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acid-ixx · 5 months ago

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How do think readers relationship with each of the batfam would be had they not been neglected?

what if...? ft. domestic headcanons w/ your family

series masterlist &. request masterlist — long post ahead !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 6400+ words, no beta i'm genuinely insane. help i literally thought abt this yesterday !! i may or may not post a drabble about this one specific dream the reader had about where they had a normal relationship with the batfam but at the same time i want to implement it in the next chapter instead so have food for thoughts instead! slight spoilers below. also please do comment and reblog if u like this ! ^^ supporting my writing just makes me further motivated to write even more !

if you were never neglected by your own family, then i could say that the process of them turning yandere would be a tad bit better or worse. i'm saying, because of your past and because of an incident during your elementary years (that could've been avoided if your family actually never ignored you; so let's assume that that incident actually never happened but it opened a gateway for an even more protective family) the batfam could easily be either a dream or nightmare.

let's say it was bruce and dick who had picked you up from the police station. the moment he sees his own firstborn child, all his thoughts would circulate from just how broken and hopeless you absolutely looked, how the injuries litter throughout your entire body, the way your empty eyes stare at anything.

the child, his child, looked exactly like him all those years ago. he knows just how painful it is to bare losing all your loved ones.

he wouldn't hesitate to approach your form, immediately picking you up and letting your head lean on his shoulders as dick follows in tow, cooing about his significantly younger sibling.

that would be the first time dick would call you his baby bird, with the way you'd stare at him with mixed emotions in your eyes.

if him and dick were to hear about what happened to you inside your old apartment from the police (drugged and abused by the same men who took your mother away from you), then be guaranteed that batman and nightwing would be more brutal during their patrol afterwards (dick would even take more weeks off from bludhaven just to care for his younger sibling), even going as far as formulating a plan for your captors, having oracle stalk each and every person involved in your life.

if anyone thinks the vigilante would abide by his no-kill rule then they're wrong, because he'd turn a blind eye for once if dick were to brutally stab someone at any moment. why? because batman will not settle until his own child's attackers are thrown into putrid prison cells with no guarantee that they'll see the light of the day. the criminals should be grateful that red hood isn't even in the picture yet.

your father would be more perceptive of your emotions if he had never neglected you. he will always be the one giving you rides, he'll shield you away from the mass media trying to take photographs of you— and you're getting carried throughout the manor if your little body were to even express fatigue.

bruce wayne wouldn't admit it, but he absolutely cherishes you and your youth. he had adopted dick and grayson when they were above the age of ten, when they were already growing some sort of consciousness about the world they live in. but you? you're so small and you have so much to learn, your innocence is something bruce would protect. you'll be absolutely coddled by your father, your grandfather figure, alfred, and your oldest brother, dick. even future members of the family knows just how important you are maintaining their sanity.

that means you have the manor in the palm of your hands. you had a nightmare tonight? don't worry, your dad would always be one step ahead of you and would immediately be in your room. hell, if you were comfortable enough, you'd be sleeping in the same bedroom as your dad for the first few years you'll live inside the manor. he'll read you bedtime stories if you want and even have alfred prepare you warm milk or chocolate before you go to sleep. his entire schedule would also be centered around you, making sure that he would always arrive on time from business meetings to have dinner with you, and coming home early from patrols. if he leaves the manor before you're set off to sleep, then he'll be giving you a good night's kiss whilst alfred would be the one substituting for your nightly bedtime stories.

you may call him overbearing once you start to notice the signs the more you grow older, but your father will always track your sleep schedule - he even makes you wear a watch that records your heart rate - from the moment you drift into dreamland to the times you get nightmares— he makes sure the food you eat before dinner is light, booking appointments with nutritionists to make sure you're healthy. he even does specialized training with you, for self defence and to also maintain a healthy lifestyle.

and dick grayson? his visits to gotham would be more frequent. even if his relationship with bruce is strained, he'll always be in the manor faster than you could say 'i miss you' to your older brother on the phone. he loves coddling his baby bird, especially since you were adopted right after jason's death; dick doesn't want a repeat of the past, always making sure you get proper cuddles and affirmations.

spending time with dick means you get all the power to draw on his arms or face or make arts and crafts with him. he enjoys it when his baby bird is at their comfiest state so even if you were seated on the floor, there would always be cozy blankets that count as your chairs and snacks right beside you. you could ask him to get something for you and he's right at it.

he would be the older brother who normalizes physical affection in the household. dick would constantly kiss your cheeks, your foreheads, and any injuries you would obtain (a habit that even bruce adopted once your dad realized how it's an effective way to soften your cries and ease your heart). he's not afraid of picking you up even! always tossing you to the air under alfred or bruce's supervision whenever you feel down. dick would always hold your hand, too, as an assurance that your beloved older brother is always there for you.

you'd probably ignore all the red flags he carries around because of how early he shows off his signs of obsessiveness. so don't question it if him and bruce wouldn't allow you to go to sleepovers with your other friends or if sometimes, just sometimes dick feels the need to just have you in his arms for hours without end after particularly brutal patrols. you're the only person holding him up and if he doesn't breath in that reminder then he might just lose himself.

your brother would literally prioritize you over anything else. he can and will pick you up from school, he makes sure nobody in your class is there to bully you, he'll spoil you with sweet treats whenever bruce is too busy with business meetings. he wants to be seen as your favorite ever since he's discovered himself to be your idol, so he'll always show off his acrobatic skills for your eyes only.

whenever dick would say "i love you!" it always translates to, "if you want me to, then i will give you the world." which means he'll drop anything he's doing right now the moment you invite him over to design your diaries or sketchbooks.

your talents very early on would be heavily acknowledged by your family. that means any single drawing or craft you'd do, whether poorly done or not, would be stored in very protective places or shows off in every crevice of the manor. any father's day gift from you would be framed in bruce's personal office, a personal reminder to him that you are the light at the end of the brooding tunnel he puts himself in. so even if he can't always be there for you, he will always have you in his mind and in his heart.

your existence in the manor would prove to be a healthier way for bruce to cope, for him to get his mind off of the loss of his second child. whenever he looks at you, he'll always be filled with a determination to protect gotham from any further danger, to save the city - if not himself, then for your sake, for his baby to feel safe whenever they would walk on the streets, for his baby to feel protected whenever you two would eat in fancy restaurants or go shopping for your diary's supplies.

criminals would immediately get the message that messing with you means getting on the bad side of both batman and nightwing. you may be the child of bruce wayne, (name) wayne, but if they even think of kidnapping you for ransom then they should pray; pray because if batman's baby even gets a single nick, a single droplet of blood on their body then they're gone. there's no such thing as holding back if it comes to you.

now, your older sister figure, barbara gordon, despite her constantly being busy because of her role as the oracle, would find ways to at least entertain you whenever you would visit her in the batcave. if you feel like your father's overprotective nature and your older brother's coddling is too much, then she will be offer you solace by her side. she may not always be physically there but you two are as close as you are to the other members of your family because you're a creative one. it's not often barbara gets to spend time with someone like you who enjoys having her as a muse for your art pieces. she allows you to also style her hair, and if you like to design clothing, then she'd be your model for as much as you want.

barbara is also your go-to for when dick and bruce are both unavailable. she lets you watch her hack through multiple security systems, explaining concepts that you don't understand. and, because she's the most emotionally stable out of all of them, you'd prefer gossiping to her about your school's drama compared to dick, as she actually gives you helpful advice!

well, little do you know that she had already hacked your school's camera footage and wired multiple recorders on your bag but you don't have to know that! after all, barbara wants to keep the only sane person in the household safe and happy. she's not openly obsessive towards you, but whatever secrets you have that don't compromise your safety are secrets she promises she will bring to the grave. that means if you ever have a crush on a someone then she will hide it from the others.

... that is until you actually end up trying to get into a relationship too early for even her eyes then she won't hesitate sending out the signals to bruce and the others. she can't afford exposing her younger sibling to heartbreaks and emotional attachment towards strangers! so do forgive her if there are times where you feel like there's someone constantly watching your back, because she is that someone; with all the intentions in the world that you wouldn't have to go through what she did with the joker or any other villains who could whisk you away from their arms.

it's obvious that, of course the oracle will use all the power in her hands to guarantee all eyes are on you, so that there would never be an opening for any danger towards you. even if you do know that she's the one in-control of the strings, there's not much you could do but accept it.

then there's tim drake. your brother who had stalked batman and nightwing just to prove a point. his parents are alive and he's fine being on his own, but fuck it if he prefers being in the wayne manor! once you're introduced to tim, he's immediately researching about the first biological child of bruce wayne. and thank god bruce requires the two of you to become familiar with each other because you're just so interesting to him, you and your curious eyes, your small habits— the way you shift in your position as your father's hands are clasped on your shoulder protectively.

tim can already feel himself blast off in excitement just solving the mysteries about you! yet he doesn't know it in himself that the longer you spend time with him, the more the urge to just stitch himself into your very life grows stronger.

if you were never neglected by your own family then you would instead be analyzed constantly. tim is just another set of eyes constantly watching you, but unlike the others, he picks off every single detail about you to a T.

you, your interests, your hobbies, your favorites, your friends, you name it; he will have an entire collection of case files on everything, picking apart your very mind to the seams. it's like he's eating up the information about you, spending sleepless nights researching about a movie you two would watch soon, because the look of amazement in your eyes feeds the growing love he has for his sibling.

at first he'd never understand why bruce and dick seems so smitten towards you other than the case regarding your mother. but he slowly starts to understand why— because just like him, you're perceptive of his well-being. if dick isn't around then you're always the one hanging around his room, visiting him with snacks in your arms or an invitation to watch a cartoon show.

he likes doing your assignments for you, especially your projects even if he neglects his own duties for his own school. and despite how emotionally constipated or unaware he seems, he's obsessed with your personal life. that means you don't even have to rant to him about school drama or your friends or crush because he can and will know it. what he doesn't like, though, is when your attention is towards anything but him. he may not be the most physically comfortable to cuddle but he will offer you his jackets which he would end up not washing right after you use them, instead he wears them, feeling closer to you than ever.

it even lulls him to sleep for the times you're unable to sleep over at his room.

tim may not know how to comfort you like dick whenever you wake up from nightmares but he does know ways to avoid them; he knows a lot of strategic methods to get you drowsy after a moment's panic.

bonus points if you cuddle him afterwards! he loves the warmth that you emanate, loves it when your body leans against him and makes him feel so important. tim loves it when you snuggle him unknowingly, tightening your already bruising grip on him, he loves reciprocating it too, feeling a special bond with his sibling that not even his parents could offer.

though he doesn't openly tell you that he loves you, he does so in his own ways! you don't want to see an entire photography room dedicated to his younger sibling— most pictures contributed by tim. you don't want to see the terabytes of files that are all about you and your interests, millions of video imagery of just you sketching or writing diary entries, sometimes eating or rambling senselessly. you don't know it but tim loves playing the videos of you in the background, especially the ones where you're humming a tune or singing a lullaby; those are his favorites.

it's not his fault that you're just so interesting to him, that your presence is so comforting, that you're the only person closest to him that has the ability to make him melt into you, unknowingly succumbing to your spoiled wishes.

jason todd comes into the picture later, and he is a very enraged man. he's mad at his replacement, at bruce, at you, at the entire universe.

at first he just doesn't understand anything. he doesn't understand why bruce finds it so easy to not only replace his status as robin but to also bring in another child, who's valued and loved more despite not taking the mantle of robin. he's mad at just how quick he was replaced, how it seems like bruce never avenged him, and yet if he threatens your safety then the old man suddenly turns violent towards him?!

jason wouldn't bring you into the fray, because you're unaware of the entire situation, but fuck, he doesn't understand why you are just so cherished when he'd watch the news and sees your picture plastered all over the reporters' walls, talking about the child who bruce never allowed to separate from his side. they talk about how you're the sheltered one, the hearthrob of all media with just how clingy the billionaire is towards his supposed younger sibling.

he's not jealous, he gets why bruce is protective and smothers himself all over you; but he hates feeling replaced, feeling discarded and forgotten by the very man who'll avenge your death if that ever happened.

hence why he has to see it for himself, has to see you for himself. it's a coincidence, a miracle actually that he just seems to easily find you by the kitchen of the manor— a manor whose aura is now different from last time, it seems like it now reeks of life, of personality. clearly you were the main cause of all of this.

you could simply be reading a book and sipping your nightly tea, but jason would soon realize just how... vulnerable you are at the moment. you find him hiding in the shadows and all you offer is a wide stare with no sense of self defense whatsoever. it's the same vulnerability that he sees off the cruelest streets of gotham. you're exactly like the innocent kids who get brutally murdered without justice, just like the children who have never once gained penance for the torture they had to experience just living off of personality.

jason isn't a dumbass, living near the crime alley means hearing the gossips of every citizen. your name, or preferably your last name is famed even in the underground. your mother is infamous for catching the attention of most crime lords by running off with their cash, successful staying hidden to care for her child, just right until she met her untimely demise. you lost her early just like how he lost his mother early as she had fallen victim to drug overdose.

he'll discover why gotham's vigilante seems to be so protective over you. the way you carry yourself, the warmth you give off as you offer him your leftover dinner despite not

you told him that your dad taught you to never talk to strangers— but clearly he's not because "how else would you be able to trespass the millions of security alarms in the manor? you must've lived here before." you'll state as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, sipping your drink before you offer him a seat next to yours, unafraid of the dangers that lie ahead of you—

