#in the spurs kit too

[swaggypsyduck]

now richarlison?! did this escape the drafts??😭

[whitehartlane]

omg was out and about w my partner on saturday and we saw a lad in a spurs training kit it was so sweet :]

[ynwa4eva]

Romas third kit is SO gorgeous im gonna start clawing at walls...

[comatosebunny09]

denial → acceptance | sylus

summary: you’ll settle for what you can get if it means he’ll keep you around a little longer. even if it means (seemingly) playing second fiddle. genres: romance, fluff, angst warnings: steaminess, blood mention, reader implied to be female, unrequited (not really) feelings, feelings of inadequacy, self-esteem issues, idiots in love, tender touches, incredibly self indulgent, profanity, slow burn notes: limerence, but the only thing standing between sylus and the reader is the reader’s own head. thank you for dropping by. the rest will be up on ao3 shortly.

You’ve done this many times before—been summoned to his quarters for a debriefing and occasionally for him to tend to any injuries you sustained during your negotiations.

This is nothing new. But the prospect of being laid off haunts you a lot lately, especially in light of recent events.

You know—the ones involving a certain pretty hunter invading your lives and quietly shoving you out of the picture.

The glacial door handle leading to Sylus’ study bites into your palm. You turn it, steeling yourself against the worst outcome. It’s a routine check-in, nothing too serious. So you sure as hell aren’t shaking when you duck into his office. Greeted by warmth and the aroma of mahogany intermingled with sandalwood and worn books. You cautiously shut the door as if any bit of noise could set him off. Spur him into firing you faster.

The speakers of his record player bleed something homely. You’re swathed in the serene glow of the wall sconces, flanked by towering bookshelves. You maneuver around them, the regal carpeting swallowing your footfalls. You follow the vibration of his voice. By the tone of it, you know he’s on the phone talking business.

You slow to a stop in the center of his study. Find a thatch of white hair settled behind a long, cherrywood desk. He looks up, ingesting you with eyes the color of sunset. No matter how many times you’ve been in his presence, he still manages to siphon your breath with how handsome he is.  

‘You wanted to see me?’ you mouth once your wits return to you.

Sylus studies you for a beat, expression unreadable. Motions to you with two fingers, and you waste no time heeding him. He pats the polished surface of his desk beside him, signaling for you to sit. You swallow, offering him a twitch of a smile and a nod before propping yourself on the cold, sticky finish.

Still engulfed in his convo, Sylus rifles through his drawer. You catch bits and pieces of what he’s on about. He pulls something from within, the telltale gleam of a tin box causing the tension in your shoulders to let up. He sets the first aid kit down, and you watch him fish out some antiseptic and a few cotton puffs.

Ah. You did get a little banged up, didn’t you?

Caught an errant punch to the temple during your negotiations with the hunter. She was still learning the ropes, learning to flex her status. You intervened when the arms dealer got a little ornery, sicking his guards on you. Two women thinking they could hustle someone like him in place of Onychinus’ kingpin? Unheard of!

You fought your way out of the fray, of course. Took a few hits to get Hunter Girl out of there unscathed, but you both lived to see another day.

You hiss as the sting of disinfectant brings you barreling back to the present. Sylus stiffens the slightest, surveying you with a rueful pinch to his brows. You fix him with a disarming smile, and he gets back to work. You’ve had worse. Nearly lost a limb or two. Still, he’s gentle as he blots at the dried blood on your forehead, and it’s just like old times.

You study the shine of his shirt buttons as he treats your cut. Watch his Adam’s apple bob, the tendons in his jaw flex. You resist an urge to snicker. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was pouting. His precious little doll, a little bruised and battered, like he doesn’t have someone else to occupy his mind. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t get upset when you return to him scathed.

When he’s satisfied with his cleanup job, Sylus packs up the kit after smoothing a stripe of salve over your scrape. Props his phone on his shoulder, and you bristle when worn finger pads skate over your cheek. When they push some baby hair away from your face, slide under your chin. His touch is reverent as he tilts your head back, examining you for any other wounds.

You give him a cheeky look, shaking out of his touch. “I���m fine,” you whisper, leaning back on your hands and crossing your legs. He slides back into business mode, releasing you from that intense gaze to focus on his call, albeit a little reluctantly.

Occasionally, Sylus chuckles, the sound of it vibrating in your chest. Idle fingers smooth over the jut of bone in your knee, his gaze intermittently wandering to yours. He’s surprisingly handsy tonight. A part of you wonders if this is alright, given the unspoken bond that blooms between him and his precious little hunter.

Still, you can’t deny how soothing his touch is. You were just a nervous wreck a few minutes ago, fretting over the state of your job. But he won’t let you go, will he? Not when he can touch you like this. Wrap slender fingers around your calf, pressing reassurance into your skin with his thumb.

Maybe you’re delusional. You’re but a substitute for the woman he truly pines for, but you’ll settle for what you can get if it means he’ll keep you around a little longer.

You’re more exhausted than you let on. Eyes slide shut, your body lulled into tranquility by the potent warmth Sylus exudes, the languorous glide of his fingers, and the soft music flowing through the room.

“Of course she’ll be there,” Sylus drawls through the darkness behind your lids.

You peek an eye open, met with an amused look from your boss. Whatever he’s on about on the phone, you figure no good will come from it. You’re too tired to pursue it, however. He’ll fill you in on the details later. Probably needs you to play all pretty and seductive to some scumbag threatening Sylus’ status as the king of the underworld. Whatever he needs from you, you’ll provide.

You always do.

—

At some point, you dozed off.

You feel him before you see him. Moving. A shift of fingers, the squeak of cloth against a lacquered surface. He brings you back to consciousness with the burr of his voice.

“I take it the negotiations went well.” It’s rhetorical in nature, but you pry your eyes open, met with the sight of Sylus watching you. Chin propped on folded hands, expression humored.

You bow forward, burying your elbows in the pockets of your knees. So close, you catch wind of the scent he carries. The warmth he exudes. Capture the little flecks of amber embedded in his irises. You school your mouth into a smirk, that wall of playfulness erected as you fix his collar. Watch the veins in his throat jump. “Oh, they went stellar.”

He quirks a brow at your blatant lie. A deaf person could taste the sarcasm in your tone.

“How’d you manage to get that,” Sylus interrogates, tapping his temple.

“Fell down the stairs.”

A laugh is huffed. A weighted palm pats your thigh. Draws away slowly, leaving your body atingle. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Scout’s honor,” you insist, a sardonic hand hovering over your heart.

He studies you for a beat or two longer. “You don’t have to shield her, you know.” Her being one exhaustingly kind hunter.

In truth, you don’t. You don’t owe her much of anything, unwillingly roped into being her shadow. Showing her how to pull the strings of Onychinus, doting on her like a younger sister. But you won’t ever fix your mouth to admonish her in front of your boss.

Not when she’d so effortlessly wormed her way into the space between his ribs. Stole his interest when you’d spent years poking at that shell around his heart.

“She won’t ever get better unless you light a fire beneath her from time to time.”

Your sigh is weighted. You know Sylus would kill you if you left his prized possession to the wolves. You lean back on your hands, feigning nonchalance. Inspect your nails. “Yeah, yeah. She’ll get there. Promise.”

You lapse into silence after that. Just Sylus observing you with keen interest below the gentle croon of the music. He’s looking for a tell. A weakness. A crack in the visage you so carefully constructed. When you don’t reveal any signs of pursuing this particular conversation further, he sighs heavy. Leans back in his leather chair, tapping his fingers together.

“In any case, I think you should take a load off.”

A scoff erupts from your throat. You? A break? Your gazes interlock. Oh shit—he’s serious.

“Is that what you were on the phone about? Orchestrating my sweet escape?”

He toys with a pen on his desk, idly twirling about in his chair. His amusement hasn’t let up in the slightest. “You could say that.”

“I find that hard to believe. That you’d let me run off to some remote part of the world to kick up my feet.”  

He fixes you with a wounded look. Mirrors your gesture from before, a hand raised in mock oath. Voice all smoky and low. “Scout’s honor.”

You chuckle. Pointlessly kick your feet, looking down at your lap. You missed this—this comfortable banter. This battle of whims. You’d gone without it for too long, sidestepping your acquaintance to make room for the new woman in town.

“I’ll be joining you, of course,” declares Sylus, breaking up your reverie.

You stiffen, dazed. “Oh.”

A prickle of giddiness creeps into you. You peer into his eyes. He’s all sincere there.

No pretending like the prospect of pairing up with your boss isn’t tempting. The last time you did a bit together was when Hunter Girl joined his entourage. Thereon, you’d been at his side less and less.

“Been a while,” you note offhandedly.

“Has it?” He’s tapping away at his phone. Making quiet money moves, coordinating things you can’t be bothered to follow until he makes it your problem.

A part of you can’t help feeling like this is a ruse. A cover for something more nefarious. Why on earth would Sylus go on vacation with you? Still, you’ll play along until he reveals the contents of his mind. Maybe you’re better off not knowing what’s amiss until the last moment. You don’t want to ruin whatever blueprints he’s already drawn up.

Suddenly, he stops what he’s doing. Slides closer, bracketing either side of your thighs between long arms. Chest pushes against your knees, a smirk twitching his lips. His voice steeps a few octaves as he says with a salacious tilt of his head, “You should get some rest. Your room’s already set up if you wish to stay here.”

Rest? The time projected on the wall behind him bends in and out of focus. It is pretty late, isn’t it? He notches his chin against the slope forming between your thighs. Eyes glint with something you mistake for fondness as his thumbs cruise over your quads.

It’s as if he’s prodding about in your mind, sensing all the questions there. Your apprehension. “The jet will be departing at first light tomorrow. I’ll fill you in on where we’re off to then. You should sleep while you can.”

