand snapping away in an instant.

God, you want to die. Right here on the spot. Without any last words.

Is this really, did you really touch him…there?

“It wasn’t a frog”, you mutter in sheer horror while lifting yourself off the boy underneath you.

“A frog!?”

“I…I thought this was a frog! Why didn’t you tell me earlier that I…that I touched you there!?”, you cry out in nothing but horror.

“Why the hell did you think it was a frog, idiot? I definitely don’t feel like a frog”, Sanemi gives back while grabbing your arm.

“And stop wiping your fucking hand like you just touched something dirty!”

“I…I need to go now”, you announce in a haste.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You really touched Sanemi down there. Sanemi Shinazugawa, the boy you always hated. No, the boy you secretly love.

And that’s definitely worse.

“Stay right where you are, (y/n)…We…We still have this stupid mission going and I don’t wanna get scolded by Shinobu for scaring you away”, the white-haired man mumbles, the pressure he puts on your wrist now becoming more gentle.

“Right.”

Get yourself together. Acting like a dumb teenager doesn’t help the situation either. As if nothing happened, you straighten your shoulders and start walking towards the estate again.

An uneasy silence begins settling between both of you, Sanemi just strolling by your side without even looking your way. Fuck, this is so awkward and strange. What are you supposed to do? Not saying a word until the mission is over, talking about the weather?

“Thank you for saving me from that demon earlier”, you blurt out without thinking twice.

“I’m still not over the fact that you called me a frog…”, he mumbles while shaking his head.

“What else was I supposed to say? I really thought it was a frog!”, you try to defend yourself.

In the split of a second, you find yourself pinned against a nearby tree.

“A frog, huh? No problem, I’m gonna show you it’s anything but a frog”, he hisses though gritted teeth.

„S-show me what?“

Giyu Tomioka

„You need to listen to your surroundings. The only thing you’re fighting with are your eyes”, Giyu explains briefly while putting a blindfold over your eyes.

Word of protest get stuck in your throat. No, it took you way too long to convince the water hashira to train you. To be exact, a couple of letters from Sakonji and you begging on your knees. You’ll definitely won’t risk him turning his back on you again over something as stupid as a blindfold.

“You need to focus on your other senses as well.”

Like the sound of his calm voice that makes your heart skip a beat? Or the faint smell of grapes that sticks to his clothes and tingles your nose?

“I said focus”, he warns you.

You blink into the darkness and straighten your shoulders. He’s right. You’re here to get trained by the water hashira and not to pine after him. You have to prove yourself. You have to show him you’re worthy of his time.

“Go.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. With a swift motion you dart forwards, follow the sound of his steps. You furrow your eyebrows while desperately trying to focus on the ever so slightly crush of branches underneath his feet, your bare skin eager to feel the tiniest brush of wind.

But before you’re even able to detect him, you feel his hand roughly slapping the back of your head.

“You’re not trying good enough”, he comments calmly.

That’s it, the moment you’ve been waiting for. You turn around as fast as possible, your arm on its way to hit him.

Now you have Giyu, now you’re finally able to strike back.

Your hands hold onto something when he forces you around swiftly.

And then you hit the ground.

“What the hell was that?”, you bark while yanking away that stupid blindfold.

But when your eyes meet his, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Giyu? Are you…alright?”

His cheeks are bright red, a thin coat of sweat covering his forehead while he stares at you with widened eyes. What is going on? Is there something behind both of you?

“(y/n)…”

He breathes out your name like a prayer, a minor whimper escapes his oh so beautiful lips.

“Hey, your worrying me. What’s going on?”, you question, eyes scanning him up and down.

Until your gaze wanders to your very own hand.

That rest just where his private parts are.

“Oh!”

Immediately, you stumble backwards while wiping your hand against your uniform like the idiot you are. How the hell did you not realize that you were touching him there?

“I-I…I’m so s-sorry! It wasn’t on purpose!”, you cry out immediately.

You’re screwed. What if Giyu thinks you’re a disgusting freak, a pervert? You never touched a man like that in your entire life, never knew what it would feel like. But…you never imagined it to feel this big. No wonder though, Giyu definitely seems like the kind of guy who keeps his secrets to himself.

“(y/n), can you…stop staring at me like that?”, he mumbles.

Your dirty eyes widen when you start to notice that you were still staring at his pants.

“I’m so sorry!”

“I think I need to go for a few minutes”, he announces awkwardly while getting up.

“What? Please don’t leave, I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself! I will be more careful, I will make sure something like this n-“

“(y/n), please just stop talking. I need to calm down. Now excuse me.”

“But Giyu, please don’t leave me hanging! I don’t want us to stop training, there’s still so much you need to teach me-“

“I need a couple of minutes to…take care of something.”

“To take care of something?”, you repeat visibly confused.

What on earth does he have to take care of now? His very own hand wanders to his pants, adjusting what looks like a visible bump.

A bump.

You swallow hard.

“Oh.”

Instinctively, you turn around, your cheeks now bright red.

“O-okay. Got it. Sorry”, you mutter.

Kyojuro Rengoku

“(y/n), stay by my side!”, Kyojuro instructs you while dashing down the dark forest.

Your heart pumps rapidly, mouth already tasting like iron. To be honest, you are exhausted. Exhausted of running, exhausted of fighting, exhausted of this cruel night. What time is it? When will the sun finally rise again? The only thing that keeps you going is him. The man who runs in front of you and shields you from demon attacks as often as possible.

Him, Kyojuro Rengoku.

“I can’t do this anymore”, you mutter when your sight already starts to get foggy.

Kyojuro turns around, eyes springing back and forth between you and the army of demon who dash behind both of you.

What now? He can’t watch out for you while killing off all those demons. No, he’s forced to wait until help arrives. Otherwise, you might get hurt. Or even worse…

He shakes his head ever so slightly, eyes focusing on what’s in front of him. Kyojuro was never the type to hide like a coward, but right now, this might be your only chance.

“Follow me.”

Gently, he grabs your hand and drags you behind him, dashing towards what looks like a small cottage at neck-breaking speed.

“Kyojuro, what are you doing?”, you question in sheer confusion.

He managed to leave all those demons behind, now running straight towards the cottage in front of them. What is his plan?

“We will hide until help arrives”, he explains briefly.

With a swift motion, he opens and closes the door behind your trembling figure, eyes darting around the room without a real aim.

Until they land on a closet.

“Hiding? But-“

“I’m sure Uzui will arrive within the next few minutes. But with you injured like this and countless demons chasing after us, I’m not able to defeat them by myself while still making sure you’re fine”, he explains briefly while gently shoving you into the closet.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when he pushes himself inside next to you and closes the door, so close that you’re able to feel his breath tickling against your cheek.

“Thank you for thinking about me”, you breathe into the suddenly so private space.

“I always will, (y/n).”

A warm feeling spreads in your stomach as well as your now pounding heart. It’s hard not to fall for a perfect man like him. Him who engulfs you with the sheer heat of his body. Him, who has never been this close to you before. Him, the man you love since the first time you saw him.

Your feelings threaten to overpower you just like your dizziness. In the search for hold, you adjust your body in the tiny space, hands searching for support.

A minor whine fills the otherwise quiet place, coming straight from Kyojuro’s lips.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself as well?”, you question, now pulled out of your trance.

You didn’t even have the time to think about Kyojuro with all those demons chasing after you. What if he got injured? How careless of you to not check on him sooner.

“No, it’s just…You’re squeezing my pelvic area”, he presses out.

“W-what?”, you shriek, instantly removing your hand.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought I was holding onto a knob!”, you try to explain in an instant.

“(y/n), you are killing me”, he suddenly mutters with unusual low voice.

“I do…what?”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself trapped between his strong arms, the heat radiating from his body threatening to burn you alive while your glossy eyes stare at him through the darkness.