"you must've really been pampered by the old man, huh?" is all his reply, the voice changer of his makes him sound naturally intimidating, like he's ready to attack but no, that's not his intentions with you. he'll take a seat beside you, try to make out what book you're reading and that's when he knows that you truly have no idea that it's your dead brother who's talking to you. you have no idea of his resurrection whatsoever as you start to mumble off about the novel— he finds it quite amusing that, finally, he's not the only guy who enjoys literature in the family, even going as far as to recommend his own fair share of favorite novels to you.

once he leaves out of the window after a seemingly long session of talking, definitely aware that yes, bruce does have a microchip inserted under your skin, and the watch you're wearing has a voice recorder that sends recordings straight to the batcave's system; jason takes note to visit you more often, finding the normalcy you offer very welcoming.

he likes it, likes your mellow behavior. he'll even admit that you're the only proof that bruce can, in fact, raise a child right, even if that means tracking their entire life. but that's the old man's love language, and jason knows it in himself that he's already planning for a way to take you to ride his motorcycle at night without bruce's knowledge; just so his angel knows the feeling of gotham's breeze flowing through their hair since bruce seems to love dictating your every move.

once he does form a solid plan to take you away, even just temporarily, you don't have to worry about the criminals who litter the streets because jason made sure that nobody's gonna mess with him and his angel's bonding time together.

the youngest, damian wayne, and the second biological child of bruce is a special case. his upbringing as an assassin makes him susceptible to his fits of tantrums. the first time he steps foot into the manor is the same time he will threaten anyone around him; and that includes you, the bastard child. quite frankly, your first greeting with him would be the same as the one in the original storyline, you'll greet him with a tray of sweets in your hand and a small smile and he'll reply with a sword on your neck. but the difference would be the undeniable fact that dick and bruce immediately stopped him from even nicking your delicate skin.

dick's swearing was shut down by alfred's scolding and you, again! pulling on your oldest brother's sleeve with an assurance that you're okay.

that's the very first time he sees his father truly reprimand him with nothing but rage in his eyes. despite damian's annoying antics towards his father the entire day, it seems like you were the snapping point.

his father, bruce wayne, made it very clear that he can mess with anyone and everyone in the family but you. that you have nothing to

his only reply would be a sneer as he demands they take him to his room immediately, unable to shut you down when you offer to help bring his luggage despite bruce's firm unwillingness and dick's hesitant request that his baby bird should instead spend time in his room instead.

but it was always your word above everybody else's and damian hates that, hates that everyone just seems to succumb to your request as long as it doesn't compromise your safety. the bitterness that keeps resurfacing in his heart whenever he sees you wearing tim or dick's jacket, or if he caught sight of bruce giving you affection was a feeling he tried to convince himself wasn't jealousy.

not jealousy towards you, no, but towards them. your behavior towards him was nothing but kind, a kindness that was taught to him as weakness. he thinks you're weak and undeserving of being spoiled and yet he hates it whenever he sees his blood sibling (whom he called a bastard child so many times) become too close with anyone but him.

he hates it, he hates you and his conflicting feelings. he hates it when he pushes you away, hates it when he sees you pout after another failed attempt at trying to have your youngest sibling talk to you.

and as the days or even weeks pass by, with all your effort to try to bond with him, with the days where he can feel dick's energy drain because you insisted on spending time with damian instead of dick again, with tim's intolerable treatment towards the him because you chose to bother damian instead of that loser— are the days he feels himself actually becoming closer to you because he relishes in your insufferable behavior towards them, because you just seem so sweet to him.

damian feels that it's right that you make him the exception.

so it's inevitable that damian will eventually discover both your talents towards art and the love for nature. it's a mistake, really, when one day as he stalks through the hallways he'd find you in your own atelier, painting a portrait of a robin with a color scheme that matches his vigilante suit. the beams of sunlight seems to hit you just right because you looked so at peace with your surroundings, humming a tune, unaware of your youngest brother who has found himself at your most natural state.

he'll budge in without moment's hesitation afterwards, steering clear behind you as he analyzes your art. it would only be after a few minutes would he announce his presence in the room, expecting you to scream at him to buzz off but all you did was jump in your seat, looking back to eye the intruder only to find out it was damian all along, offering him a smile and a seat beside you.

after he does so, you'll both end up spending the entire day bombarding each other with art tips and animal facts. he'll give you comments about the bird's proportions and you give him guidelines on how to properly mix your colors without it looking muddled. it's like you two are meant to be siblings because damian swears he ended up clinging to your side after your painting session, refusing to even seat beside anyone during dinner time if it isn't you because he's not done rambling about the rainbow eucalyptus you had told him you'd seen in a nature documentary once— so it's rightfully his place to be beside you and not drake's or grayson's or even his father.

eventually you two would be as close as peas in a pod because you're seemingly the only one who knows how to calm him down, the only one with the right to raise your voice at him and to ask him of favors because you're his blood sibling. and because you both share the same blood, that means you both should share clothes that complement each other, share snacks and treats, share matching bracelets and necklaces and any jewelry, you're the only one allowed to hang around his room and him in yours.

the others find it annoying that you let him be, but what choice do they have? unless they would like to hear an earful from damian then they should stay silent because you both aren't done painting each other's nails yet!

stephanie brown is shortly introduced to you after her incessant insistence on meeting you right after stepping foot into the manor. she knows of your internet fame for being the beloved bruce wayne's 'favorite' child and she's not afraid to admit that you are indeed adorable in person! unlike your first meeting with damian, steph would immediately coddle you at first glance, insisting you call her by 'steph' and that

due to the short period of time as her robin and her being constantly reprimanded for her antics, you'd take it in yourself to become closer with her, and she accepts your offer without any complaints. she's also one of your muses for your art and it's a good thing she has a sense of style unlike your brothers who are either too flashy (you had to stifle a laughter looking at the discowing costume) or too dull. damian's fashion sense is good but he's often out during the time period you spend with steph, and even if she often doesn't stay still, you at least hsve someone to talk your ears off whilst you try to sketch the poses she chose.

her obsession towards you stems from your willingness to "match her freak" or whatever internet lingo she finds that day, but she's a fun company to be around! she's always there for you when you need to rant about anything regarding your feelings, especially since you're at the age where you're a teenager and your emotions towards your family would be all over the place and she'd relate the most towards that.

so other than barbara, you'll find yourself speaking up about any concerns you have to steph, and she turns your 'favoritism' towards her her entire personality.

but if you think of even spilling your secrets about a highschool crush to steph or news that someone had asked you out for prom them then spoiler alert! don't. like her mentor, steph will drop signs and clues and your brothers would promptly deal with that. awe, don't worry about feeling alone though or if you weren't permitted to go to your highschool prom because steph and babs will be the ones to convince bruce to throw you your own very elegant gala where you would dance with only your siblings!

see, isn't she so strategic that way? psht, you don't need a boy or a girl acting as your temporary reprieve when your entire family is there for you! steph is here for you and you did technically promise to go out with her today to go shopping so...

it's not that she isn't on your side, no! but you're very much the entire family's baby and she doesn't want you losing your attention on her, definitely not! her goofy personality towards you really does cover her intense urge to be by your side really well. unlike damian, it's not obvious that she's trying so hard to monopolize your time for herself but you're just so fun to be around and she's at her best behavior when it comes to you.

so what's wrong if she ditches her other friends to bond with her beloved sibling? it's not like they'd understand what it's like having someone who actually looks at her for her rather than just the surface level.

don't question why most of the gifts she had given you (which ranges from attires like jackets and shles, to matching bracelets, even little fidget toys) all don a shade of purple and blue! and don't also question why her gallery is filled with cute selfies of you and why your phone's lock screen wallpaper is now suddenly matching with hers.

after all, steph likes making it known that you are her favorite!

cassandra cain, when she first saw you, is, of course, silent. but she makes her presence known quickly after she has enough proof that you've no fight in your body. she may not be the most expressive in words but she is through actions.

you were actually the one who had first approached her after bruce initially introduced you two to each other, offering her a handshake and a greeting in sign language. albeit it being crusty, and her insisting that it's alright if you do the talking, it seems like you were more than willing to learn sign language just for the sake of your new sister and she likes it.

she really, really likes it, appreciates how there were no signs of malice in your movements and just how comfortable you seemed with someone who could potentially end your life with just a snap of her fingers. and yet you treat her like she's not a weapon of murder but rather another sibling who is welcomed into your own world.

you ask her if she wants to hang out with you and steph in your own personal sleepover inside your room and she accepts it because of just how comforting your presence is. it's been so long since she had last felt like she was treated as a human and you were proof that she's glad she never took the path to human carnage like her father intended her to because then she wouldn't meet someone who would soon be so precious to her.

cass may not talk a lot but she is a listener.

a listener to both your words and your body language. it's quicker for her to notice if you ever needed a hug or a catalyst for comfort. she knows your boundaries and when you need space the most. she knows it when you want to open up to her about how stuffy the manor is beginning to feel, how it feels as if they're becoming more sensitive about your social life, how you wish your friends aren't distancing themselves from you because of how intimidating your family is.

and you can say all that to her because cass, alongside duke and sometimes steph, would be the only ones keeping your deepest darkest desires to their grave. although she may not understand your reasonings on why you even felt like your family is coddling you too much (because they're not! they love you very much and she does too) in the first place, she's always the one offering you to hold her hands whenever you're going through a momentary panic attack or a shoulder to lean on whenever dick would scold you for something impulsive you've done.

unlike your neglected counterpart, cass would always be by your shadows, watching every one of your moves and to abide by bruce's order to make sure you wouldn't escape, shall you ever feel rebellious during your teenage years. you may be older than her but she's stronger than you, more experienced and can even combat your dad if she wants to.

yet she always seems to let her guard down when it comes to you because you just seem to have that alluring effect on everybody. can't you understand just how important you are to everybody? you're the most important to her, you're one of the first few people who had treated her like a human so she swears on her life to protect you from harm's way like you did her whenever she's often in a pit of despair.

cass isn't the most expressive, so she makes up for it by instead leaving signs that she really cares for you, or sometimes hiding little trinkets for you to find in your room. it's like her very own message that translates 'cass was here'.

whenever you sit beside her at the dinner table, she always slips in extra food by your plate without you looking or sometimes even filling your glass bottles with extra juice and you'll never know why until you realize that it's her way of telling you to eat more. sometimes, your clothes would go missing until you see your sisters wearing your own collection of jackets and hoodies then swapping them in your drawers for their own— you'd realize that cass got that idea from steph and you can't get mad at her or anybody else as it soon becomes tradition that you'll have an entire closet dedicating to the missing clothes you have that your siblings have replaced to their own attire.

cass really does love you and although she can't always say it out loud, you'll always have a constant reminder instead. as long as you're safe and sound then you don't have to witness the darker sides of her that she hides from you.

then finally, duke thomas. he may have been introduced to you the latest but you could say in terms of every trait, he'd be the brother you'd like to keep close for every situation. your first meeting with him is quite frankly the most normal one of them all, introducing yourself to duke through dinner. although he may be temporarily under bruce's guardianship over anything else, he's incredibly comforting to be around as he's quick to catch on your emotions but unlike the others, he doesn't push you to open up to him, but he won't leave your side at all either.

duke is the only metahuman you're probably allowed to be close with because your dad absolutely refuses you from even trying to talk with the superfamily. and duke heavily prides himself with that information, often secretly showing you his metahuman skills and answering whatever questions you have about them.

like jason, duke wouldn't fully delude himself into thinking you're innocent, that you need to be babied to the point they feel the urge to track even the food you eat— so he's your reliable source for any video games you were forbidden to play or any movies dick would consider too gruesome for you. he's chill, he even sneaks you unhealthy chips once in a while which makes him automatically one of the top in your tier list.

but don't think he's entirely on your side, because whilst duke seems the most normal to you - the only sibling who wouldn't smother you in blankets the moment you accidentally cut yourself with a kitchen knife - he's also batshit crazy for his own sibling and he'll sacrifice a lot for you two. so if you even dare try to suggest an idea that duke knows would risk not only him, but especially you, then that idea automatically is relayed to your dad and you wouldn't really want your father's gentle scolding anymore.

you can try to find a loophole to go out with him though! if you want to eat batburgers outside then you can do so when he's at his patrol, seeing as how he's the only batkid who does daytime patrol and that's way safer than eating at night, no?

so do expect spending more time with him the most outside, other than with dick and damian, but you'll be forced to sit in the sidelines where nobody can lay their hands on you whilst duke would be busy fighting crime and afterwards treating you to ice cream like he didn't just 'accidentally' and brutally body slammed a criminal into the wall for giving you heart eyes.

'most normal member of the family, my ass' would be the first thing that pops into your mind, but hey! at least you didn't have to be always locked up into the stuffy manor, right...?

at least you get to spend time with all of your siblings and a very loving and attentive father..!

little did you know that the only reason they allowed you out is to give you this false sense of independence, slowly but surely planning for the ultimate day where they truly would lock you up away from the world.

but they just can't help it, you know? the media's greedy hands are starting to take more than they could; so many eyes are on you and danger awaits at every corner in gotham— they can't afford having their beloved being pried away from their arms.

so is it truly a blessing or a curse in disguise? you don't know anymore.