You nod, contemplating ruffling his hair. He’s something akin to a puppy, looking up at you like that. Unguarded, touching you with all the tenderness of the world. It wouldn’t be much to return his affection. But he doesn’t belong to you, does he?

Instead, you wrench yourself off the desk. Raise your hand in casual goodbye over your shoulder, easing out of his study, blissfully unaware of his eyes boring into your shoulder blades.

Maybe sleeping will do you some good. Help you shake off these feelings threatening to take hold of your psyche again.

And maybe you’ll wake up with more sense tomorrow.

[lycheedr3ams]

könig can't help but get a hard-on when he sees you, his pretty wife, cooking for him. it doesn't matter what time of day, just seeing the care you put into making his food, the way your bite your lip in concentration while measuring ingredients or when you have to bend over to get something in the bottom cupboards

but könig would never disturb you while you're cooking. he understands you need to concentrate, and he honestly just loves watching you in your zone. you always see him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, that familiar predatory gaze mixed with lust that always makes you throb. you can't help but smile giddily and turn your head away so he doesnt see, because you know that if he sees, it's all over for you

while you're standing at the stove or mixing things, könig will kneel behind you and paw at your ass and hips. he'll groan when you make a little noise at his touches, but he'll shush you with gentle squeezes on your hips.

if you're wearing a skirt, könig will gently hike his hands up your soft thighs, making you a bit more hot and bothered than you thought you'd be while cooking. and while you're extra distracted with cooking, he'll gently shift your panties to the side to reveal your slick pussy. könig gently nudges your legs apart and parts your sticky folds. your scent hits his nose, and he swears he could come from that alone.

könig sticks his tongue out and laps firmly at your soaked folds, focusing on your pretty little clit. your sweet moans hit his ears and only spur him on. he listens intently as you cook, and if you stop cooking because he's making you feel too good, he'll gently slap your thighs to get you to keep cooking.

he makes you come, every single time. your legs shake and knees threaten to buckle as he gives you such a good orgasm while you're stirring the batter or cooking schniztel. könig licks the slick that was dripping down your thighs, and puts your panties back in place. he'll playfully slap your ass gently as he gets up from his knees and towers over you. he'll grin at you cheekily, all too proud of himself, your slick glistening on his stubbled chin and jaw, and he'll ask, "so, is it almost ready?"

taglist: @osteawb, @sleepystaarr, @vvampir3s, @simpxinnie, @majocookie, @sharkyyyyyyyyyyyy, @marysdelrey, @kybeth5, @chaos-on-stand-bi, @shannonswizzies, @arcadia509, @bloodstoneruby, @cumikering, @skystreamchan, @junkratssheila-09, @kit-williams, @tangerynsbaby, @dreamdiaries777, @royalbxstxrd, @non-satanic-panic, @theweirdchick, @kiyomisan, @maylif, @mortimoshi, @eneiss, @daughter-ofthe-forest

[woso-dreamzzz]

Outburst III

Leah Williamson x Jordan Nobbs x Toddler!Reader

Summary: Stranger danger

You are very little when it happens.

Very little.

You've learnt how to walk now, though Mummy calls it a toddle, so you're free to wander around the pitch.

It's after a Chelsea match that it happens.

You are young and small but Leah has already instilled the love of Arsenal into you and a hatred of Chelsea. She tells you that they're not as bad as Spurs but they're very close.

Mum is very smart so you believe her.

She's talking to some of the England girls who play for Chelsea and Jordan is over with the physios getting a bruise checked out.

You are left to toddle.

It's a late match so you're a little tired but only a little. You've not yet been changed into your pjs but you have your blankie and that's enough for you.

The fans are at the barrier and sometimes Leah brings you over to say hello to them but she's busy and you can walk by yourself now.

So, you toddle over.

That's when it happens.

You're not actually sure what happens and why it's bad but Jordan's the first person to see.

She's noticed your absence, turning to check that you've made it to Leah but you're not there. Her head whips around until she sees the fan leaning over the barrier, reaching to lift you up.

The world happens in slow motion then and she pushes the physios away from her, getting to her feet and sprinting over.

She passes Leah, whose eyes track her before settling on where she's heading.

You're in that person's arms now and Leah starts sprinting too.

Jordan gets there first, pulling you out of the arms quickly and turning away with you. Leah comes up on the rear, sliding into Jordan's place and fisting the shirt of the person.

A crowd forms quickly, a mix of the coaching staff, Arsenal players and the Chelsea team. Millie's the one that's trying to pull Leah back, who looks two seconds away from breaking someone's nose.

Jordan bounces you.

You don't understand what's going on and why it's suddenly so loud and you jolt as vicious words fly over your head and echo across the pitch.

"My blankie!" You say, bursting into uncontrollable tired tears as blankie drops to the ground with a little flutter.

"It's okay," Jordan says as she bounces you, pressing your face into the crook of her neck," It's okay, bug. Mummy's here. Mummy's here. You're safe. It's okay."

"M-My blankie!" You sob, reaching out to where blankie is growing saturated with mud and muck. "Blankie, no!"

"You piece of shit!" Jordan can hear Leah yell," You don't pick up someone's fucking kid! You don't touch fucking touch her!"

"Leah." That's Millie now. "Come on. Let go. The FA will give you a ban."

Leah's still yelling and Jordan knows that one look at you will have her coming straight over. Yet some horrible part of her wants Leah to continue to put the fear of god into the person that tried to take you.

But you're sobbing and whining and your blankie is getting dirty.

You need both your mums.

"Leah!" She calls and Leah falls silent," Bug needs us."

It's all it takes for Leah to join her, weaving through the assembled crowd to pull Jordan and you closer to her.

"Is she okay?" Leah asks, voice trembling.

"Her blanket," Jordan says plainly and Leah ducks down to grab it," She's tired. I don't think she understands what happened."

You reach out for your blankie but it's dirty so Leah doesn't let you take it.

"Let's get her inside. It's nearly bedtime."

The locker room is silent with everyone else still out on the field and it's with great efficiency that Jordan changes you out of your kit into your pjs and Leah gets the worst of the muck off your blanket.

"Hey," One of the female physios pops her head through the door," Do you want me to check her out?"

Worry courses through Leah as she nods. Images of bruises and cuts flash in her mind even though you have none. It would have been easy, she thinks, for that person to have just kidnapped you like that. It would have been so simple and so easy.

You're still little and you're almost too sociable. You think everyone is a friend, no matter what.

You're no idea what could have happened and that terrifies Leah.

"You look good, bug," The physio says to you and it's like a weight has been lifted off both Leah and Jordan's chests," She's fine. Nothing wrong."

You yawn, the excitement of the day finally catching up to you.

You fall asleep curled up in Jordan's arms and both of your mothers just sit there staring at you.

"That person's been banned," Katie says in greeting as she comes in," And I think they're mentally scarred."

"Good," Leah mutters.

"How's Bug?" Kim asks.

"Sleeping," Jordan answers," She's fine. Good. No bruises. No cuts. No broken bones."

"And you both?"

Neither of them answer and that's answer enough.

"It'll be okay. Go home," Kim says," Buy something greasy tonight. Put your feet up. Go and sleep with your kid."

Leah gives Kim a watery smile. "We will."

[kakushino]

hello can i get a giyuu x reader angst , like where giyuu had an argument with the reader , but it turns out the reader is pregnant? you can add any other plot twist cus i love plot twists thank you !<3

Almost

Tomioka Giyuu x Fem! Reader

He had lost a lot of people in his life by his own making. He refused to lose you too.

Tags: pregnancy, arguments, blood mention, abortion mention (no actual abortion), hurt/comfort Word count: 2k

Masterlist

AN: Hope you enjoy it! I actually had a WIP of an argument + making up before, so I got to revisit it and add the pregnancy spice you asked for hehe~ Huge thanks to my dearest beta reader @glitchtricks94 for helping me clear it up (o゜▽゜)o☆ another huge thanks to @starrierknight for brainstorming with me

Giyuu’s injuries weren’t worse than normal, but that didn’t stop you from fretting over him – especially when he had a gash on his cheek, the same cheek you kissed a week ago when he was leaving for his mission. It made your chest feel tight to see his pretty face marred by demons. Your grandmother was surely rolling in her grave that such a classical beauty was hurt, the thought spurred you on to care for him.

No detail went unnoticed under your eye. He seemed tired, as usual, and a little stressed, as usual too - just a regular morning after slaying demons.

You sat him down at a western style dining table with a medical kit and supplies to clean the cuts with next to you. Your hands shook slightly when the damp cloth wiped away grime and blood, your lips pressed together when a fresh drop of blood oozed from the wound.

“You need to be more careful,” you murmured as you worked, the statement automatic, thoughtless.

Giyuu’s whole body stiffened. “Or what?”

You froze in place, your hand dipping the cloth in warm water. This was a new tone of his – a new way words could cut you if he wanted you to hurt: it was rough, serrated, mean. “What?”

He rolled his shoulders back a little, rearing for a fight. “You heard me the first time.”

You clenched your hand, leaving the rag in the water, and turned to fully face him. “Why are you so defensive? I meant no harm,” you replied, trying to calm the storm before it fully set in.

He stood abruptly, nearly knocking the chair he had sat in over. The look he shot you sent your heart galloping in your chest, from fear or indignation, you didn’t know. “You’ve done enough. Leave me be.”

Did he like you like this? Was the hurt in your eyes enough? That was – did he like the way it glinted, the way it caught the light? Hours upon hours spent on making your suffering pretty, and perhaps now it would pay off. He could cut you down into something pretty if he wanted to, and maybe you would let him.

Before he could walk away, before he could twist the rusty blade, you rose from your seat, “I have done nothing to warrant this tone with me, Tomioka Giyuu. Now tell me-“

"Stop bothering me," he cut you off, heading towards the door.

