#me every night after i come home and stare into the void

[psykopaths]

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

@errorunfound1

Yandere!neglectful!Batfam x mom!reader

Wayne Manor had always felt vast, but to you, it was more of a void than a home. It was easy to get lost in its endless hallways, in the constant hum of life orbiting Bruce’s nocturnal mission. You married him for love, despite knowing the weight of the life he led. You accepted his scars, his mission, his world. But what you hadn’t expected was how little space there would be left for you in it.

Bruce was always out, chasing shadows, leaving you to navigate a family that seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. You poured your heart into them—Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian—but your efforts were met with indifference at best and disdain at worst. You had been a mother in every way that mattered, yet the coldness you received in return made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” Jason sneered once when you tried to patch him up after patrol. “We both know you’re just here for him.”

Tim barely acknowledged you unless it was necessary, his head buried in his work. Dick’s smiles, once genuine, now felt like politeness masking discomfort. And Damian, always the sharpest, had no qualms about cutting you down. “You’re not my mother,” he’d said, his words a dagger that twisted in your chest.

Bruce never intervened. When you tried to tell him, his responses were dismissive. “They’ll come around,” he’d say before disappearing into the night. But they never did.

So, you stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt, letting it fester.

One night, you stood in the empty dining room, staring at the cold, untouched dinner you’d prepared. The clock ticked on the wall, counting the hours Bruce was late. Again. You could hear the faint hum of voices from the Batcave below, the family gathered around him while you sat alone.

It wasn’t anger that bubbled up this time. It was resignation.

You left that night, not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a simple bag and a note left on the kitchen counter.

“I love you, but I can’t keep losing myself in a family that doesn’t want me.”

The days without you passed unnoticed at first. Bruce buried himself in his work, assuming you needed time to cool off. The Batkids carried on as usual, their lives too busy to miss the quiet presence you’d once provided.

It was Alfred who noticed first—the meals left uneaten, the flowers on the windowsill wilting. “Sir,” he said carefully one evening, “she’s not coming back.”

Bruce stopped mid-step, his expression flickering. “She just needs time.”

But days turned into weeks, and the absence became impossible to ignore. The manor felt colder, emptier. Jason snapped more often, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. Tim’s focus wavered, his mistakes piling up in a way they never had before. Damian trained harder, his strikes sharper, but there was a new tension in him, an unease he wouldn’t voice.

“She left us,” Damian said one night, his tone sharp but brittle. “That’s on her.”

“No,” Dick said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. “It’s on us.”

Bruce found you three weeks later, living in a modest apartment far from the grandeur of Wayne Manor. The door was locked, but that had never been an obstacle for him. He let himself in, his imposing frame filling the doorway as you stood frozen in the kitchen.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice tight.

“Come home.” His tone was soft but firm, the same voice he used to give orders in the field.

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. “Home? That place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

His jaw tightened, the only sign of his frustration. “You belong there. With me. With them.”

“I belonged there once,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I spent years trying to love a family that couldn’t love me back. Do you even realize how much it hurt, Bruce? To be invisible in my own home?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t see it. I should have. But I’m here now.”

“Too late,” you whispered, tears spilling over.

But Bruce Wayne was not a man who gave up easily. His hand reached out, brushing against yours. “You think I’ll let you go that easily?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. “You’re mine. You always have been.”

You pulled away, shaking your head. “You don’t love me, Bruce. You love control. You love having someone waiting for you. But I won’t be that person anymore.”

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But Bruce was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re coming home,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

Before you could respond, his hand shot forward, pressing a syringe into your arm. The sharp sting was followed by a wave of dizziness, and your legs buckled.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your vision swimming as he caught you.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured, his arms cradling you as darkness pulled you under.

(A/n: this is why I don't take money 😅 writing shi asf 😔🔥 chat did I cook or am I cooked?)

[miniimight]

DISAPPEARING ACT . rindou often disappears for weeks at a time, showing up at home as if it's nothing. a brief exchange triggers a factory reset in him, but you're not as open to it as he expected you to be...

prompt used "better than me disappearing for good. / is it?"

with married!rindou + fem!reader

warnings cursing. a lot of cursing. angst? rindou is an idiot and possessive.

part two

you never got to see your husband anymore. so much so that you considered the chance of it happening next to nothing. you knew what you were getting into being in an relationships with him; lots of meetings and flights to other cities all meant extended time away from home.

you would've been a little more forgiving had he chosen to tell you these things. but no. morning after morning, you wake up to him gone without a trace, without consideration for how you feel. was he alive? was he with someone else? did he not care enough to call or even send a text?

it was as if you lived alone, and a stranger crashed at your place every once in a while. and while you shared polite exchanges, no amount of small talk could overshadow how bleak your marriage was.

it was eleven days before he showed up again. you were, surprisingly, awake when he returned. he was perfectly groomed, albeit a little jaded, but still regarded you with the same coldness you endured since he started leaving. you missed the warmth of your younger days, where he would hold you close and reassure you that you were meant for each other for life.

you decided today was as good a day as any. heck, he even might be gone tomorrow and it would be like you didn't say anything.

"i'm tired of you disappearing for days and then coming back like it was nothing." you said plainly.

he slipped out of his shoes, looking down at you. rolling his eyes lightly but sighing heavily, he started to pull off his tie. "better than me disappearing for good."

a wry smile spread on your face. oh, if he only knew. "is it?"

those two words sent an arrow straight through his heart.

rindou was silent, pretending as if he didn't hear what you just said. but when you scoffed and walked away, he knew it was too real for him to overlook.

"you don't mean that." it was less of a question and more of a please, don't mean it.

you shrugged and went back to your phone, too benumbed to even look at him.

he stared at you, utterly confused as to how to tackle this. "y/n." he said firmly.

you slowly raised your head to meet his eyes, void of any care. "what?"

"i said, you don't mean that." he stood like a tree in the middle of the living area, palms growing sweaty. he loved you. he couldn't lose you, not when you both went through so much to get here.

"don't i?" you responded, placing your phone beside you. not like i see you anymore, anyway. what's the difference?

"stop fucking talking like that and answer me." he snarled. you rolled your eyes, rising to your feet.

"look, rin. who the fuck cares what i think or say? certainly not you." you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "just—just forget i said anything." you turned towards your bedroom. "goodnight."

wait. he lunged forward, grabbing your arm and spinning you around to face him, backing you against a wall. caging you with arms on either side of you, he stared into your soul, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of you.

you just stared back.

his heart clenched. yeah, he was away for weeks at a time. of course he didn't tell you. why would he? why would he burden you with that information?

"you really think me going away forever is better?" his voice was a whisper, but held the sharpness of a knife. "huh? you want me gone forever?"

you sighed. "i didn't say i wanted that. i just meant that, either way, it doesn't matter. going away forever, going away for weeks and weeks but only staying for a night..." your eyes met his, glossy but fierce. "it's the same to me. i don't care what the hell you do anymore, rindou. just let me go to bed."

he studied the person he truly loved for so long, wondering when it all went downhill.

you were impatient, ducking under his arms. "shit..." you cursed, rubbing the back of your neck as you walked away.

he watched you go. and he never saw you come back.

the next morning he woke up, expecting to see you in the kitchen or watching tv, but his house was empty.

"y/n?" he called out. no answer. he pulled up his phone. no texts, no calls. he bustled around the house, looking for some indication of where you went and he found nothing.

he called his brother, thinking that he was the next best person you would've gone to, but ran had no contact from you.

rindou sat on the couch, nothing to do but sit and wait. he looked around. everything was well-kept, pristine, and sanitized. it was like no one lived here at all. no one except a lonely spouse in an eternal cycle of wait for a husband that wouldn't even give them the time of day to say, i'm heading out.

i love you.

goodbye.

he leaned back, closing his eyes. he doesn't even say goodbye.

he hated himself for it.

hours passed and he didn't move from the couch. he knew you sat there for much longer, day after day, waiting for him. no wonder you were uncaring. coming home meant nothing if he would simply leave again.

then he heard the click of the door. he practically jumped off the couch, racing over to the entrance. he saw you with a couple groceries hooked on your forearms, struggling to keep the door open long enough for you to slip inside.

he rushed over. yanking the door open with such force, it slammed into the wall causing you to jump. rindou winced a little, steadying the door from swinging wildly.

you eyes met his and your face immediately scrunched with confusion. "what are you doing here?"

"well... it's my house..?" he said dumbly.

you pressed your lips into a line. "hm."

you expected me to be gone again, he thought bitterly. he cleared his throat. "let me help you with these," he alleviated the weight off your arms, bunching up a couple bags and carrying them all in one go. "you know, you could just order them for delivery."

you sidestepped him and walked to the kitchen. "why would i do that?"

"so you can have them brought to you from the comfort of your home." he responded lightly. following robotically, he was unsure where everything was supposed to be put away.

you laughed, catching him off-guard. on closer inspection, though, he knew that wasn't a genuine laugh. "rindou, do you think i want to stay in this place any more than i have to?"

you said it so casually, grabbing a bag from him and stocking the cabinets and fridges.

his stomach swirled with much more unease than he'd ever experienced on the job. it was the way you simply didn't care anymore, talking about the rift between you and him as if you were reciting the weather report.

fight me, he wanted to say. kick, yell at me, scream at me, do anything at all to show me you're upset. he knows he fucked up. you definitely know he fucked up. so why weren't you telling him that? why weren't you cursing him out for being a bad husband? your nonchalance came from a long time being cast aside, so much so that you expected it to happen; so much so that you gave up on him.

indifference was the final nail in the coffin of your marriage, and you were about to bang it shut.

he observed you, thinking about how many times you'd busy yourself with mundane errands to feel like you were living. how many times you'd come back to this flat, putting away shit you'd probably never touch. how many times you'd listen to the silence ringing off the walls.

he set the bags down and held your shoulders, turning you to face him. "i've taken the next few days off."

you smiled insincerely. "great."

rindou felt like a kid again, when he had work up enough courage to ask you out. "we... we could spend them together."

your eyes squinted. "why?"

he spluttered. "what do you mean, why?"

you swatted his hands off your shoulders. "god, i shouldn't have said anything," you mumbled. "rindou, this is just you feeling guilty because of what i said last night, okay?"

he frowned. "it's not."

your eyebrows raised as you rummaged through another grocery bag. "it is. don't pretend like you're gonna change. what did you think we were going to do—go out together? like old times, when we were happy and in love?"

his face burned. anyone else—if it were anyone else speaking so flippantly with him, he'd have them beat til they're unconscious. and past tense? when we were in love? his brain was doing backflips trying to find a way to salvage the situation. "yes."

you laughed that fake laugh again. it grated on his ears. "that's funny. i was just feeling a little vulnerable last night, is all. had a couple of drinks and maybe was feeling sentimental about the days when everything was simple."

rindou stepped closer to you, ripping the bag away from your hands and towering over you. "it is simple. we can—"

"we can't do anything." you curled your hands into fists, your voice trembling. "can you just..?" go away?

rindou's breath caught in his chest, fully anticipating another heartless laugh.

he hated it when you cried. he hated it when you were angry. he would do anything for your eternal happiness, he realized, and he'd been falling short of his promises for far too long.

rindou leaned onto the counter, bending at the waist. his hand rested on your waist and his eyes were laser focused on your expression, a confusing mix of frustration, sadness, and the will to remain emotionless.

"baby," he whispered.

"don't fucking call me baby." you hissed.

he pursed his lips, unwilling to compromise. "pretty baby. i don't wanna go on like this." his fingers brushed your cheek. "i don't want to you to be sad anymore."

"well, isn't that righteous." you rolled your eyes though your heart ached. it ached for him, for the boyfriend he was and the husband he promised to be.

he glared at you. "would you just listen?"

"no, rindou." you shoved him away from you, despite the overwhelming urge telling you to pull him in and hug him tight. "stop acting like i'm the one making things difficult. like you're being a fucking saint trying to bring us back together when the only reason we're like this is because of you." your voice became watery, growing in volume as you finally succumbed to all the hurt and pain inside you.

"i tried to be understanding." you sobbed. "i did. i tried. you have your work and i know that it's dangerous. but seriously—you promised you'd make time for me. you promised." you sniffed, rubbing tears off your cheeks, ranting without any goal in mind. "you don't even say goodbye."

he stood frozen, your emotions hitting him square in the face and leaving him dazed. it was like the only thing he could do was stand and watch.

"i didn't want to do this." you said tearfully. "i'm sorry i said anything, okay? i'm sorry. just—leave me alone."

his eyes narrowed. "never. i'm never leaving."

your glassy eyes shot up to meet his with a hard look of their own.