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the-boy-meets-evil · 9 months ago

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on second thought | jww

(where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?)

pairing: wonwoo x f.reader genre: roommates/friends to fwb to?? | smut, tiny bit of angst if you squint rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni word count: 6.5k warnings: there's some plot here but it's mostly smut, multiple sex scenes (some quickly referenced), roommates who enter a fwb agreement, kissing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, use of actual lube, some scratching, after care, mentions: masturbation, kitchen sex, teasing, overstimulation, edging, i think that's it.

authors note: happy birthday to my bby @wongyuseokie! i'm thankful to have met you through nets. i hope you like some wonwoo to celebrate. thank you to @wonwussy for helping me with a title, you're a savior. this is unedited because i only started it yesterday so sorry in advance. also tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone

Another disappointing date. Another man who couldn’t even seem to let you finish a sentence. Was so intent on proving how well he could provide for you that he forgot to treat you like a person. So intent on establishing his dominance that he tried to order for you at the overpriced restaurant with too-small portions. So irritated that he paid for your dinner and drinks only for you to leave separately from him and refuse his offer to drive you home. There was no way you were letting that man know where you lived. Is it really asking too much just to have a decent date? You aren’t going to let anyone try to tell you that your standards are too high. You’re really just asking for the bare minimum.

That’s why you’re sitting on the counter in the kitchen of your shared apartment, spilling your guts to your sympathetic roommate. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles in some places because he’s been playing video games for hours. Probably streaming at some point. You admire that he’s able to do something he loves to fill up most of his days. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and you try not to find it so endearing. But, you fail at that. He really is impossibly cute sometimes.

“Do you want a bite of this?” you ask instead, holding out the instant ramen you made as soon as you got home.

“No, I ate earlier,” he answers.

“An actual meal or a Wonwoo meal?” you challenge and he rolls his eyes.

“I ate real food. Go back to bitching about your date,” Wonwoo says.

“I don’t know, maybe I was being too harsh,” you say.

“He sounds like a fucking nightmare,” he disagrees.

“Ugh, maybe I just need to redownload one of those apps,” you whine. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate fucking on the first date, but I’m so pent up that I need to release it somehow. I’m going insane.”

This makes him laugh, at least. It releases a little bit of the tension, too. You’ve lived with Wonwoo nearly three years and were friends for years before that. Nothing is secret between the two of you. Not anymore. The first time you realized he caught you getting off in your room because you didn’t think he was home was mortifying. Even if he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. After you got over it, things settled. And in the time since, you’ve both heard the other doing a lot of things. Some of your friends think it’s weird, but you just chalk it up to the comfort of living with someone. After all, you would tell your female friends all about your sex life. Why was that weird to share with Wonwoo?

“Toys not doing it for you?” he throws out. You only fix him with a glare. It’s more proof that you’re entirely too comfortable.

“Our walls are thin, what do you think?” you answer.

Wonwoo snorts a little before seeming to consider something. “Why don’t we just fuck? Get it out of your system.”

The sip of water you’re taking when he suggests that comes bursting out of your mouth. A real life spit take. Thankfully, he’s out of the blast zone. He looks unamused at water coming out of your mouth, but he doesn’t look like he was kidding. It can be so hard to tell with him. You think that you know his face well after all these years. But, you never thought you’d hear that coming out of his mouth, so you’re not sure.

“Please give me some indication if that was a joke or not,” you say.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.

“Pretty clear indicator,” you mumble.

“Is it that crazy? You think I’m hot…” Wonwoo starts. If you were still drinking, you’d spit out your water again.

“Uh, what?” you ask.

“You think I’m hot. Hao told me,” he says as if it’s no big deal. You’re mentally running through what the appropriate payback is for this breach of trust. “It’s fine. He told me because I was saying I also think you’re hot.”

“I mean, thanks,” you laugh, still considering how you’re going to torture Minghao. “But, we can’t have sex.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo presses.

“Because we’re roommates?” you ask like it’s obvious.

“So I can hear you fuck yourself with a toy or hear you fake an orgasm with another bad date, but us fucking each other is the line?” Wonwoo asks.

“I don’t fake that many orgasms,” you scoff to buy time.

“Yes, you do,” he argues. “I can hear the difference. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be faking it with me.”

There’s a little bit of cockiness in the statement that shouldn’t be doing anything for you. But, it is. There’s also the very real possibility that Wonwoo does know the difference in the sounds you make. It’s not like you’ve bothered being that quiet since the first conversation where he heard you. What’s the point? The walls are pretty thin and you’re both adults. It’s not like you’re going to kick him out every time you bring a date home. And you’re definitely not going to only get off in the shower because it drives up the water bill.

Beyond any of it, there’s also a little curiosity. Wonwoo is insanely attractive. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. He’s got that whole nerdy thing going on for him on initial inspection with the glasses and gaming. Or there’s the fact that he’s content to just hang out around the house, even with company over, wearing his pimple patches. But then, there’s this whole other side to him. It comes out when you’re both out with friends and he leaves the glasses behind. Swapping out graphic tees or hoodies for form fitting clothing and leather jackets. Casually leaning against a bar and whispering honey into some nameless, faceless stranger’s ear.

And that leads you to the reason you’re actually curious. Sure, he’s heard you having sex with people you’ve been dating or just someone you brought home for the night. But, you’ve heard him too. If any of your orgasms sound faked, the ones he coaxes from the pretty girls in his bed sound anything but. There’s nearly always an incoherent string of praises. That thought alone has you considering his proposition. It has you shifting a little on the counter.

“Let’s pretend for a second that I’m considering this,” you start and he smiles.

“Pretend, sure,” he echoes.

“We’d need ground rules, right? Like we don’t want this to get awkward,” you say.

“It’s not gonna be awkward. But, we can set whatever makes you feel comfortable,” he says nonchalantly.

A very strong, very hard to ignore voice in the back of your head argues against setting rules at all. Actually urges you to just drag him into your bedroom. Or his bedroom? Maybe you do need some ground rules.

So, you talk. You don’t say that it’s only going to happen once because you never know what needs might pop up. The most important thing that you agree to is that nothing can change between the two of you. If either of you feels like it’s going to, then you have to talk about it because preserving the friendship is most important. It doesn’t matter what bed you have sex in as long as the other helps clean anything up. You’re not planning on this being a regular thing, so you don’t need to negotiate any kinks or anything like that. If it does become more of a thing, then you can revisit the kinks. There won’t be any weirdness about dating or talking to other people. This is just a solution between two friends that are both going through dating dry spells.

Once the rules are set out, Wonwoo brings you into his room. Even though you’ve been in here more times than you could ever count, it feels different now. He tells you to make yourself comfortable on his bed. When he turns around to take his shirt off and toss it aside, your eyes map out his back. And, yeah, you’ve seen Wonwoo shirtless before, but never given yourself permission to so openly appreciate his body. His shoulders are impossibly wide and he’s in deceptively good shape for someone that hides under baggier clothes.

“Should I take a picture for you?” he asks. It’s only then that you realize that he’s facing you.

“Funny,” you say with an eye roll.

Wonwoo crosses the space to his bed and settles next to you. The way he reaches out to pull your face into his own is so smooth. His lips are on yours before your brain has a chance to catch up. You gasp a little and pull back.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Uh, didn’t we just go over this?” he asks.

“No, I mean, we’re kissing?” you ask.

“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart, just get right down to fucking you without foreplay?” he asks.

You feel a little stupid for asking that because of course you don’t want to skip the foreplay. It’s just that you don’t want to force it, either.

“Just let me take care of you,” Wonwoo says to keep you from overthinking anything.

It’s not something that you expected to be doing. Giving up control to Wonwoo. But, it’s surprisingly easy when he starts kissing you again. Any thoughts that this might be weird fly right out of your head as soon as he deepens the kiss. Instead, your focus is on what a good kisser he is. The way his lips mold effortlessly to yours. The way his tongue licks into your mouth. The way his hands roam your body as if they’re trying to memorize every curve.

You’re breathless by the time Wonwoo pulls back from you to pull your shirt over your head. When you changed after the date from hell, you hadn’t considered putting anything nice on. Hadn’t bothered to keep your bra on. What was the point when you were just going to be going to bed after having something to eat? Now, you’re wondering about that decision. Because your very hot roommate is drinking in the sight of you. It’s making you a little self-conscious, the way his eyes move over your body.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he utters.

It’s a little too intimate for you to respond to. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway. Wonwoo starts kissing down your neck and working his way to your breasts. He spreads his kisses between them, rolling your nipple between his fingers when his mouth is on your other breast. There’s something so consuming about the way he kisses your body, like he’s worshiping you. Like this is a lot more than roommates helping each other out.

He works his way further down your body, kissing along your stomach, stopping at the waist band to your shorts. Thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to overthink here either before he pulls the shorts and underwear down your legs. Tosses them off to the side for good measure. You’re totally naked in front of someone you find you do actually trust. And someone that, yeah, maybe you’ve thought about fucking before. There was no reality where you thought it would happen, though. Even if it does make a lot of sense. Every part of you truly does feel safe with him. He knows you better than most people in your life. Which clearly translates to this part of you.

Since you’re so comfortable, you’re finding it easier to not be embarrassed at the way he’s got you squirming under the barest touch. The way he ghosts his breath across your center makes you let out a whine. It’s unfair, the way that he wants to take his time like this. It’s also unfair that he’s the first person to ever make your mind go this blank during sex. Nothing exists to you outside of this moment and this man.

Wonwoo moves back to where you need him the most, blows gently against your center. The sensation sends a shiver down your body. You barely hear him mumble out a “so pretty” before he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your core. There’s just enough time to think this slow pace might actually be the death of you before he goes back in. Using his fingers to spread you apart, he starts tonguing your pussy. A mix of slow and deliberate movements with faster ones. His thumb circles your clit before his mouth moves up there to give it the attention it needs.

With his mouth on your clit, he presses one finger into your pussy. You’ve never really thought much about his hands and now you’re wondering how you missed them. His long finger pumps in and out of you quickly. It seems that he’s reading your body and can tell that you don’t want something too slow. There’s so much pent up in you.

“Fuck, please, Wonwoo. I need another finger,” you whine.

“Anything you want,” he mumbles into your pussy.

He slides another finger inside of you and it makes you clench around him. That only seems to make him move faster. His mouth continues to work along with his fingers and your hands grip whatever they can reach. You’re a babbling mess and you suddenly understand what you overheard from Wonwoo’s room. There’s something so hot about knowing he’s this good with his mouth and his hands. It’s got you coming hard on his face. Harder than you can remember coming before.

“That’s my girl,” he praises as soon as you’re coming down from your high. Your hazy brain doesn’t latch onto it the way it clearly should.

He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thing and then pulls himself up to lie next to you. His fingers trace patterns into your skin while he’s waiting for your breathing to come back to normal.

“Jesus, I guess I know why I always heard so much praise through the wall,” you mutter.

“None as pretty as the sounds you just made,” he says quietly. It’s so gentle, so intimate. There’s a lot of love between you and one of your closest friends, so you don’t dwell too much on it.

You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still dark with desire, fingers still keeping contact with your body. There’s like some kind of bubble around the two of you where nothing else exists. It’s a comfortable feeling, even in the quiet. Something pulls you in closer to him and you can feel his erection brush against your leg.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “You know, I’m still a bit pent up…”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“What? I’m gonna come on your face but we can’t actually fuck like we meant to?” you joke, a little braver than you feel.

“This was about you, not about me,” he says simply.

“It can be about both of us,” you say, hand running down his stomach. He tenses a bit under your touch and it’s unfair. He’s got perfect abs and you kind of hate it. Kind of hate that it’s so hot to you, too.

You run your hand over the outline of his dick threw his shorts, enjoy the sharp intake of breath at the contact. It feels like a sign for you to keep going. But, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Kisses you hard and desperate. All of his restraint from before seems to be gone now.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warns.

“Then show me how good you can fuck me. You were so sure earlier,” you press back.

Wonwoo rolls over and pulls his shorts and boxers off. Casts them off to the side with your clothing. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls a condom out. He rolls back over to position himself between your legs.

“One final time, are you sure?” he asks. It’s the first time since you came into his room that you’ve seen him look unsure.

“As long as you’re sure too, yes. I need this Nu, please,” you say, a little breathy with desire.

“I love it when you call me that,” he admits.

With your go ahead, he slides his tip along your entrance. You know you’re still wet from his hard work, but he still reaches into the dresser again. He pulls out some lube and runs it along his cock. Once he’s done that, he puts the cap back on and tosses it aside. He presses his tip against you again and this time slides in, slowly. Gives you a chance to adjust.

You’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy like this, with his arms on either side of you like he’s caging you in. Instead of wanting to get out, you can only think that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your hands find their way to his arms, gripping him tightly as he bottoms out in you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses.

“Nu, fuck, please move,” you beg.

“Give me a second, sweetheart, I’m trying to adjust so it doesn’t end too fast,” he says, voice so impossibly deep.

“Please,” you beg again.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

It finally does get him to move though, barely pulling out at all and fucking slowly into you, so deep. He’s filling you up in the most perfect way. Your nails dig into his arms, but you can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. Makes him pull nearly all the way out of you before snapping hard into you again. He repositions one of your legs so that he can reach a different angle. With each hard thrust, his dick hits exactly where you need him to be. The rhythm is fast, which is really everything you need for how stressed you’ve been feeling. Each thrust uncoils more of the tension in your body. Each moan seems to spur him on more.

When he leans down to kiss you, it’s messy. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth and need, so much need. Your hands find purchase anywhere on his body they can, even as his own arms seem to be a little shaky. So, you pull him down on top of you, bodies pressed tight as he continues fucking you. You’re still so sensitive from the first orgasm that you’re building up entirely too quickly. Even though you wanted it fast like this, you’re a little sorry to think it might be almost over.