A violent whirlpool of emotion threatened to drown you, and for once, you let go. “You- you oaf! I can’t stand you being like this! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect,” he snapped, voice like a viper and words just as stinging. “Or at least it would be if I didn’t have you nagging me every time. I’ve been through this enough to know what to do with myself. Unlike you who sits here all pretty and safe and fat, ready to wrap a bandage and call it a day.”

You flinched, for the first time in your husband’s presence, tears springing from your eyes, which you rapidly blinked away. What have I ever done to deserve this? You had waited on your hands and knees for this man every time he’d come home battered and bruised and broken and put him back together, without complaining, with love. This was what you got in return for your devotion? Pretty and useless. That’s what he basically called you.

Your throat tightened. You hardly had the energy to respond so you turned away and just… left. You couldn’t continue listening to Giyuu when he sounded so much like… like Shinazugawa. Whatever was bothering him best be left alone to cool off before you could talk about it.

You nodded to yourself as you packed an overnight bag. Some time apart would be good for you both. You knew he wouldn’t be sent out on a mission for a few days again, since he just returned from a longer stint, so you would come back tomorrow and try to resolve it then.

It was time for a check-up with a midwife anyway.

He had really said all that.

And you left.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you left, as you should. He had treated you like garbage.

There was no going back, no taking back his idiocy, no swallowing back his words.

‘Let's stop fighting’ was at the tip of his tongue. ‘Come here and let me hug you’ nearly spilled from his lips. ‘I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry’ choked him up as you walked away.

He knew you were right. You did nothing wrong.

He felt nothing.

He was worth nothing.

Giyuu picked up the shards of his heart up and finished cleaning up his wounds. A short bath later, he walked into the kitchen to find food already made for him, now long gone cold. It just reminded him how much he butchered his relationship by what – stress and tiredness? A demon taunting him right before its death? If so little shook him up, did he even deserve to be with you?

A sharp pain pierced his heart at the thought of leaving you. His selfishness truly knew no bounds, hurting you and putting you in danger for being a Hashira’s partner yet wanting you to remain by his side.

After eating his portion, he made tea and waited to see if you would join him. There was no movement in the house at all; were you in your shared bedroom, laying in bed as you were used to when upset? He would give you time to cool off, give himself time to breathe, and then he would approach you with a clearer head. He needed to apologize.

One hour. Two hours.

Had he angered you so much that you wouldn’t come out? Your spats had never lasted this long.

The tea had long grown cold, but Giyuu couldn’t bring himself to make more. There were no sounds coming from the house.

Were you even here?

The thought jolted him from his seat, quickly walking to your shared bedroom.

“Love?”

Nothing.

“I’m coming in.”

He somehow expected it, though he’d hoped against it. You weren’t there.

Already turning to check all other rooms, he called out your name. His pace was brisk, his throat starting to clog up with a familiar emotion. Claws of anxiety sunk into his stomach, his heart beat like a drum, his lungs struggled to take in air. You weren’t there.

Where were you?

He ran through the whole estate and back two times but came up with no clue as to where you were. Panic mounted, crawling up his spine like a spider he couldn’t shake away.

Giyuu slammed the gate of his home open, very nearly running into his elderly neighbour.

She was hardly phased, though confused by his frazzled visage. “Tomioka-san? What’s got you in such a hurry, young boy?”

“Have you seen my wife?!” he’d never been as rude as he was now, but you were gone so what was he supposed to do?

“Your wife? Oh, that’s right, I saw her. If I recall, she was on her visit… hmm, who was she going to visit?” his neighbour mused. Giyuu waited with all the patience Urokodaki beat into him, that was – quite impatiently. “Oh right! A midwife! I was very surprised when-“

He stopped listening, or rather, he stopped hearing anything going on around him. A midwife? A midwife was a profession with a very specific set of skills for a very specific group of people… Did that mean-?

“Isotani-san,” Giyuu interrupted, breathless, eyes wide with surprise. “Are you saying my wife is pregnant?”

She squinted at him, “You didn’t know?”

It felt as if lightning came from clear skies and struck him. Every nerve itched with some kind of energy telling him to move.

He later vaguely remembered asking his neighbour for the direction you left in, but at the time, he saw nothing, and felt everything all at once.

Were you going to… terminate it? Were you going to tell the midwife, and would she terminate it? Was the midwife going to terminate it and help you move on? Would you move on without him?

Thoughts racing, heart galloping, Giyuu felt feverish. He stumbled back, deaf to his neighbour’s concerned questions as he turned the way you had left just hours ago. One foot in front of the other, a step by step, getting faster with each meter he passed until he was running nearly as fast as Uzui, desperation spurring him on.

Kanzaburo flew overhead, and when he cleared the village bounds, he called out to get the crow to lead him to you.

Time was of the essence. He may have botched his life, but he was too selfish to let go of you. He wanted, no- needed to get you back. You were his love, his soul, his home. He wouldn’t be able to go on if you left.

He felt crazed, desperate, as he ran.

Giyuu would have been faster had he not have to follow Kanzaburo but he wouldn’t be able to find you alone. He felt as if he was racing against the time. Any minute now, you would be in a the midwife’s home, waiting for the release from his clutches; any second now, you would sever the only tactile link you had to him – your baby.

His baby.

He swore, his mind supplementing him with your argument. It had been all his fault, he’d just lashed out because of nothing, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. How childish he’d been – and he was supposed to be a father? No, he wanted to be a father. He’d fix himself and he’d support you and he’d even carry you your whole pregnancy, so you didn’t have to walk. He’d learn to cook more than the basics to feed you and your baby.

Please, let me be in time.

Then he saw you.

The whole world seemingly froze, grey and empty save for you.

You were a pearl amongst rocks, still as beautiful as the first day he saw you, as beautiful as you were on your wedding day.

Giyuu didn’t stop, even as you turned to him in surprise when he called your name. He didn’t stop until he had you in a soul-crushing hug, tight and near bruising – one he immediately eased up on, since he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Calm down, Giyuu! What’s going on?”

“D-don’t-“ he stumbled over his words, still frantic and breathing heavily, “don’t get rid of it!”

You were confused, “Get rid of what?”

His hands were heavy clutching onto your clothes, his frame nearly hanging onto you. “Our – our child,” he gasped out. “Isotani-san told me you were- she told me you were pregnant.” His words came out in a rush, eyes wide as he stared at you, his pupils darted all over your face for a sign of – of anything, be it forgiveness, anger, sadness, anything.

Looking at him in such a state, near quivering in his spot, you felt powerful. Giyuu was at your mercy for once. You could topple him as easily as a sandcastle, crush him under your boot and grind down to juice him of all that made him who he was. It made you realize you held just as much power over him as he did over you. Oddly, you felt reassured - of his love, of your love, of the relationship. 

Heart hammering in your chest, cheeks filling with warmth, the adoration you carried in your heart spilled over and pooled in your stomach. You hungered for more of this power, positively starved to sink your teeth into him and drain him.

But that could wait.

“I am indeed pregnant,” you confirmed, your hands resting on his arms, thumbs stroking soothing lines over his muscles. You paused, letting the seconds painfully stretch out, “I’m not terminating the pregnancy.”

His whole being sagged with relief. Giyuu fell to his knees in slow motion, his hands sliding down your yukata to rest over your hips, now clutching the fabric there with a weak grip. “Thank gods…” he rasped out, his breathing stuttered as if holding back sobs. “Please, love, let’s not- I apologize – I apologize for everything. I shouldn’t have lashed out. I was wrong…”

His impossibly blue eyes met yours, the surface glistening with unshed tears, his guilt bitter but his plea tasting sweet on your tongue. Saliva gathered in your mouth, wanting more.

Did that make you a bad person?

“You dismissed my concern,” you stated, fighting back any expression wanting to take over your face. “You said I nag you. You called me useless.” And pretty, your mind supplied. He’d also called you fat, so there was that. “I didn’t deserve that.”

Giyuu’s lips were downturned, “You didn’t. I was an oaf.” His admission did nothing to soothe the ache he’d given you. “I’m willing to take whatever punishment you deem worthy of my misdeeds.” He let go of your yukata, smoothing over the wrinkles he made. He didn’t know what to do with himself, trying not to fidget as you rolled his actions and words in your mind.

“There will be no punishment,” you told him. If possible, he became even more tense, the need for absolution great. Perhaps no punishment would be a punishment of itself. “But don’t think you’re entirely forgiven. I accept your apology; you however have to make up for it your own way.” You studied his earnest expression, brows slightly furrowed as he started thinking about ways to win you back. It shouldn’t be too hard. He did it once, he could do it again.

Giyuu slowly stood up, taking your hands in his. “I won’t disappoint you, love,” he said resolutely, kissing your fingertips softly. He adored you, with his whole heart, mind and body.

Everything would work out – just like the ice always melts and clouds disperse, a typhoon passes and the sea calms.