“I had my eyes on you for quite some time now. If I’m being honest, I developed feeling for you a long time ago.”

Feelings? Kyojuro Rengoku developed feelings? For you? You have to be dreaming, hallucinating due to blood loss. But the pressure of his hands against your back is real just like his breath that caresses your face gently.

“Kyojuro, I-“

You aren’t able to finish your sentence. The split of a second is all it takes for the doors of the closet to swing open.

“Now, look what we have here. Two lovebirds cramped into a tiny space with (y/n)’s hand…Oh, I might have interrupted something here”, Tengen jeers at both of you with a dirty smile plastered onto his face.

“Get away from here right now!”, you cry out along with slapping his shoulder roughly.

“Embarrassed because I caught you?”

“You didn’t catch us! This was…an accident.”

“And accident?”

“An accident”, Koyjuo confirms.

“You can’t fool me, lovebirds. But for now, let’s focus on those demons”, Tengen comments dryly while drawing his swords.

Bonus: Uzui Tengen

“You need to help me”, your beloved husband presses out through gritted teeth, his face twisted in pain.

“Yeah, sure I’ll do anything!”

You have to blink a few times against the wave of panic that threatens to take you over, Uzui’s blood sticking to your hands uncomfortably. You need to get yourself together, need to focus on helping your husband after this rough mission.

“Press your hand against my leg and stop the bleeding”, he chokes, his head now resting against the rough ground.

“Okay, I can totally do that!”, you mutter.

There’s no time to waste. As fast as possible, you press your trembling palm against the warmth of his body, your eyes scanning his face for any reaction when a sudden whimper escapes his lips.

“(y/n)…I always love when you touch me there, but right now, I need you to press your hand against my leg.”

“Oh!”

Immediately, you remove your hand from his groin and press it onto the gaping wound on his leg.

“I guess that was habit.”

"Well, now I'm horny and injured...", Tengen mumbles under his breath.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like what I came up with <3

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[nightingale-prompts]

God's TV- DC x DP prompt

Accidentally summoning a god from another dimension can happen, especially when cults are involved. However, no can could predict that the not only was the god a teenage boy but also a very bored teenage boy who didn't want to leave.

So he stayed and moved into Titans tower.

Danny is helpful (when he wants to be) but rarely goes out on missions. He says they are boring and nothing is dangerous enough to exert the effort. Instead, he minds the medical bay. Having a healer more than made up for the lack of help.

It's not like anyone disliked Danny or thought he didn't do anything it was just that he was unpredictable. Danny could be nice, considerate, and even sweet if he was working in the medbay. He could also be a pain in the ass anywhere else. He loved pranks and scaring people with his powers. He was harmless though.

No one really knew what he did all day. He was usually in his room doing something they guested. Said room was an anomaly. It was larger on the inside having been made into a pocket dimension. The appearance and organization of the room changed every time you went in.

It was after one mission that the team learned what was in the room.

A rogue had used their invention to erase Superboy's memories and they didn't know what to do. They took him to Danny who was currently rearranging the medicine by color. They hoped that his powers covered mind-altering afflictions. Unfortunately, Danny couldn't wave a hand and fix this.

Instead, Danny took the group to his room. The decor was neon Tokyo meets space right now. The furniture was currently floating and almost hitting Wonder Girl in the head with an end table. Of course, there was no gravity here.

"Stay here while I grab it," Danny said flying up the vertical corridor.

While he was gone the room rearranged itself into a contemporary format. The furniture grounded itself and shifted into a normal living room.

Danny returned with a cart and a headset. He placed a card he pulled out of the cart into the headset and put it on the dazed Superboy's head.

"Wait what is that?" Tim asked.

"It's his memories. I kept a backup in case this happened." Danny shrugged.

Immediately everyone began asking what the hell does that mean and why does he have that.

"Oh please, this dimension has this happened all the time. Amnesia is so cliché and cheap. I saw a pattern and decided the easiest way to prevent you from losing the entirety of your lives was to make save states of your memories." Danny said matter of fact.

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose.

Impulse studied the rack of cases and looking for the card with his name on it.

Wondergirl sighed, she was used to this from Robin but even he wouldn't go this far.

"What? It's not like just anyone can find these. Only you can access your own memories anyways. I just decided to repurpose my RE:Viewer." Danny pouted.

"What is a reviewer?" Wally asked flipping through the cases. Each one had titles like moves or shows with an arrangement of stickers.

"The RE:Viewer is something I created to catalog things I've seen looking into other dimensions. I don't have an infinite memory you know. But the longer I have my title the more I'll lose touch with my mortality. These things help me stay close to people by giving me the chance to remember how it feels. I also have been using them to get the stories of others. Keeping their experiences like you'd keep a TV show or movie. So many stories could have been lost to time but now they are saved. I use them to teach myself." Danny smiled.

The concept genuinely sounded interesting. Like experiencing a movie in 4d.

It had been 3 minutes before Kon took off the headset and back to his old self.

Danny pulled the input card out and it disappeared into another realm with a flick of the wrist. Danny was completely honest that the copies were inaccessible to everyone but him.

"You feeling alright Superboy? Your memory should be backed up until a week ago." Danny said shining a light in his eye.

"I'm fine. I think. What happened?" Kon asked batting the light out of his eyes.

"Explanation later. Take a nap first. You aren't concussed at least." Danny informed.

"What are the stickers for?" Wally said pointing at the rainbow of colors the card cases had.

"Just the emotions associated with the experiences. Orange is comedy, red is action, pink is romance, and blue is tragedy." Danny listed. "That one with the pink is one of my favorites. I meddled a bit in that world. Two people who had never met fell in love at two points at different times. One of them was doomed to die but I worked my magic on a mirror that allowed them to meet once. They shared notes left in different places for the other months ahead. Makes you believe in true love. A real tear-jerker."

"What about the black stickers?" Wally asked.

"Don't touch the black ones," Danny said darkly, smacking his hand away. "You don't need to know about those. I don't like thinking about them."

"So you just take the memories of others and put them inside your machine to replay later?" Batgirl asked. "Isn't that kind of wrong?"

"No, I asked permission. I usually pull them aside at some point and ask. If it's my memories (that's the green stickers) I don't need to. The rainbow ones are simulations. Like a video games." Danny responded patting her on the back for not being to hard on him about this admittedly weird situation.

"So what's the black one with the rainbow sticker?" Wally asked picking up the case that was obviously stuffed in the back.

"STOP TOUCHING THOSE!" Danny yelled pulling him away.

[liloinkoink]

one thing i think people get wrong about Martyn in the life series is he really isn’t loyal

like yeah, we all know him as the Hand, following the Red King as far as their shared grave, but that is… truly the outlier and not the norm with him

i mean, let’s take a brief look at other seasons. i can’t speak to Secret Life, as it came out when i was incredibly busy and i haven’t yet had time to watch it, but what about the others?

he won Limited Life because he’s a chronic traitor! he betrayed Scott, his ally for the whole season, so that he could win, and said he’d been planning it / wanting to do it the whole session. spent a whole season protecting and helping Scott, and laughed in his face to betray as soon as he saw a shot to do so

Double Life was a whole mess of Martyn and weird loyalties. just one example: he spent all of the first session hanging out with Pearl in favor of even looking for either of their soulmates, with no regard for how he’d been putting his soulmate in danger. when their soulmates dumped them due to being ignored all session and stormed off, he dumped Pearl just because. one session in and he’s betrayed both his soulmate and his day one alliance!