"i love you, y/n. and i'm never letting you go." he said firmly, stepping closer and closer to you. he was done beating around the bush; you should know that no matter how many times you push him away, he will never leave you. he'd make up for his mistakes; all you had to do was give him a chance.

you scoffed. "love? you love me?"

he caged you against the opposite counter with two arms on either side of you. "yeah. i do."

you stared up at him, tears staining your cheeks. "you're a liar."

"y/n." he growled—a warning.

"can't go back into the world having the poor little wife weighing on your conscious, is that it?" you snapped. "never stopped you before."

"y/n."

"no." you ducked under his arm, leaving the kitchen. you evaded his attempts to pull you back, running to the closet. grabbing a coat and your purse, you slipped on your shoes.

"where the fuck are you going?" rindou yelled after you. "this conversation isn't over."

"it is for me." you mumbled, throwing the front door open and ignoring the fire in the pit of your stomach. you got into your car and started it up. the garage opened at an agonizing pace, enough time for rindou to come bursting out the door. he stood at your window.

"y/n, you are not leaving. get out of the car."

"fuck off." you grit your teeth, your eyes raising to the rearview mirror to reverse. you screeched to a halt when you saw rindou's purple hair in the reflection. you gaped, rolling down your window and whipping your head to face him. "are you insane? move!"

he shook his head, standing in all his glory right behind the car. his arms were crossed and his weight rested on one hip; the picture of stubbornness. "you're gonna have to run me over."

you scoffed, laughing breathlessly at the absurd situation. "i'll call the police."

"you won't."

you grabbed your phone. "i will, don't try and stop me from leaving."

"you won't call the police, and you wanna know why?" rindou let his head fall to his shoulder. "you love me. i know you do."

you opened your mouth to retort.

"don't even try to deny it." he chuckled lowly. "you're just protecting yourself, baby. you're protecting yourself from the nightmare you call a husband, right?"

your eyes rounded, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

he walked to your side of the car, reaching through the opening to flick the window button. he slipped his hand out as it began to slowly slide back up.

"leave, then. just know i'm not going to stop my efforts to get you back." he smiled as he went back into the house.

the window closed completely.

you were brimming with annoyance, yet you couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache when you pulled out of the driveway, leaving your house—and rindou—behind.

this was so self-indulgent lol. i know they mean well, but when people apologize so quickly and with such intensity, i just get frustrated that i had to get to such a low point to see any remorse or change from them. and of course, i can't argue without crying my eyes out. anyway, do we want a part two?

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[mrsshabana]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Mr. Crawling x gender!neutral!reader, fluff ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 800 words. I wrote this just now, I wasn't planning on writing for him so soon but I couldn't help myself. I hope those of you that know of him enjoy it. ♡

It all started at those stupid abandoned apartments. Your friends dared you to go in, and for some reason you did it. Sure it was spooky inside but there really wasn't any threat. Only when you got lost and wandered around the building for hours, trying to find an exit. 

While you were in the building you felt like someone was watching you. Occasionally spotting a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye, or hearing the sound of something shuffling on the floor. 

However, even after you left the building, you still felt like someone was watching you—every second of every day. This feeling was stronger while you were at home, but it would linger out in public, too. 

It was strongest though when you were trying to go to sleep. In your bedroom, with the lights off, and no sound but the night outside your window. You tried to ignore it, not let it get to you, but you'd be lying if you said it hadn't kept you awake most nights. Only falling asleep when your fatigue was too much to ignore. 

And tonight was no different. You lay in your bed desperately trying to get some rest but the feeling of someone else in your room keeps you awake. 

“You okay?” a strange voice calls to you from the darkness. You have no idea what it said but you're certain you couldn't have imagined the sound. 

You shoot up from your bed to see where the sound came from, but you don't see anyone. 

“H-Hello?” you mutter in a shaky voice.

Suddenly a head pops up from beside your bed, “Hello!” A high-pitched giggle emits from the creature's mouth, a sound that doesn't match its appearance. 

The head rises, and it grips the side of your bed with cold-looking hands. Pulling itself onto the bed with its arms instead of standing up and climbing on normally. 

You scream at the sight, instinctively backing away.

The creature frowns, “You scared?” it says as it retreats slightly, “Me sorry.” It has an apologetic tone in its voice, but it's speaking some kind of language you're unable to understand.

It doesn't come closer, staying at a distance so as to not startle you further. As the panic slowly subsides, you take a closer look at the creature. 

It looks like a man, but his hair is extremely long. Stark black and has a silky straight texture - hanging in front of his face and covering his eyes. Though you can see blood on his skin where it looks like his eyes should be. His skin is pale grey, and void of any warmth. And his clothes, though hard to see since he hasn't stood yet, appear to be a tattered black Yukata perhaps? 

He stares back at you with a wide grin. It's that smile that makes him look creepy and inhuman. Though not entirely unfriendly. 

“Wh-who are you?” you whimper, “What do you want?”

He tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy. It seems like he doesn't understand what you're saying. 

“Me not hurt you,” he smiles, reaching out his hand to pat your head. 

You flinch at his touch, not sure what he just said or what his intentions are. Though he doesn't seem malicious. He may look scary but he hasn't shown any hostility when he's certainly had the opportunity to. 

“Um,” you try to think of what to say to him, “Are you the one that's been watching me?”

“...?” he tilts his head again.

“N-Never mind,” you smile awkwardly, “Erm, I'm going to go to sleep, ok? You can sleep on the couch if you want to stay…”

You put your hands together and make a sleeping motion on your pillow, trying to tell him you want to sleep. 

“Rest?” he looks at the pillow then back to you, “Alright. We rest!”

With a smile he lays his head on the pillow next to yours, looking at you expectantly. 

“N-No! I mean - you can sleep on the couch, not in my bed!” 

He just smiles, your words going in one ear and out the other. 

“Ok, fine,” you sigh and lay down beside him, “You can sleep here I guess…”

You try to sleep, but you can feel him staring at you. And when you open your eyes to see that wide smile of his, it doesn't help. So you turn around, facing your back to him. “G-Goodnight,” you mutter. 

“You rest bed… Me rest bed,” he mumbles, “Me grateful.”

You don't know what he just said, but for some reason, you feel safer with him by your side. Who or what he is is still a mystery. For all you know, this could just be another dream.

But a part of you really hopes that it isn't…

[qinluna]

NOT WHEN IT COMES TO YOU (W. SYLUS QIN) wc. 1050. hurt/comfort. reader is the mc and experiences a panic attack. canon compliant to the l&ds story, no spoilers. character study-ish on the mental state of the mc. sylus is perceptive person and sees through the reader. non-established relationship. not proofread. side note: my writing program crashed after i pasted it to the tumblr draft. lol!

‘Does any of it matter anymore?’

You write those words in a pocket-sized journal every night. The very same one that’s tucked away in your drawer where an assortment of lingerie overfills and molds within one another. You have to do something, anything, to keep your body aware of its movement, its functionality and life.

Does any of it matter anymore?

You almost want to reach out to Zayne about it. To talk. To explain this stream of endless thoughts and the endless void of questioning your worth. Things haven’t been easy, to the point where you wonder if taking the Hunter Exam, valuing your worth on whether or not you passed, was worth it in the end. Not after everything you’ve found out. Not after everything you’ve witnessed and lost.

Now, you had bargained your life. A bold, risky step that required more trust than you could ever ask for. (You got it, regardless. You had nothing to fear in that aspect.)

“Does any of it matter anymore…?”

You ask yourself again, your voice a low whisper. You needed to make sure you were here, still. Some way, somehow. You were now shrouded by a blaring red sky and even darker red moon. Your gaze, holding faux grit, stares into a crimson gaze that looks over your sunken, kneeling form.

He wears a light curl of a smirk, lowering himself to you: “You should speak up, little Hunter. I can’t quite hear you.”

You push down that growing dread in an empty chest. But if it were empty, your heart wouldn’t be housed there, beating ferociously as you were face to face with the one who had answers you needed. If not all, at least some. The ones to point you in the right direction.

You call it going away in your own head—it’s what you do when you feel more than just your heart on the verge of giving out. It’s what you do when your fingers begin to twitch and tremble, your words struggling to come out. You don’t consider it freezing up completely, but a different sensation.

It’s just something you always dealt with on your own, always aware of.

The gentle flick of your fingers at your side gauges your knowledge of it happening again. Surrounded by desperate brokers and merchants; people with vile intentions and greed that isn’t a homely territory back in Linkon City.

You’re reminded why Onichynus thrives. Why Sylus wears the success and pride he does.

Despite his teachings intending to help you hold that same pride, you can’t. You realize too late in this room full of people who could eat you alive, you bit off more than you could chew. You remain by Sylus’ side as he indulges in the meaningless chatter of those who throw themselves at him with wretched desperation—but the room is beginning to feel hazy.

You know you should’ve arranged something. Some kind of signal to let him know you needed a breather.

This was more than a breather you needed. This was an emergency where you’re a glass sculpture, waiting and begging to be knocked over. You hated being made of glass, regrettably—hated being ogled at in that way. You feel it in the worst form now, being the guest of the most powerful man in the N109 Zone.

Your arm, securely wrapped around his bigger one, shifts back just slightly to tug at his sleeve. It’s not an obvious action, not even to the keen eye like yourself. But it’s enough that you feel the slight jerk, that startles him. To Sylus, this would be a disturbance as little of a fly on someone’s shoulder.

Yet, the air between you two shifts.

Sylus holds a hand up to the two men standing before you both, “Ah—you’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen. I just recalled that I am to assist the security detail with an issue. Please, do enjoy the rest of the evening.”

He leads you away without another word, brushing off the guests.

Vultures. Vultures. Vultures. Every single one of them.

You hold your breath in a subtle manner, your throat constricted. Sylus’ movement is swift and urgent at once, heading towards the back of the ballroom. He opens one of the double doors, ushering you out first before following closely.

It’s just you two now, in this empty, grandeur hall.

You felt sick. You wanted to die. You wanted every fiber of anguish to leave you be and never come back. You never wanted to feel anything again. You wanted to rip your heart out and burn it, to bleed out to death by its side—

—Does any of it matter anymore?

“Little Hunter,” Sylus’ smooth voice cuts through your clogged mind. His hand comes forward, knuckles gently brushing against your cheek, catching stray tears that roll down, “Just focus on me. You’re alright now.”

Oh.

Your eyes widen, your faint breath an overwhelming echo in your head as you come back to yourself. Never before had you seen his eyes so… fond. Gentle. Comforting. It makes you feel sick. You feel the need to lurch and throw up everything you’ve eaten.

Instead, your tears thicken. You blink a few times before lowering your head, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth as you pant heavily. Clawing through your throat is a string of sobs, your body tensing along with it.

Sylus reacts with instinct, his voice lowered as he gently shushed you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pressing you into his strong torso. To hide you away from the world, to delicately hold your sorrows.

“You’re alright, Little Hunter.” He whispers into the top of your head, lips brushing softly against your hair, “I feel your shame, there’s no need to carry such a thing. I’m not upset.”

You hiccup, pulling away just enough to tilt your head back—looking up at him: “You’re… not?”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. His fingers gently tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, offering you the most warmth he possibly can in this moment. Unfamiliar, but not unappreciated. You’re more grateful than anything, in spite of everything you two had rough edges about.

“Never,” he assures you with a smile. “Not when it comes to you.”

[disgustingtwitches]

A Rose in Harlem

New York is supposed to be the city where people vanish into the chaos, but somehow, Simon Riley has found his way into your life. He’s managed to slip past your defenses, filling a void you didn’t realize was there. But when the closeness starts to feel too real, you pull back, desperate to hide your vulnerability. Simon, however, has already bared his own scars and expects you to do the same. Suddenly, your life feels like a romcom you never signed up for, starring the one man who’s impossible to ignore.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete, when no one else ever cared.

Masterlist

PART 4

The Sweetest Taboo

So, you're sleeping with your neighbor. This is fine. Totally fine. You're two consenting adults; no one needs to know. Except Simon seems to disagree.

You wouldn’t peg him as the "kiss and tell" type, but much to your duress, Simon is unapologetically the "kiss and show" type.

At the grocery store, he casually shows up at the same time, grabbing your bags like it’s second nature and walking you home. The stares from the neighbors make your face burn.

Morning run-ins in the foyer have evolved into something dangerously inappropriate. He refuses to let you leave without a kiss. Sometimes it’s just a fleeting brush of lips; other times, it’s deeper, lingering, and edging into the territory of lewd, making you shove his face away.

Then there’s the hoodie. One of his oversized ones, soft and smelling faintly of him. He bullied you into wearing it. You caved, of course, but it stays hidden in the back of your drawer when Ishta comes around—there’s no way you’re dealing with opening that can of worms.