“If you pull this act again, I’m leaving.” You glared at him for a second to get your point across. Giyuu nodded and pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

He almost lost you and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Thanks for reading! Reblog or comment if you liked it :3

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

[gravehags]

Phantom ghoul begging to breed you but Mountain having to be there to keep him under control so he doesn't accidentally hurt you

Just big ghoul keeping small ghoul in line teehee

OOH BABY

mountain easing phantom’s cock inside you, far too slowly for the smaller ghoul’s liking, and gently telling him watch how she stretches around you, how perfect she is for you. phantom nods frantically, regarding your flushed face and the way your mouth hangs open in pleasure. gently, bug. show her how good she’s making you feel. you yourself nod encouragingly, biting hard on your lower lip. phantom’s hips slowly begin to jerk - sliding himself in and out of you with pathetic little whimpers while mountain stands behind him holding his shoulders. he adores you so much and all he wants to do is take and take and take and make you his. you’re keening and arching so beautifully beneath him, the sight makes his vision go spotty and his head swim. a little harder now, bug, she can take it. the next time he pushes into you it’s with such force it moves you up the bed and makes you cry out. again, you pant, nodding deliriously to mountain, do it again honey that was so good. phantom soon sets a pace, rough but nothing you can’t handle, rutting into you with snarls and moans on his lips. you know exactly what he could do to you if beloved mountain wasn’t there to guide him and that makes you wild. his hips snap brutally against you, spurred on by the pretty little noises you make. you feel so good, bug, you cry out as you make eye contact with mountain. he himself looks hungry beyond belief but still he attends to his duty, fingers digging into phantom’s shoulders. when you start to clench around him, phantom begins gasping as if he’s desperate for air. gonna knot her, mount, he whines, fuck baby you want my knot? want me to fill you up with my kits? that alone has you careening over the edge, crying out a litany of yeses. you already feel the base of him fattening, locking inside you and you throw your head back with an exhilarated laugh. good boy, mountain coos into his ear, placing a little kiss on his bare shoulder. the way he stretches you and his sweet little whimpers are enough to rocket you into your second orgasm. beautiful, mountain says, breathing heavily through his nose, so beautiful taking his knot like this. go on, bug. fill her up. the command is all phantom needs as he paints the walls of your cunt with his seed. you’re so deliciously full and for a brief moment you lament your different biologies. finally, mountain lets him go and he falls forward to collapse on you, your name a prayer on his lips. mountain disappears momentarily and you’re content to stroke phantom’s sweat-damp hair as he slowly deflates inside you. when mountain returns, he’s bearing a warm wet rag and easing the smaller ghoul off and out of you. as he collapses on the bed next to you, mountain dutifully runs the rag between your legs to clean up the mess. when he leaves again for a moment, you turn to phantom and his anxious gaze. did i do good? he asks. did i hurt you? you smile. you were perfect bug. so good for me. wasn’t he a good boy, mount? the tall ghoul re-enters the room with two glasses of water which he sits down on the bedside table. mountain makes a noise of affirmation and smiles, sitting beside the two of you. when he moves to leave both you and phantom make noises of dissent as you reach for him. with a grin that shows his sharp teeth he begins to strip down and slips into bed beside phantom. your turn next, mount, phantom murmurs, half asleep. mmhmm, you agree, just as sleepy, you can show bug how a professional does it.

[spideyhexx]

11 pm thoughts with kit;

mdni; cw spanking

Billy didn’t think he’d like it as much as he does, but most of that is thanks to you.

you’re on top of him in his bed, his cock buried deep in your cunt as you move your hips on him. Your slow manner is driving him wild, but you told him you wanted to set the pace so of course he’s not gonna interrupt.

but inside he’s close to breaking. The disrespectful part of him wants to flip the two of you around and tug your legs over his shoulders and fuck you fast until you’re crying in pleasure. He shakes those thoughts when you let out a breathy moan.

Billy’s hand is loosely holding your hip, his other hand tangled in his own hair as he watches you, mumbling out, “good, honey, good, I know ‘s a lot to take, you’re doin’ good,” because he wonders if the praise will help you move faster.

You are purposefully moving slow but Billy is also big. It feels too good to take your time on his cock, to feel every part of it as it slides in and out of you. And maybe your patience is better than Billy’s.

But it’s not long before his moan trails off into a sound of frustration and his hand slips to your backside. All he does is give you a a firm pat, a nudge maybe. But the feeling of his large hand against you makes you jolt faster, bouncing a little more on him.

Billy notices it right away, he’s too perceptive, he knows what made you go quicker but he wants you to say it. To ask for it. So he keeps his hand on your ass, holding you there. His eyes are locked to your face, which is in pure bliss, eyes closed and mouth parted a little as you let out another pretty moan along with his name, so in response, he pats his hand on your ass again.

Your moan is a little louder, “Billy…please,” you breathe out, your hands on his chest, bracing yourself.

His breath hitches, “please what?”

Your eyes lock with his, which are almost glassy, wide and pleading with you, his hair all messed up from his own hand. Putting your hand on his, you make his hand lightly slap your ass, “do that, harder though,” you tell him through quick breaths, and you don’t miss the way his eyes widen, even if he knew that’s where this was going.

“You’re sure? I won’t do it too hard, I don’t want to hurt you,” he gets out quick, your hips still slowly grinding on him making it harder to focus.

“I’m good, I want it,” you assure him, nodding and he gives you a nod back, letting you get back into your rhythm before he brings back his hand just a little to land a small smack to your ass.

You gasp, and push yourself down on him a little harder. Billy’s hips push up at the action, making both of you groan, his cock nudging deep in you. That small encouragement is enough for him to not hesitate smacking your other cheek, still a quick one, and it pushes you to bounce faster.

Billy lets out an almost relieved moan at your pace, “there you fuckin’ go…that’s all you needed?”

He smiles lazily over it, in awe of you and the way you look on him, moving like you’re desperate for it. Raising his hand, it comes back down on your ass, his hand smoothing the spot after, again spurring you to fuck yourself on his cock like that’s the only thing you know how to do.

He groans, slapping your ass in a quicker manner again before he says, “huh that’s all you needed…god baby, what the fuck are you doin’ to me,” he chuckles breathlessly over it which makes you smile between your desperate whimpers for him.

“Makin’ me fuckin’ spank you…shit,” his voice gets lower, and his hips buck up to meet you whenever you push yourself down on him, “c’mon honey, so close…’m so close, fuckin’ me good.”

Billy delivers one more slap to you your backside before you’re leaning down more onto his chest, letting him plant his feet in the bed to fuck up into you. Your pleasure washes over you within a few of his hard thrusts, coming hard on his cock, him quickly following and pushing himself deep into you so you take all of him.

His hands smooth over your ass where he slapped you, his lips finding the top of your ear and kissing it, “you okay? Not hurt, right?”

You shake your head, “yes, im okay…and no…that was good.”

Billy has a little bit of pride over that, his hands still rubbing you, “unexpectedly good,” he remarks and bites at the top of your ear to make you smile.

[kaminocasey]

A Thing for Hands: A Valentine's Special

Summary: You get your nails done in a certain 501st blue and Rex can't stop thinking about them being wrapped around a certain part of his body.

Pairing: Captain Rex x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Smut, oral (both receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up friends), the idea of exhibitionism, handjobs, rough sex, teasing, flirting, feelings, etc.

WC: 2.3K

A/N: Soooo, I got my nails done and all I could think about was whether or not Rex would like them lol. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!! 💗💗💗 Also, I made a Valentine's Day Playlist if you wanna check it out! 💗

TAGLIST FORM

(Pics of nails are mine)

They’re just kriffing nails, Rex thinks to himself, biting his knuckle to stifle a moan, why am I so turned on?

Earlier, you came into the barracks with your nails the color of his armor. 501st Blue, you had called it. It had made his face go warm and other places go hard. He had watched you pack your medical kit by your bunk and just couldn’t tear his eyes away from your hands. You had chosen to make your nails the color of his armor. It hadn’t taken him but a moment to grab you and kiss you, instinct fully taking over.

You’d hooked up once before, a month ago, in the back alley of 79s after a heated battle and both of you needed to let off steam. But this… was different.

Since when did he have a thing for hands? Or maybe it’s just your hands?

But tonight? You’d dropped to your knees so eagerly for him. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s never been so turned on in his life. The rate at which he got instantly hard should be concerning, right?

The lewd sounds coming from below him, watching as your hands just barely fit around his aching hard length, spur him on as he starts to thrust his hips upward.

Your mouth slides off with a ‘pop’ and he makes eye contact with you.

“You know what I think?” You smirk up at him.

“Hm?” He can barely form words.

“I think you really like my nails.” You chuckle, squeezing the base of his cock. 

“Y-ya… think?” He fires back, amused, chest heaving.

You let go of him, and he nearly protests but when you start teasing the tips of your nails over his length, it twitches, making him jerk slightly with a gasp, and you smirk up at him.

“You think I could make you cum just from this, Captain?” You purr. 

“Undoubtedly.” He gasps, watching your blue nails tease the veins of his cock. 

You tilt your head, looking up at the man above you, your eyes full of seduction, drawing the clone captain in even more. He’d do anything for you, and he hopes you know that. 

You run the pad of your finger over the tip of his head, swiping the precum off and pulling your finger to your mouth, sucking it in to taste him. Rex nearly combusts right then with parted lips and a twitch of his cock.

“Mmm.” You hum around your finger as you make eye contact with him.

As if he snaps out of the daze he’s in, he finally finds his words. “Up. Clothes off. Now.”

With a grin, you stand up. “Yes, Captain.” 

He strokes his cock as he watches you peel your clothes piece by piece from your body, dropping them to the floor. When you drop your last piece of clothing, he pats his thigh, beckoning you to sit in his lap. 

Who are you to deny a captain?

As you lower yourself, you straddle his lap and he groans at the sight of you, knowing he’s never seen a more beautiful person in his life. Clothes or no clothes. 

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long.” He leans in and whispers while ghosting his mouth along your collarbone.

“Me too.” You lift his shirt up over his torso and run your fingers down his well toned torso. “Why did it take us so long to do this again?”

“Because I’m a di’kut.” He sighs at the feel of your soft hands on his skin.

His fingers trail down to your aching clit, begging to be touched and you let out a soft whine. You’ve been aroused since the moment you finished getting your nails done, daydreaming about the exact scenario that’s playing out right now. You’d so hoped he’d appreciate the color choice. And he seems to more than appreciate it.

When his fingers slip into you, he groans. “So wet and ready for my cock already, aren’t you?”

You let out a soft whimper. “Y-yes… Captain.” 