Last Life he teamed with the Southlanders and then made the Shadow Alliance in secret, so he was on two teams and never truly committed to either. he tried to kill Grian basically immediately when he got boogeyman, for example, and in the final fight he tried to lure Ren to himself by offering to team and then tried to blow Ren up

of course, i’m simplifying and ignoring a lot. he doesn’t earn the loyal reputation for nothing. he does a lot of things to help his teammates, like giving a life to Ren in Last Life, trying all season to win Cleo over for all of Double Life, or working to protect Scott for all of Limited Life. it’s not like Martyn doesn’t play the part of a loyal friend well, but, well.

the thing about Martyn is that he’s selfish. he’s basically always going to prioritize his own survival over anything else. he’s never going to roll over and die, especially not for another person. he’s good at looking loyal, because having allies will help you survive, and he knows making outright enemies is a bad idea. he knows he can’t make it obvious he’s a traitor, because then he’ll certainly be killed. but, when it comes down to the wire, he will generally bail at the last minute to save his own skin rather than protecting the people around him. when his loyalty is tested, nine times out of ten, he will not only fail, but do so completely without remorse

it doesnt take a lot to become Martyn’s ally, and once you’ve got a foot in the door, he will take his allegiances seriously (at least, to a point). but it takes effort to really earn Martyn’s trust. and, even when it looks like you have, there’s no guarantee he won’t yank the rug out from under you if he decides having you alive is more detrimental to his survival than seeing you dead

and yes, you can especially see all of this in Third Life. Martyn was absolutely not instantly ride or die for Ren—for a lot of the earlier episodes, he won’t say he’s on Ren’s team or that he lives at Ren’s base, and often tells other players he’s simply Ren’s employee rather than teammate and that he’s wandering or homeless. he trusts Ren so little due to Ren’s inability to keep a secret or stand up for himself that even Ren acknowledges in the third session that Martyn is probably going to leave him and find someone else. Martyn’s loyalty had to be earned, and it very nearly wasn’t. if Ren had taken a session more to grow a spine, Martyn probably would have left

but Ren became an ally that Martyn could rely on, who could stand up for himself and keep secrets. it became more beneficial to Martyn’s survival to have Ren around, so he stayed with Ren for the rest of the season, and committed hard to their kingdom. Ren earns Martyn’s trust by becoming a more dependable ally, and because of that, Ren earns Martyn’s loyalty…. probably

(half related, bc i want it in the post and i don’t know where to put it: after the execution, two sessions after Ren officially earns Martyn’s loyalty, Ren admits to being genuinely convinced Martyn was going to take him out of the series as soon as Ren gave him the chance!)

because yes, even here, even after Ren earns his trust and Ren trusts Martyn to execute him and they become King and Hand, Martyn was okay with killing Ren to save himself. Martyn has said he was going to betray Ren in the final session of Third Life. his entire plan was that when he and Ren hit the final 5, he was going to kill Ren. end Red Winter, usher in Red Spring. even the most loyal version of Martyn was a traitor!

now, you can decide for yourself if you believe he could have actually gone through with this—he and Ren were 6th and 7th out of the game, after all. maybe he wouldn’t have been able to steel himself. maybe his loyalty would have, for once, been too strong to kill Ren.

but it’s very possible that even the most loyal version of Martyn—the version of Martyn who has created this “loyal” image of Martyn in fanon—was only loyal because he died too soon to show his true colors

[inkskinned]

there are a lot of posts out there that are positive and healthy coping mechanisms for handling the holidays. this is not one of them :)

i think there's like. going to be times in your life you will be stuck in a social situation that you cannot escape from gracefully. i do not know why the internet doesn't believe these times exist. it's not always just that your physical safety is at risk - sometimes it's legit like "i just don't currently have the energy or time to put in the effort of responding to this." sometimes it's a coworker you hate so much. sometimes it's just like, fine, you know? like you know you can handle your aunt when she's cheerily horrible, but if you actually set a boundary around her, it's going to be weeks of fallout with your father.

i don't know why people think the answer is always just "cut them out!" or "don't let them get away with that!" because ... the real world is tricky and complicated. i think kind of a lot of us have an internal "radiation poisoning" meter for certain people. like - i'm talking about the ones who are absolutely giving you gradual ick damage. like, you can handle them, but you'll be exhausted.

and yes. you absolutely should listen to your therapist and the good posts about handling others and set good boundaries and take care of yourself. prioritize peace.

HOWEVER :) ...... since im often in a situation with a Gradual Sense of Ick person i cannot just "cut out" of my life (without losing someone else precious to me) - i have sort of developed the most. maladaptive form of mischief possible. because like, if i'm going to have to listen to this shit again, i like to have a little bit of private fun with it.

now! again, i am physically safe, just mentally drained by this man. you should only do this with people you are not in danger with. which leads me to my suggestions for when your Unfortunate Acquaintance shows up and says oh everyone pay attention to me.

my favorite word is "maybe!" said as brightly and happily as possible. whenever the Horrible Person starts in on a topic you do not want to go further with, particularly if they make a claim that you know to be inaccurate, do not respond to it. you and i have both tried to actually argue with this person, and it hasn't gone well, because this person just wants the drama of an argument. however, "maybe!" gives them literally nothing to go on. it is incredibly disarming. they are used to people having some response. they know they can't prove what they're saying, and maybe! treats them like the child they are. it dismisses them in the politest way possible.

i like to say maybe! and then, in their stunned silence, immediately change the subject. this is because i have adhd and i will have something unrelated to talk about, but if you can't think of topics fast enough, i recommend just pointing to something and saying, "isn't that lovely?" because fuck you let's bring in some positivity.

by the way. that second trick - of pointing to something and stating an opinion about it? - that just works on its own, like, 70% of the time. i picked it up from teaching preschoolers. it's an intentional "redirect". it stops children crying and it also stops grown adults from finishing their explanation on why women belong in kitchens. dual wielding!

keep it silly for yourself. i absolutely do not care if people think i'm fucking stupid (it's more fun if they do) and as a result i will purposefully misunderstand things just to see how long it takes them to realize i've completely removed them from the subject at hand. when they say "women aren't funny" i get to be like. "which women." "all women." "all women in america?" "no in the world." "like the mole people? the people in the world?" "what? no. like, alive." "oh are we not counting the mole people?" "what the fuck are you talking about." "you don't believe in the mole people?"

similarly, i play a personal game called "one up me." my Evil Acquaintance literally knows this game exists (my family & friends caught onto it and now also play it) and it always fucking gets him. i don't know why. you have to be willing to be a little free-spirited on this one, though. the trick is that when they make one of those horrible little bigoted or annoying comments they are always making, you need to go one unit weirder. not more intense, mind you - just more weird. "you don't look good in that dress." "yeah, actually, my other dress was covered in squid ink due to a mishap at the soup store." "you shouldn't wear such revealing clothes." "wait, what? oh shit. sorry, your son tears off strips when no one is looking and eats them. i swear it was longer before we left the building."

the point of "one up me" is to completely upend this person's narrative. we both know this person likes setting up situations where you cannot "win" and then they really like telling other people how badly you handled it. in a usual situation, if you respond "please don't say something that rude", you're a bitch. but if you let it happen, you're letting yourself be debased. they are not usually expecting door number three: unflappably odd. because what are they going to say when they're telling everyone how badly you behaved? "she said my son eats her dresses" ".... okay?"

if you can, form an allyship with someone whomst you can tagteam with. where they can pick up on your weird "soup store" story and run with it.

the following phrase is amazing and can be deployed for any situation: "oh, be nice :) it's the holidays!" i do not know why this works as often as it does. i'll say it for the most random shit. i think this is bc most of the time these people know they're being impolite, they just like to fight.

godbless. when in doubt, remember that you could always start stealing their pens.

the whole point of this is - if you can't escape. maybe see how long you can just be. like. a horrible little menace.