It’s not just the overt gestures, though. It’s the way he lingers too long at your door after you’ve kissed him goodnight. Watches you through the fire escape, like he has every right to. Sitting there with his legs sprawled, a cigarette lazily dangling between his fingers, he makes no attempt to hide it.

You tried to put an end to that one. Bought curtains on a whim, feeling smug about the newfound privacy they’d grant you. But they mysteriously disappeared the day after you installed them—conveniently after you’d gone to work.

Simon played dumb when you confronted him, leaning casually against his doorframe.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, angel. Someone breaking in while you’re away? Maybe I should stick around your place and keep watch.”

His grin was infuriatingly smug, as it usually is.

It’s all becoming a little too real, a little too… loud. And yet, when you’re pressed up against him in the quiet of your apartment, his hands framing your face like you’re the only thing worth holding onto, you almost forget about his wrongdoings.

***

“Brought out the good shit tonight.”

Ishta grins, popping open a bottle of prosecco—the cheap, overly sweet kind she adores. You hold back the urge to grimace as she pours, passing you a glass.

“What's the occasion?”

“Me and Mr.Scottsman are official!”

She squeals lifting her glass high. You mimic the gesture, the clink of glass on glass ringing lightly through the room.

“Wow, it's so official you still won't tell me his name.”

You quip, rolling your eyes as you take a cautious sip. The sweetness of the wine hits immediately, and you fight the reflex to wince.

“John. Johnny.”

She sighs dreamily, hearts in her eyes.

“I call him Johnny because John is way too serious for my liking.”

You raise a brow at her,

"Sounds like you’ve got it bad, Ishta.”

She doesn’t deny it, swirling the prosecco in her glass like it’s some romantic prop, her grin widening.

"Oh, you have no idea. He’s got this laugh—it’s ridiculous—and he can’t make tea to save his life. But, ugh, he’s perfect."

You shake your head, taking another begrudging sip of the prosecco, already bracing yourself for what’s sure to be a night of gushing anecdotes about Johnny.

“Perfect,”

You echo with a laugh, setting your glass down.

“You’ve been together for how long now? A month?”

“Three weeks,”

Ishta corrects.

“But when you know, you know.”

You snort, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, sure. You’re gonna marry this man, huh?”

“Don’t tempt me,”

She says, her grin widening.

“He’s already invited to meet his family. Can you believe it? His family, and I’m just over here trying to not come off as a complete lunatic.”

“Well, you’re failing spectacularly.”

You tease.

She throws a pillow at you, laughing.

“Says the one who’s been mysteriously glowing these past few weeks. Care to spill why?”

You freeze for half a second, a sip of prosecco poised at your lips.

“Glowing? What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,”

Ishta says, narrowing her eyes.

“You’re hiding something. Someone.”

You feign indifference, shrugging.

“Maybe I’ve just been using better skincare.”

“Bullshit. Spill. Who is it?”

She leans forward, her gaze piercing.

There’s no way you’re telling her. Not about Simon. Not about the fire escape. Not about the way his hands feel against your skin or the things he whispers in the dark.

“No one,”

You say firmly, hoping she buys it.

“And stop projecting your ridiculous love life onto me.”

Ishta squints at you, unconvinced.

“Uh-huh. Sure. For now, you’re off the hook. But mark my words,”

She wags a finger at you.

“I’ll figure it out.”

You laugh nervously, downing the rest of your drink.

You’re grateful for how easily distracted Ishta can be, her attention now fully locked onto the trashy dating show the two of you watch every Thursday. It’s a routine you’d both adopted more for the chance to mock strangers' poor life choices than for any genuine investment in the drama.

Occasionally, she’ll pipe up, her voice dreamy as she recounts the latest romantic gesture from Johnny, her “Mr. Scotsman." She compares him to the guys on TV, and each time, she insists that Johnny does it better. You can almost hear the wistful sigh in her voice as she talks about how much she adores him.

You smile at her, teasing lightly,

“Gonna end up as one of those military wives?”

Ishta laughs, a genuine, carefree sound that rings out in the space between you. She shrugs with mock indifference, but there’s a spark in her eyes.

"Maybe. I mean, he’s a loverboy under all that wildness, but yeah… I’d say I’ve got it bad.”

You smirk at her, shaking your head.

"You’re hopeless."

"And you’re one to talk,”

She fires back, leveling you with a knowing look.

“Sexy British neighbor still got you tied up in knots?”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink to stall. The wine’s still too sweet, sticking to your tongue, but you focus on the tang that lingers at the edges.

“I’m not ‘tied up’ in anything. Haven't even spoken to him since the noise complaint situation.”

“Riiight.”

She side-eyes you, unconvinced.

“Something tells me that's not entirely true. You get this weird look on your face every time I bring him up.”

You try to keep a straight face.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into things.”

“Uh-huh.”

She leans back, crossing her arms.

“One of these days, I'll catch you slipping.”

You roll your eyes, desperate to redirect her attention.

“I think you’ve had too much wine.”

“Or not enough,”

She shoots back, taking another sip with a knowing smirk. She hums, like she just remembered something important.

“I forgot to tell you, Johnny invited you to come with me to meet his family.”

You make a face of confusion.

“Me? Why?”

“I talk about you a lot, believe it or not you are one of the most important people in my life.”

The statement takes you back a bit, makes you feel a twinge of guilt lying to her.

“But his family?”

“Well…”

She tilts her head, searching for the right words.

“They’re not exactly blood relatives. They’re his squad, I think that’s the term he uses. He trusts them with his life, so he sees them as family—or the closest thing to it. Something like that.”

It’s her turn to hesitate, her fingers absently trailing the stem of her wine glass.

“Anyway, he thought you might want to come along. Besides,” She adds with a grin, peeking up again.

“It'll be fun. Think about it! Drinks, charming military men, and me as your entertainment. What more could you want?”

With Simon in your life, you think to yourself, you find yourself wanting for nothing lately—except maybe a little less suffocating attention.

“Yeah, what more could I want.”

You say aloud, masking the weight of your thoughts with a light laugh.

Ishta beams at your answer,

“That’s the spirit! You’ll see—it’ll be good for you. And hey, if nothing else, you can help me judge Johnny’s friends. Who knows, maybe one of them is a secret disaster like the guys on this show.”

The conversation shifts back to the TV, her playful commentary dragging you out of your head. But even as you nod along, your mind is already working on an escape plan.

You’re just gonna text her some excuse when the day comes. She’ll understand. Probably.

***

“How can you breathe in these?”

You groan, tugging at the waistband of Ishta’s skin-tight leather pants as she twists and wiggles, trying to pull them up.

“Breathing isn’t a priority here.”

She huffs, planting her hands on her hips and giving a final shimmy.

“Looking good is. Besides,”

She admires herself in the mirror.

“Johnny will love it.”

“Yeah, he probably cares more about how easy they’ll be to take off, Ishta.”

She grins, running her hands down the smooth fabric.

“Yeah. My man, the most efficient guy I know.”

You laugh, shaking your head as she strikes a dramatic pose.

“Efficiency—truly the cornerstone of romance.”

“Don’t knock it,”

She quips, spinning around to face you.

“He’s got it down to an art. Makes him a great lover.”

“Ishta.”

“I mean seriously, when I'm running late he knows exactly what to-”

“Ishta!”

“What? Someone has to get laid here, and it sure isn't you!”

You groan in protest, grabbing a throw pillow and launching it at her. She ducks, her laughter ringing out as she returns to inspecting her reflection in the mirror, twisting to check out the back of her pants.

“I think my butt’s getting bigger.”

She declares, completely unfazed.

“Aren’t we running late?”

You ask, exasperated.

“We’re fine. He’s getting us an Uber.”

She replies, adjusting the waistband of her pants with a smug little smile.

“To Brooklyn? Ouuu, big money.”

You tease, rolling your eyes as you grab your bag.

She grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I just got him trained right. I'll show you how to do it when you get your own man. Or woman. Or anyone.”

Before you get to have your say her phone dings, and she grabs her keys.

"C’mon, Uber’s here."

You give her one last look before following her out the door, ready for whatever insanity lies ahead.

***

The bar you stand outside of is dingy and small, a stark contrast to the sleek black SUV Johnny arranged for Ishta and you. You raise an eyebrow, already feeling out of place.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

You ask, rocking side to side in your heels, feet already hurting.

“Too good for it?”

Ishta teases.

“No, just… aren’t we a little overdressed?”

You reply, glancing down at your outfit. Her red-bottoms are going to get ruined by the sticky floors, and your top is way too low-cut for a place like this.

Ishta smirks, giving you a look.

“You’ll be fine. Besides, if anyone stares for too long, the guys will probably scare them off— if they are anything like Johnny describes.”

And so, you step hesitantly into the grungy spot, thinking of what shitty liquor you need to get you through the night.

The bar is dim, louder than you expected, the scent of stale beer and fried food heavy in the air. Ishta leads the way with her usual confidence, weaving through the mismatched tables and chairs. You follow, heels catching on the sticky floor, your stomach tightening as she heads toward a table in the back.

That’s when you see it: the large black hoodie. The person wearing it is turned away, broad shoulders hunched slightly. Something about the way they hold themselves makes your chest tighten. You tell yourself it can’t possibly be him. The odds are ridiculous, almost laughable.

And yet, your feet falter.

Johnny spots Ishta first, lighting up with a grin so wide it makes his eyes crease at the corners, laughter lines deepening across his face. There’s a boyish enthusiasm in the way he waves her over, unrestrained and unabashed, like a pet spotting its owner after a long day apart.

You remember her mentioning once, in passing, that he was born the year of the dog. It’s funny how fitting that feels now. Loyal, eager, a little too earnest. He all but bounces out of his seat, the movement causing a ripple of attention to shift across the table.

The ridiculously pretty man seated next to him glances up first, his expression brightening with easy charm. Across from him, an older man with a beard you could only describe as unnecessarily dramatic turns and nods politely.

Then, the hoodie moves. Your stomach plummets.

Simon.

His expression is unreadable, but the sight of him freezes you in place, and before you realize it, you’re standing there looking like a deer caught in headlights. The rest of the table follows his gaze, looking at you with various degrees of curiosity.

Ishta grabs your arm.

“Oh my God. Girl, is that your man? What’s wrong? You can’t back away now!”

She says in a low voice, dragging you forward before you can recover.

“That is not my man,”

You hiss back, but it does nothing to stop her relentless pull.

Johnny grins as you both approach, his voice warm and thick with his accent.

“Almost scared her off, Ghost.”

Ghost?

Your eyes flick to Simon. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say a word.

Johnny, takes over the introductions.

“This is Simon. Don’t mind him, wasn’t properly socialized as a bairn.”

There’s some shifting around as the group makes room. To your dismay, Simon stays tucked into one side of the booth, leaving Kyle and Price to scoot out. They pull over chairs from a nearby empty table, and you find yourself awkwardly squeezed beside Simon while Ishta takes the seat across from you.

“Finally nice to put a name to the face.”

Ishta beams at Simon, and you can see the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes, though he doesn’t respond. She laughs when Johnny makes a confused face, giving a brief rundown to the table.

“She says you haven't seen each other since that incident.”

Ishta waves her glass in Simon's direction.

Simon leans back in his seat, mask still up.

“Avoids me like the plague, she does. Must’ve left quite the impression.”

Kyle snorts, leaning forward with an amused grin.

“That’s just his thing. Simon’s got a talent for being a nuisance, don’t you, mate? Knows exactly how to make people’s lives hell.”

“Only when they deserve it.”

Simon replies smoothly.

The table chuckles, but you stay quiet. His knee bumps yours under the table and you shoot him a sharp glance. He doesn’t even look your way, focused instead on swirling his drink he hasn't touched. You drink more than you probably should, hoping it’ll dull the awkwardness.

Thankfully, the rest of the table carries on without issue, their conversation flowing easily.

“Military, huh?”

You ask eventually, your voice quieter than intended.

Simon doesn’t look at you, but Johnny leans in with a grin.

“Yeah, we're stationed here for a while, so get used to seeing my handsome face around.”

The ease in his tone does little to settle the tension twisting in your chest. Simon doesn’t so much as flinch, remaining a stoic, unreadable presence. His silence feels deliberate, heavy, but Johnny’s brightness seems determined to lighten the mood.

“Maybe you’ll even get used to this one,”

Johnny adds playfully.

“Though I wouldn’t hold your breath. He’s got the personality of wet cement.”

That makes you laugh a little, along with the rest of the table. Younod toward Simon.

“So… Ghost. That’s a call sign?”

Simon hums, noncommittal, leaving Johnny to fill the silence.