“I’m never going to be able to hear you call me ‘Captain’ again without getting hard.” He complains.

“Well, if that happens…” You gasp as he thrusts his fingers. “Come find me and I’ll help you out.”

“Lucky me.” He smirks.

His fingers slide in and out of you as he watches you above him. The soaked sounds coming from your pussy make you absolutely lightheaded. You groan loudly when he curls his fingers and your eyes fall immediately on the door.

His warm breath sends shivers down your body and suddenly, you feel even more exposed, out in the open where anyone could walk in. You clench at the thought and Rex notices your glance at the door.

He chuckles softly. “I would say keep it down but something tells me you wouldn’t mind an audience… Would you, mesh’la?”

With a shy shake of your head, he pulls your face toward his, kissing you deeply. Both of you moan softly against the other’s lips as his fingers still continue to thrust into you a little quicker.

“You know I think about this perfect cunt wrapped around my cock at night?” He whispers, hotly against your mouth. “That night outside of 79s plays in my head every day.”

You let out a soft whimper and he smirks against your lips.

“So much so that I can’t help but pump my own cock to the thought of you every… single… night.” He tells you, his words lining up with his thrusting. 

If his fingers feel this good, you can’t wait to be reminded of what his cock feels like.

“Let me give you something better.” You murmur, reaching around you to line him up with your entrance.

Rex pulls his fingers out of you as you slide down onto his cock, the both of you gasping against each other. You pull his hand up and suck the fingers that were just buried in you into your mouth, making him growl. It’s probably the hottest sound you’ve ever heard. 

He flips you over onto your back onto the thin mattress of his bunk, pushing your legs back toward your chest, starting to pull out only to push back into you, rougher, drawing a gasp from your lips, making him smirk.

“Feel good, cyar’ika?” He grunts as he repeats the motion.

You nod as he pulls your hand up, admiring your nails again.

“501st blue really suits you.” He grins as he guides your fingers to your clit. “I wanna see these pretty fingers rubbing your clit. Can you do that for me?” 

“Yes, Captain.” You groan as he pushes back into you, gripping your thighs for leverage. 

“Atta girl.” He squeezes your thighs tight and you clench around him at the praise. He notices immediately and smirks down at your naked form below him. “Doing so good for me... Sucked my cock so good… Gonna make you cum on my-”

A loud moan leaves your throat as you feel your orgasm approaching. Your body starts to go fuzzy, arching up, and he groans loudly. 

“Maker, you’re so… close.” He feels like he’s losing his edge as he savors the feeling of you tightly wrapped around him. 

“Let me cum, please... I need to cum on your cock, Captain.” You beg.

Your begging nearly makes him cum right then, making his head spin. “Fuck, mesh’la. Cum for me.” 

Your body listens to your captain’s command and you let yourself get lost over your edge as you grip his shoulders tightly. Your nails dig into strong muscle as you whimper like a pathetic little mess as you bury your face into Rex’s warm neck.

“So pretty like this.” He admires your trembling body underneath him and he can’t help himself from sliding out of you and lowering himself to the floor, pulling your lower half to his mouth. 

You sit up with a gasp, still sensitive. His strong arms slide underneath your thighs, keeping you in place.

“So sorry, pretty girl. I need to taste you like this.” His voice is low and needy and you nod, running your fingers over his soft blond buzzed hair, making goosebumps race down his skin.

“Do I taste good, Rex?” You whisper, looking down into those warm brown eyes.

“Fucking perfect.” His groan vibrates throughout your cunt and it flutters around his tongue.

The way you say his name is going to be on repeat in his head for the rest of his life.

He licks into you like a man starved and seeing him on his knees for you might just be your new favorite thing. You can’t believe all of this came just from you getting your nails done.

“You taste how badly I want you?” You murmur and he hums, his hands traveling up to your breasts and gripping tightly, as if he’s holding on for dear life.

“I touch myself at night to the thought of you too, you know.” You murmur, making him groan against your soaked cunt and you grab his head for leverage. 

“More.” He tells you, meaning he wants you to keep talking. 

“I… I think about how you dragged me out of that booth at 79s… after I had been teasing you all night- ahh fuck-” You groan when he pushes a thick finger into you. “Th- The way you gripped my wrist a-and guided me to the back alleyway… fuck Rex just like that.” You whimper when he inserts another finger and curls them perfectly again, knowing you’re gonna cum for him again.

“Keep. Going.” He demands, licking into you like he could die at any second.

“The way you pushed me up against the wall and checked to make sure I was okay with it… So hot.” You whisper, making him chuckle. “And then you pulled my underwear down and put it in your pocket… I imagine at night that you smell them while jerking off, thinking about me.”

“How did you know?” He teases, sucking your swollen clit in between his lips. “Keep going, cyar’ika.”

Your brain is going fuzzy again and you know you’re about to cum.

“I… I can’t.” You whimper. “Please- I’m gonna-.” 

He chuckles, pulling away from your dripping cunt, making your eyes go wide with protest. But before you can say anything, he stands up, pushing you over onto your front and pushes into you. 

You groan loudly. Whether or not it's from how roughly he’s thrusting into you or how frustrated you are from not getting to cum again, you’re not sure. He tilts your chin enough so that he can kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue. 

Rex’s hand grips your hip tightly as he plows into you, making your legs slip, so that you have to wrap your feet around his ankles and grab the thin sheet. His free hand slides down quickly to your aching clit, begging for a release.

“You wanna cum again, pretty girl?” He whispers against your lips between kisses.

Words begin to fail you so all you can do is nod fervently, begging. 

“Then do it. Fucking cum around my cock so I can fill you up. You want that?” He checks, his thrusts becoming more desperate. “Need to hear it.”

“Y-yes. In me.” You beg. “Cum with me please, Rex. Need you.” 

“Oh, fuck…” He groans as you both fly over your edges, stars filling the entire room supernova style.

The way that you two fuck is something so ethereal, far surpassing normal, all you can do is clench around his cock, milking every single drop of cum he could give you.

You’re absolutely certain that everyone across base had to have heard you. But the punishment will be absolutely worth it. You’re both sure of that.

He falls back on the floor, arms resting on his knees, as you slump against the bed, partly hanging off, both of you panting as if you’d run ten miles. Rex watches his cum drip out of your fluttering cunt right onto the floor and it nearly makes him hard again enough to go for another round. But he knows he should help get you cleaned up before one of his brothers walks in. Not that they’d mind the show. He’s almost certain you wouldn’t mind either, but maybe he’ll see if you’d be up to that in a couple days. After he gets some needed one on one time with you. 

He commits the sight before him into his memory before grabbing a towel to clean you up, gently and helps you up. 

“Thanks.” You chuckle at your wobbly legs.

“My pleasure.” He leans down and kisses you sweetly and then kisses both of your hands.

“Remind me to get my nails done more often.” You tease, making him laugh.

“Only 501st blue though, right?” He teases back.

“Hmmm… Maybe that 212th orange would be fun.” You grin and let out a yelp when he playfully swats your ass on your way to the fresher.

Rex kindly starts the shower for you, lingering for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to give you some privacy. But like always, you seem to be able to read his mind and instead grab his wrist, pulling him into the shower with you.

“We didn’t get to finish talking about that night at 79s.” You murmur, pushing him against the wall. 

“Jog my memory.” He chuckles as he watches you gain strength in your legs again as you sink to your knees once more, your hand running up his toned torso. You notice how beautiful your blue fingertips look against his tanned skin as he interlocks his fingers with yours. Yeah, you think to yourself, 212th orange would never look this good.

TAGS: @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 2)- matt sturniolo

part one, part 2

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

——————————————————————————

your pov:

i woke up with a massive headache, my chest heaving. the first thing i think of is matt.

what the fuck, why is he on my mind on a saturday morning.

i shudder at my own actions and throw my covers over my head as a phantom chill runs down my spine.“cant stay in bed forever” i sigh to myself, while throwing the covers off my body almost immediately after putting them back on. I march to my closet and change into my favorite running shorts. as soon as i step foot out of my house, i start to jog, the melodic tempo lulling me out of my morning funk. my peace is disrupted tho because out the corner of my eye, i see my neighbor walk out his house into his driveway. his eyes bore into mine before they rake up and down my body. my heart beat picks up slightly, and it’s not from the exercise.

my neighbor, kit, has been weirdly obsessed with me ever since he and his girlfriend broke up. about a week ago, i caught him snooping around our house at night, trying to get a peek into my room. after that i’ve been trying to avoid crossing paths, and i wasn’t planning on crossing them today. its fine, hes probably taking out the trash, i think, desperately trying to reassure myself. i speed up from a light jog to a full on sprint because i know that once hes out my sight, i will feel more comfortable. i sigh in relief when i round the corner to the next street in my subdivision, happy that i got away from him.

slap slap slap

his feet pound against the ground as he sprints to catch up with me. i whirl around once i hear the footsteps, and lock eyes with him. the accidental eye contact was enough to spur him to go even faster than his long legs were taking him before. my heart to drops and i turn back around, running on pure adrenaline and fear.

“Y/n, stop running and come talk to me!” kit yells angrily but i’m running far too hard to form a proper sentence. even if i wanted to respond to him i wouldn’t have the breath to do so.

“STOP PLAYING HARD TO GET. YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME Y/N. COME HERE AND ADMIT IT” he screams even louder. my head starts to pound and my mind reels trying to come up with a plan. i can’t run forever. i gather the little breath i have in me to muster up a scream in hopes someone will come help me, only for the air to be knocked out of me. i ran straight into something, no,

someone.

“get. the fuck. away from her.” the mystery man growls.

kit takes one look at him and slowly backs away in fear. “who the hell are you?” out of curiosity, i look up to see who i’ve run into and freeze.

matt?

no it can’t be. it looks just like him but his eyes are dark red, and dark black veins swirl under his pale skin like they have a mind of their own. “who are you?” i cringe as i repeat the same question kit did moments before, both our tones lacking a single ounce of courage. fear was all consuming as we stared at the monster in front us.