[chastiefoul]

when he says "please."

ft. genshin characters

characters: neuvilette, wriothesley, diluc, xiao genre: fluff and a smidge of angst in diluc's. just a little one i promise!! a/n: will be making more from this prompt any character request perhaps??

neuvilette

he pulled you close, eager to be pressed against you after having to be away from you for hours because of work. you smiled at the proximity, the longing was in fact mutual. he eyed your lips so attentively; such delight after a hard day of labor, surely you’d grant him that? he leaned it and stopped an inch before your lips met his, his breath tickled your right cheek. “may i?” he whispered, if there’s a time where he’d stop asking permission to steal a kiss, it was not that day. and that fact made your stomach go all crazy. you indulged in his eagerness for a minute, teasing your lover who had the patience as wide as the sea. “...please?” he mumbled, sounding a little desperate. you put your arms around his neck, bringing him closer, pressing a sweet kiss on his lips. “i’m all yours, neuvilette.”

wriothesley

“should i remind you that this is still work hour and i needed to be out of this fortress like an hour ago?” you scolded him, yet it did nothing to the tightness of his grip around your waist as you went to get up from his lap. “baby you honestly had too much faith in me if you think i could resist letting you go when you came in all pretty like this to visit me,” he continued to rest his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes with no worry in the world. “wriothesley.” you sighed, your tone reprimanding. “five more minutes for the special meal from the coupon cafeteria?” he tried. “are you bribing me...?” you asked, fighting a smile that’s dangerously close to invading your lips. “is it working? i could throw something else in there, like three of sigewinne’s rare stickers maybe?” he asked playfully, planting kisses all over your cheek and you couldn’t hold the grin. “cute that you believe she gave the rare stickers to you.” you smiled mischievously, wriothesley’s face immediately understood the unsaid words. “no,” he said at the betrayal. “mhm, she gave me the full limited collection too so your bribe means nothing now,” you said, raising an eyebrow in challenge. he just chuckled,  “figures.” you tried once more to get off his lap thinking that you caught him off guard but of course he didn’t budge. “wrio,” you whine. “five more minute. please baby, you can give me that at least, right? i’ll be good i promise.” he pleaded, and you rarely see him do that. you sighed, knowing you’re defeated way before he begged for you to stay. “five minutes it is.”

you end up staying there the whole day.

diluc

the life of an adventurer kept you busy, going to all sort of places and meet all kinds of creatures and that bounds to give you wounds and injury both physically and mentally. and of course diluc was the one to be concerned over you more than yourself. he never offered any complaints about the path you chose, as he gave you his full support instead. although a little part of his heart sometimes slipped away after seeing you home with another cut added to the barely healed skin from the wound before.

on a somewhat quiet night as he knelt in front of you as he tend to the injury on your knee he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “can you try to be more careful?” he pressed the cotton on the wound with alcohol, earning a little hiss from your mouth. “i am being careful, you should see what happens to the other guy.” you smiled, offering a joke but when you didn’t see even an ounce of amusement on your lover’s face you know this time it’s serious. his hand stopped moving, he took a deep breath. “please, love. i can’t.. i don’t know if i can handle more of you falling into my arms out of exhaustion, and you’re barely conscious.” his voice incredibly weak, his eyes glassy as he gazed the floor. your heart felt like it’s being ripped into a new one as you saw him. you pulled him into his chest. “i’m sorry. diluc i’m sorry. i promise i’ll be more careful. no more taking commission until i’m fully healed. i’m sorry, love.” he just nodded, basking in your touch. as long as you come back to him alive and well, it’s all good.

xiao

“here comes a thought,” you said out of nowhere. xiao just hummed, letting you to proceed with the said thought as he’s sure it didn’t even matter what’s his response was. “you’re too demanding, at times,” you boldly claimed, as the sentence left him speechless. demanding? “how so?” he asked quietly, clearly bothered by what you said. “i was kidding. demanding isn’t the right word, it’s just, sometimes i wanna hear you say please, you know?” you reassured his doubt. xiao just stared at you blankly, face clearly telling you that he’s in fact does not know. “alright, that’s not a hard request.” he complied almost immediately. “okay, then say it?” you asked.

“now? but i am not currently asking for anything,” xiao said rationally, and that’s not what you’re looking for. “okay, pretend you’re asking for a kiss,” you said, smiling playfully, “what?!” the yaksha quickly became flustered. you took his hand, and he let you. “i’ll even give you one for real-“

“y/n, please.” he covered his face with his free hand, bashful beyond belief that he begged for you to stop talking because he’s not currently functioning properly. for someone who lived through two thousand years, he’s just not quite immune to your teasing and never will be, it seemed. you smiled happily, “that’s not so hard, was it?” xiao who just looked at you who’s all smiley just couldn’t help but mirror your expression with a little smile of his own.

[iid-smile]

sunrise and sunset , nanami kento

x fem!clingy!reader ! nanami calls the reader "love" and "darling". the reader cuddles with nanami!!! the reader also loses sleep because of his love because thats cute.

author's note: nanami is so yellow but there's no option for it so he has to be orange </3 tell me why i was actually swooning while i was thinking about these scenarios in my head? especially the second one???? i think everybody agrees that nanami is a listener 100%

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sunrise.

nanami always wakes up before you. he used to get up as soon as his eyes opened, but nowadays, he has a little something holding him down.

it seems like you never fall asleep on your side. that's partly his fault, since he's always beckoning you to come closer to him. but even then, in the morning, he feels himself teetering off the edge of the bed, with two arms wrapped around his neck, and his now asleep arm still wrapped around your waist. slightly dangerous for him, but as long as you feel comfortable, then nothing else matters. seeing your pretty face first thing every day was a blessing.

"kento..." there it is. your tiny mumbles of you waking up.

nanami's lips immediately curl upwards at the sound of your voice. as gently as he can, he sits up more against the headboard, keeping your head laid on his chest. "i hear you." he responds.

the bedroom is quiet and tranquil. he specifically bought black out curtains for your sake, but considering the price, they really weren't doing the best job. mornings in summer were relentless, taking into the account how early the sun rises, and it would wake you up in the middle of your sleep with how bright it was outside. no worries though, since he has plans to replace them very soon.

you mumble again, lips grazing against his shirt. "why aren't you up yet?"

"i don't have work today." obviously a lie. you may be a bit dumb, but you're well aware it's a weekday today, and nanami isn't the best liar.

you lift your head, gaze shooting up to meet with his. "yes, you do! it's a wednesday." you whisper-yell. "you should be up 'nd getting ready..."

"my day doesn't start until yours does." you feel his hand on top of your head, coaxing you to lay it back down. "if i'm late for work, that's fine. you're more important to me." his touch moves up to your upper arm, and his thumb rubs in lazy circles. "go back to sleep, love. you're tired."

"you're too sappy 'n sweet... gonna make me swoon every time you open your mouth, i swear." you grumble.

"then i'll catch you every time."

"stop!"

sunset.

nanami always reads a book before bed. it's usually historical genres, he's not a big fan of sci-fi or comedy. but sometimes, he'll let himself indulge in the odd romance book here and there. why? they're your favourite genre, the books you read. he memorises each different author that he spots you reading, often gifting you another one of their works if he knows you're not having a good day.

finally, you emerge from the bathroom door, a few folded clothes ready to be put away in the laundry hamper. when you turn to him, you watch his eyes intently as they follow the words on the pages. "that's..?"

"i saw you enjoying it this afternoon." he flips a page. you move closer to the bed, crawling on top of the mattress and inviting yourself into the blankets. "you looked particularly thrilled during it. what do you like about this story?"

you pause, thinking over the entire plot. "it reminds me of us."

nanami can only smile, and he doesn't miss the one on your face. closing the book, he places it on the bedside table, and scoops his other arm underneath you. naturally, you rest your head on his shoulder, and hook one of your legs over his. the small distance between the two of you felt that much more intimate that you felt the need to lower your voice. "are you going to sleep?"