“Wish I got something cool like that,”

Johnny says, shooting Simon a look that’s both teasing and fond.

“Guess he earned it, scary bastard.”

You glance at Simon again. His face gives nothing away.

Ishta leans over and whispers something into Johnny’s ear, her lips brushing against his ear with a playful familiarity. Whatever she says prompts a crooked grin to spread across his face, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief.

The two of them fall into their own little world, lovebirds whispering and laughing softly, entirely lost to anyone else at the table. Their giddy exchange contrasts sharply with the tension simmering between you and Simon.

You shift in your seat, feeling the press of his knee against yours again. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but the contact makes your pulse quicken. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if it’s intentional. If he notices your reaction, he doesn’t show it.

Across the table, Price and Kyle keep the conversation flowing, their camaraderie effortless. You envy the ease they seem to find in this dynamic, the sense of belonging that eludes you in this moment.

Eventually, you decide to call it a night.

“Think I’ll head out, guys.”

You say, grabbing your bag. You glance toward Ishta, but she’s too busy twirling a strand of Johnny’s hair between her fingers, practically sitting in his lap.

Kyle stands, reaching for his jacket.

“Want me to walk you home, love?”

Before you can answer, Price butts in.

“Think Simon’s closer. Said you're neighbors, right?”

Your mouth goes dry.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.”

“He'll take you home. Don't need Kyle chasing up your dress.”

Simon finally looks at you, dark eyes unreadable. Without another word, he gets up.

***

The train ride back is painfully silent, tension coiling thick between you. Simon doesn’t make small talk, doesn’t fill the awkward space with meaningless words, and you can’t decide if you’re grateful or annoyed.

When you finally reach your apartment, you stop at the door, fumbling with your keys. You unlock it and step inside, turning to offer a polite, “Goodnight.”

Before you can close the door, Simon’s boot wedges into the frame.

“No kiss goodnight?”

He murmurs, pulling down his mask, voice low.

“Do you always have to be like this?”

You mumble, leaning forward and tilting your head up.

“You like it.”

He replies, pressing his scarred lips against your glossed ones.

The kiss lingers in your mind longer than it lasts, the warmth still spreading through your limbs. He pulls away, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. You stand with the door still open,

“Ok, well, goodnigh-”

“Not gonna invite me in for a drink?”

The way he says it—like he’s giving you the option, but he knows exactly how this game goes—brings a rush of heat to your cheeks.You hesitate for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on you, but it hits you then—you’ve been waiting for him to make this move. Simon knows exactly how to push just enough, always teetering on the line between being too much and just enough.

You tilt your head, playing the game, your voice teasing.

“I don’t believe in letting strangers into my place, Ghost.”

His jaw tightens at the name, a flash of something flickering behind his eyes, but he recovers quickly, scanning your face with a quiet intensity.

“Hit your head, angel? The name’s Simon, remember?”

“Hmm,”

You cock your head, a playful smirk curling on your lips as you tease,

“Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

Simon’s expression shifts, eyes narrowing just a fraction as his lips curl into a grin.

“No? Thought you’d remember it with how many times you say it when I’ve got you bent over that couch.”

“Simon!”

You gasp with a smile.

“Glad to see your memories back, love. Had me worried there for a moment.”

His voice drips with smug satisfaction, fingers creeping around your waist as you step backward into your apartment. His movements mirror yours, closing the distance, the same familiar rhythm between you two. Except this time, the dance ends in your bed, bathed in silvery moonlight that filters through the windows, casting shadows and soft glimmers over the room.

What he says to you in that space, the things he says are as depraved as they are tender, sinful words laced with something softer, gentler. And in that moment, you realize they’re the sweetest things Simon is capable of offering.

Lying on his chest, you let your thoughts drift, his sparse chest hair tickling the side of your face. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat drums against your ear as your fingers trace lazy circles on his skin. His hand mirrors yours, gently skimming the small of your back in slow, soothing motions.

You enjoy these moments just aas much as the more heated ones—maybe more. They feel almost domestic, like peeking through the keyhole of something you tell yourself you can’t have. But for now, it’s enough. It fills that quiet loneliness you feel some days.

Simon presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his lips lingering there for a beat longer than you expect. It feels like him savoring the closeness he so rarely allows himself.

“Mind if I sleep here tonight?”

His voice low and casual.

Your body goes stiff before you can stop it, and his hand on your back stills.

“Oh,”

You say, forcing a laugh that cracks at the edges.

“Didn’t think you’d grown tired of your bachelor setup. What happened? Mattress on the floor finally giving up on you?”

Simon hums, unbothered, his fingers resuming their lazy path.

“Figured I’d upgrade. You offering?”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you sit up quickly, putting a small but deliberate distance between you.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He doesn’t move, watching you with hooded eyes, his expression calm, unreadable.

“Why not? Thought we were comfortable now.”

His tone is deceptively light, but you can hear the challenge beneath it.

“I don’t sleep well with someone else in the bed,” You say, crossing your arms, covering your bare chest.

“It’s just a thing—I’m used to having my space.”

“Space, huh?”

He sits up and leans back against the wall, hands clasped behind his head, looking entirely too at ease.

“Didn’t seem to need space a few minutes ago, angel.”

You frown, heat rising to your face.

“That’s different. Sleeping is… it’s personal.”

He smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“And what we just did isn’t?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your irritation in check.

“You know what I mean, Simon.”

“Not sure I do,”

His tone is playful, but there’s a stubborn edge to it now.

“Seems to me like you’re just makin’ excuses.”

“I’m not.”

The words come out sharper than you intended. You sigh, running a hand through his short hair, an apology of sorts.

“It’s just… I’m not ready for that.”

“A lil sleepover?”

He tilts his head. Before you can respond, he grabs your face with one hand, his fingers pressing against your cheeks to make your lips pout.

You yank your head away, sucking your teeth in frustration.

“You’re impossible.”

He grins, leaning back against the wall like he’s won something.

“Am I? Or are you just makin’ this harder than it needs to be?”

“Simon,”

You snap,

“It’s not about being hard or easy. It’s about boundaries. Respecting them.”

“Boundaries?”

He raises an eyebrow, the smirk slipping just slightly.

“Since when have we had those?”

Never, you think to yourself. It's a little distressing if you think about it too long, letting a man have such sway on you.

He pulls you closer, his thick arms wrapping around you with an ease that feels as natural as it is intrusive. You don’t resist, though. Instead, your fingers trace the inked lines on his forearm, a distraction, an excuse not to look him in the eye.

“Think you got one more in you?”

His voice is low, dipping into something softer, coaxing.

“I’ll be out your hair after that.”

You can’t help the faint smile that tugs at your lips, even though you hate yourself for giving in so easily. It’s always like this with him—pushing, pulling, finding that sliver of space where you’re weak enough to let him in.

“Yeah,”

You murmur, leaning just slightly into his touch,

“Think I do.”

His lips curve into a grin, satisfied, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he pulls you into his lap. And just like always, he gets exactly what he wants.

Prev | Next

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Voices From The Past - Bruce Wayne X Female Reader

Title: Voices From The Past

Bruce Wayne X Female Reader

(Can be seen as any iteration of Bruce Wayne, however the Batcave is from The Dark Knight).

Additional Characters: Reader's mother, Reader's father (Mentioned), Reader's Step-Mom (Mentioned), and Alfred (Mentioned)

WC: 4,108

Warnings: Crying, family issues/parent abandonment mentioned, Reader is mentioned to have a mother and father, italics, divorce hinted to, infidelity by Reader's mother mentioned, mentions of marriage, nicknames, Bruce is so wise, slight angst, and fluff

You never thought this day would come. Your phone shook in your shaking hands. Tears burned the backs of your eyes before rolling down your cheeks in waves. You stared at the blackened screen, unblinking, shocked, upset, overwhelmed… Too many emotions to fully process properly. 

Your mother called. Well, you didn't call her your mother. Technically, yes, she is your birth mother, who birthed you, but she wasn't your mom. Your step-mother was more of a mother than she was. Overall, it was complicated.

Now, the thing was, your mother never called. The day she walked out on you and your father was the last day you had ever seen or heard from her. And that was fifteen years ago.

You had very vague memories of your time and life with her before she left; a time at the local community pool, that one time she taught you how to bake cherry pie, and when she would tuck you in at night. One memory though, that somewhat haunted you at the worst of times, was when she would sing “You Are My Sunshine” to you. You hadn’t listened to that song since she left, it always reminded you too much of her. You hated being reminded of her.

After she left though, walking out on you and your father, it was like she had taken the bright sun with her. For a long time, you didn’t understand why she left or what you had done wrong. For a long time, you thought that you were the reason why she left. Were you not good enough? Were you not a good kid? What did you do to make her hate you that she left? 

You tried not to dwell on it, tried to be strong for your dad, who did his best to fill the gaping void she left behind. Your step-mother came into your life years later, a balm to your wounded family, and you slowly started to heal. But the scars remained, faint yet unforgotten.

And now, fifteen years later, that woman had the audacity to call you out of nowhere. How she got your number, you didn’t know. You didn’t really care. Her voice on the other end of the line was hesitant, almost trembling, like she wasn’t sure if you’d even answer. It was awkward, insanely so, and you wished that you had never answered the unknown number.

Her voice faltered as she spoke, a tentative edge threading through every word. “Hi, honey. It’s me,” She began, and for a split moment, you didn’t recognize the sound of her voice, but then it hit you like a tsunami and your eyes widened. It had been fifteen years after all, so it only made sense that you wouldn’t recognize her voice at first or at all. She paused. And it was long, heavy, and suffocating. She was waiting for you to say something. You didn’t. “I… I just wanted to see how you’ve been,” She continued, tone awkward, as if she didn’t know where to start or how much ground there was to cover. 

The words hit you, and you fought the urge to hang up right then. “How have I been?” You asked yourself, scoffing mentally.

“I know this is unexpected,” She continued, the slight tremor in her voice betraying her nerves. “I just… I think about you all the time. Wondering how you are doing, where you are. I- I never forgot about you.”

“Okay,” You finally spoke, your voice low, and tone tense. What could you even say to that? 

She let out a breath when you spoke finally, “Are you still in the same town?” She asked, her voice continuing to be cautious, “Or… Did you move? I always wondered if you stayed close to home or if you went somewhere else.” There was a painful irony in her words, like she was trying to piece together a puzzle she had willingly walked away from. The puzzle had long been put away, there was nothing to solve. She didn’t know where you were, what you did, or who you had become. “You must be doing well,” She added, trying to sound hopeful, “You were always a smart kid.” You pursed your lips at her words, “What… What have you been up to? Are you working? Married? Kids?”

Her questions came in rapid succession now, but the questions only grated on your nerves, reopening old wounds that you thought had long since scabbed over. She wanted to know everything, it seemed, about the life she had no part in. And all you wanted to know was why she thought she had the right to ask.

You swallowed thickly, feeling tears burn your eyes, but you held them in. Clearing your throat, you finally forced yourself to respond, though your tone was far from warm. Each word felt like it was being dragged out of you. “I moved,” You said shortly, not meeting her invisible gaze through the phone. “To Gotham.”

There was a pause on her end, a brief silence before she spoke again, her voice tinged with surprise. “Gotham? Wow, that’s... That’s far. I never would’ve guessed.”

You ignored the attempt at small talk. “Yeah,” You said curtly, hoping she’d drop the subject - and the call altogether - but of course, she didn’t do either.

“What do you do there? Are you working?”

You clenched your jaw. “I used to,” You replied, keeping it vague. You didn’t owe her the specifics, didn’t owe her anything, really.

Another pause, “Oh, I see. Well, that’s okay. Things happen, right?” She said awkwardly, trying to fill the silence. “There will always be another opportunity.”

You inhaled sharply, her assuming you lost whatever job you had irritated you, and you debated whether or not to answer her next question. The thought of sharing this part of your life with her felt wrong, like exposing something sacred to someone who hadn’t earned the right to know. 

“I’m married,” You said reluctantly, your voice stiff and clipped.

Her reaction was immediate, a soft gasp slipping from her lips. “Oh... Oh, wow. Married? That’s-”

“Yeah,” You interrupted, not wanting to hear her feigned excitement or whatever platitudes she had ready. “It happened a while ago.”

Your tone remained distant, each answer another brick in the wall you were determined to keep between you. She might have been your birth mother, but she wasn’t part of your life, and you weren’t about to let her waltz back in like she had any claim to it. Not unless she said or did something worthy enough for your forgiveness.

A flicker of surprise crossed your mind, though, as you realized she hadn’t even heard about your engagement years prior. It had been highly publicized at the time. Then again, she didn’t live in Gotham, and Gotham’s news rarely traveled far beyond the shadow of Metropolis. And you doubted that she was living there.