“you know who i am, y/n. get behind me. now. im gonna deal with him” he says gruffly while looking behind me at kit. kit whimpers at the sight of matts deadly stare.

i ignore what matt says, opting to look him up and down instead in a manner that screams “what the fuck is wrong with you”. but then, i try to think rationally for a moment, this is still matt after all. he may not like me but hes not gonna hurt me. right?

“what happened to you, matt?”i question breathlessly.

“you.” matt deadpans in a voice much deeper than his normal one, taking a step closer to me. he reaches his hand out to grab me. to take me.

“y/n get away from him!!” kit interjects and pulls me too him in hopes of trying to help me get away from matt. and for once, i’m actually glad kits here.

wrong move.

matt is in front of me in a flash. he snarles as he pushes kit with bone crushing force. his body goes flying, hitting a pole a couple of yards away with a loud thud, knocked out on impact. i shriek, terror filling my veins. as if sensing my strong distress, matt turns to me slowly. his arms out in front of him, in what is supposed to be a peaceful gesture.

hard to be comforting when your veins are as dark as your tattoos.

“y/n, we need to talk” the stranger, deeper version of matts voice says.

why can’t i move. im frozen in time as he takes slow steps towards me.

“you need to come with me, y/n.” he breathes out, his dark red eyes wide and crazed. he takes another step closer. my legs feel like jelly but i finally manage to take one step back. whatever matt is, it can’t be human. humans can’t throw each other several yards. their veins aren’t as black as midnight, and their eyes sure as hell don’t change to a deep red on command. so what does he, no, it, want from me.

“w- why do i need to come with you? ”

“because you’re mine” he growls, finally deciding to close the gap between us, faster than my eyes can process. he bends down and run his nose along the hot spot on my neck. he inhales deeply and moans in relief his black veins disappearing. i scream and try to push him off but its useless. he grabs my arm in a vice grip and pure horror spreads through my body for what feels like the 100th time today. i try to let out another scream but no sound comes out. my vision clouds and my head is spinning. then everything is black.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@fratbrochrisgf

@mattslolita

[whitehartlane]

how do you manage to stay so positive about spurs??

after singing oh when the spurs all day during the day of our ucl final picturing our lads lifting the trophy and kissing it and taking photos with it only for that handball (which wasn’t a handball btw they literally changed the rules afterwards to make it clearer) to happen within the first minute i’ve become absolutely immune to pain

[jflemings]

grace clinton + famous!gf (actress, singer, other sport athlete)

— grace clinton x singer!gf headcanons

under the cut!

୧ ‧₊˚ 🎤 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

- grace is your biggest fan

- she listens to all your music, posts about you on her instagram story and puts her friends and teammates onto your music

- shameless (and free) promo galore

- blushes everytime someone jokes about a song being written about her

- loves going to your shows and standing in the wings just watching you perform

- you featured her in one of your music videos once and she gets teased relentlessly for her acting

- despite your fame, you still make sure you’re in the stands for every one of her games you can get to. you want her to know that you support her as much as she supports you

- you wear get england jersey whenever you have a show in london

- she loves seeing you and your stylist create outfits around her kits

- you’re in eachother’s instagram comments all the time

- you two see who can come up with the corniest comment

lots of emojis, pet names and pickup lines

- if you play an instrument she would love hearing you play, even if you’re not playing an actual song

- she loves how creative your mind is and how you’re able to write songs and come up with concepts for your tour

- you love hearing her talk about football because she’s so passionate about it

- grace brings her teammates to shows when she can

- you have matching shirts that say ‘I ❤️ MY GIRLFRIEND’ with photos of eachother on them

- her teammates & friends were nervous to meet you because they all knew who you were prior to dating grace

they were shocked to learn that you were nervous to meet them too

- you lean heavily on eachother whenever there’s online criticism about how well she played or how well you performed

- you’re featured in her photodumps

- you tend to put easter eggs about grace & your relationship in music videos and fans always freak out when they find them

- matching fits

- you sleep in her spurs jersey

- tiktoks about you

- cheeky little comments about her during interviews and shows

- just a very loving and supporting relationship

[itsabouttimex2]

A Brand New Journey:

Part Five

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

Macaque has always been so good to you. Even from the first day you accidentally stumbled onto him, he had been kind.

Your arm had been gashed open by an unfortunate fall, dripping blood and throbbing in pain with each shaky step forward. Although you had hoped to get home before dark and patch yourself up with an ever dwindling first-aid kit, praying that there were enough bandages and antiseptic left for the wound.

But then there were two sets of footsteps close behind, spurring you to disregard caution and start sprinting down the street-

Whereupon you had bumped into one very strange demon, wearing an inconspicuous ru and sporting a tattered scarf.

“Going somewhere, kiddo? You shouldn’t be in such a rush, you now. You might get hurt. Ah, but…”

His hand then shot forward to clamp around your wrist, turning it over to examine your bleeding forearm.

“Looks like you already did, huh? Here, let me just…”

Rip. Shriiiip.

The precise shredding of thick fabric, his clawed fingers cutting a rectangular strip from the already ragged scarf. He had placed one end on your wrist, then gave you a strange grin.

“Hang in there, kiddo.” The simian warned you almost too late, given barely a second to brace for the stinging pain of having a wound forcibly bound shut with naught but pressure and cloth.

Biting back a wail and a set of fresh tears, you watched the monkey demon firmly tie off the end of the makeshift bandage.

It had been such a simple thing to do- but you still cherished him for it all the same.

How you’ve come to cherish your precious mentor, who stares down at you now with a strange smile.

Lifting a sleeve to your puffy eyes, an effort is made to stand up- only for Macaque to push you back down.

“I don’t think you’re steady enough for that just yet, kiddo.” Base words to convince you to do as he says, and you believe him. You always do.

Have you ever not believed him? Even for a moment, has there ever been any doubt in your heart?

He wraps the crimson scarf a little tighter around you, making sure that it covers your shoulders and neck.

“Now, what’d you bring all the way out here? You really should know better than to carry such a fancy bag in a neighborhood like this, kiddo.”

Was this all your fault?

Maybe you should’ve wrapped the mooncakes up in something less appealing- grabbed one of the disposable plastic brown sacks from a grocery store before heading in.

How easy would that have been?

“I wanted to share a meal with you,” is the dull response you give, newly downcast and despondent. “I brought mooncakes and tea.”

“Aww, aren’t you just a gem? Just the nicest.”

Nice. Anyone can be nice, can’t they? But it’s a lot harder to be clever or strong or capable.

Maybe he’d be happier with a different student.

Maybe if you were less nice and more-

“C’mon, kiddo- are you eating or not?”

He’s already got everything ready, the mooncakes strewn across his coffee table, the bottles of tea in the microwave.

Strange. You never even saw him get up.

He notices your questioning eyes, and quickly shifts the subject.

“Real sweet of you to bring this all the way out- I’m guessing you got a good deal, if you brought all of this?”

“Y-yeah! Yeah, I, uh, I’ve been using an app that tells me about local deals, y’know? Saves some money, and, um, all that.”

“Smart,” he praises, and a rush of euphoria races through you at just that one word. It feels almost pathetic to rely so heavily on someone’s praise to feel good about yourself. Still, you can’t help but adore each moment he breaks from his reserved norm and drops an honest compliment.

“Go put your stuff up and get changed, kiddo. I’ll pour the tea and get cushions.”

An actual sit-down meal with your mentor! You wouldn’t just be snacking and chatting on the couch this time!

Jumping to your feet, you excitedly race to the guest room, painted in a smooth purple and decorated with black curtains. He had essentially given it to you, letting you settle in with him at least semi-permanently.

A shelf right next to your bed is stocked with mementos, most of them memories you’ve shared with Macaque. A little snap-together set you had convinced him to put together with you, a bright mecha built from colorful blocks. By the end of the build, you had learned that he’d much rather watch than try to fiddle pieces together with his claws.

A framed photo beside it of something that Macaque had enjoyed much more- pumpkin carving. In place of a serrated knife or design card, he had taken great joy in simply shredding precise diamonds into the thick orange hide of the vegetable. The carved gourd had looked something like a lantern by the end of his fun. It had even put him a good enough mood to allow for a photo to be taken.

And you had a photo of you, MK, and Mister Pigsy to put up, but-

Enough reminiscing! Your mentor is waiting for you, after all.

You throw on the coziest thing you have in the closet- an old nightgown, long abraded to softness. Black as night and cool to the touch, decorated with purple cloud embroidery. And it never seemed to stop smelling of plums, a scent you had grown familiar with very quickly.

You aren’t quite sure where it came from, or when you got it- just that it’s a few sizes too big and pools around you comfortably.

Shoes off, bag placed carefully in the corner, and then you’re racing back out to meet Macaque in the living room.

You don’t notice two golden-eyed figures slinking out of the shadows and into your room.

The coffee table is prepared, the bottled tea is poured into mugs and the mooncakes are laid out two by two. He’s even put your little sitting cushion beside his instead of across.

You quickly take your seat, Macaque’s hand coming to ruffle your hair.

“Are we ‘expanding my horizons’ again today, kiddo? An ice cream day wasn’t enough?”

“I want you to try nice things,” is your protest, causing his golden eyes to soften.

“That’s… sweet of you,” he admits, folding his arms. “Really, Y/N.”

“…yeah,” you awkwardly respond, grabbing one of the napkins Macaque had set out. You grab one of the mooncakes and wrap it, then pass it to your mentor. “Do you, uh, know what’s inside this one?”