"no." the hand wrapped around your waist moves up to your head, just placing it on top of your scalp. "i want you to talk. you seem eager to talk about it."

you giggle inwardly, snuggling impossibly closer to him. "i'm so in love with you." you whisper.

"i love you too, darling. more than words can express." he whispers back.

no wonder you always wake up so late. it's because nanami always has your heart beating too fast before you go to sleep.

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[amphi-reads]

CEE THIS WAS SO LOVELY IM SO FULL OF LOVE AND SOFTNESS NOW!!!!!

Nothing to Fear

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / A03 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x GN Reader

Summary : The mission didn't go quite as planned, and it left you with questions over the practicality of your relationship. But of course, Loki always knows just what to say.

W/c : 1.5k words

Author's Note : For my beautiful and favorite niece @sarahscribbles, for her Birthday Celebration, using her prompt "You never have to fear that you’re losing me." Enjoy, my dear 💚

Content / Warnings : Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

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You needed to be closer to him, and dull pain flared to life as you shifted in your seat. The effort to move even that much after the grueling mission was taxing, but the comfort he provided was worth more than the unexpended energy. Fingers weaved together as your temple found his broad shoulder, and you breathed a long sigh of relief. 

At long last, the adrenaline had begun to fade from your system, and your senses slowly switched off. And once at cruising altitude, the Quinjet’s engines mercifully drowned out the other Avengers’ voices inside the cabin; Tony and Steve were arguing again - this time over why they had failed to acquire the intel they were after, and it seemed like the disagreement was going to last all night. 

You and Loki were the only team members not participating in the immediate post-mission analysis, because as long as you were both returning home safely, you considered the expedition a rousing success. And there would be plenty of time for discussion later; for now you just wanted to enjoy the proximity of your lover.

Heavy eyelids drifted closed, and your lips curved into a soft smile as you felt his press against your hairline. The mission had been harrowing, but moments like these - the quiet intimacy of shared relief - almost made it worth the stress. 

Almost. 

An image flashed in your mind, causing your heart to thud momentarily in your chest. The team had been split into two groups, and as you, Loki and Steve infiltrated the facility, you found yourselves ambushed by a swarm of Hydra agents armed with flamethrowers. 

Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been that significant, but the terror in Loki’s eyes certainly was. The entire ordeal had only lasted for a second or two, but his fear was palpable, and so was the heat. The woosh of the flamethrowers overpowered Steve’s shouting, and the flames singed your clothing as Loki yanked you behind him. 

His seidr was unusually quick at that moment. Normally, he preferred drawing his combatants out into clever banter in between blows; it was his favorite method of distraction and interrogation in his seemingly endless chest of tricks. But instead, he unleashed a sudden, massive barrage of emerald energy that took the Hydra agents out all at once - before they could even be questioned.

It was impressive, as he always was, but it left you absolutely rattled, and despite how relaxed he appeared on the outside, you knew Loki was feeling the same thing. 

And you were sure Steve had also recognized the expression on Loki’s face as his seidr dissipated and reality sunk in. But like all good leaders, he was kindly keeping that information to himself, despite how pissed Tony was that they were returning home with nothing. 

It had only been six months since Loki was freed from Thanos’ control. Only half a year separated him from those horrors, and every day you spent falling in love with him meant realizing how close to death it was possible for him to be. 

But had Loki’s overreaction been because he feared for his life, or for yours? Was your relationship making everything easier between battles, while simultaneously making them worse inside them? 

You knew that letting yourself believe this Asgardian God to be invincible was a mistake, one you couldn’t afford to make. But perhaps you being mortal was a complication neither of you could overlook any longer. Anything could happen at any time, and if relatively simple Midgardian weapons were enough to - 

“Something on your mind, dear?” Loki murmured, apparently having sensed the flashes of tension still pulsing in your veins. 

He was so talented at picking up subtleties in your body language, much to your own chagrin sometimes. You cracked open an eyelid to peak at him, and were unable to resist a smile as you took in Loki’s serene and exhausted expression. 

Too tall for his own good, he had to shift down in the seat to lean his head back and achieve any semblance of comfort. But despite that, he still managed to exude an aura of elegance and solace unmatched by anyone else.

And even with his eyes closed - even while lingering on the edges of sleep - he could still tell when something was off. 

“So, are you waiting to share until I’m fast asleep in our bed? Is that your evil plan?” Loki teased after you didn’t answer, just loud enough for you to hear as he shifted his arm to pull you closer.

“What a jerk…” you grumbled playfully, rolling your eyes even as you curled tighter against his side. 

Loki only chuckled, his fingers rubbing against your waist, tracing lazy circles as he rested his head on top of yours and waited patiently for your elaboration. 

Everyone else on the team had long since settled in their seats for the long flight back to New York, and Tony and Steve’s squabbles had finally died down; the only sound now was Loki’s soft voice in your ear in the darkened cabin. 

And while the quiet ambiance was certainly comforting - a welcome distraction from the chaos that had erupted inside that Hydra facility - you were also tempted to start another fuss amongst the other team members, just to ensure no one could hear your conversation. 

But doing so might doom Loki to having his personal business shared with the team, and that was something you knew he desperately didn’t want. 

Resigning yourself to maturity, you took a deep breath, inhaling the spicy notes of amber, wood, and myrrh lingering on his skin, before answering. “I was just thinking…do you ever second-guess this? I mean, us?” 

“No.” Loki’s answer was immediate, as if he had been expecting the question. His hand shifted, molding itself along the curve of your waist and squeezing to emphasize his words. “No, I don’t regret you, my love.” 

“That’s not entirely what I meant…” you sighed, but not out of frustration. You were almost afraid to bring it up, worried about speaking it into truth. “Every time we leave the Tower, it could be the last time we…” 

Loki twisted in his seat, bringing his other hand to tilt your chin upwards to meet his gaze. His emerald eyes almost glowed in the dim light of the cabin, casting an ethereal, comforting aura around you. Truthfully, you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t actually casting a spell, but you appreciated it all the same. 

“No, I don’t regret you,” Loki repeated softly, looking directly into your eyes with the kind of sincerity that made your heart ache for him. “Nor do I regret anything involving you.”

You swallowed hard, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t like you to be this uncertain, and you felt guilty about bringing it up at all, but it needed to be addressed. “But what if something happens to either one of us?”

Loki’s fingers drifted to the frayed seams of your jacket, absentmindedly pulling at the burnt threads as his brow furrowed and unfurrowed. You could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he weighed his options on how to respond before that familiar and confident grin graced his features once more. 

“Such little faith you have in me, darling,” Loki replied, his voice dripping with amusement. “I assure you, you’ve nothing to fear…”

His hand moved to cradle your jaw, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, and he leaned in close, his lips hovering just above yours. 

“You know I’d never let anything happen to me…” he whispered teasingly before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

You weren’t sure what to feel - annoyed by his joke, intoxicated by his demeanor, or surprised that you were feeling both simultaneously. But even when he was joking, there was a sliver of truth in every word, and if nothing else, he always kept his promises. 

“But more importantly,” Loki continued after pulling away, murmuring softly as he rested his forehead against yours. “I’d never let anything happen to you, my dear.” 

You nodded, believing every word as you reached up to caress his face. His lips curved into a smile as he pressed them into your palm. How was he so talented at weaving truth and tricks together? How was it so effortless for him to assuage any fear you ever held?

"Promise?” 

“I promise…” Loki chuckled, pulling you back to lean against his shoulder. His eyes closed again as you rested together, one hand still lingering on your waist, and the other enveloping yours on your lap. 

It was dangerous to be a part of this team, and it was borderline idiotic to fall in love with someone in this same line of work. Not many heroes ever managed to acquire a truly happy life, and maybe this was going to end terribly someday. 

Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe everything would end perfectly, the way it was meant to. With a God and a mortal, and their unconditional love, anything was possible.