You shifted on the couch, unable to sit still, your free hand fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. Every second stretched uncomfortably long as you tried to decide whether to end the call or endure it.

“So... What’s Gotham like?” She asked, her attempt at casual conversation landing awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” You replied shortly, your tone clipped. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your fingers trembling slightly.

“Fine?” She echoed, a nervous laugh in her voice. “I hear it can be a bit... Rough, you know, with everything that goes on there. The crime-rate.”

“It has its moments,” You muttered, glancing at the clock. Time wasn’t moving fast enough.

She hesitated, clearly grasping for something else to say. “And your... Your partner?” She asked cautiously. “What’s he like? Or she?”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. “He’s great,” You said stiffly, leaving it at that. You didn’t elaborate, didn’t offer details. This wasn’t her business.

“That’s good,” She said quickly, “I’m glad you found someone.”

You could feel your stomach twisting as she spoke. Her words were polite enough, but they carried an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite name - guilt, maybe, or regret. You could only hope. Your grip on the phone tightened, and you shifted again, crossing and uncrossing your legs in an attempt to release some of the tension building in your chest.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” She added after another long pause, her voice quieter now.

You bit your lip, “I’m fine,” You said, the words sharper than you intended.

“I just...” She trailed off, sighing softly. “I wanted to hear your voice again. To know how you’re doing. It’s been… It’s been a while…”

Your throat constricted, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep your emotions in check. You were twisting the hem of your sleeve now, nearly tearing the fabric, your leg bouncing restlessly.

“Well, now you know,” You said bluntly, your voice colder than you meant for it to be.

She was silent for a moment, and the weight of the silence was suffocating. You glanced at the screen, half-hoping the call would drop, giving you an excuse to end it.

“I’ve missed you,” She said finally, her voice breaking slightly. You closed your eyes, exhaling shakily. Your fingers hovered over the “end call” button, and for a moment, you considered pressing it. But something - curiosity, obligation, or maybe just the tiniest trace of unresolved pain - kept you on the line. “And- and I love you. I’ve always loved you,” She added, her voice trembling. The words hit you like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs. You stared blankly at the floor, your mind spinning. Your chest tightened painfully, her words stirring emotions you didn’t want to acknowledge. 

You didn’t respond, didn’t even trust yourself to speak. “Yeah right. You sure have a funny way of showing it.” You thought. Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until she filled it once more.

“I love you,” She repeated, her voice softer, almost pleading. It was as if she were hoping that, this time, you’d say it back. When you didn’t, she sighed, the sound tinged with resignation. “Well... You have my number now,” She said quietly. “I hope... I hope you’ll call me or text me sometime.”

“Okay,” You murmured.

There was a pause, and you could hear the sadness in her voice when she said, “Take care of yourself, honey.”

The line went dead with a soft click, and you were left staring at the blackened screen of your phone, your hands still trembling. For a moment, you were frozen, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you like a lead blanket.

Then, the tears came, hot and uncontrollable. They streaked down your face, dripping onto your legs as your shoulders began to shake. A strangled sob escaped your throat, and before you knew it, you were doubling over, clutching the phone tightly in both hands.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air between sobs, the dam of emotions you’d held back for years finally breaking. You curled into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest as you rocked slightly on the couch, tears streaming endlessly. The sound of your own cries filled the room, raw and unfiltered.

The phone slipped from your grasp and landed on the cushion beside you, forgotten as you buried your face in your hands. It felt like the world had been turned upside down, and all you could do was let the storm of grief, confusion, and anger wash over you.

You didn’t know how long you laid there, your sobs slowly slipping into silence. The tears had long since dried on your cheeks, leaving a salty, tight feeling on your skin. You stared blankly at the wall in front of you, unmoving, your mind overrun with thoughts and emotions. It was as though you were suspended in a void, caught between the past and the present, wishing - oh, god, did you wish - that you had never answered your phone.

You weren’t okay - far from it - but eventually, you felt stable enough to move. Sluggishly, you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Your arms felt leaden as you reached up to rub your warm cheeks, your fingers trembling slightly as you tried to compose yourself.

A shaky sigh escaped your lips. Your head fell forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you stared down at the floor. The weight of all of her words lingered, pressing down on you.

Rising, you sniffled, dragging your socked feet along the cool hardwood floors as you drifted through the living room and down the hall. The dim light of the setting sun filtered through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows against the walls. Usually, you would take the time to admire the sunset, but tonight, you didn’t want to. You continued to wander, slipping past the kitchen and the library.

Your steps faltered momentarily as you approached the grand piano in the corner of the study. Its polished surface gleamed faintly in the dim light. For a moment, you hesitated, your fingers hovering over the cool ivory keys, before pressing a specific sequence - notes that resonated softly through the quiet room.

A faint mechanical click broke the silence as the hidden mechanism activated, part of the bookshelf behind you gliding aside to reveal a concealed elevator. You stepped inside, the doors closing behind you with a quiet hiss. As the elevator descended, the air grew cooler, carrying the faint earthy scent of stone. 

The elevator doors opened, the Batcave sprawled before you in all its dark glory. Gleaming metal and stark lighting illuminated the space, reflecting off the walls of jagged rock and smooth concrete. The massive expanse felt both imposing and oddly comforting. The sound of trickling water echoed from the waterfalls and their pools, mingling with the low hum of machinery and the occasional beep of system.

You walked along the narrow bridge that stretched over one of the cave’s pools, the platform ahead glowing faintly from the illumination of the LED lights hanging above. The faint chill of the air seeped through your clothes as your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, seeking warmth.

You lingered a moment longer, your heart tightening as you watched him, his broad shoulders bathed in the soft glow of the monitors. Even in the depths of his focus, there was a quiet compassion about him, a gentleness that softened the unyielding strength he carried. Bruce was your rock, the calm in every storm, and a love so steady, so unwavering, it felt like something you’d only dreamed could be real.

You moved closer, standing beside his chair, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his sharp features. The strong line of his jaw, the way strands of his hair fell over his forehead a bit, the way his lips pressed together in concentration - it was impossible not to love every detail of him.

Bruce was the kind of man who bore the weight of the world without faltering, always making space to carry you through your own storms. He was unwaveringly selfless, fiercely protective, and gave every piece of himself even when he had little left to offer. And, of course, he was devastatingly handsome. Those piercing blue eyes, the unruly dark hair, and a sculpted frame that seemed carved from marble itself. But it was the way he loved you, so completely and unconditionally, that left you breathless every time.

You glanced down at him, your fingers gently grazing the back of his chair. Even without meeting your gaze, you knew he sensed your presence - he always did. Time and again, you found yourself seeking him out, whether you had something to share or simply craved the comfort of being near him.

Without a word, your hand slowly lifted, your fingers grazing through his hair, the strands soft beneath your touch. The simple act brought an immediate sense of calm, as it always did. There was something soothing about the way his hair slipped between your fingers. But the pull of him was too strong. With a soft sigh, you moved around to his side. wordlessly, you lifted one of his arms, sliding into his lap with a gentle movement. Your legs draped over the sides of his chair, your body settling close to his.

Bruce’s hand instinctively rested on your back, fingers splayed across your - his - nightshirt. His other hand, still hovering over the keyboard, stilled for a moment, his muscles relaxing. He didn’t need to say anything - his quiet presence, the warmth of his touch, was really all you needed.

You buried your face in his neck, your cold nose pressing against his warm skin, inhaling his familiar scent. Wrapping your arms around him, you let your fingers slip underneath his shirt, trying to get as much skin-to-skin contact as you could. The warmth of his skin against yours was like coming home, and you let out a soft sigh of relief, closing your eyes as you melted into him. Bruce shifted slightly, his arm tightening around you as he leaned his head against yours. 

For the next couple of minutes, neither of you said a word. Bruce didn’t ask if you were alright; he knew better than that. He knew something was wrong. But he would never rush you, and never push you to speak before you were ready. He just held you, patient as always, waiting for you to open up.

You took a deep breath, the weight of everything still pressing heavily on your chest. Finally, your voice broke the silence, soft, hesitant, muffled. “My mother called me.” Your fingers continued to softly trace the contours of his skin, brushing over the faint scars that lay hidden beneath his shirt. The words felt like a stone in your throat, hard to let out but impossible to keep inside for much longer. You needed to vent.

Bruce’s hand, which had been rubbing soothing circles on your own back, paused. You could feel his body shift slightly, his focus entirely on you. “What did she want?” He continued his gentle movements.

You bit your lip, a shaky breath escaping as you finally answered, “She wanted to catch up. After all these years… She wanted to know what I was doing, if I was married, if I had kids…” Your arms around Bruce’s mid-section tightened. “Waltzing back into my life like nothing happened.” The dam inside you broke. You could feel your tears starting to fall, “She just left. She left us - me and dad. Without any explanation. No goodbye. Nothing. And now she thinks she can just pick up the phone like nothing’s wrong? Like everything’s fine?” You shook your head, the bitterness, pain, and confusion flooding your words. “It hurts, Bruce. It hurts so much, and I never was told why, just… Nothing. No answers, no apology.”

As your words began to fade, Bruce’s hand gently tapped your back, signaling for you to sit up. You huffed sadly, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand, feeling exhausted. 

Bruce’s eyes softened with understanding. “You’ve never told me about your mother before.”

You shrugged slightly, feeling your heart twist as you dropped your eyes to your hands in your lap. “She was never really in my life.” You hesitated for a moment, but the warmth of Bruce’s touch, his understanding presence, made it easier to continue. You looked back up at him then, meeting his gaze. His eyes were steady, filled with patience and care, and it made everything seem just a little more bearable. “When I was ten, she just… Up and left. She just walked away from me and dad without a word, well, at least to me.” Your voice wavered, thick with emotion. “It wasn’t until I was in my late teens that dad finally told me she left him for another man. She never even tried to explain it to me. I was just… Left behind. And replaced… That guy she left us for had another daughter around my age…”

Bruce’s hand found yours, threading his fingers through yours gently so you would stop picking at your skin, along with to support you. “It hurt so much,” You added quietly, wiping your eyes again with your free hand. “Not just mentally, but emotionally. And then she calls me, after all this time, and it just… It opened the wound again. I thought it had healed, but it’s still there.”

Bruce’s hand squeezed yours, his thumb brushing over the back of your knuckles. “I’m so sorry you went through that,” He murmured, his free hand brushing your hair back from your eyes before cupping your cheek. “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it.” You tilted your head into his palm, nuzzling closer, covering his hand with yours, grateful for his unwavering support, for his gentle affection that surrounded you like a shield. “And you’re not alone,” He whispered, his voice filled with a quiet strength that anchored you. “You have your dad, your step-mom, and of course, you have Alfred. And I’m here. I will always be here for you.” He then lifted your hand, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. His thumb ran over the wedding ring, a soft smile forming on his lips. “To death do us part, remember?” He said lovingly, reassuringly, before pressing a gentle kiss to the space above the ring on your hand.

You let out a breathy mix of a sigh and a chuckle, smiling as you repeated his words, “To death do us part.” Your heart swelled, feeling the warmth of his love, and you knew, deep down, he was right. You weren't alone, not now, not ever. Your heart swelled with gratitude, with love, the tears slowly drying up. Bruce wasn’t just your husband; he was your home. And in his arms, you finally felt like you could breathe again. "Thank you, Brucie," You slowly, “But, I don’t know what to do now." You admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t even know if I should call her... Or if I should let her in again."

"It’s all your choice, sweetheart," He said, his voice unwavering. "You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for." You let out a shaky breath, leaning back into him, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. "Just because she called, trying to reconnect, doesn’t mean you have to call her tomorrow or even a week from now." He continued, "It could be three years from now, or six months. Whenever you feel ready. Or you don’t ever have to call her." The reassurance in his voice eased some of the tightness in your chest, the pressure to make a decision immediately slipping away. "You’ll know when you’re ready," Bruce added, "And no matter what you decide, I’m here for you."

You closed your eyes, taking in his words, letting the warmth of his embrace comfort you. For once, the world didn’t feel as heavy. “If I call her, will you be there with me?”

"Of course," Bruce said, "I'll be right beside you, every step of the way. Whatever you need, I’m here. If you decide to reach out to her, I’ll be there with you." He then cupped the back of your head, his thumb brushing softly upon your hair. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as he then nuzzled his nose into your hairline. He pulled back just enough to glance at the clock on his monitors. His eyes softened as he looked back at you, his voice gentle but filled with determination. "I’m staying home from patrol tonight," He said, "We can order your favorite take-out, watch one of our movies." His expression was thoughtful, and you could tell that he was making sure everything would be exactly how you needed it to be. Trying to make the rest of the night as comforting and fun as possible. “I’ll even see if Alfred would mind making cookies.”