The sable simian lifts the pastry to his nose, sniffing intently. Quickly, his face scrunches up. “Tsk. More ice cream? Not in all of them, I’m hoping. Unless you’re trying to give me cavities, kiddo.”

“No, there’s only four with ice cream- and we’ve got two of them right now. I know you don’t like your food too sweet.”

“You’re a good kid,” he chuckles, biting into the mooncake. Vanilla ice cream leaks from the middle, oozing onto his tongue.

In turn you munch on your own, slowly leaning your head onto his shoulder.

Macaque doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your form, yanking you closer.

“You’re a good kid,” he says again, an ancient look in his golden eyes. There’s a newfound contentedness in them, and a pang of something much darker boiling underneath that new satisfaction. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

Swallowing down the last bit of the sweet pastry, you nod. “Sure, Macaque.”

“Nothing big- just I wanna know how you feel about me, kiddo.”

…something is scraping around in the room Macaque has fixed up for you.

“Keep looking,” a quiet and steady voice says. “They wouldn’t have just left it anywhere.”

“Shut up,” another angrily returns. “Don’t tell me what to do, Rumble! You’re lucky that I’m even helping you!”

“…you’re the one who wanted to come in here and look, Savage.”

“Shut up! Hurry up and throw me their bag!”

With a groan, Rumble carries your backpack to his ‘brother’ and drops it in front of him.

“Be quick,” he cautiously reminds. “Those mooncakes won’t last forever.”

“…I didn’t find the book,” Savage snarls, his crimson fingers hitting glass.

“But I did find something.”

And slowly, he pulls out the photo of you and your friends.

[whumblr]

Can I please have a drabble where emery beats up zayne really bad (you can decide the reasoning for it) so he goes to jay for help

LOVE YOUR WRITING, IT IS AMAZING!!!

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

The gun crashed hard against his face and this time Zayne couldn’t contain the grunt of pain it forced out.

He clenched his teeth. Too late. The weakness had already slipped and it only spurred Emery on. Another smash of steel and Zayne fell back against the shoulders of the two men flanking him. 

"Every time I think you can't get any more worthless, you effectively find some way to prove me wrong," Emery said, voice calm but his face twisted in rage.

Zayne clenched his jaw, keeping his own rage in check and keeping his eyes down, focusing on the lapel of Emery’s suit jacket, pinpointing where he’d have to drive a knife in.

“Look at me,” Emery hissed and grabbed Zayne’s chin, forcing his head up.

Zayne panted lightly, shallow breaths passing between clenched teeth, biting back his groans, and he glared at his boss.

A sharp inhale, as if the man was readying for another rant. A short pause. Then the hand fell away. "Let go of him." And despite his best efforts, Zayne’s knees buckled under his full weight and he crumbled to the floor.

"Get out of my sight, Zayne." Emery turned his back on him and the two pawns stepped away. As quietly and as fast as he could, Zayne pushed himself to his feet, stood straight, and even with no one watching him, walked as calmly and as tall as his ribs allowed him out of the office. Until the door behind him fell closed.

He hissed out a breath. Pressed a hand to his ribs, let out a breathless swear. He forced himself forward, not succumbing to the urge to lean back against the door, and to drag himself from the office instead.

-

“What in the bloody hell happened to you?!”

Jay watched, astonished, as Zayne stumbled through the hallway, holding himself up with a hand on the wall whenever he could, nearly tumbling right over the threshold to the living room. He caught himself just in time, leaning heavily against the doorframe, arm cradling his ribs and he blew out a shuddery exhale before he spoke.

"Can I... Can I—ugh fuck—" He clenched his teeth, tightened the arm around his torso. "Can I borrow your first aid kit?”

Jay blinked, having expected something else. But if he wanted to do this by himself, fine by him. He waved towards the bathroom. “Help yourself. You know where it is.”

Zayne gave a short dismissive nod in thanks. One that didn’t deter Jay.

He followed but kept a safe distance; leaned in the door to the bedroom, arms crossed, watching through the open bathroom door how Zayne raised a shaky arm and got the first aid kit out. For Zayne to come here, in this state, showing his weakness… it must be really bad.

As Zayne lifted his shirt with one hand, Jay quite couldn’t see how bad; his back seemed uninjured. But he could see his muscles twitch with every wince, saw how Zayne shook so hard he fumbled everything he got his hands on. Heard him curse as he picked at the sticky part of a large plaster and tried to keep his shirt up at the same time. A trembling hand reached out to the bottle of disinfectant, missed, tipped it right off the sink and Zayne followed, lowering himself with one hand clamped around the sink, and it was like watching a man who was fifty years older.

Jesus, even I am handling this better when I’m alone, Jay couldn’t help but think. Then again, Emery wasn’t one to hold back, while Zayne did. He finally spoke up. "You know I have every right to just kick you out, right?"

"Yeah."

"And that I absolutely don't have to put up with this. I could poke at that goddamn broken nose of yours, laugh in your face and slam the door in it."

"Yeah," Zayne said again with a slight nod, and a long exhale as he stood straight again, holding himself up on the sink with both hands trying to get his elbows to stop trembling. Then, after a beat: "But you're not like that."

Jay froze. Made a face as if Zayne had just insulted him, then his shoulders relaxed in a sigh. No. No, he wasn't. He unfolded his arms and stepped into the bathroom.

"Give me that." He took the kit, threw everything back in – “You don’t need this,” he said, taking the roll of bandages from Zayne’s hand – snapped the kit shut, and pressed it against Zayne, pushing him backwards, out of the bathroom. Zayne followed along and Jay gently lowered him onto the bed.

"Take off your shirt."

Zayne hissed when he reached up to grab the neck of his t-shirt and faltered and Jay just sighed along with him. He gestured his palms up for Zayne to raise his arms far as he could, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, careful not to snag on his elbows.

"Fuck me..." Jay muttered behind his teeth, shooting a look up at the ceiling. The things he was getting into... Purple streaks crept up over the side of Zayne’s ribs. Just above his navel was a large round bruise, barely a speck of skin colour left, as if they’d kept aiming for the same spot. While on the side of his abdomen, Jay could literally count the punches.

"I thought," he started as his eyes lingered over the deep purple bruises, "you said Emery was a weak prick who couldn't punch a staple through his files."

"Still true," Zayne groaned. "Which is why he likes to hold a gun or use his pawns as meat tenderizers first." He tilted his head. “Or both—Ow!” He winced and gave Jay an indignant look—Jay pulled away and held up his hands in a placating gesture. Zayne continued his rant.

“The man’s like a fucking toddler. Insisting that he too can help, so you give him a plastic hammer and let him wail on a few nails and he’s happy but it does fuckall.”

Jay hummed and brought up a cloth with disinfectant, pressed it gently to Zayne’s cheekbone. “I mean, he got you good here.”

“The gun got me.”

Jay again hummed an appeasing tone, like one would with a ranting toddler, and pressed a tube of arnica in Zayne’s hands. “Here, you can do this,” he said, and stood straight, holding up a finger in a ‘wait a minute’ gesture. He came back with a pack of frozen peas, wrapped it in a towel, and waited until Zayne had spread a copious amount of gel over his bruises. Zayne groaned, threw his head back and clenched his teeth as Jay pressed the towel against his ribs.

“Hold that,” Jay said, taking Zayne’s hand and pressing it over the bag so he could hold it himself. “Try to cool all those deep bruises.”

“How often you used this bag?”

“Let’s just say those peas aren’t for eating anymore.”

Zayne finally gave a smile. He let himself fall back onto the bed, only moving every few minutes to press his peas to another bruise. “Thank you,” he whispered, in such a low voice that he probably hoped Jay wouldn’t hear as he left the room. But he did.

-

The next morning, Jay puttered about in the kitchen, preparing a hearty breakfast. They could both use something a little filling.

As he set the table, he glanced at Zayne. He was sitting on the couch, watching the news. His hands were shaking, fingers digging into his knee, and it didn’t look like that full night of sleep had really helped.

"Does it still hurt?" Jay asked.

Zayne looked up, as if Jay's voice brought him back from somewhere far, far away and as if he didn’t quite grasp the meaning of the question. Well, given his injuries, not really hard to consider why.

Jay nodded at his hand. Zayne followed his gaze, lightly flexed his fingers and turned his hand as if surprised to see it shaking so much. With a twitch in its movements, he clenched it into fist, trying to hide the trembling. When that didn't work, he hid it behind his body. He looked at the tv again for a moment. "It does," he said, voice remarkably clear yet ever so fragile.

"Come then," Jay said. He turned the tv off, not even fully registering how the news anchors were shaking their head, lamenting the state of the justice system where violence in prisons just kept getting out of hand and why they’d even have guards if they just looked the other way when someone got shanked in the ribs thirty times. Jay put the remote back down and held out a hand to Zayne. "I've made you— I mean… there's breakfast."

Zayne meekly let Jay guide him to the table. For a moment, Jay thought he was going catatonic, just staring ahead, eyes dull. But when Jay placed a plate in front of him, he glanced up. Slowly, Jay saw the lights come back on as his eyes roamed over his favourites: scrambled eggs, toast, thick slices of bacon, a steaming cup of coffee. His jaw clenched for a second and Jay swore he saw his shoulders shudder. But then it passed and a smile, though a little forced, crept over his face as he picked up his fork.

“Thanks.”

-

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror

@susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime

@freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks

@hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion

@afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8

@itsmyworld98 @whumpifi @painless-and-colourful @withdrawingramen @lolrpop

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

Maybe you’d waited for too long, maybe the book you chose had bored you until you fell asleep. Whatever it was, you didn’t know you were in danger until the last second, a knife pressing against your throat and a croaky voice that wouldn’t normally belong to a kid reached your ears.

Chapter 7 < > Chapter 9

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog, @katrina0-0

Gotham wasn’t known for its beautiful weather; the blue, clear skies the granted wish given to a shooting star. Rather, her citizens were creatures of water and fumes, so accustomed to the rain soaking up their clothes and fog clogging their lungs.