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Tag List (let me know if you want to be added/removed to/from my Loki fic tag list 💚) : @infinitystoner @sarahscribbles @lunarnights95 @buttercupcookies-blog @mischief2sarawr @use-your-telescope

[chunksworld]

Take My Breath

NewJeans Danielle x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: part 3 of this nwjns series I'm still not quite so sure what to call; thank you to kaede for beta reading as always.

Part 1: Double Fantasy

Part 2: Role Model

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“Hnnghhh. F-Fucking me so good—harder!”

Everything about this situation is risky, dangerous, and foolish. But it’s hard to think about anything else when you’re pounding Danielle like she’s nothing but your fucktoy—and you can only be thankful that no one else is here to listen to her wanton moans that threaten to rip out of her throat. And that’s mostly because you two are in the backseat of your car, some early 2000s model that was definitely not built to withstand such intense pressure. It’s only fortunate that you were sitting in the back of the lecture hall when she sent you a pic of her in her lingerie from the night before because it made for an easy exit towards your car and it would have been extremely embarrassing to have to cover your boner with your backpack. It’s also fortunate that your car is tinted because the sight of her face down, ass up with her jacket barely clinging onto her tight body is absolutely not school appropriate. “Keep fucking me like that—shit—I’m gonna cum soon!”

When Hanni gave her your number, you didn’t think that she would be messaging you to hook-up every other day. She didn’t seem like that type of girl, in fact you’d think that she’s the type to only have sex after marriage but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Also, you didn’t think that Danielle would be more insatiable than her two friends. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing or where you are, she can just hit you with a text and you’ll be there to satisfy her carnal needs. The girls call it a “dick appointment” but you’re sure it’s more of an on-call situation with the way you are always there for her—only sexually of course. It’s already getting difficult trying to keep your brain (and dick) intact with the way Minji and Hanni both seem to wanna share and fuck you at the same time. You’re sure it’s only a matter of time before a threesome is in the cards—not that you are complaining because just the thought is enough to keep you horny for days on end. 

And adding Danielle to that mix would further complicate an already mind-boggling situation, as much as you lust for her body as the other two. One, there’s only so much cum in your balls to go around. And second, falling in love with multiple girls at once is not something you’re keen on doing. It was rather something that forced you to commit to the situation at hand (but shouldn’t you have rejected Hanni’s offer in the first place?) It’s too much to wrap your head around at this very moment, especially when Danielle was just that distant friend in your circle. Did you find her pretty? Absolutely. But these past few weeks of hooking up with her led you to discover that she’s much more than that. You’ve only known her as that bright, cheerful girl with a heavenly voice for quite some time now yet here you are making her sing a completely different song.

Wrap your arms around her tiny waist and pull her upright, her back pressed against your chest to thrust yourself deeper into her. Blonde locks block your vision but her scent is enough to encourage your fucking. Her reaction is immediate, louder moans coming out of her mouth that you are sure can be faintly heard from the outside—on top of that, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberates throughout this tiny space. Plus, how are you going to get rid of the smell of sex later? You don’t care though, not when your face is buried in the crook of her neck and your hands creep up to massage her tiny but beautiful tits. “You’ve been planning this all morning weren’t you?” Lips find that sweet spot on her neck and you begin to nip and suck—you can never, will never get enough of her. “Wearing my favorite cologne because you want me to fuck you till you can’t walk while the rest of our friends are out for their lunch break?” 

Danielle can only nod, her tongue sticking out and her eyes closed. Absolutely nothing matters to her at this point—only the fact that your cock is rearranging her guts and that she’s going to have to explain why she’s limping after excusing herself out of meeting with the rest of the girls. Right. Nothing matters. Take a quick glance at your watch. 10 minutes. Unfortunately, the thirty minutes flew by and you can only ignore their messages for so long before they start looking for you. It was a great lunch you’ll explain, one that consisted of a mixture of Australian and Korean cuisine. “I’m so close, please.” Her voice is hoarse and her makeup is already ruined beyond repair but that just makes her even more gorgeous in your eyes. “Shit, if I knew you were gonna be this good—umph! I would’ve snatched you up for myself.” 

You don’t respond verbally but you’re damn near pistoning your cock inside her in response to the compliment that definitely doesn’t rile you up. “I’m cumming, oh fuck!” She almost falls forward and you wrap your arms tighter around her waist. Danielle is definitely a screamer and you are wondering whether she still has any voice left after such a powerful orgasm. It’s hot, the way it becomes a full body experience with how she’s shuddering and shaking against your figure. The way your name comes out of that pretty mouth in between curse words and broken sentences. She has completely drenched not just your thighs but the polyester fabric of your backseat. But just how messy the cleanup is going to be doesn’t enter your mind at all when you can feel your own orgasm getting closer. You pull out for a brief moment as her slick drips down her thighs and you re-enter after giving your cock a pump. You resume thrusting at the frantic pace you did before and you know that you are only a few thrusts away 

“Gonna cum, Dani.” Through gritted teeth you manage to warn her, the incredibly tight and warm feeling inside her pussy only urging you on towards her completion. Since she’s already made a mess of your car then you might as well add to it. Your thrusts are more erratic, losing their rhythm the more you indulge yourself in her body. Two handfuls of her ass is what you grab onto as her body falls back down, moans muffled by your cum-stained seats. Nothing feels as good as her at this very moment; and if you could just ditch the rest of your classes and fuck her for the rest of the day, you absolutely would. You’d rather have her bouncing and screaming on your cock than listen to your professor babble some nonsense anyways. “Wanna pump you full until it’s leaking down your thighs.” You can feel it, you are going to explode and give her the biggest creampie she’s ever received from you. But her right hand grips on your biceps, almost failing to do so with how much sweat covers your bodies.

“Not this time…” Danielle mutters just in time and you’re almost ashamed by the way you groaned in protest. You have to make a decision in seconds and you make the one you’ve been wanting to since you’ve started hooking up with her. You pull out and make her lay on her back, straddling her face and pumping your slick-covered cock. A guttural groan of her name leaves your lips as shot after shot of thick cum lands on her most prominent features: her nose, cheekbones, and those tempting lips of hers. She looks pretty, so fucking pretty that not even the most expensive makeup she wears can rival the way her face looks glazed and dripping with your cum. As expected, this might have been your biggest orgasm with her so far. But it’s hard not to be completely drained when she lured you into such a precarious situation that has you risking it all once again.  Last week it was inside the maintenance room and now, your car. Maybe you have a thing for potentially getting caught fucking your girlfriend’s friends after all.

You check your watch again and you’ve only got three minutes to dress and clean-up, which you both are experts at doing so by this point. Embarrassed, Danielle offers to help pay for the clean-up of your car but you turn her down. You don’t mind going bankrupt if it means having her cum on your cock every week. After a quick retouching of her makeup you two are off to continue the rest of your day like nothing happened. But it’s clearly obvious with the way Danielle limps off when she exits your vehicle, heading in the opposite direction of you. And it’s not like you don’t smell like her either: the combination of her shampoo, conditioner, and whatever body wash she uses lingering on you. Whatever. As long as you sit as far away from your friends, especially the two girls, as far as possible you’ll be safe. You arrive in the lecture hall in the nick of time and despite making very little noise, you’ve already got two pairs of eyes staring at you from the other side. And they’re not just staring, they are smirking at you—as if to tell you that your cover has already been blown. 