Wonwoo must feel that you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him and begging for him to give you everything. He pushes himself up a little, just creates the tiniest amount of space between your bodies, and you miss it a little. Miss the feeling of skin on skin. But, he’s only doing it so that he can circle your clit. He just wants to take care of all that tension. You give control over to him completely. Let him set the pace. An embarrassingly short time later, you’re coming for the second time. He removes his hand but still fucks you through the high.

When your body stops shaking, you realize that he’s stilled inside you. He’s barely even moving as he looks down at you.

“It’s okay, Nu, I’m not that sensitive yet,” you assure him

“Thank fuck,” he whispers.

His pace is fast and you reach up to run your nails down his back. That seems to get him like nothing else does. When you do it a second time, he hisses out and you know he likes it. Each time your nails find a new part of his skin, his thrusts stutter. You clench your pussy around his cock and that’s all he can handle. He’s coming undone.

You return the favor through his high, lightly keeping the rhythm going and helping him settle his weight on top of you. His breathing is still heavy when he meets your eyes and gives you the gentlest kiss. Slowly, he slides out of you and rolls over. The next second, he’s up to dispose of the condom. He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you.

“Well, I guess I learned one thing,” you say when he gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom.

“What’s that?” he calls over his shoulder.

“All that confidence was definitely warranted,” you say through a light laugh.

You can just feel him rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you’d have less to say after a good fuck.”

“Nope, chatty as ever. No more tension, though,” you say.

“I’m glad,” he says, but it looks like he actually means it.

You move to get out of the bed and look at the sheets. Probably in need of a change. “Hey, do you wanna throw these in the hamper and just sleep in my bed tonight?”

“Are you sure that doesn’t break any rules?” he asks.

“No, we’ve done it…are you teasing me?” Your question morphs in the middle when you catch sight of his face. He can be such a shit for someone who acts like he’s chill all the time.

“I would never tease you,” he says, faux seriousness lacing his voice.

“That’s a shame, I like being teased,” you toss back.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he shrugs.

“Next time?” you wonder.

“Just go get in your bed, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says.

It wasn’t like you agreed for sex with Wonwoo to be a one time thing. That felt like putting too many rules in place. Still, you’re not expecting it to happen again quite so quickly. You also genuinely didn’t realize he was home when you pulled out your vibrator. But, he was home and he barged into your room without knocking, pulled you to the edge of your bed, and fucked you hard. Made you wonder why you’d ever even consider using your vibe in the first place.

The next time comes after another failed date. It kind of seemed like that was the recipe. Something goes wrong or you’re pent up and he’s there to let you use him. Although, he’s really using you just as much. You like to let him be a little rough with you. There’s something satisfying in the way he doesn’t treat you like he’s going to break you. It’s unquestionably the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s your business. You don’t need to share that with the class. You do figure that it might be time to talk about some kinks and boundaries, though. It would be good to be on the same page.

That seems to be how it goes for a while, at least. It’s mostly you needing something, Wonwoo being able to sense that, and helping you out. It doesn’t seem to ever start from him being the one to need something. He doesn’t even seem to be going out and bringing people home so much anymore. Not that you’re keeping track, you just can’t remember the last time he did. Or maybe he’s trying to only bring someone home when you’re not around.

He definitely holds true to his promise to tease you. One night, after a really long week at work with a lot of little things going wrong, he asks if he can take his time with you. In hindsight, you should have known it meant that it was going to mean teasing. But, you agreed anyway, and let him set the pace. Instead of hard and fast, he takes everything slow. He brings you right to the edge over and over again without letting you have your release. It’s insane how well he seems to read your signs. It seems like he can tell you’re close before you can. That night, it feels like it goes on for hours before he finally lets you come. It’s the biggest mess you’ve ever made. A fact that you would be embarrassed about if Wonwoo hadn’t looked so proud. Still, it feels like you’re the one always working something out.

Until it doesn’t.

One night, you come back from a night out with friends and are rummaging through the cabinets looking for a snack. This is the thing you hate about living with Wonwoo. He’s taller than you and doesn’t think twice about using the higher cabinets. You, on the other hand, can’t reach them so easily. You’re on your tiptoes trying to reach something when you feel him press into your back. His hand comes up and grabs the box you were reaching for with ease. You press further back into him when your heels hit the floor again.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles into your hair. His hands find a place on your hips, holding you against him. This feels different from how every other time has started.

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly into the silence of the apartment.

He lets one hand slide down, quickly meeting the bare skin of your thigh. You know your skirt is a little shorter than normal, but the night seemed to call for it. “This. Did you go out hoping to bring someone home?”

“Maybe,” you say, shivering a little at the way his breath tickles your ear.

“Are you trying to tease me?” he asks. It comes across almost like a demand.

You wiggle your ass against him a little before you answer. “I would never.”

“Of course not,” he says.

Everything that happens after that feels different. It’s never started like this. It’s been passionate, but it’s never been driven by so much raw desire. It’s never been the kind of sex where Wonwoo pushes your skirt up around your hips and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. Never been the kind of sex where he buries his face in your pussy while you grip the counter for support. Never been so desperate and needy and rushed.

He makes you come twice on his tongue with your knees going so weak that you can barely stand before he even moves onto actually fucking you. You’re so weak by the time you finish that he has to help you to the bathroom to clean up before he tucks you into your bed. You’re so tired that you don’t even realize how intimate it is when you ask him to get into bed with you.

The disappointment that sets in when you wake up to get some water in the early hours of the morning hits you hard. Entirely too hard for something that’s supposed to be free of feelings. Your bed feels a little empty without him taking up space. Which is really stupid because it’s not like that’s been something you’ve been doing all of the time. It’s not something you’re used to. But, there’s an unexpected comfort in him. Something that catches you completely off guard. As you drift back off to sleep, you resolve to deal with your feelings in the morning.

That’s how you find yourself sitting on Minghao’s couch as he makes you both a cup of tea. He hasn’t asked about your roommate yet, but you know that it’s coming. He just wants to have everything he thinks you’ll need first. A few minutes later, he sets two cups of tea down next to the plate of snacks he threw together. If you weren’t in such a crisis, you’d have time to be envious over how pretty the presentation looked.

“So things with Wonwoo have gotten awkward?” he asks without preamble.

“Jesus, Hao, let me take a sip first, at least,” you groan.

“I don’t want to say that I told you this was a bad idea…” he starts.

“You were the one who spilled the beans that I thought he was hot. This is your fault too,” you point out.

“I told him that he wasn’t alone in thinking his roommate was hot. I didn’t tell you both to start fucking without realizing it was bound to blow up,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks.

Minghao is a lot of things. He can be a bit of an art snob. He’s that kind of impeccably dressed where he looks like he just stepped off a runway. He can appear a bit detached. But, he’s also one of the most thoughtful people you know. He’s complex and he cares for his friends more than he cares for himself most times. Both you and Wonwoo are among those he counts as his closest friends. So, he just listens as you lay out everything that’s happened since the first time you had sex. He doesn’t judge or interrupt. Patiently, he just waits as you get it all off your chest, including how you felt after last night.

None of that really comes as a surprise. You know that he’s going to give you shit and be there for you at the same time. What does come as a surprise is what he says when you’re done laying out your issues.

“I haven’t wanted to set you up because I wasn’t sure you were in the right place for it, but I actually have a friend that I think you might hit it off with,” he says. “He’d definitely get you out of this whole Wonwoo funk you’re in so things can go back to normal.”

“You wanna set me up?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you,” he says.

“Okay, tell me about him,” you agree.

“He’s really kind. Kind of talks in a permanent pout, but it’s endearing somehow. He’s a giant softie at heart and he’s so incredibly loyal. He’s been talking about how he’s looking for something a little more serious. I think you’d like him,” Minghao says.

“What’s his name, Hao?” you ask skeptically.

“Mingyu,” he answers and your eyes go wide.

“Mingyu? As in that hot model you’re friends with?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Minghao says evenly.

“Okay, you can see if he’s interested,” you agree.

It’s been a couple days since Minghao threw out the suggestion of setting you up with Mingyu. The two of you have exchanged a few messages and he does actually seem really nice. He’s also funnier than you expected him to be. When he asks if you want to get dinner the upcoming weekend, you find you’re a little bit excited.

There’s only one issue. You feel like you need to tell Wonwoo. You know that he’s not going to care, but it still feels weird when you’ve been fucking around. Maybe Minghao was right and the whole thing was a terrible idea after all. It’s hard for you to tell him when you seem to keep missing each other, though. Lately, he’s been playing video games over at Vernon’s place more than normal. Even if they’re streaming, something feels weird.

“Hey,” he calls out from the front door, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Oh hey,” you answer, looking up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he moves to head back to his room. “Everything okay?”

He stops to look at you when you ask that question and his eyes still look a bit distant. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I don’t know, you’re being short with me,” you say.

He just shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the first syllable. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that Minghao set me up with his friend Mingyu and I was thinking I’d go out with him.”

“You don’t have to tell me about your dates,” he says evenly.

“I just thought…” you start.

“We agreed,” he interjects. “Enjoy your date whenever you go.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly to his retreating figure.

The whole point of agreeing to go out with Mingyu was to get things back to normal with Wonwoo. It was clear that you had gotten in over your head. Now, you’re wondering if things are going to be able to go back to normal at all. This isn’t your normal dynamic. You always shared stories about dates, hook-ups, anything and everything under the sun. Your other friends always said it was weird for the two of you and you just ignored them. Now, you feel like you’re in it alone. Maybe they’re right and it is weird.

Since it’s a little on the later side anyway, you decide to grab something from the kitchen and just head into your room. You can go to bed early and forget that whole conversation even happened. That’s probably for the best. It’ll be easier to get back to normal once you’re going on dates again. Once you stop fucking your roommate like you could have ever done that without forming some kind of feelings.

It’s the middle of the night when you feel someone slide into bed around you. A familiar scent slips into your consciousness as an arm slides around your center. You nestle back into the chest and know for sure that it’s your roommate. The same man you’re trying hard to get over.

“What are you doing, Wonwoo?” you mumble in sleepiness.

“Don’t go on the date with Mingyu,” he says. He sounds completely awake.

“What?” you ask. Your brain is still foggy from sleep.

“Don’t go out with anyone else,” he says.

That makes you open your eyes as the words bounce around in your brain. You turn over to your other side so that you’re facing him. His hair is messy and all he’s wearing is a plain white t-shirt, but your heart still constricts a bit at the sight of him.

“What do you want, Wonwoo?” you ask, voice thick with mental exhaustion.

“Exactly what I told you. I want you to turn Mingyu down,” he says.

“Why should I?” you challenge.

“Because, well, we’ve got this…” he starts and fumbles over his words.

“We haven’t got anything. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” you point out. “Hell, I asked you to stay in bed with me after you fucked me in the kitchen and you couldn’t even make it til morning.”

“I know, but I was scared that night because I realized I was starting to feel something,” he says. “And then Hao texted me to tell me he’d finally given your number to Mingyu…”

“Finally? What do you mean?” you asked.

“He’s been asking for your number for months,” Wonwoo says through somewhat gritted teeth. “So Minghao told me you’d agreed to be set up and I don’t know, I guess I just decided…”

“To avoid me?” you supply.

“I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know how to process you not telling me,” he admits.

“You weren’t around for me to tell you,” you point out. “We’ve been fucking. I wasn’t just gonna be like oh by the way, I’m going on a date.”

“Please don’t go on a date with him,” Wonwoo asks again.

“I will consider not going if you can actually talk to me,” you say.

“About what?” he asks.

“Everything you’re feeling and why this whole let’s just be roommates that fuck was stupid,” you say.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says immediately.

You sigh, realizing that you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep, and send Wonwoo to the kitchen to get you something to drink. By the time he’s back, you’re sitting up in bed and ready to have an actual conversation.

You stay up entirely too late talking about everything between the two of you. It’s a little hard to believe Wonwoo is so open with admitting how he feels. It’s harder to believe that Wonwoo knew he felt something for you before the very first time you had sex. In his mind, it was clear that he wasn’t just offering because the two of you were friends. He offered it as a way to gauge your own feelings. But, after that first time, he kind of figured it was just sex and tried to detach himself from it. That was when you started to feel something for him.

When he’s done admitting his own mistakes and feelings, you figure that it’s time for you to own up to your own. It was really silly to just make up his side of the conversation about why he didn’t stay in bed with you that night. After all, the one thing you both stressed before sleeping together the first time was that you had to be honest in your communication. That’s what friends did and you were friends before anything else. As it turns out, you’re both way more on the same page than either of you realized.

“You’re wrong about one thing, though,” you admit.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It was never just sex for me. I was totally done the first time you kissed me,” you share, picking at a thread on your comforter to avoid looking at him.

“I kissed you before we even had sex,” he points out, incredulous.

“Yeah, turns out I’m not so good at the just friends who fuck thing,” you say with a shrug.

“If I’d have known that was all it took, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Wonwoo grumbles.

That brings you up short. “Nu, just how long have you liked me?”

“I don’t know, a while,” he says.

You just shake your head at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just talk to me next time.”

“Can we go back to having sex now? I miss the feel of you,” he whines out. “And the taste.”

“We literally fucked less than a week ago,” you point out to try and avoid the way it makes heat pool.

“I could taste you every day and never get sick of it,” he says without any embarrassment.

“Are we really giving this a try?” you ask.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Wonwoo says.

“I do, I’m just scared. What if we try a relationship and it doesn’t work?” you ask. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t wanna lose that.”

Wonwoo reaches out to tilt your head up. “We’ll just promise to be honest with each other. We can figure this out together.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“So, we’re doing this?” he confirms.

“Yeah, we’re doing this.”