It was only fitting the sporadic sunny days had ended that moment, the light drizzling had turned into a downpour, caging you in the gazebo, the vines coiled around the posts and the roof frame welcoming the rain.

Sitting down on one of the patio chairs, with your legs leaning against the railing, you watched the water fall, your breathing in sync with the droplets falling from the ceiling onto the tip of your shoe.

One hour had turned into two, the rain long gone but the clouds still as ominous as ever. You debated between heading back inside the manor, your thin shirt ill-suited for the cold that the rain had left. However, you couldn’t do it.

And how could you? What had you given them besides problems and pain? Making it known their lives were not real, their whole existence did not hold a single drop of significance, with people having no issue with killing them, even if they were just children.

A hand spurred you out of your thoughts, hoping to see two gems looking back at you, however, even though you held a special place for her in your heart, you couldn’t mask the disappointment in your face at seeing Cass standing next to you, a first aid kit on her hands.

“May I?” She gestured to your bandaged wrists. With your reply a simple nod, she sat down next to you, leaving the box on a wooden table, and taking out whatever she needed to clean you, internally hissing at seeing the bottle of alcohol. You had never been able to handle pain. Even less to the degree they all had become accustomed to due to their night life.

Your reddened skin was exposed to the world, the cuts healing well, a part of you hoping for Cass to decide they were good enough to not need cleaning, nonetheless your hopes didn’t last long, as the cotton balls and alcohol was the first thing she grabbed.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” She asked right before pressing the cotton to your right arm, a groan coming out of you.

“’Bout everything my world did to yours. Dick’s parents, Bruce’s parents, Tim’s negligence, your abuse… Jason’s death.”

Cass was silent for a second, calmy changing your bandages, not a single emotion on her face. There was rarely one if she didn’t want it to be seen.

“You wrote the stories?”

“No.”

“Is our world shaped by yours?”

“… I don’t know”

“Why are you apologizing, then?” You opened your mouth to explain once more why— but it came out empty. “Even if we only exist because of you, you did not choose to hurt us. You chose to love us. Despite our flaws and… Traumas, yes, our traumas.”

“But you suffered so much—”

“By people who have no relation to you. Yes, we have suffered, but… I like my life; I have a family who loves me. Despite my up… Upbringing. I cannot imagine living without them.”

It was the most you’d heard her talk in once sentence. Silence befell the two of you while she finished changing your bandages, asking if she could also look at the cuts you’d gotten on your back when you were dragged across the floor.

By the lack of use of alcohol, you assumed nothing major had happened, feeling the fabric fall down your skin once again.

Did it matter if you knew if it was your fault or not, when the person you cared about thought it was?

-

With having been on the manor for only a week, the safest choice for you was to stick to the areas you knew how to get back to your room, being mainly the kitchen, the drawing room, and the library, the latter being the place to find you at the moment, looking for a new book to chase away your boredom.

As well as hoping to run into Jason.

---

Maybe you’d waited for too long, maybe the book you chose had bored you until you fell asleep. Whatever it was, you didn’t know you were in danger until the last second, a knife pressing against your throat and a croaky voice that wouldn’t normally belong to a kid reached your ears.

“You have ten seconds to tell me what you are doing in my home before I end you.”

“I’m from another universe.” You blurted out, chiding yourself for saying the least favorable response to your case.

“Tt.”

This was it. You survived an encounter with the Scarecrow only to die at the hands of a ten-year-old.

“Damian!” The hand faltered, the tip of the knife grazing your skin. “Leave her alone.”

“I have never seen her, Grayson.” From how distant the voice sounded a second ago, he must’ve turned his head to face Dick. “She could be a danger.”

“You’d never seen her because you were in San Francisco.” Dick calmly explained, taking the very sharp knife from his hand as if it was a daily recurrence, not a single show of worry on his body. “She just got here couple days ago.”

With no blade to threaten you, Damian walked around the couch, standing next to you, a scowl on his face that seemed more than a natural expression than one directed at you.

“Nice to meet you, Damian.” Your hand thoughtlessly moved upwards your neck, a drop of blood staining your finger, but he heeded no attention to you.

“I see. And may I enquire what is she still doing here? Why has father allowed her to stay? What is this about ‘another universe’?”

“Ah, shit… I knew I forgot something…” Dick rubbed his neck, sitting down on the settee in front of you, eyes glued to the floor.

Damian finished rounding the couch, standing in front of Dick, his stance was rigid, and his face devoid of any emotion, but the subtle way he was rubbing his thumb and pointer fingered showed he was nervous.

“What is it, Grayson?”

“Dad’s missing, Damian.” The rubbing stopped. “We believe he was sent to Jane’s world.”

Damian stood still for several seconds, so rigid he could be mistaken for a gargoyle.

“And what have you been doing to rescue him?”

“We’re working on it. Tim already—”

“Tt.” Damian interrupted him, crossing his arms. “You have that fool working on it? No wonder you have not made any advancements.”

“Actually…” You finally spoke, drawing the attention of both. “He’d already created a portal to my world, only… Well, I touched it and it closed. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.”

Damian huffed, but the frown turned into a raised eyebrow, face turning once again to Dick. At least he wasn’t completely ignoring you.

“Is it safe to assume she…?”

“Yes, she knows about our identities.” Dick’s tone was the one of an older brother forced to watch over his siblings; tired and in need of a long nap.

“Hm… You better watch who you talk to. I will end you if you do anything to harm my family. That includes revealing our identities.”

With a fond exhale, you looked him straight in the eyes.

“Yeah, I know, you’ll kill me and make me suffer, yada yada. Why don’t you go out and play with Goliath or something?”

“How do you—?” He stuttered, for once his stoic nature crumbled for a second. You laid back, arms resting on the back of the couch and a smirk on your face. Oh, you so enjoyed looking like a badass, enigmatic villain right now.

Even if you were only doing so to bother the kid.

“I know some stuff, child.”

“Who’s Goliath?” Dick asked.

“No one.” He hastily replied. And so, Damian left, not before sending a heated glare to you, your fingers splayed open in a childish wave as he walked away.

---

You weren’t the world’s greatest detective, but it still didn’t take long for you to realize Damian was watching you closely. The first days you hadn’t noticed, but the unexplainable feeling you got ever since he came home made sense once you caught him hidden on the top of the bookshelves through the reflection on a mirror.

And of course, with him being the son and younger brother of the world’s greatest detectives, he was bound to be spectacular as well, knowing you’d caught him just seconds after you did it.

“How did you know?” He asked, jumping down from the bookshelf, landing neatly without making a sound.

“Bout what?” You asked, comfortably laying down on the window nook, a new book in hand, and Alfred’s signature Earl Gray tea in the other.

“About Goliath.” He calmy walked towards you, but you had the feeling he could pull out another knife anytime, the Batman-themed band aid on your neck proof of that.

“I told you. I’m from another universe. Hasn’t Dick explained it to you?”

“He did.” His gaze lowered to the book you were reading, one of Jason’s favorites which wasn’t Pride & Prejudice. No, he didn’t know you knew that about him. “But it still does not explain how you know something not even father knows.”

“I just come from a world where… Well…” You bit your lip, you had no idea how Damian would take this information, and what his reaction would be. “You are, well, comic book characters, you know? Just stories and all.” Should you be worried or glad he didn’t seem to react to that? “And there’s this one story of you sparing Goliath when he was a pup. Everyone knows how much you care about animals.”

“I do not—”

“Save it, kid. I know it, and it’s nothing you should feel compelled to lie about, it’s a truly noble cause to care so much for beings that sometimes can’t defend themselves against the cruelty that is humanity.”

A subtle pinkish hue tinted his cheeks, the smallest of smiles on his face, but his gaze unfocused at the same time his smile disappeared, lost in his own memories.

“Yes, people can be cruel sometimes.” He took a deep breath, turning his gaze towards the ceiling for a second before it landed back again on you. “Your world… We do not exist in it?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted. “That’s something I’m trying to figure out, but I’m not as smart as your siblings, I don’t know how this all works. I got a few theories, but I’ve no way to test them.”

“It is safe to assume you read quite a lot about us.” He spoke calmly, more a statement than a question, surprising you how better he was taking this than the rest of his family. “I have noticed specially, how… Interested you are in someone. I know the books you have been choosing” He gestured with his hand to the one currently resting on your raised legs, The Taming of the Shrew, your finger saving the page you were on. “, are those Todd enjoys the most, however you do not display signs of enjoying them, most of the times staying on the same page for longer than you should. Unless this is the result of an affliction? Dyslexia, perhaps? I am sure Grayson would be glad to help and find a professional.”

“I am— No, I’m not dyslexic.” You did not like where this was going, ashamed the rest of the family would discover your slight crush on Jason. Were you that easy to read? Did they already know?

“Hm. I know you choose to spend your time here when Cain or Drake do not drag you someplace else.”

“Why are you telling me this, Damian?” You blurted, it seemed he had inherited his father’s annoying habit of not speaking clearly whatever was on their minds.

“If you are infatuated with Todd, I will let you know he left the manor the day after I arrived. If you are hoping to run into him here, you are wasting your time.”

Huh, that explained why you hadn’t seen him at any meal.

“Why are you telling me this?” You asked again.

“I will not tell if you do not say anything else about my life to my family.”

“Are you— Are you blackmailing me?” Your scoff brought a smirk on the kid’s face, a huff leaving your body. “You little shit… Fine, I won’t tell anything about you. Not sure what else you could want to hide, anyway…”

“I shall be monitoring you closely, still.” He was just about to leave the library when he turned, sheepish and rubbing his thumb and pointer finger again. “What is your name?”

“You can call me Jane.”