That’s why it was pointless to lie to Minji and Hanni because they could already sense it from a mile away. “So, where did you guys do it? We tried looking at all the places you two have had sex before.” You tried to make a quick getaway as soon as the lecture ended but it was all in vain when Minji grabbed you by your shoulders. Even more so when Hanni is on the other side hugging your arm. It was a mistake, it was all a mistake. Maybe you should have just gone back to your place and took a shower, it’s not like you wanted to attend that stupid math class anyways. Instead you have your girlfriend and oh, your other girlfriend interrogating you. Who in their right mind would agree to such an arrangement? “Oh! They might’ve done it inside one of those empty classrooms down the hall. Am I right? I’m just wondering how no one heard you guys though considering Dani can get pretty loud.” Seriously, do these girls tell each other everything? “Dani likes being fucked raw too so they must’ve made a big mess.” The casualness at which they talk about their sex life (which unfortunately happens to include you) is truly astounding and you feel even hotter than when you were fucking Danielle earlier inside that cramped car earlier.

“Why the hell would I tell you both where we fucked? So you can join in?” Maybe it’s a question you shouldn’t have asked because they both nod their heads eagerly. “You are both unbelievable, I thought you were gonna let me and her do our thing separately? Wasn’t that part of our agreement?” Danielle hates sharing you even if you weren’t lovers, it was an agreement reluctantly agreed to by Minji and Hanni considering they can’t keep their hands off of you. They contemplated and then contemplated again, ultimately deciding that the blonde Aussie can have a slice of the pie rather than it being just a one time thing. They were all friends after all, and not even their overwhelming lust for you won’t get in the way of that. Sharing is indeed caring when it comes to you, and who are you to complain about this whole situation? “Anything else? I really need to go back home and take a shower.” That was thankfully enough to shut them up; a miracle considering they love arguing with you mostly because you tend to spend more time with one compared to the other. 

“Nope! We’re good. See you tomorrow, baby.” Hanni leans in to kiss you first, standing on the very tips of her toes to connect her lips with yours. Then Minji, who pulls you in for a brief makeout session, she really hates being one-upped you see. If there’s a single trait of hers that you love, it’s that she is extremely competitive—that’s how your rivalry with her started in the first place. What began as arguing over who is the better and smarter student landed the two of you in a mess that might just be too much even for two big brains to handle, but again who are you to complain? Instinctively, you grab her by the waist and the moan that emits from her mouth almost wants you to fuck her then and there. “You still have to help me study tomorrow. I hope you’re ready.” Yeah, and you hope your cock is too. A wink from both of them and you’re finally given the opportunity to head home and perhaps contemplate just what the fuck you got yourself into while you make your way there. Your roommate greets you from the couch when the door opens, briefly raising his hand to wave at you before looking back at the show he’s watching.

“Hey man, we’re drinking out tonight. Wanna come?”

“Nah, I’m good.” You didn’t think Danielle would drain you to the point of physical exhaustion but she did, something that her older friends can’t do. You’re not exactly the fittest but it is as if you ran a marathon with how tired you are. “Just tired today, have fun though. Try not to get shitfaced.” You joke but he absolutely will, all of you do—to the point that you find yourself crashing at a random friend’s place instead of your own and that is exactly what’s going to happen tonight. A night out with the boys is usually something you never miss out on but not tonight, a good sleep is what you need especially if Minji is going to exhaust you again tomorrow. You bid farewell to him instead and head back into your room, crashing immediately on your bed to sleep. Well that was the plan at least but you find yourself waking up a few hours later to your phone ringing. You groan in frustration at having your beauty sleep interrupted but the stupid phone won’t stop ringing. It would stop for a few seconds then start ringing again. Groggy, you blindly grab your phone from your nightstand. It’s already extremely dark outside and the lights of your phone screen almost blinds you. You squint your eyes a couple of times to clear up your surroundings and you damn near jump out of the bed when you see the name on top: Danielle. 

That was sobering enough to fully wake you up and for some reason, your heart is pounding even at just the sight of her name. She rarely calls you, what’s the matter? Check the time. 2 AM. What could this woman want from you now? Feigning reluctance, you swipe to answer her call. “Dani, what the fuck do you want?” On the other end, you could hear squelching noises in the background along with the eerily familiar moans of the girl in question. “Daddy, please.” There is absolutely no way she’s doing what you think she’s doing. But the long pause and the sound of her moans that are music to your ears are all you hear. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds. More squelching noises in the background and it’s undeniable what sinful actions that girl is doing in her room. “I’ve been fucking myself with this dildo for the past 10 minutes now but it’s not as big as you…..” You can hear her bed squeaking, and you can only imagine her gripping on the bed sheets and squirming around as that phallic object fucks her and you wish it was you that was fucking her instead. But it’s too late, and your roommate could come back home anytime. What if he didn’t crash at someone else’s place for the night? You’ve always let your dick do the thinking but it’s time to show some maturity, even though you’re only a year older than her. As much as your cock is about to burst through your shorts, there has to be a line drawn—though it’s difficult when it comes to her.

“Danielle, there is absolutely no fucking way you’re calling me at 2 in the morning for some di–”

A loud moan interrupts you, followed by breathless pants. “…I’ll even let you cum in me this time. I’m s-sorry I couldn’t let you—hnghh— do it earlier.” That’s what eventually lured you in because twenty minutes later. Danielle is sitting on your lap in your apartment sticking her tongue as far down your throat as possible. Your shirt is discarded already the moment you basically carried her towards your room and threw her in your bed.  It is also wonderfully considerate of her to not wear a bra because you are immediately greeted by her perky tits the moment you removed her hoodie. A hand of yours fondles her breasts while a hand of hers pulls you even closer to her as if there were any inches of space left between you two. It is messy, teeth clashing and tongues swirling. It is not sufficient to say that Danielle is a good kisser because she is a great one. Every makeout session leaves you breathless and wanting. You absolutely don’t have the time to question it now but you always seem to savor these moments more with her than anyone else—this blonde woman just has an effect on you that keeps you coming back for more.

“You know, you look good with my lipstick all over your face.” A proud smile on Danielle’s face and you can only imagine all of the lipstick stains peppering your visage. She rests her forehead on yours and you swear you could see your own reflection on her eyes. They’re captivating, jaw-dropping and you wouldn’t mind staring at them for a few minutes if she wasn’t pulling you in again. “I wonder what they’ll look like on the rest of your body.” Her lips immediately test out that hypothesis, trailing down to the expanse of your broad shoulders and chest and kissing every single inch of your upper body. Whatever she is doing to distract you is effective because her hands have left your face and are instead trailing down towards your shorts. Both of you groan as your clothed length grinds with her warm underside, clearly she’s just as excited to have your cock out as much as you. You don’t want to make her wait so she gets off of you to pull your shorts and boxers at the same time; you whimper at the sensitivity of your length as it is exposed to the cold air of your room. 

“So hard for me already….” You chase Danielle’s lips again but she purposefully moves away, her eyes focusing instead on your cock like a predator looking at its prey. More kisses, this time towards your neck and collarbones. “You could’ve easily ignored me when it’s this late but you answered.” A hand wraps around your shaft and you whimper; the head is swollen and leaking and you wish she’d just stop teasing you. She removes her panties herself and you’re now both in an equal state of undress. “You even let me into your place, have the unnies been here before?” You shake your head, it’s not like the circumstances allowed. Danielle lives off-campus with her parents while the other two have to live in the dorms. That’s it. There’s absolutely no other reason why this blonde woman is the only one that you’ve invited over.  

It’s definitely not because she has this power over you that not even your girlfriends do. “You have a soft spot for me, huh?” You refuse to acknowledge such a fact, for the repercussions in doing so would mean you’d have to face two angry (but extremely gorgeous) women who were already reluctant to share you with another woman. “We’re not fucking unless you say something.” Her other hand cups your heavy balls, fondling them. Somehow they’re back to being full again despite blowing your load all over her face earlier. 