You sat up slowly, wiping away any lingering tears as a small smile tugged at your lips. The idea of a quiet night with him, no worries or demands, was exactly what you needed. "Can we cuddle?"

Bruce's lips quirked upward and without a word, he moved to pull you closer, his arms wrapping around you. "Of course, my love," He whispered, his voice deep and soothing. "Anything for you."

~~~

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[tessieee]

Main 7 x an MC that acts silly and talks to themselves when they’re alone

PT. 1 -- Pt. 2 after the fic that won the poll :p

Pairings: OBEY ME! Lucifer x MC, Mammon x MC, Leviathan x MC

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Spending time alone in the House of Lamentation became a rarity as the brothers and you grew closer. Some days it was mediating a fight between Mammon and Levi, others it was being dragged to go shopping with Asmo, napping with Belphie, then a Fangol game for Beelzebub, and Lucifer on your tail over assignments from R.A.D. Regardless, you gave your precious time out like bread and water, feeding those who cried out for help; you knew being needed by so many people at once made your chest swell with pride and filled a void inside you that nothing else could. 

For a while, you’d convinced yourself that the exhaustion you felt was simply because you weren't used to so many people wanting to spend time with you at once, but your denial only went so far as you began to become snippy with your favorite demons. Talking to yourself was a habit you’d picked up every time you were home alone when you still lived with your parents. Staring in the mirror to finish off arguments, speaking to no one in particular while folding laundry, anything to fill the silence. Tonight you swore up and down that you finally had some time alone while finishing up a paper for Curses and Hexes and subconsciously, began to talk to yourself again.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Lucifer ~ 

“What the hell am I even saying here?” You guffawed at your words, strung together by nothing but the Devildom equivalent of Red Bull and your hopes and dreams.

“…great and then you decided to… to…completely ignore the hex counterpart”

You rolled your eyes, staring off to the side as if briefly looking at an off-screen camera. Someone has been watching too many sitcoms. “Awesome! Then I finish this and then I finish math and then I’m done. Dude, I think I’m the GOAT.”

“Thanks!”

Unbeknownst to you, your monologue had caught the attention of the eldest, who, like you, believed that he had been alone that night. Leaning up to your door, he continued to listen as you narrate your actions to an audience you never expected to have. 

“What would Lucifer say…”  You spew a poor impression of Lucifer. 

“You do know you forgot the hex counterpart! How will you be expected to make me look good for my boyfriend? Oh, Lord Diavolo!”

 Embarrassment weighed in your chest, joking about it only relieved the insecurity of whether or not he could like you back for a moment before stinging. You take note of the fact that the demon had been occupying your mind feverishly the past week, today was certainly no exception. You wished he’d check on you to see how diligently you were working. The thought of his approval made you wipe away a dazed grin, your face hot with shameful desire.

Laughter bubbled throughout the room as you made yourself laugh through the rest of your homework. Lucifer’s heart raced at the sound; as he had gotten to know you, your laughter became his favorite sound along with the haunted records he treasured. 

Being caught up in the moment certainly put him at a disadvantage as he almost missed your footsteps growing closer to the door. The prideful demon took this opportunity to feign intention and raise his hand to the door as if to knock on it. Smooth.

“Lucifer? To what do I owe.. the pleasure?” Your meek and confused demeanor threw him off. In front of his brothers you could be so witty, your retorts to the occasional friendly tease from one of his brothers at breakfast often resulted in his gaze focusing on your supple lips, he found that fantasizing about kissing you in the morning kept him distracted for hours to come. 

Your bravery and confidence that you had slowly built up with the time you spent in the Devildom was something he admired so to catch you in such a vulnerable state felt as if you two were sharing something intimate. If the hall wasn’t so dark you’d likely see his lightly flushed expression. 

“I- How long—“ You look behind you self-consciously. “Were you standing there?”

“I was just about to knock. Why do you ask?” You’re lucky he likes you. Sparing your pride, to the both of you, was almost a love language on its own. The executive decision to not nag you about your assignment at that moment was made soon after seeing your cute behavior.

“Oh,” a shy smile spreads upon your lips. You knew he’d be the last person to poke fun at you for this. “Well, it’s a little embarrassing but I tend to talk– to myself? When I’m alone— and.. sometimes around others and..” Your confession ended up sounding more like a question trailing off at the end into an awkward silence. Stupid beautiful demon face.

To your absolute delight, your awkwardness appeared endearing to the firstborn. Luckily you were able to catch sight of the slightly upturned corners of his mouth. He looked incredibly amused by your red cheeks and refusal to make eye contact.

“Are you laughing, Lucifer?” 

“You are the GOAT? Or so I’ve heard.”

“For that long?!”

There’s a moment of silence before you catch sight of his shoulders trembling with laughter, your fit of giggles in pursuit. Your heartbeat finally relaxed; you became aware of how comfortable you felt around him.

Who better than to keep your little secret? 

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Mammon ~ 

“Hooooly shit you’re a genius.” Your fingers flew furiously on your keyboard.

Quiet clacking noises emitted from your fingertips as your melodic voice broke the silence in your room. Music was much too distracting and you’d procrastinated enough on this assignment. Lucifer’s nagging reminded you a lot of your mother and it goes without saying you needed less of that. 

“Oh my god,” You scoff, noticing you had accidentally typed ‘Mammon’ instead of ‘divination’. The demon had been particularly clingy with you as of late, not that you were complaining. It felt nice to be needed, especially if it was him.

“Mammon.. oh he’s so cute.” You practically swooned, sighing loudly and quite dramatically. Your finger quickly made its way to your hair, twirling it mindlessly as your mind wandered from your assignment. The week’s adventures replayed in your mind. You didn’t miss the way your pose looked in the mirror, grinning and nodding in approval. Maybe you’ll post some selfies later!

It wasn’t unusual for Mammon to be demanding of your time if not the most out of all of his brothers. Who could blame him? Time flew when the two of you were together. Two peas in a pod.

“God, if I keep procrastinating like that I won’t be able to go with him.” 

You gasp quietly, taking note of the expression you chose.

“Is that like a cuss word here? Will I get smited?”

A singular “Ha!” Escaped from your lips followed by a string of words. Your frenzied typing had grown to a halt, the back of your seat used as a tool to help stretch your back. Truthfully you’d been at your homework for a couple of hours now and you still had so much left and it was so late. You wondered again where everyone went, you could hear the house creak and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t freak you the hell out.

Scrolling on your phone, you decided to open Deviltunes™ to cut the silence. Finally returning to your homework, you sang along and continued making small talk with yourself.

“Come to think of it, wouldn’t it be weird if someone was watching me right now? Nice question moron, of course, no one’s watching.” Your declaration came out less confident than you would’ve hoped. 

“You always talk t���yourself in private?” The speed at which you turned around almost gave you whiplash. Catching sight of Mammon all smug and disheveled, likely from a night out, made your breath hitch. “Worry not! The Great Mammon will grant you the favor of sparing your ego tonight!”

“Where’s everyone else?” Your arms stay crossed, attempting to make yourself look tougher. This moment didn’t affect you, certainly not! Especially because you did not care that he was the one to catch you talking to yourself and because you did not have enormous feelings for him. 

He only grinned at your weak attempt to change the subject. “Just out. Pretty sure Levi’s been here the whole time.” Both of you share a moment of agreement and you let go of a breath you weren't aware you were holding. This didn’t deter the demon from prodding you until you answered his questions. 

“You talk to yourself too?” 

“Yes, Mammon.”

“You think I’m cute?” 

“Mammon.” His eyes widened at your tone, a smile plastered onto his face as he raised his hands defensively. The avatar of greed swore he meant no harm and came in peace.

Frustration bubbled in your chest as he continued to poke fun at your habit– you were embarrassed yet the expression on your face, fidgeting, and red face went right over the demon’s head. Luckily he managed to catch on before he got pushed too close to your door. Complaints spilled from his mouth like chants he knew he’d pushed your buttons a little too much this time and, still with a grin albeit smaller than when he started to make fun of you, shifted his tone. 

“Alright, human.” He grabs your wrist with one hand, brushing stray hairs from your blushing face. “Pay attention ‘cause m’ only doin’ this once! Better not make me regret it.”

Mammon pulls you into his chest, halting your brief nervous breakdown and reminding you that despite all of the chaos you two get yourselves into he’s still your peace. You swear time freezes for a moment as you take in a deep breath, the scent of his cologne and cigarette smoke wrapping around you as his arms do. That’s your Mammon. He knew very well he wouldn’t keep his promise and you wouldn’t rather have it any other way.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Leviathan ~

MC.hammah:

‘Yo Levi. You home 2nite?’

‘Heard u went 2 a Ruri-chan pop-up! Get me something cute. Thx!’

Leviathanreallordofshadows:

‘If I have time after dis line’

‘Get these randos out of line I need this figurine more than they do. > : (’

‘Ugh this is taking too longgggggg’

‘Hey! Where’d u go? Keep me company or ur fake’

You didn't bother waiting for the messages that followed, even the resident shut-in was out of the house tonight. You tossed your phone on the bed and twirled around your room in delight. The world was your oyster– except the world, for now, was confined to the walls that made up the House of Lamentation. You could go exploring, but the sight of your discontinued essay for class held you back from leaving your room. Trudging towards your desk from your bed had to be the hardest task you completed that day.

Your head rested on the palm of your hand as your fingers found themselves in a comfortable tangle in your hair. Scanning the online textbook excerpts in hopes of finding more context to your evidence. All of the right pieces were there, you just needed the glue that would connect them all. Attempt after attempt, the words began to blend into one another and you notice you’ve been reading the same paragraph for the past 5 minutes. 

Why was focusing on this so hard today?

 You lean back to rub your eyes gently, the blue light of your laptop stinging your retinas. Maybe you were just a little butthurt that you’d heard nothing about this, especially since you’d been the one to send him the Devilgram post notifying fans of the event in the first place.

“Not even an invite? Seriously, what’s going on with him..” You frown at your lap, deciding to grab your D.D.D once again. The lock screen turns on, a group picture you’d begged everyone to take, the highlight to you was the cute poses you and Levi had chosen for this picture. Inside jokes like these often provoked the occasional look from his brothers; no one was in on them except you, him, and maybe Henry 2.0.

You scroll down the messages in your DMs with him, scanning for some sort of subtle invitation you might’ve missed but still nothing. With a quiet thud, you threw yourself onto your bed, continuing to scroll yet not finding a moment that excuse his lack of invitation.

“Guess m’ just not cool enough for these anymore.” “Did he take the fish? If you took Henry I swear I’ll rip your soft purple hair right out of your head.” You glance once more at your desk and bury your face into your comforter to let out a boisterously loud groan.

“Homework. Right! Maybe that's why he didn't invite me!”

You look into a nearby reflection with an expression desperate for approval yet you only end up with loud silence and a realization that you look insane. Focusing on your homework doesn't seem that bad anymore. The walk back to your chair is a silent one, thanks to that you were able to catch the quick footsteps from your door. Did whoever just got home hear all of that? Counting your blessings for finding yet another distraction to the assignment you were putting off, you head towards the door hoping to catch the spy. Opening it you weren't expecting to find Levi, much less with a giftbag from the event.

“Were you–” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, embarrassed that he’d been caught so quickly. “On the phone? Y-Yknow’ with someone?”

Had he heard all of the self-deprecating monologuing you spewed? Oh, no. 

“No! No. Levi, I was just…” You trail off, talking quietly with newfound paranoia of being eavesdropped on. “Talking to myself. Obviously.”

Great. That sounded insincere! The demon shifts the weight on his feet awkwardly as his hands fidget with the gift bag in his hands. “Oh, okay. I was just wondering since it– uhm– sounded like you were on the phone.” Poor boy… “I dunno’ I’m probably just being stupid.”

Your face softens as you hear his words. You two were too similar sometimes, sympathy was almost inevitable. Taking his trembling hands in yours you peek up at him through his bangs.

“What’s this, Levi?” “For not– not inviting you. It was supposed to be a surprise.” Ohhhh…

“Levi!” Your arms soon find themselves wrapped around his neck, overcome with emotion as you pull him close. You note he runs cold and that he smells like linen and a day at the beach. “I’m so sorry. I thought– maybe you were over me coming to events like this.”

“No! Never! You’re my– my Henry.” Levi flushed at the sudden spike in intimacy between the two of you. How he was able to keep it together this long was beyond him. “I just figured you were too busy for another event so I’d bring you something special” 

His free hand clutched your shirt to keep you close as if he’d let go and wake up from this dream where a normie and an otaku could get so close without a rip in the space-time continuum. Yet again, he supposed over time you became so much more than just a normie to him.

“It’s amazing Levi. Thank you!”

Worth it!