Just like that, you agree to take a leap with the only person that you’ve always trusted to catch you every time you fall. It feels scary, but also completely natural.

i hope you enjoyed it! 💕

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lamiadrowned · 11 days ago

Note

jinx as a gf headcanons!!!! :D

*:･ﾟ✧ dating jinx

jinx x fem!reader | sfw

i have so many thoughts. maybe too many thoughts

it would be an understatement to say that you see a side of her that no one else has.

in all actuality, you bring out a side of jinx that she didn’t even know was there.

when she’s around you, she feels stable. the voices are quiet and her heart beats noticeably slower. it seems you have this physical effect on her– an ability to erase the despair of everything that has ever gone wrong and all of the worries she has about things that could go wrong in the future.

so, naturally, she’s possessive over you.

it has a lot less to do with you than it has to do with others, though.

for example, if she takes you out and you decide to wear an outfit that shows off some skin? she’s all for it! in fact, she prefers it that way for her own… personal reasons.

and that guy, the one who spent a little too long raking his prying eyes over your figure? she’ll teach him a lesson about window-shopping for something that isn’t available.

not only does she get to try out some new explosives she’d made, but she also gets to feel fulfilled by protecting you! it’s a win-win.

you’d definitely be her first kiss.

with everything she’s been through, jinx hadn’t ever seen romance as anything more than a disaster waiting to happen until she met you. she truly believed she was unlovable until she met you, and now, she’s a total sap.

her biggest love languages are quality time and physical touch.

if she could spend every second of the day with you, she could. even when she’s on a mission, or spending some time with silco, instead– the thought of you never leaves her mind.

on the occasions that she does get you all to herself, she doesn’t let a single second go to waste.

the trophy goes to jinx for ‘clingiest girlfriend in the world’. her hands are constantly on you in one way or another. whether she’s smothering you in cuddles, playing with your hair or tracing patterns on your skin, or even jumping up onto your back with no warning just for the sake of feeling close to you, she’s a fiend for you in every sense of the word.

at first, she was afraid she’d drive you away once she discovered just how attached she is to you.

until she realized that you reciprocate every gesture with the same amount of enthusiasm.

most of the time, she prefers being at your home as opposed to her own. her room isn’t exactly a room, and it definitely isn’t as comfortable as yours. you’ve even given her a key so that she can pop in even while you aren’t home, because you know how much she likes being there.

and, as much as you enjoy when she spends the night, sleeping with her can be an absolute nightmare.

you’d fall asleep in each other’s arms with both of your heads on the same pillow, and wake up in the morning to the feeling of her cold foot jammed into your cheek, her head hanging off the side of the bed as she snores, cocooned in the deepest state of sleep possible.

speaking of which, she sleeps like a rock and wouldn’t even stir at the sound of an explosion.

it’s rare that she actually gets a full night of rest, so it makes sense that her body would take advantage of when she does, but it’s slightly concerning. if it weren’t for the fact that she snores, you’d probably think she died in her sleep.

you don’t discover this trait of hers until she’s fully comfortable with you, but she loves to dance (if it can even be considered that) and not stop until you join her.

it really depends on the music, whether she’s butchering the bachata, full-on headbanging, or inviting you to slow dance.

she loves to do your hair, whether it’s curly or straight. sometimes she’ll do braids, sometimes she’ll put a bunch of hair clips and accessories into it, sometimes she’ll totally knot your hair while trying something new.

lastly, jinx will know that you’re the one when silco approves of you. he sees how unconditional your love is, and the difference you’ve made in her is astounding.

he won’t tell her he approves until he talks to you, though. he’d sent one of his men to politely request that you meet him in his office while jinx is working.

as expected, he fully embodies the shotgun dad stereotype– “if i find out you’ve hurt my daughter, there will be serious consequences,” all that fun stuff, simply to gauge your reaction.

he was relieved to find that you weren’t intimidated, because you didn’t intend on hurting her.

despite the unconventional dynamic, he wants what any father wants; to see his daughter happy. as long as you’ve succeeded at that, you’ve earned his protection and respect.

and, most of all, his approval.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane jinx #jinx #jinx x reader

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solarmorrigan · 11 months ago

Text

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things post s2 AU #stranger things #this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k #is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go!#eddiesteve #solar wrote

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theprettyarachnid · 3 months ago

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dating logan howlett would include

a/n: i’m lowkey on a roll yall

warning: nsfw themes

🕷️ you’re probably one of the only ones who have seen logan’s soft side

🕷️ he almost begs you not to sleep in the same bed with him because of his nightmares but you won’t hear it

🕷️ in fact you’ve been able to calm him down sometimes, caressing his face and tracing his jaw line

🕷️ he’s still scared he might hurt you by accident though no matter how many times you’ve told him that you have regenerative abilities too

🕷️ logan loves when you wear his shirts to sleep and because it’s practically a short night gown, he still has a view of your ass

🕷️ you cut his hair because he doesn’t like the way a regular barber does it

🕷️ you’ve tried to convince him to watch your romance shows but when he does he always falls asleep

🕷️ logan snores a lot in his sleep

🕷️ he doesn’t like celebrating his birthday because it’s ‘just another day’ but it’s clear that he appreciates the effort you put into it

🕷️ you got him a dog for his birthday because you knew he wanted one and he hasn’t let it out of his sight since

🕷️ you got him one of those wolf/dog hybrids

🕷️ logan has a pretty high sex drive so it’s not unusual to wake up with him in between your legs

🕷️ claims that he smelled your arousal

🕷️ claw marks on your thighs while he’s eating you out and when you pull on his hair, he’ll moan almost sounding animalistic

🕷️ he takes you out on dates regularly and if you tease him about it he’ll give a gruff response of “it’s how any woman should be treated, especially you”

🕷️ sometimes logan doesn’t understand why you want to be with him but eventually he’s just stopped asking that question

🕷️ holds your hand when you two go on walks with the dog

🕷️ and just in general

🕷️ if you’re a plant person, i feel like logan would be terrible at taking care of them

🕷️ he just doesn’t have a green thumb so instead you get him a fake plant

🕷️ he laughs and calls it stupid but he actually loves it because it reminds him of you

🕷️ whenever logan wears his glasses, you can’t help but find it extra attractive and he knows this

🕷️ whenever you do or say something stupid, he flicks you on the forehead

🕷️ logan is very protective of you and you can see it in pretty much all of his actions

🕷️ his hugs are extra tight and his grip around your waist gets tighter whenever another man looks at you

🕷️ he kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you, especially when he has to go on missions, and it’s because he truly believes it may be the last

🕷️ logan sometimes hates that you chose him to be with because everyone he has ever cared for or known has gone through traumatic events and in some cases have died

🕷️ this is why you can’t take him pushing you away sometimes to heart because you know it’s because he thinks it’s better that way

🕷️ logan gives me warm body vibes so whenever you’re cold, you can snuggle up to him and he’ll warm you right up

🕷️ hates when you put your cold hands or feet on his bare back

🕷️ logan loves when you make him coffee or cook for him

🕷️ he likes his coffee black

🕷️ enjoys watching horror movies with you because you’re snuggled up in a blanket shared between you two and leaning up against his chest

🕷️ moments like that make him feel very at ease

#logan #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #xmen #xmen x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #the wolverine #wolverine #wolverine smut #logan howlet smut #fanfiction #fluff #xmen fanfiction #smut

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loganhowlettshousewife · 1 month ago

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i want everyone to know that i woke up at 2am and grabbed my phone and typed out the draft version of this, and then promptly fell back asleep. i literally could not remember a word of what i’d written when i woke up. anyway here’s the drabble that came to me in my dreams apparently.

logan falls for you, hard. and for once, he’s not afraid of it. he’s dangerous and always hurts those around him, directly or indirectly it doesn’t matter. he hates getting close to people just to watch them get hurt again and again, watch them start to resent him for the bloodshed that seems to follow wherever he goes.

but with you it’s different. you can heal, just like him. you get injured on a mission and the stab wound knits itself back together, the bullet hole closes. you don’t have a single scar on your body; someone who didn’t know any better would think you’d never been through any hardships.

he wakes from a nightmare, claws in your chest, and panics for a moment as he pulls them out, watching your shocked face. but your expression melts into a loving one in a moment, pain receding as quickly as it came, your hand reaching out to cup his face.

“‘i’m okay,” you tell him, and it’s true. your pretty silk pajama top is ruined, but through the holes in the fabric he can see the smooth skin of your chest, unmarred. the blood remains, a reminder that he’s hurt you, but you just hold him tight until you fall back asleep.

he watches you and wonders how he got so lucky, how there could be someone so perfectly suited for him. not just in your personality and appearance, because he’s fallen for many people in his two centuries of living, but someone he can’t ever hurt.

his biggest fear, suddenly made irrelevant.

the first time you have sex, you tell him to let go, not to worry, he can’t hurt you. the animal part of him yearns to claim you, violent and intense the way his nature wants him to be. and for once, he can.

he’s close, pounding into you harder, goaded on by your cries of his name. he leans down as if to kiss you but goes for your neck instead, canines sinking into the skin, breaking the surface and drawing blood. he pulls back, licking the blood off his lips, your blood, and that’s the final push you need. your orgasm hits you like a wave, and you clench around logan, who groans and thrusts into you one, two, three more times before coming.

it’s as he’s cleaning you up that he notices something strange. at first he’s confused, and then his stomach drops. you’re not healing. he wipes the remaining blood from your neck, as if when he moves the washcloth away it’ll be gone. it’s not.

you must see it on his face, because you giggle and say, “i wanna keep it. want everyone to know i’m yours.”

and fuck, that does something to him. he’s possessive of those he cares about, but it’s usually treated as an inconvenience, an annoyance. but you love it, you revel in his possessiveness.

“how are you- it’s not healing?” he’s still confused, but secretly pleased.

“logan,” you whisper, “you know my healing is different from yours, right? i have the power to heal myself and others. it’s not automatic like yours, i can control it.”

he didn’t know that, actually, but he’s glad. because it’s just one more thing about you that makes you perfect in his eyes, more than perfect in fact. you’re choosing not to heal the mark he left on you, claiming you as his. you’re accepting it, accepting logan even with all his flaws and detriments.

you never heal any of the marks that logan gives you. no, those you wear with pride.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett drabble #logan howlett headcanons #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #feral!logan howlett #feral!logan howlett x reader #feral logan howlett x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine drabble #wolverine headcanons #james logan howlett

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howlsofbloodhounds · 4 months ago

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I think my favorite “fanon” interpretations of nightmare have to be like cartoonishly evil and silly. Or like, old and powerful and grumpy about it and you best get off his lawn.

Peepaw Nightmare, he complains about his back and how “back in my day!” and he calls Killer “boy” when he’s upset with him. “Boy quiet.” “Boy quiet.” “Boy quiet now.”

Killer uses the movements of his tentacles to predict the weather like some older folk say they can feel the weather changing thanks to things like their “bad knee.”

And most of the time NM’s tentacles usually can predict the weather. Nightmare smacks killer over the head with his tentacle like an older man hitting the ankles of youngsters with a cane for being rowdy.

And like peepaw is really knowledgeable about a ton of things but also doesn’t keep up with modern technology and killer uses this to fuck with him for amusement. Convinced him a roomba is some type of highly intelligent pet.

And nightmare knows he’s being fucked with, but he’s just too stubborn and prideful to “get with the times.” And killer knows that he knows, so it’s like a game to see who cracks first.

Peepaw Nightmare uses the “it’s because you’re always on that damn phone” with killer a lot. Even in situations where it doesn’t make any sense. Killer threatens to put him in a nursing home frequently.

And nightmare has this big specific chair thats just for him and everyone knows it but it’s become a game to see who can sit on it for how long without getting caught. (Cross is the only one refusing to probably).

Killer frequently hears “why can’t you be more like cross and dust?” from the old man whenever he’s Had Enough of the antics.

And nightmare knits like cartoonishly evil versions of holiday sweaters for the group and has like the fucked up creepy doll equivalent of a beanie baby or porcelain doll collection. Dust feels like a sort of kinship with dolls and the other dudes have like a comical fear or aversion to them. Nightmare named every one like they’re his kids & the only ones understanding it r error & dust.

Everyone else refuses to call the dolls by name, besides cross who does it in a reluctant creeped out way.

Nightmare & error have old people beef over aus like old neighbors beefing over property lines & mowing the others lawn or something. & nm beefs with color about being a “good influence” on killer.

Nightmare calls dream at random intervals just to curse him out and insult him before hanging up and refuses to answer whenever Dream calls first. The “stars vs bad sanses” “negativity vs positivity” war/balance doesn’t actually exist or is just tipped enough in nightmare’s favor that he doesn’t worry about it so instead the twins just squabble over the golden apple though phone like its a custody battle over a beloved pet.

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phantom-dc · 2 years ago

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A deal with the Ghost King

Part2 AO3

Danny was getting impatient.

He had been annoyed at being summoned, then exited when he found himself in the Justice League Watchtower. He was in space! But then the guy in the raincoat begun offering a piece of his soul in exchange for destroying a meteorite, and he had become annoyed instead. He doesn't want a soul! Doesn't this guy get he'd be Danny's slave for eternity? So taking a page off Clockwork's book, he said something cryptic and ominous so no one else tried to bribe him with souls. They had turned white and raincoat guy asked if they could be excused for a moment before pulling the other heroes into a different room. Wich, first off: Rude. Second: Danny couldn't leave the summonning circle unless he made a deal or if he was send back. At first he had been curious what they would offer him now, settling into a more humanoid form instead of the eldritch nightmare being summoned always forced him into. That had been a while ago though, and now he was getting impatient. They better come back soon so he can go deal with the problem. He'll do it for a Pop-tart at this point, as long as he can go break that overgrown space-rock!