Sure, a one night stand is perfectly fine and even encouraged but what you two are doing have surpassed that— “Fucking hell, Danielle! Slow the fuck down…” But the opposite of your request is what she does, lips continuing to leave their imprints all over your upper body while her dainty fingers pump your cock at a much faster rate. She doesn’t say anything but instead gives you a look that tells you she will not stop unless she gets what she wants. It’s torturous yet feels so damn good at once, the way she can work you into the throes of an orgasm that threatens to make a mess all over her porcelain skin yet again with just her fingers alone drives you breathless and groaning her name shamelessly. A small part of you is willing to do just that because you don’t even remember if you ever came thanks to someone else’s hands but the thought of her voice sounding raspy and fucked while you are pumping cum inside her lithe body is enough to make you crack under pressure, especially when those deep blue eyes of hers stare at you with so much want and need. But how would Hanni and Minji react? Fuck it, you’ll deal with whatever consequences there will be tomorrow morning. How pathetic. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” It’s almost devilish the way she’s smiling so sweetly and innocently and yet her voice is laced with venom. Her soft hands slow down the pace of their pumping and you are about to lose it. “You’re the only person I’ve ever invited over.” A breathless admission that has your entire body heating up to a feverish temperature. Why was it so hard to admit that? “Now please, Dani. I want you.” At this point, Danielle can make you admit to crimes you never even committed. All you want is her and nothing but her. If it takes losing every ounce of self-control like you’ve already done with Minji then so be it. It was already gone the moment you decided to fuck around with three girls at once anyways. Danielle smirks and lets you take control once again now that she is getting what she wants from you. You get a taste of her lips again when she lays back on the bed—your bed, with you hovering on top of her and hands planted on either side of her head. Because of how much she craves the feeling of your skin on hers, you find yourself crashing on top of her ever so slightly and your cock briefly makes contact with her slit. “Hmmph!” The blonde woman below you whimpers at the sensitivity and you don’t wait any longer. With how wet she has been you find the task of penetrating her quite simple, your cock sinking into her pussy in one clean motion.

Her legs immediately circle around your waist and arms wrapping around your head as you start off slowly. Fucking Danielle is always a breathtaking experience; with her making so much noise which includes moaning your name for everyone to hear, you only need to drink it all in and enjoy every single second. There is also the way she would grab onto you tightly like she is afraid of losing your touch—you can only imagine how clingy she is as a girlfriend. Just like what she is doing now with her nails scratching your shoulders and back while she leaves dark red marks all over your neck. If she wants to mark her territory then so be it, you can only hope that the other girls will be understanding. You groan as you feel her teeth sinking down your neck like a vampire, you know it is accidental because not only is she immediately trying to soothe the pain with kisses but her limbs are now coiled much tighter around you. You must have discovered a certain spot deep within her and you want to keep hitting that spot. “Faster…fuck, fuck, fuck!” You do not waste any second to grant her request, pounding her with surgical precision and she is on the verge of crying in your arms. You are glad you don’t have to worry about the confined space of your car this time around nor do you have to worry about making a mess.

Unlike earlier there is no warning when Danielle cums this time around—only a vociferous moan that makes you thankful your roommate isn’t around.  It’s not surprising considering she was already close to getting herself off when she called you a while ago and it only took having a real cock inside for her to become completely undone. A few more deep thrusts is all you were able to accomplish before she clenches so tightly around your cock and her nails dig deeper into the skin of your back. The room feels exponentially hotter now despite the cold temperature inside the apartment, and you’re both sweating so much that a shower is definitely your next destination after this. Her breath intermixes with yours and you grab the side of her face to kiss her, causing her moans to redirect inside your mouth instead. It’s sloppy, it’s intense, and you find yourself drowning in her lips as you continue to fuck her through her climax. Despite having some insane features on her body, it’s her lips that draw you in the most and you just can’t stop kissing her. “So-so good! Don’t you ever fucking stop!” Not like you were planning to, especially when both of your thighs are so absolutely drenched in her cum now that squelches echo inside your room every time you bottom out inside her. 

Take a look at your bedside clock and you notice that it’s getting incredibly late, it is 3 AM already and you have yet to accomplish the one goal you’ve been salivating towards: to cum inside Danielle. You ignore just how drenched your bedsheets has become and you grab her legs and place them on your shoulders, then leaning forward as you transition to fucking her in mating press. You don’t miss the way her eyes light up when she immediately recognizes what you are about to do. “You better let me fucking cum inside you this time. You promised.” It almost comes off as pettiness the way those words left your mouth but the only reaction you get from her is a giggle and her eyes sparkling with the tears drying up. Knowing her, she probably thinks it’s cute and hot at the same time that you are getting riled up because of her—and rightfully so. You don’t waste time and continue your thrusting, making the bed creak with how hard you’re fucking her into it. You bury your face in the crook of her neck again to inhale the sweet scent of her perfume combined with her sweat. It’s the perfect place for you because her whimpers of your name go straight to your ears and the way she says it with her sultry voice just urges you on.

And tears start to well in the blonde’s eyes again because you are going much deeper in this position, going balls deep with every single motion of your hips. It doesn’t take too long for you to get close either considering you wanted to masturbate at the sound of her masturbating but it’s great that you saved it for this very moment. You can feel your cock throbbing much harder than before and you know you are not lasting for one second longer. “I’m gonna cum inside you.” It’s more of a formality at this point, and you feel her nod—probably because her voice is too hoarse and her mind is too focused on your cock to formulate an actual sentence but it will do either way. Five thrusts you count and you see white; you can’t help the carnal groans of her name  coming out of your mouth as you empty spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum deep into her womb. To make her tight little pussy overflow with so much cum that they coat your cock and drip down to your balls and your bedsheets. Your toes curl and your fingers grip the bedsheet to prevent yourself from collapsing on top of her amidst your euphoric climax. There is absolutely no denying it, Danielle is your best fuck amongst the three.

You pull out beside her on the bed; exhausted, satisfied, and fucked. Danielle is the same and you can see a fresh, wet spot in between her legs along with your cum signaling that she had her own climax as well. She looks tantalizing and even more so when she turns to stare at you before scooting over to place a kiss on your lips. The way her sweat mists across her skin, the way her blonde locks compliment her extremely well. and the way her breast heaves ever so slightly when she attempts to breathe normally again is an absolutely stunning sight. It’s a soft makeout session this time, with her playfully nibbling on your lower lip and swiping her tongue across yours. “So, I hope I’ve made it up to you.”  A brief pause then you resume kissing again. “Because I know l’ve probably drained you more than my unnies just today alone.” She probably has a point but you are not going to give her any upper hand by acknowledging it so you remain in silence by shutting yourself up with her lips. You can feel her smile on your lips and you think that this is how your night ends but Danielle sneakily brings her hand down to fondle your balls and it looks like she thinks otherwise. “But I’m sure you still have one last load for me.”

She stands up from your squirt and cum-stained bed. Her perfectly sculpted body glistening under the warm lights of your room and her inner thighs still dripping with your cum. “Shower?” Then she turns around in perfect timing, showing her perfectly shaped ass that has you considering fucking her from behind again. It doesn’t take long for blood to rush back to your lower regions and you find yourself rock-hard once more—which is perfect because you found yourself pinning her against the shower’s tiles mere minutes later and trying to fuck whatever remaining load there is left inside her. Mission accomplished in that regard and you two actually spent the rest of the time taking a shower. It was a quick, but satisfying one and after giving her a shirt of yours to wear for the night she immediately falls asleep into your arms after a long and tiring hookup session. And as you watch Danielle peacefully sleep, your conversation with her earlier is repeated in your brain about having a soft spot for her and maybe you do because there’s no other way to explain how she’s the only one that can make you feel certain things. You wouldn’t dare fuck the other girls in your place, maybe opting for a cheap motel instead but you didn’t do it for her. And that’s maybe because deep down, you do have a thing for her. The complications of such a realization has not dawned on you yet but you do know that Hanni and Minji will not take it well. 

Yeah, you are fucked.