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Note: OKAYYY I know the fic that won the poll isn't technically my first fic. This one's kinda like a pilot episode? They're also all long kinda so that's why there's two parts soz be nice to me please

Feedback + constructive criticism is appreciated !!!

[kirain]

Rook shaving Emmrich's mustache for him?

I also threw in some spice and hurt/comfort.

The water ran cold as Emmrich splashed it over his face, the biting chill pulling him from the mire of his thoughts. With slightly trembling fingers, he wiped a thin layer of shaving cream over his jaw, then paused to glance at his reflection. Even after a bath, he looked unkempt and hollow. His beard had grown in, scraggly and uneven, eclipsing his once distinctive moustache; his hair, usually gelled and neatly combed, hung limp and disheveled over his forehead; and the dark circles under his eyes hadn't yet faded.

This was not the man Vae had fallen in love with. This was a man undone.

His stomach churned as he recalled the exact moment she disappeared into the Fade, the soundless, heart-wrenching void that followed still haunting him. Now that she was back, alive and safe, it should have been enough, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd failed her. That he'd been powerless when it mattered most.

"She deserves better than this," he muttered to himself, gripping the razor tightly.

As the blade slid down his cheek, pleasant memories flashed in his head—Vae's laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him, the warmth of her hand in his. Then, the memories shifted: the sight of her being dragged into the unknown, her voice calling out his name before it was swallowed by silence, the paralysing confusion and helplessness.

Days turned into weeks as he threw himself into forging a new lyrium dagger—a desperate, sleepless pursuit to cut through the Veil and bring her home. Every failed attempt threatened to snap his sanity, his workshop cluttered with half-forged blades and inferior enchantments. He pushed himself to the brink, hoping, praying he could succeed. But with each passing night, lying awake and staring at the ceiling, the fear crept deeper.

She was gone, and she was never coming back. He would never see her again.

She was dead.

Suddenly, a sharp sting pulled him from his stupor, the razor clattering to the sink. A mistake he hadn't made since he was a teenager—he'd nicked his cheek. Blood welled along the fresh cut, a dark contrast to the pale cream still smeared across his face; a vivid reminder of his carelessness.

"Emmrich?"

Her voice. Soft and steady, like a balm to his frayed nerves. He turned to see Vae standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of shock and concern. Yet, she looked radiant as ever, her presence filling the room like sunlight after a devastating storm.

"Vae..." He tried to hide the cut with his hand, but she was already walking towards him.

"Let me see," she said, gently pulling his hand away. Her fingers brushed his cheek, tender and sure, as she inspected the wound. "Never seen you do that," she teased, though her worry remained.

"It's nothing," he muttered.

"It's bleeding." Quickly, she pressed a clean cloth to the cut, her movements firm but delicate. "Emmrich, what's wrong? You haven't been yourself since we got back."

His resolve crumbled under her gaze, a quiet whimper escaping. "My love, I didn't handle your disappearance well," he admitted, his breath catching. "I thought I'd lost you, and I'm... scared I'll lose you again."

Vae's frown curved into a small, understanding smile. "Sit," she said, grabbing the razor from the sink.

Emmrich cast her a curious glance, but he obliged, sitting on the edge of the tub. The scent of his santal and black cardamom soap still lingered in the air, drawing a soft, approving hum from Vae as she straddled his lap. The intimacy was sudden, but welcome as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. As their bodies joined, her legs dangling behind him, she caught his chin between her fingers and tilted his head.

"No one can know the future," she said, her tone condoling. Slowly, she brought the razor to his face, her touch feather-light as she dragged the blade over his skin. "I'll never leave you on purpose. You know that. But if something does happen... you can't fall apart like this. Please, Emmrich. You need to take care of yourself."

"I know." He closed his eyes as she carefully scraped away the stubble, the act feeling more like a soothing caress than a chore. "I just can't bear the thought of living without you, my love."

Vae paused before placing her hand over his heart, willing him to look at her. When their eyes met she whispered, "I'll always be with you, Emmrich. And you'll always be with me. But one day..."

She trailed off, if only to spare his feelings, but Emmrich finished the words she wouldn't say. "One day... one of us won't be coming back from the Fade."

The thought made his chest ache, but he knew he had to accept it, and that he had to live on in spite of it. Yet, he couldn't shake the suffocating stab of panic, the vignette that circled his vision, the debilitating loneliness.

One day she would be gone—her voice, her touch, her; a fleeting moment in time, reduced to a memory. Or one day he would be gone, missing out on every laugh, on every smile, on every aspect of her life, unable to share it.

"That's why we have to cherish every moment we have together," Vae said, as if reading his mind.

The sentiment eased his tension, her thumb tracing the crease between his ribs. Though his throat remained tight, his breathing relaxed, the sensation relentlessly euphoric. She always knew exactly how to touch him, exactly what to say.

"Vae..."

"Hold still."

With a knowing smirk, she finished her task, gliding the razor over his skin with perfect precision. The moustache was trickier, more complex, but she managed, molding it the way he liked it.

Once finished, she grabbed a nearby towel, ran it under the tap, and wiped away the remnants of cream, exposing his freshly shaven face.

"There's my handsome man," she said, cupping his bare cheeks. "Not that you looked bad with a beard."

"I looked ridiculous," he chuckled, the sound tinged with both affection and relief. Then he reached up, gingerly tucking her hair behind her ear. "I love you, Vae."

"I love you, too." She leaned in, and their lips met in a passionate kiss, one so hungry she nearly knocked him back into the tub. "Take a bath with me?" she breathed, her pulse racing.

"But I already—" He smiled, reaching for her sash. "As you say."

For the first time in weeks, Emmrich felt whole again, the weight of his fear melting away in her embrace.

[stereksimp]

*It's the first night after the Void was captured. When Stiles wakes up screaming from a nightmare. He feels arms wrap around him and whispered words that he's safe now, but those are not his dad's arms or his voice. Is that a rumbling purr he hears?*

*When he opens his eyes, he's not in his room, where he fell asleep a few hours ago. He's standing in the middle of Derek's loft with said man hold him.*

Stiles: What is going on? Why am I here? How did I get here?

*The soft whispers of safty stop, but he does not release his arms or stop the purring.*

Derek: You were having a nightmare. I don't know why you're here, but for how you got here. Well, you popped in suddenly.

*Stile's heart rate is slowing down, and the smell of fear is being replaced by curiosity, so he lets the boy go and takes a step back.*

Stiles: What do you mean popped in suddenly? It doesn't feel like I walked all the way here, and I certainly did drive. Dad still has my keys.

Derek: No... you appeared here out of nowhere. You smell like magic, too.

Stiles: So I just what teleported in at 2 am. Wait, why were you awake to see me teleport in?

* He takes in Derek's appearance now. He has his shoes on and his patented leather jacket, and the keys to the Camaro are on the floor by his feet. At the sight, his heart rate starts racing again.*

Stiles: *a little frantic* Where are you going?

Derek: Nowhere.

Stiles: You are awake at 2 a.m., ready to walk out that door. *he bends down and grabs the keys, getting mad at Derek's blatant lie.* You were going to leave town, weren't you.

Derek: What. No. Ugh.

Derek: I was heading over to check on you, ok.

*Stiles' shoulders relax at that.*

Stiles: Oh. I should get back home then. Thanks for this.

*As he turns to leave Derek grabs his wrist lightly.*

Derek: You have no way to get home right now. Why don't you just sleep for a bit, then I'll take you home in the morning.

Stiles: ok, yeah, thanks.

*Before he makes I past Derek to head to the couch, Derek directs him over to the bed instead.*

Derek: You'll sleep better here.

*After Stiles lays down, Derek grabs a blanket and heads to the couch.*

*Stiles buries his head in Derek's pillows, and surprisingly, he is asleep in the next moment. Derek falls asleep listening to the calm, quiet breaths of Stiles sleeping.*

*In the morning, Stiles wakes up to voices talking. He lays there listening.*

Derek: I'm not sure, sir. He just appeared here last night after a nightmare, so I calmed him down and let him sleep here. I was going to bring him back after he woke up. If I may, how did you know he was here?

Sheriff: Oh. This isn't the first time I have found him here after he fell asleep at home. Back before you came back, I got a few calls from deputies at night about my son walking down the street in his pajamas. He was sleep walking, so I just had them follow him to make sure he stayed safe. Every time he came here. I would come find him sleeping in front of your door and bring him home. He never woke up, so he didn't know. It only happened a couple of times, so when I woke up for shift this morning and he wasn't in his bed, I just came here.

Derek: You should tell him. He deserves to know.

Sheriff: It's too soon. I'll just scared him.

Derek: Why don't you go to work and I'll make sure he gets home safely.

Sheriff: Thanks, Derek. Have him call me later.

*After the Sheriff leave Stiles sits up staring at the door.*

Stiles: You knew I was awake. Thanks.

Derek: *shrugs* You would only freak out more if you didn't have all the facts.

*Stiles smiles a bit for the first time in a while.*

[mrchiipchrome]

New Girlfriend

W.C. - 1.8 k

prompt 18. -Only I belong with you and only you babe.

prompt 20. -I hope you find peace for yourself, -New girlfriend ain’t gonna fill the void.

a/n: 1. I only know how to intrduce myself in Spanish, so excuse if it's wrong, 2. there's a list of prompts linked in my masterlist if you want to request:)

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

3 years. You had just spent three damn years loving someone who was willing to chuck all that away in a second. Three wonderful years tarnished in the span of a minute, just because she decided that you weren’t enough for her.

Just because Alexia decided she was bored, of you and of your relationship.

When she just a week ago told you that you were done, over text nonetheless, you simply couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Everything was going so well, she hadn’t given you any indication of being unhappy whatsoever.

When the shock passed, the despair set in. What could you possibly have done to warrant being broken up with that way? Had you really been that bad of a girlfriend?

The thundering crack of your phone screen hitting the floor marks your breaking point, curling up into a ball on the floor and sobbing until nothing more comes out. 

You’re not even surprised that she doesn’t return back to the shared apartment you once saw as your home, now everything was just a reminder of her and how she’d been yours only seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks before.

And no matter how much you cry, how much secretly wearing her hoodies tears a hole in your heart all over again, you know that she’s not yours anymore. You’ll never feel her feather light touch late at night again, never feel her lips pressing against yours again, never feel her nails scratching at your back.

Her new girlfriend was so much prettier than you, kinder eyes, glossier hair, better lashes, bigger tits, rounder ass. How could you ever compare to that?

Seeing her face everyday at training had you close to breaking down in tears, every look into your favorite pair of eyes bringing you that much closer to the edge.

The only way for you to not fold in two every single second you spend in her presence, is to outright ignore her. 

Something she doesn’t take too kindly to.

Dragging your feet against the floor, you’re instantly reminded of how Alexia used to chastise you for doing that exact thing.

All of a sudden, you can feel your shoulder being pulled on harshly. Stumbling back into the body of the mystery person, you can feel the familiar curves under your fingertips, her fingers clutching painfully at your shoulder. 

“Can we talk?” She rasps out, staring into your eyes with an indescribable amount of venom. The way she was looking at you, you’d think you were the one who broke up with her over text.

“No” Pulling your shoulder away from her iron vise grip, she doesn’t even get a glance in her direction.

“No te alejes de mi Y/n, you do not walk away from me.” Her thick spanish accent covers the english words, the once charming zing of her accent now only making you want to throw up.

“There’s nothing to talk about Alexia. You broke up with me over text, you didn’t even have the decency to look me in the eyes as you threw away 3 years.” Now it was her turn to not look you in the eyes, turning her eyes down to the sidewalk. 

“Say something then Alexia, that’s what you wanted to do right, talk.” You see how her lips move but no words come out, almost like she was expecting you to just lay down and admit defeat. Foolish of her.

“Good talk Alexia, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and, don’t forget to pick your things up from the apartment.” Turning on your heel, you feel her stare into the back of your head.

“Will you stop being so sour? I broke up with you a month ago, get over it!” She screams after you.

“Are you that far removed from reality Alexia? You think a MONTH heals your heart from being crushed?” You shoot back, in disbelief at her lack of knowledge of feelings.

“Dios mío Y/n, I hope you find peace for yourself” She tells you calmly, feelings spilling into her voice despite her attempt at composure.

“You do know that a new girlfriend ain’t going to fill the void right? She’s not going to love you like I do, like I did, she’s not going to be there for you like I was. When you realize that, you will come crawling back to me.” You spit back at her, equal amount of emotion in your voice as in hers.

When you turn away from her this time, you actually walk away from her and to your car, driving away from her and the argument. 

That evening is spent drowning your sorrows in ice cream and Alexia’s old very expensive wine. She wouldn’t miss it, she’s got 1000 other things to worry about.

Foolishly, in your drunken stupor you decided that it was a brilliant idea to agree to a night out with the team…including Alexia.