Jason was pissed. Batman had ordered everyone to come to the Watchtower immediatly. Jason wasn't even allowed to wear his helmet (he scared the younger Leaguers), having to settle for a domino mask instead. Good thing he had 2, because Nightwing had even brought Alfred! Jason wanted anwsers, why did B rush them here? He hadn't even greeted or explained anything to them, just had Plastic-man bring them to a room to wait. But Jason was done waiting, so he stormed to the main briefing room. He expected B and his Justice club. Instead he found a glowing, floating hero. The floor glowed a bit beneath him, his skin tinted green and his hair floated as if underwater, a crown surrounded by its own northen light. He was beautifull. Anger forgotten, he made his way over, deciding to make some small talk. 'Hello there! Are you a new hero? I've never seen you before?'

Danny was startled. He'd been focussing on the door the heroes left through, trying to will them back. He hadn't even noticed the Liminal behind him until he spoke! He turned around, and was again caught of guard. Even with the Domino covering his eyes,he could tell this guy was really handsome! A mountain of chiseled muscles and a white streak of hair that gave him something mysterious. Oh crap, he was staring. What did he say again? 'Hello! I'm Phantom. It's nice to meet you!' The Liminal introduced himself as J. 'Anyone ever tell you you're drop-dead gorgeous?' Danny laughed. Hot and death puns? Yep, he's going for it. The Leaguers aren't back yet anyway.

Jason was kicking himself. Really? That's the best he could come up with? Thank god Phantom had seemed to like it. 'Well, it certainly wouldn't get a rise out of me if they did!' he said. 'So what are you doing here? I didn't see you at the meeting?' Jason shrugged. 'No idea actually. B called for all hands on deck, so here I am. What are you here for?' Phantom sighed. 'They got me here to deal with some stupid rock, but then ditched me here for an impromptu meeting. I just want to go take care of it, but I can't just leave.' Phantom looked annoyed. Jason asked if Phantom wanted a tour of the Watchtower, surely Flash could get him when they needed him? Phantom looked dejected. He couldn't leave without being dismissed. Jason decided to make a move. 'Ok, how about this: you deal with that rock, and afterwards, we can meet up in Gotham and I'll give you a tour there! Deal?' Phantom looked up, an inhumanly while smile on his face.

'Deal!'

After that Phantom had left, saying the boyscouts had their chance. 'I look forward to our date!' He said and then dissapeared. Jason was exited! He went back to the others, who hadn't noticed he'd left. No matter, he had a date to plan!

Contantine was freaking out. The meteorite had proven too much for the Justice League. Most of their heavy hitters had been off-planet or out off commision. The damn thing was even made of kryptonite! He had no choice but to summon the only being that he knew of that could deal with it and could be bribed. He had offered the mighty Ghost King a piece of his soul, but been rejected! Batman had offered his own soul instead, but again this offer wasn't enough. The Ghost King explained there were billions of mortals about to become his subjects. Why trade that for 1 measily soul? He needed a better offer if they wanted his help. Panicked, Constantine had pulled the other League members into a different room, not wanting them to make a deal by accident. They were all making desperate suggestions. What could be worth more than every soul on Earth? They had made a list of magical and historical artifacts from every members background. It was a long shot, but the meteorite was getting too close. As they went back to the Ghost King they were praying it would be enough.

The King was gone. Suddenly in the distance the meteorite exploded. Someone had made a deal with the Ghost King, and no one knew who. What had they offered?

What could possible be worth more to the High King of the Infinite Realms than every living soul on Earth?

#batman #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton #dead on main #ghost king danny

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ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 5 months ago

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Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merlin au #merthur #merlin prompts

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vervainandspritz · 11 days ago

Text

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: it's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

Guys I lied it will have three parts actually

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Y/N sighed deeply, holding Tommy's hand as he carefully stepped over the threshold to Polly's house.

”He better not find out that we're here,” She warned, glancing around the house to make sure they were alone.

”He won't” The older woman replied, as her eyes remained on the toddlers who reminded her so much of her nephew around that age. Keeping her mouth shut on the matter, Polly opened the curtains in the living room, offering Y/N some tea.

”No, thank you, but do you have maybe some…”

“Juice!” Nick cheered, causing Tommy to immediately do the same, despite not knowing what for. Seeing it, Polly couldn't help but chuckle, scooping up the boy into his arms.

“What juice would you like, little man?” She offered, smiling brightly. Nick mumbled something to himself, looking back at his mum instead.

“I believe Nick would appreciate apple juice” Y/N answered, already knowing what he meant.

“Apple juice it is then” Polly replied, nodding to the maid with a light smile. It took no longer than a couple minutes before she returned, holding the glass. “So…” The older woman started out, her eyes finally meeting Y/N’s “He doesn't know, does he?”

“About what?” Y/N responded, her voice immediately changing into one of defensive undertones subconsciously which didn't go unnoticed by Polly.

“About them”

“Who says they're his?” She asks, keeping her cool, despite heart thumping in her chest faster than usual. Hearing it, Polly just chuckled, rolling her eyes as she turned Nick on her lap, making him face his mum.

“Their faces give it away, darling. I'm not stupid.” Her voice became sharper, as she didn't like being lied to, and Y/N was fully aware of it.

The younger woman sighed deeply, sitting Tommy on the couch as she began pacing back and forth.

“He can't find out” She insisted, clearly stressed out by the circumstances. “I've spent almost three years doing everything so he wouldn't find out, Polly. You can't tell on me.” Her gaze was fierce but clearly scared, which made Polly's heart squeeze in her chest. She wondered how Thomas must have been treating her to cause such a strong reaction.

“He turned all of England upside down looking for you.” She confessed, shaking her head lightly. “It's been a bloody nightmare. As soon as we got him off the opium, everything… changed.”

“I don't care” Y/N hissed back, pointing towards the woman she was once so close with. “These are my kids, and I won't let him get near them. He lost the privilege the moment he chose her over us… over me.” Her hands were shaking and only then did she look to the side, hearing Tommy scooting closer to her on the couch which made her let out a deep breath as she sat back down. Taking him in her lap and rubbing his back. “I just can't.” She added in a calmer tone.

Polly nodded along, lighting a cigarette and inhaling the smoke then slowly letting it out.

“Y/N, all I can promise is that I won't say anything, but… you know how he is. You haven't seen him after the… change. He's stubborn, and even if it takes walking to hell and back, he will eventually find out.” She warned in a gentle tone, wanting to give Y/N some reassurance but also keeping it real.

“Tommy stubborn? Doesn’t sound like much of a change to me” Y/N snorted, helping Tommy take a sip out of the glass. Polly watched closely at how she interacted with her son.

“He's the quieter one, isn't he?” Y/N immediately understood, smiling down at Tommy and nodding.

“He has a more sensitive spirit. He’s never too far from my side” She pointed out.

“A mummy's boy.” The older woman giggled, her eyes shining at the lively memories in her head. “He was exactly the same at that age. Arthur couldn't force him to go play, all he wanted to do was sit in his mum's lap, no matter whether she was cooking or knitting.” Her voice was lighthearted, causing Y/N to subconsciously smile looking at her baby.

“Let’s agree on something” Polly suggested, setting Nick on his feet, and the boy immediately started exploring the house, assisted by one of the maids. “I won't say a word about this to anyone, but you will let me see them once a week, and accept financial help from me. After all, I know how it is to be a single mother. “ She offered, but the tone of her voice showed that… she already decided.

“I can't take money from you” Y/N insisted but Polly stopped her with her hand.

“It's that, or I will have to tell him. You can't survive off on scraps raising little Shelby's.”

…and with that, she shut Y/N’s mouth. Sighing deeply, she agreed. “...and one last thing. Does.. anyone know that they're his?” Her tone turned serious as she looked into Y/N's eyes to make sure she wasn't lying.

“No, nobody knows.” She replied, shaking her head.

Polly exhaled with relief.

“Good”

***

A couple weeks went by and Y/N really felt her living situation improving. She could stay home with the children, getting to stop working every night which made her heart much lighter. Mrs. Wilson kept coming over every now and then after being told she would no longer have to babysit boys at night. The routine quickly set into their life, and the day of seeing Polly became Y/N's favourite.

Back in Birmingham Thomas was sitting in his office, leaning back in the armchair as his brows furrowed in confusion. Recently the figures in the accounting documents and the cheques and cash balance didn't quite match which got him paying attention throughout the weeks. Seeing the pattern and being sure. Going through the company documentation, the first file that fell out of the shelf was surprisingly Polly's.

After grabbing it, Thomas displayed every page on the desk and put on his glasses. Going over dates, another pattern caught his eye. Before, she was working five to six times a week, depending on the amount of work and circumstances but recently her schedule was limited to four days a week, every Thursday off.

His eyes narrowed as the nagging feeling on the back of his head told him something wasn't right. Glancing on the calendar, he decided what to do before getting up, and picking up the phone.

Later that day, Y/N found herself sitting on Polly's couch while boys played on the carpet with their wooden toys as the women spoke about their whereabouts.

In the meantime a black car parked by the building, turning off the engine before it made too much noise or got too much attention. Pulling the cap lower on his forehead, he glanced towards the right window, noticing the smoke coming out of it. Polly was home.

Climbing the stairs, he reached into the pocket, pulling out a spare key to her house. As Tommy was fitting the key in the lock, he heard the sound of a squealing child inside.

Did Ada visit with Karl? Thomas wondered, furrowing his eyebrows in suspicion. Why would Polly hide that from him?

Thomas opened the door and stepped into the entryway. He could hear Polly and the voice of another woman - a familiar voice, but cloudy enough to not be able to recognize. Thomas followed the sounds leading to the sitting room. As soon as he stood in the doorway, his eyes widened in disbelief, fixated on the woman he saw for the first time in three years.

There sitting on the couch facing the doorway was Y/N. She met his eyes and Thomas could see the blood drain from her face, causing her to go completely pale as the words died on her tongue.

Polly must have noticed the shift as she turned to where Y/N was staring and an audible gasp left her lips.

“Thomas” Polly said as she straightened in her seat. “I knew this would happen eventually. I noticed you were double counting. You’ve always been too inquisitive to keep secrets from.”

Tommy stared at Polly, unable to comprehend the situation as his heart pounded in his chest for the first time in years.

Polly stood and slowly approached him, stretching out her hand.

“I think it would be best if you and I had a word first.” She said, looking at him and silently pleading to listen this time. His expression was completely blank, but internally he was going through every possible emotion from happiness through grief all the way to anger.

“Not now.” He responded in a husky voice, and when she tried to interject again, he raised his hand slightly, completely silencing her. “I said not now,”

Hearing it Polly looked back at Y/N, giving her a sign to stay calm, before walking to the bedroom to check on the boys.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as her whole body tensed, raising to her feet.

“Where have you been?” He immediately demanded to know, taking a step forward. As in instinctively, Y/N responded with a step back causing his brows to furrow in confusion, seeing this reaction. “Y/N?” He added, but she cut him off.

“I don't owe you any explanations.” She put all her strength into keeping up the façade of being unfazed by his presence. Her facial expression hardened, and her voice kept completely steady.

“Three years. I spent three fucking years looking for you!” He said, slightly raising his voice as he pointed towards her, yet not daring to close the distance between them.

“What for? Are the maids and prostitutes not doing enough? Why would you need me for?” She hissed with anger, the old pain she used to carry around with her everywhere slowly seeping back.

Right when Thomas was about to open his mouth to respond, they heard small footsteps quickly entering the room. Small arms wrapped around Y/N’s legs, little face snuggling into her thigh, immediately catching Y/N's attention. Once her gaze dropped, Thomas’ followed and his eyes widened, mouth fell slightly open.

“It's okay, baby” She cooed quietly, lightly caressing the boy’s head. Before Thomas could react in any way, another kid ran in, standing mere inches from his lookalike.

“Come on, Tommy!” The little boy whined, causing the other one to shake his head. “We play!” He squealed, shoving the wooden car into his brother's face.

The tension in the room immediately grew, Thomas’ face turning completely white as he connected the dots.

“We need to talk,” He said in a breathless voice.

“It's enough” Polly suddenly interjected, quickly coming up. “Don't you see he's scared?” She scolded the man standing by her side as she picked up the boy. Walking towards the kitchen, she grabbed Nick’s chubby little hand, leaving the adults in the living room.

Thomas couldn't stop himself from looking back, unexpectedly looking into the same eyes he sees every day in the mirror.

Not a minute passed by before the older woman returned.

“It’s time for you to leave. I'll see you in the office in fifteen minutes.” She decided, standing between him and Y/N as she pointed towards the entrance.

Tommy felt his mind going into overdrive with the amount of new, unexpected information that caused his temperature to significantly increase. Feeling the need to get a breath of fresh air, he steals the last glance of Y/N before walking out of the house. The documents he held in his hand, long forgotten, left on the shelf in his aunt's house.

***

“How dare you.” He said calmly at first, slowly raising from his armchair as the door fell shut behind his aunt. The calm tone was a signal of the coming storm. “How fucking dare you hide her from me when you saw what I was going through!” His voice boomed through the office, echoing off the walls.

Polly wasn't easily intimidated, taking a step forward as her jaw tensed.

“After all she's done for you, you discarded her like bloody garbage!” She screamed, pointing at him, as she tossed her purse on the chair. “Every single ounce of pity I held for you left my body the second I saw her empty eyes.” She added, taking another step forward. “I told you that you'd regret it, and that I wouldn't forgive you. I won't be yelled at for the foolish choices you made.”

Standing eye to eye with him, she saw the unwinded storm of emotions he felt. His right eye twitched just like his jaw, before he turned around running a hand through his hair. Huffing with rage he turned to face her again.

“Have you considered what kind of danger you could have put her in?” He hissed with barely contained anger. “or were you too dedicated to go against me to think about the consequences?” He turned around, grabbing the white envelope from his desk and tossing it into her hands.”The Changretta’s just declared vendetta on the Shelby family, and you took her into your bloody house!” He paced back and forth through the office, nervously grasping his jaw as the thought settled. “...and the kids. My bloody kids that you intentionally kept away from me.”

Polly's heart stopped for a second and her eyes widened as the realisation dawned on her.

“We need to protect them” She whispered, looking at him.

Wordlessly Thomas turned around, grabbing a phone and dialling the right number.

***

Over the next couple days, Y/N felt completely scattered. Fear soaked into her body, sticking tight like a second skin and restricting her movement. She felt stuck. How could he possibly find a way to walk back into her life?

Y/N was scared, not just for herself but for the perfect little humans she raised on her own. She kept them away from the violence and destruction that Thomas was the embodiment of.

They were good. They were kind.

Spending time with her babies and taking care of the house, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of… being watched. Once an empty street seemed to never be fully silent, always at least two men standing around. She kept her cool, watching out for signs of being followed and on the third day she noticed a familiar car, one too expensive to be driven by normal people. Y/N knew exactly who those shiny black Bentleys must belong to - the Peaky Blinders. Her blood boiled as she realised her instincts were right - she and her sons were being watched.

How dare he interfere in her affairs after everything she went through because of him. The audacity was so great that only a man with the surname Shelby could be involved. His words swirled around her mind, mixing with the memories she held in her broken heart creating an absolute chaos.

Y/N didn't know what made her hate him more, the mistreatment in the past or the sudden forceful entering her life with the lively gaze, one that used to make her feel so beautiful many years ago.

Holding tightly onto her boys at night, she allowed herself to sink into the pain just one last time; drowning in the sorrow of being replaced by the man she saw the world in. She lived in the shadow of a ghost, walking through the corridors of a house that once was a sign of their undying love, only to be turned into a graveyard for all her dreams and future that would never come. Day by day she felt as if she was never enough. Her dying soul only recovered after giving birth to two perfect little boys that looked at her with those blue eyes and undying love she so desperately needed.

Opening her eyes, Y/N let the tears flow freely as she delicately caressed her son's cheek. Smiling lightly she noticed how soundly they both slept, and one thought came to her mind.

Since she managed to raise and take care of such wonderful boys, it must have meant that she wasn't worthless, after all.

Neither life or Thomas Shelby managed to break her.

***

The next day, Y/N made sure that Mrs. Wilson would babysit the boys while she went to Birmingham. Allowing herself only one night of weakness, she woke up with newly found fierceness and a will to fight for her peace and children.

As soon as she got out of the train, the familiar smell of smoke and mud came to her nostrils, making her a little dizzy. Huffing she walked through the street, feeling frustration growing as the distance between her and his office decreased.

The last thing Tommy expected to hear at eight in the morning on Monday was screaming coming from outside of his office. Cocking an eyebrow he got up, going to see what was causing the commotion. Standing in the doorway he saw Lizzie explaining to Y/N that she couldn't go into his office to no success, as the fire in Y/N’s eyes told him loud and clear that her patience wore thin. Moving quickly before the situation would escalate, he intervened.

“Enough!” He said, causing both of them to look at him. Glancing at Lizzie, he told her to sit down and take care of the documents while inviting Y/N to his office.

Y/N rolled her eyes, walking past him as adrenaline thumped in her veins.

As soon as Thomas closed the doors of his office, she started her attack.

“Why in God’s name are there men on the street and in your fancy cars following me and my sons around day and night? Why are you spying on me?” she shouted at him, anger growing even further as he calmly walked past her. Without another thought Y/N shoved him to the side. “Don't ignore me, you bastard!”

Only then did he stop and turn around with a sigh.

“Our sons” He corrected her, “I'm just trying to keep you all safe” Tommy added, finally looking at her.

Y/N felt like she was about to explode, but then an idea came to her mind. Her lips stretched into a subtle grin.

“Who said they were yours?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow with a mocking smile. Thomas looked at her for a couple moments with a serious expression before snorting loudly as he took a step forward.

“Do you think I'm a fool, Y/N?” He asked, mirroring her grin. “Everyone who has eyes can clearly fucking tell who the father is.” His voice was confident, not a hint of doubt, taking another step forward. Y/N narrowed her eyes seeing the proximity. “I'm the father.” Thomas couldn't help but add. He didn't want to make her even angrier, but the temptation to be even remotely closer was too strong, and if pissing her off was distracting her enough to allow it, so be it.

“‘Father’ is the last thing you should ever call yourself. You don't deserve to be around them, because they're everything you're not. They're good, kind and… have tender hearts.” She hissed, each word cutting deep into his skin and Y/N clearly saw it, because the pain was reflected in his eyes like in a mirror. Seeing it felt… good. Too good even, like finally gaining back control. Taking a step forward, the distance between them was barely there, as she bravely looked into his eyes. “He's nothing like you, and never will be.” She finished, the lump in her throat suddenly forming as his jaw twitched, any possible response dying on his tongue as she mentioned one of the boys, one with eyes exactly his own.

Tilting her chin up, she let out a shaky breath, turning around to leave when he spoke up in a low, quiet voice.

“If you hated me so much, why did you name him after me?” he asked but in a voice that did not expect an answer. Holding onto the small scrap of hope in his heart.

Without another word, she left the office slamming the door behind her.

***

“Y/N! Thank God you're back!” Mrs Wilson called out in a shaky voice, looking around the corridor to make sure she was alone before shutting the door. “You can't go to your flat! It's not safe, we need to call the police!” She whispered, fear in her voice so prominent she could barely speak.

“What? What happened? Where are the boys?!” She immediately demanded to know, walking into the living room.

“They're–They’re okay, thank God we were here! These men… they barged into your home, destroyed everything! We hid in the closet and now they're sleeping, but… Oh God, I was so scared that you'd come back and they’d done something to you!” She squeezed her hand tightly.

“A–Are they gone?” Y/N whispered glancing towards her apartment but the older woman just shrugged, tugging on her hand.

“Don't go there! We can't be sure!” She pleaded, but Y/N knew she had to look around before anyone else would. At least grab the necessities.

“Please, wait here. I'll be back in a second.” She quietly made her way to her flat, not expecting to see the degree to which her home was destroyed. She quietly made her way to her flat, not expecting to see the degree to which her home was destroyed. Tears appeared in her eyes at the sight of all the demolished furniture she worked so hard to buy, all the items absolutely ruined. But tears spilled on her cheeks only when she found an envelope.

One with her name on it, and as she opened it, her heart stopped for a moment at the sight of the black hand.

“Oh God” she whispered. Loud footsteps echoed behind her, making her freeze in fear before familiar arms wrapped around her arms.

“We were so scared. Where are the boys?” Polly asked in a weak voice, her face covered in tears.

“They're… they're safe. My neighbour took care of them.” She replied, closing her eyes until she felt the familiar heavy scent. Looking behind her she noticed Thomas pacing back and forth, kneeling down as he found a photo in a broken frame, plucking it out as he breathed deeply. A couple moments later he found the black hand, and the frustration on his face was clear as a day.

“Fuck!” He yelled, leaning forward as his legs almost gave out under the weight of issues he was facing now.

Y/N couldn't help but feel relief seeing him, which made her even more angry. She hated every positive emotion that she held towards him.

“It's your fault!” She said, quickly walking up as she punched him in the chest. “Your fucking fault! How dare you walk back into my life and bring danger to my children!” She cried, terrified tears streaming down her face as she tried to unload it on him. “I hate you! You bring nothing but pain and bloody destruction! I wish I never met you!” Thomas closed his eyes, not defending himself even once. She was kicking and screaming like a wounded animal. Only when she felt like her body was giving out, he grabbed her, pulling her closer and making sure she wouldn't fall.

“Let me go!” She yelled in complete frenzy, and the only thing he could think of was pulling her into a hug. One so tight she couldn't get away. “I hate you so much” she eventually mumbled out as the last bits of strength wore out, and she simply fainted in his arms.

Seeing them, Polly just shook her head and wiped her tears away as she looked around the apartment.

“Pack their things. The ones that survived. I'll go get the boys” She commanded one of the Blinders, before speaking up again. “Don't forget the wooden horse.”

Taggin my people: @iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @garrison-girl-08 @chaimaarouaine11 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby #jackson rippner #tommy shelby dark #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby dark #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders

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bandgie · 2 months ago

Text

Dreaming of Painter on Floor Two | EP. 2

MASTERLIST | KINK: ORAL

🗝 It's exactly like the Pink Palace, only a thousand times better. It helps that the beautiful man upstairs is infatuated by you. Maybe the buttons for eyes isn't too bad.

3.7k words

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, oral (f!rec), fingering, hyunjin has button for eyes (duh), face riding (brief)

The tunnel is felt material. It’s all smooth and soft as you crawl your way to the Otherside.

Whatever the Otherside may be.

You can’t see much other than the opened crawlspace straight ahead. It looks identical to the one you came from, but the feel is…different.

It’s welcoming. Though you’re roughly halfway across, there’s a warmth pouring from the other door that beckons you closer. It’s like a ray of light on a cold autumn day, and you’re a cat wanting nothing more than to bask in it.

So you do. You smile when you reach the Otherside, putting a hand forward to push the door fully open and to see your living room.

Wait? What? Did you crawl the wrong way?

The smile on your lips turns into a confused frown, but you squeeze through the opening anyway. It’s not until you stand and finally look around that you notice it’s not quite the same. The boxes are gone, and rather than the dirty couches you begged Chan not to bring in the middle of the room, the ones here are clean.

The only thing that vastly differs is the painting on the wall. The boy in blue is not crying over his ice cream. Instead, the scoop sits perfectly on his cone and he smiles hungrily at his dessert.

Okaaaay?

You suppose it does make sense to dream about the apartment. The rumors you’ve heard and the anxiety you felt moving, maybe this is your brain's way of coping.

But, damn, how disappointing. Maybe you weren’t necessarily expecting a terrible nightmare, but at least something…fun.

Whatever. Hopefully, Chan and Changbin are dreaming of something more exciting. You consider going back into the tunnel before the kitchen light flickers on. Even the bulb doesn’t have that buzzing sound it normally would. It’s a much warmer tone that says, I’m in here!

Who though? Did your friends decide to make a cameo in your dream? Each step closer is like a rollercoaster. It fills you with anxiousness, excitement, and everything in between.

All that wonder fizzles into confusion again when the kitchen is utterly empty. There’s a hint of bacon and eggs as if someone was cooking only seconds ago. It’s the note on the table, however, that catches your attention the most:

I’M WAITING FOR YOU UPSTAIRS :) SEE YOU SOON <3

This has Changbin written all over it. You smile at the thought of him appearing in your dream despite sleeping beside him. Of course, you’re the one conjuring him here, but when you wake and tell him, Changbin would quickly say, ‘Of course, I was there! I just can’t get enough of you.’

You take the note and skip to the front door, wondering what your dream-Changbin has in store tonight. Does he feel bad about making you choke on his cock and wants to make up for it? He did say he wanted to use his tongue. Maybe you went to sleep thinking about it so much you decided to dream about it.

All the different ways he can and has swirled his tongue on your cunt come to mind, but opening the door silences them all.

It’s…

“Oh my god.”

Beautiful.

The grass is green. The sky is blue. The flowers are alive. It’s nothing compared to your actual front yard. Even the stars gleam with excitement, as if happy you’re here. The air isn’t chilly when you step out like it normally would be. The breeze in the night is so gentle on your skin, like a hug from someone who’s missed you dearly.

Changbin…he can wait. Yeah, maybe your legs are still a little sticky being that you got excited and aren’t wearing underwear, but none of that matters. The scene in front of you is mesmerizing and it takes a strong gust of wind to keep you from walking down the porch.

Leaves pick and blow in front, causing you to see how they trail to the stairs and up.

Ah, he’s really trying to get your attention.

You giggle and clutch the note a little tighter. “I know. I know. I’m coming.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Something clutters on the other side of the door. You grin at the thought of Changbin panicking, trying to clean the room before letting you in.

“Hellooo!” you press your ear to the door. “I’m waiting out here!”

“I-I know! I’ll be there in a sec!”

The way you jolt is almost like you’ve been electrocuted. That’s not Changbin’s voice. That’s not even Chan’s voice. It’s softer than theirs’, almost nervous. You don’t have much time to try and figure out who it belongs to before the door opens.

He’s tall, his narrow build makes him seem even taller. His hair curls at his neck, long and dark.

The fullness of his lips and the wideness of his eyes go over your head. You’re stuck staring at the dark pits of his eye sockets.

Black buttons for eyes.

“Oh shit.” It slips out before you can even register them leaving your lips. His eyebrows cross, and despite not having pupils, you know it’s from confusion. Maybe even some interest.

“I’m sorry. You’re not…you’re not who I thought you were. They don’t have b-b-buh…”

“B-b-b-buttons? Of course I’m not who you were thinking of.” His buttons gleam mischievously. "I’m better.” He widens the door and grins, hardly giving you any time to comprehend the person - the being - in front of you.

He turns inside, craning his neck back and pursing his thick lips. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

You take a deep breath. The pounding of your heart is subdued by his aloofness: his curious…buttons and the beckoning of his slender finger. Plus, you’ve heard you only dream about someone you’ve already met. Or at least seen. Perhaps you’ve come across him at some point.

Your brain just decided to play a sick trick.

Exhaling, you walk through the door. The man waits until you’re fully inside before shutting it and the lights in the room brighten immediately.

Canvas, brushes, and colorful rags messily lay on the floor. Art stains the floor and now that you’re standing right beside him, you see it’s on his hands as well.

“I was painting when you knocked.” He sees your staring. “I tried putting some stuff away but…I tend to work a little messy.”

You wander further into the room. His artwork ranges from the moon in the sky to a black cat perched on a branch. As you keep exploring, you see the painting of you.

Not just you, but your roommates. The three of you are outside, the grass notably browner, and talking while the moving truck drives up the hill. The perspective is drawn from the higher window, right where the second floor is.

Goosebumps travel on your skin. No wonder you felt like something was watching before you walked through the front door. “You… saw that?”

The man comes closer and crosses his arms, squinting like he’s evaluating his piece. “Yup. I mean, I live here too, you know? Just on the Other side.”

“The Other side?”

He nods. “Yeah, every place has one. This is the Other side of the Pink Palace. Didn’t the place you lived at before have one?”

Besides the random dreams of the rooms being switched and the walls curing in, none felt like this. “I guess. I mean, a dream is a dream. Right?”

Something like danger flicks in his expression. His buttons seem to darken, but he smiles just as quickly as it appears. “Right.”

You shake off the shivers and look back at the painting, noting how he managed to capture Changbin’s height and Chan's build even from up high.

“You’re really good um…” You never got his name.

“Hyunjin.” He smiles bashfully. “You can call me Hyunjin. And thank you. I love art. I just see something beautiful and I have to paint it.” He steps closer, your shoulder on his arm. “Like, I just wish I could see beauty forever. I have to keep it somewhere or else I’ll forget.”

“And you think this was beautiful? The dying grass and everything?”

Hyunjin laughs. “There’s more than that. There’s you.”

You whip your head to him. “Me?”

“Of course.” His smile is infectious. “I told you I like drawing beautiful things. Your friends are pretty too, but I would love to get a portrait of just you.”

You’re flattered, but also off-put. “Why? You wanna keep me forever?” It’s meant to be a joke, a play from his words earlier, but he doesn’t laugh with you. Hyunjin keeps his smile still like he’s controlling himself from saying what he truly wants to say. But he finds something to settle with. “I think a painting will do for now.”

Finally, he laughs. It doesn’t quite reach his buttons, but it’s better than the eerie silence. Hyunjin pulls a chair and tosses the rags off, gesturing for you to sit.

You’re all too conscious of the fact that you’re pantyless. Even as Hyunjin keeps insisting that you sit more comfortably, you keep your legs crossed at all times.

It’s after a few strokes of his brush that Hyunjin breaks the silence. “Can I be honest with you?”

You raise an eyebrow. You can’t help how your body goes rigid, making you move from the position you’ve been in, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Yeah.”

Hyunjin’s buttons meet your eyes only for a brief second before he looks back at his work.

“I saw more than just you three moving in.”

Your thighs tense. The movement makes them rub against your cunt and hit your clit, but you can ignore the burst of pleasure to focus on the pit in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

“Like. I saw you… find the key.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Saw you open the door. The mouse, ah, I didn’t mean to scare you.” There’s a faint smile on his lips. “But last night - tonight, I saw you and your friends…make love.”

You’d spit out water if you were drinking any. “I- I wouldn’t really call it making love but-”

“It didn’t matter what you call it. Sex, fucking, piping, none of it matters.” The sounds of his paintbrush cease. “I…I liked watching.”

There should be red flags going off. Hyunjin isn’t even looking at his painting. He isn’t even sitting on his stool anymore. He’s walking over to you and stopping just a few inches away, clenching and unclenching his fists like he needs to ground himself.

“I liked it a lot.”

There should be red flags, there’s none in your mind. All you can see is the memory of Chan and Changbin fucking you. How one cock stretched your mouth while the other stretched your cunt. You’d be lying if you said you aren’t trying to hump against your thighs subtly, but all you can do is pulse and bat your eyes innocently at Hyunjin like you’re embarrassed.

“D-did you?”

Hyunjin falls to one knee. He’s so close you’re scared he might smell the sex on you. “I did. And, I also saw that you couldn’t get kisses.”

His hand rests on your knee. He doesn’t have to use any strength to pry them open. You part your legs all on your own to put your cunt on display. Hyunjin inhales like he’s starstruck. His buttons seem to shine and he swipes over his bottom lip hungrily.

“I can do that for you now.” He leans in, lips ghosting over your inner thigh, and presses a gentle kiss to it. “If you’d like.”

Okay. You need a mental check-list:

One: He has buttons for eyes

Two: He’s from another world (apparently)

Three: He’s been watching you.

Four: HE HAS BUTTONS FOR EYES

But despite all that, you opt to tell yourself this is all a silly dream and nod, threading your fingers through his hair to guide him closer. Hyunjin lets his tongue trial the softness of your skin before finding your cunt. It’s not his tongue he prods it with, but his lips.

He’s kissing you as if it were your mouth. Soft, gentle pecks just on your clit. The sound of his lips smacking your own fills the room soon, and you widen your legs so he has full range.

But his tongue doesn’t make an appearance yet. Hyunjin trails his lips low to your entrance so he can kiss you there too, getting acquainted with every inch of your pussy. It feels way more intimate than if he were to use his tongue. Hyunjin pulls your skin taunt so he can properly plant his kitten kisses.

It’s when his lips are on your clit that he sucks. Your nub enters his mouth suddenly and you moan. Finally, his tongue swipes over you. It’s so much hotter than you would have imagined, and when he lets your cunt go, he licks a stripe up.

“Fuck.” Your legs threaten to close from the stimulation. You’re already shaking, but Hyunjin has just started to eat you properly.

He smiles with his tongue prodding your entrance. “Sensitive still?” It turns into a grin when he finds your clit again, flicking his tongue back and forth just to watch you grip the chair until your knuckles turn white.

The room erupts in giggles. Hyunjin can’t contain his laughter when your glossy eyes cross.

“Dick.”

His tongue moves back into his mouth, taking a string of arousal with it. Hyunjin moans at your taste, his throat bobbing as he looks up.

“Yeah. I bet you’d like that right now.” One of his fingers slides into your entrance. There’s hardly a stretch, but you squeal anyway. The tip of his finger feels so deep that you can’t stop clenching.

“Look at how you act with just a finger.” Hyunjin can’t look away from your cunt swallowing his digit. “Tight fucking pussy. No wonder why you always need it fucked.”

You mewl at his words. It only adds to the pleasure building in your stomach. Pools of arousal leak onto his finger down his wrist. You know he can see the cream oozing from your throbbing hole. He seems almost entranced by it.

“Are two cocks even enough for you?” Hyunjin’s buttons lock with your eyes. “You had one in your mouth and one right in here. And you’re still wanting more.” His finger curls inside. You swear it’s touching your cervix, squeezing so much that your vision nearly goes black.

“You gonna fuck me?” You don’t know how you manage to speak. It comes out more as a challenge than a question, but Hyunjin perks up anyway.

He slows his finger, deep in thought. His lips are still shining with your arousal when he licks them.

His answer is another digit sliding into your cunt. Now you can feel the light stretch. You completely still for the first time, drinking in the feel of his knuckles dragging up and down your walls.

It’s normally hard to cum from just being fingered, but Hyunjin seems as if he’ll get it on the first try.

“I don’t think you can even handle my fingers, baby.” You can feel his warm breath on your cunt. “Feels like you’ll cum any second.”

You’re trying to hold out, to ignore how his fingers hit that perfect spot and wiggle. You can feel your clit throbbing every time he buries his digits deep, and Hyunjin can’t help but take it into his mouth again.

A near-scream leaves your swollen lips when he licks you. Hyunjin doesn’t hold back in ravishing, nose digging into your swollen nub so his tongue can flick your folds. The pumping of his fingers only quickens, and you can hear how your cunt gushes with every piston of his hand.

“Yesyesyes, I’mma cum. Dontstopdontstop.”

You tug on his hair harshly. It’s almost like you’re trying to pull him off from how raw your cunt is getting, but Hyunjin knows to keep going. The spasming of your walls and your moaning only spurs him on even if your yanking makes him groan.

He only has to pump you a few more times before you come undone. Your stomach caves and your pussy feels like it’s on fire. You can feel the dribbling of your thick cream running down Hyunjin’s fingers.

His digits slow, but they don’t come to a full stop. Hyunjin lets you ride out your orgasm on his face and hand, uncaring for how you move his head down and up down messily on your pussy. He moans with you, making sure to keep his tongue stiff so you can rub your clit on it as you please.

It’s when your grip loosens that he pulls out. You whine from the loss, bucking your hips to catch his fingers, but meeting his lips instead. He kisses you gently, similar to when he started before your eyes turn droopy and your skin glows from the post-orgasm.

You widen your eyes when he pulls away. You nearly forgot about his buttons when you see them again, but you don’t flinch or look in horror this time. Instead, you wrap your legs around his waist when he stands and leans down to place his lips on yours.

You can taste yourself on him. The scent and everything about the kiss feels so real. Even his clothed cock pressing against your bare cunt throbs realistically. You giggle in his mouth, grinding your hips to hear him groan. “Now what? You gonna fuck me?”

Hyunjin smiles with you. He pulls away to make sure he can see you, really see you. It’s one beat of silence that passes, but the intensity of his buttons makes it seem like an eternity.

“Now, you wake up.”

The worst part about dreams is forgetting them seconds after you wake. But even as you open your eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the window and sit up, you seem to remember everything.

The upper level, the paintings, Hyunjin, and the buttons.

And of course, the ache between your thighs helps to keep the memories fresh. You should be too tired to get turned on by his plush lips and soft tongue, but your body seems to be awake almost immediately thinking about it.

Chan and Changbin aren’t here to help you with morning sex. Based on the letter they left on you on the bed, they’ve gone to the studio.

Workaholics.

It still takes a second to get your legs to move without shaking. Your wet dream felt so realistic, so tangible. You could feel his mouth on yours if you tried. You can remember how his buttons gleamed between your legs.

Too real. So real.

You need to touch some grass.

The Pink Palace’s property is huge. You thought the dying garden was a sight to see, but the little woods in the back quickly became your new destination.

If you ignore the creepy atmosphere and dying October trees, you can see this area as bewitching. You like the crunch of dead leaves beneath your boots and the twisting branches. You keep following the pathway until you stumble upon a fairy ring.

Weird. The mushrooms seem to circle perfectly, and you can't stop yourself from stepping right in the middle.

“Stop!” a voice calls in the distance. “Don’t stand there!”

You scream when you hear an engine revving. There’s not enough time to move when the motor rides down the top of the hill. All you feel is dirt hitting your face and strong arms swooping you until you are no longer surrounded by the fungi.

“Put me down!” Your fists connect with his back. Your shouting makes your kidnapper shout, and you swear you can hear the hissing of a cat somewhere.

“Owowow! Stop that!”

You’re set on your feet moments later. The rider stops in front of you to hop off his bike and kick the stand. You’re clutching at your chest when he takes off his helmet, showing a rather shy expression and wide eyes.

Okay, so not a kidnapper. But a weird guy for sure. It doesn’t help that his black cat sits on a tree stump, blue eyes narrowed accusingly towards you.

That cat looks like just the one in Hyunjin’s painting.

“Geez.” The man rubs his back, arms bending awkwardly. “You an MMA fighter or something?”

“Who are you?” His comment flies right over. There’s still some adrenaline thrumming in your veins, but you cross your arms and try to act unbothered. “Where did you even come from?”

“Oh.” He turns pink. The man rubs the back of his neck timidly. “I’m Han Jisung. I was riding my bike up there when I saw you walking into the woods. I didn’t mean to uh…follow you.”

The cat stretches uninterestedly when you point a finger at Han Jisung. “You’re stalking me?!”

“No! No, I was just-”

“I don’t like being stalked, not by stalker-weirdo-freaks, or their stupid cats!”

The feline hisses.

“H-Hey! Don't call him that.” Jisung walks over to the cat, petting it behind the ear. “He’s sensitive. And he’s not mine. Well, maybe a little. I like to feed him at night. He leaves me little dead things as presents. It’s cute.”

You nod slowly. “...right”.

“And I know who you are. You just moved into the Pink Palace, right? My grandma owns the place.” He moves his hand away from the cat that chirps in protest.

“She stopped renting out after…everything.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you can’t help but press. “After everything?”

“Oh, you know.” He laughs nervously. “Just costs a lot to keep a building as old as that one running. Maintaining the upper and lower levels even though they’re closed. Maybe she thought having tenets would help with the bills.”

But he’s talking too fast, too much. Almost as if he’s trying to find something you’ll buy while he flicks the kickstand up and hops on his bike.

“But uhhh, I hope you’re liking the place! Old houses like that are full of mystery and history.” Jisung lightens up. “Oh! That rhymed. Haha. Uh, be careful where you step next time.” He gestures to the fairy ring. “You were standing on a well.”

You look at the mushrooms. “A well?” But his response is to start the engine. You take a few steps back and watch as he drives up the hill, leaving the stray cat behind.

It looks at you curiously. There’s a shine in its eye that feels more than just an animal. “What? Don’t tell me you’re gonna be my stalker too.”

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