The anticipation of that Sunday night created a lump of anxiety that sat uncomfortably in your stomach, growing like a balloon being blown up until it fully consumed you. 

Foot tapping against the floor, you check your watch for the umpteenth time, fingers starting to fiddle with the buttons on your shirt. You were sure that the loose button would manage to come off before Pina and Patri would pull up, the two planning on getting drunk beyond recognition.

Sucking your teeth, you accidentally bite down on your tongue when you hear the loud noise of the car’s horn.

“HOLA Y/N” Patri shouts in your face directly after you’ve sat down in the backseat, the young girl reeking of alcohol.

“Someone’s already started the party, ey?” You get out through a hesitant chuckle, Pina meeting your eyes through the rearview mirror. 

Without much fuss, you all get to the venue, though the ball of pure anxiety was settling in your throat uncomfortably. The confidence you had only days ago was long gone, nervous picking at your fingers showcasing that.

When you stepped foot in that bar, the smell of alcohol and far too strong perfume hit your nose, overwhelming all your senses.

Yet everything seems to calm as soon as you catch sight of your ex, simply put she looked out of this world. 

No, you tell yourself, I can’t think of her like that anymore.

“Y/n/n let’s go to the bar, I need something to drink!” Pina close to shouts directly into your ear, the young girl clutching onto your right arm like her life depended on it.

You let yourself be pulled along by the two younger girls, setting your body down in one of the barstools, Pina and Patri each hanging off your shoulders. They each order their drinks, waiting for you to do the same.

“Just a coke please” The bartender sent you a quick wink before moving away, Thing 1 and Thing 2 ohhhh-ing loudly. 

“Your drinks ladies!” The pretty bartender hands you the glasses, your coke still in its glass container. Before you leave to join your friends, the woman slides you a piece of paper, her number written on it.

The blush stays on your face all the way until you reach the large table, ready to put your bottle down on the table. It seems like a certain someone was waiting for you to rid yourself off it before pulling you away from the rest.

“Hey, leave me alone!” You shout, not having seen the face of your perpetrator, but the nails digging into your arm gave you a slight indication as to who it was.

Next thing you know, you’re being pushed up against a wall, familiar lips locking with your own. Alexia presses her body up against yours tightly, leaving as small of a space between your bodies as she could.

Pulling your lips away from hers, you quickly wipe your sticky lips.

“Alexia, what are you doing?” The absolute disbelief in your voice makes her look at you like you were stupid.

“I saw how that fucking bartender was hitting on you, I had to send her a message. Only I belong with you and only you amor” She’s got a smug smirk on her face, looking back at the stunned bartender.

“No, Alexia, you broke up with me. You don’t get to do that because we’re not together anymore, I am not yours Alexia. I can date and fuck whoever I want, and you can’t do anything about that and it’s your fault.”

Walking away from her, like you’d done only days before, she once again calls out for you.

“You were right, she wasn’t like you. I have no explanation for why I did what I did, but I just want to apologise, it wasn’t…fair of me.” Her pauses between some of the words show how she’s truly trying her best to apologise.

“I want you back Y/n” You couldn’t even lie to her, say that you didn’t want to get back together, because it was the only thing you’d been thinking about these last few weeks.

Sighing, you look at your watch, before taking her hand and pulling her out of the doors. The cold evening air nips at your skin as you start to talk.

“You broke me Ale, and it’s going to take awhile to make up for that. If we’re getting back together then it’s on my terms, okay?” Alexia nods vigorously, she’d clearly do anything to get you back.

“Can I kiss you?” The timidness in her voice has you close to awwww-ing, leaning back against the brickwall while Alexia leans against the railing parallel to you.

Her intense gaze stays on you as you rest your head back against the cold hardened clay, exhaling through slightly chapped lips. The cloud that forms in the air presents the contrast between the warmth of your body and the cold of the night.

“That’s all I want” This time your lips lock in a calm dance, all the feelings of sorrow and longing being expressed in a single kiss.

"How about we get out of here?” Her hands lay flat against your chest, fiddling slightly with the material of your shirt. A slight chuckle escapes you, making Alexia look up at you through her eyelashes.

“Oh, amor I’m driving Thing 1 and Thing 2 home. I promised them I’d stay over at their place and take care of them after.” You kiss her hairline as she herself chuckles.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, she places her head on your chest, the vibrations of the tune you were humming sending her heart into overdrive.

“But we could stay out here for a while instead, I like having you back in my arms.” The only response you get is a kiss pressed to the column of your neck.

It would take a while for Alexia to get you back, it didn’t matter if it took 10 days or 10 years, as long as she got you back. 

[thesamoanqueen]

Anatomy of an affair

Warnings: age-gap (but we keep it legal), cheating.

A/N: I was talking to @alyyaanna and the anatomy professor's idea took control, I couldn't resist, so this one for her. It will have a sequel, this is just part 1.

They say the secret of a good relationship is friendship, I had scientifically proven that this wasn't the case being a test subject all my life. Tobert and I had grown up in the same neighborhood in Pendleton South Carolina, two nearby houses, our families loved each other, we went to school together, hung out with the same group of friends, we even broke our arms together – it was his fault –. For everyone we were two soul mates linked, it was inevitable in some way. We had done everything together our whole lives, the most mundane things and the first shameful experiences. Our relationship on paper was destined for success, absolute, overwhelming, our faces under the heading "goal couple", at least until I decided to study medicine in Boston and he stayed in our hometown. Our paths had separated for just three months before he had a bad accident at his uncle's construction company, he had begged me, it had been a tough decision, but I had agreed to come back to support him. But now that I had finally taken control of my life, in my second actual year of studies, Tobert was boycotting everything again.

For the entire previous year I had thought he was trying to distract himself from the void I had left in his life, filling it with trips and nights with co-workers and friends, but looking back I had been kidding myself. Our parents called every day to find out when we were getting married and if I would be home soon, but from him? Oh, well, a few calls, always short, couple of messages, often stupid ones, and a facetime on weekend for some creepy phone sex. He didn't come to visit me, he didn't organize anything when I returned home, for my last birthday he sent me a package with a sweater I suspected he hadn't chosen. And now, after months of tolerating it, I saw him in an IG story with a chick’s ass in his face.

- "Good Lord man!"

- "Sav have you seen? Sav?"

What I could see was that he was even enjoying it! He had the same stupid face of an old man who can't read the newspaper, the one has been in my face since we were fifteen, ending our moments like commercials on TV in his father's garage.

- "What’s with that face? Sav is it everything okay?"

- "Savannah…"

I had felt guilty for wanting to start again and leaving him behind, I was working hard to finish and return home, I had always pushed away the instinct that told me I deserved more and instead he was living his best life without worrying about hiding it. His behaviour was not somekind of abandonment syndrome, it was just one of his bullshit and evidences were everywhere. I was a freking clown, our relationship was a joke I had wanted to believe alone because after so many years it seemed impossible to think of anyone else to me, when he was simply used to having me there at his disposal and now he thought was free. I had wasted my life and almost burned my future…

Realization hit me in the cafeteria, my colleagues staring at me like at some psycopath and rightly so, because when the next story popped up on the screen, I snapped.

- "That asshole!" – my scream echoed throughout the entire hall, overcoming the chatter that always filled it.

The sudden silence that followed and the hand one of my friends smashed against my arm brought me back suddenly, but by then it was late. I had just made the scene I would probably always be remembered for. Standing with my latte dripping onto the couch and music now playing in the background like a bad theme for my drama, I saw dozens of eyes staring at me.

- "... Sav what’s you problem?! We got company... get your ass over here!" – my roommate whispered in a panic, nodding towards the two men who had been about to leave.

In slow motion I saw them both looking at me and to humiliation was added absolute terror when without thinking I raised my hand to wave an embarrassed greeting, restarting Tobert's story. Oh, they would definitely remember me for that scene.

There wasn't a person on the entire campus who didn't know about my performance and the worst thing certainly wasn't the rumors but rather pity looks, plus the extra tasks I had agreed to do to clean up my reputation and keep myself busy. I hadn't received any formal warning, not even a comment, but I didn't want to risk ruining my career after having already dropped out in the past. The idea of losing the opportunity of a lifetime to someone who had already gotten more than he deserved from me drove me crazy.

Tobert hadn't commented, probably his two brain cells hadn't yet met to discuss what to do or they didn't think it was serious, but I had clear ideas and I had chosen to run the circus, patiently planning the day I would have kicked him with my degree.

So armed with good will and courage I marched across campus with my head held high, ready to face my demons and regain total control. It was almost time for the anatomy course to start and I planned to pass with top marks, but to do so I also had to make sure that the new professor didn't just remember me for screaming that day in front of him and his predecessor. My friends talked about him constantly, but I didn't have time for gossip, I had to seem like the right person to invest in for the future of medicine. When I arrived in front of his studio, however, my intention seemed less simple than expected. The entire aisle had been assaulted by a crowd of students, mostly girls. If I had suffered from amnesia, I would have thought I was at a concert or among a nymphomaniacs cult. We weren't in California, those outfits were definitely out of season as well as indecent, what’s was wrong with all of them?

- "Do you think he will receive today?"

- "Ah, I hope so! I want to see him so bad!"

Forced to wait like everyone else, I caught up with the gossip I had refused to hear from my friends, discovering the new professor was not only charming, but also young and free, which explained the cult. I also sadly discovered firsthand he hated receiving students and from what I saw he didn't even respect the time when he should have been forced to do so. Sitting in my chair, I waited twice as long before seeing the other students go away resignedly with their tiny blouses and too short skirts, deciding to spending my time finishing the chemistry project I had to hand in the following week. With my head down and fixed not to give up, I continued typing on my keyboard until two voices distracted me.

- "You can't take care of it alone, it's not necessary and you shouldn't at all" – I knew Mr. Heyman, he was an authority everywhere thanks to his investments and was often in the area because of his daughter, as well as a good friend of the rector.

The other man with him, I had only seen him on the day of my drama and I must not have seen him well due to the shock, because if I had I would not have given dirty looks to all the girls who had waited for him with me. Was he really a professor? Since when were professors like that?! You couldn't be like that, it was disorienting, didn’t help to the teaching process.

- "I should find someone but I don't have time to waste, Paul" – he complained and his voice sent a shiver through my body as I watched them reach the door in front of me.

- "I could ask, I have some friends, I'm sure there will be many smart guys who would be honored to do it, extra credits or not."

- "I will do it."

I said without thinking, lost in thoughts I shouldn't have been having, and they both turned to look at me, just as confused and surprised by the interruption as I was.

I had planned to introduce myself, ask a few questions, apologize for the bad first impression and now I had just made another one, listening to conversations that didn't concern me, without even saying hello, volunteering for who knows what next. Perfect.

Once the confusion was over, Mr. Heyman looked at me with interest, almost analyzing me, and I quickly tried to put myself together, putting everything away to get up.

- "And you are?" – He asked, his hands hidden in the pockets of his elegant suit.

- "Savannah Naïs Simon. Among the best in my class" – I introduced myself without hesitation and once again mentally scolded myself.

Now I even praised myself?! I usually handled the pressure well, for that kind of career it was indispensable, after all, but all of a sudden I was making one misstep after another and I couldn't afford it, not now. Tobert wasn't there to screw things, I had no excuses, it was my time, it was up to me. Head held high, nerves strong, that's what I needed.

- "Among the best doesn't mean the best" – Mr. Heyman cut me off, shaking his head – "and we have to check it too. I'll make a call."

Struck dumb, I quickly tried to think of something, anything, to make my case. The other professors would have confirmed, but what would I look like standing there waiting for their help?

- "It's no use" – however, Professor Reigns, who had watched until that moment, stopped us both.

His voice really played tricks on my body, but when my eyes met his it was even worse. His expression conveyed nothing, I couldn't imagine what he was thinking, but he exuded authority and there was something magnetic about him, the kind of man capable of changing the atmosphere with just his presence.

- "Are you sure?" – he heard Mr. Heyman ask him, finally stopping looking at me.

- "I’ll take her" – he established, checking me for a brief moment and I held my breath without even realizing it.

He will… take me? for doing what? And was it positive or…

- "We start tomorrow morning" – he said, addressing me directly.

- "I will be on time" – I promised, even if he had already turned his back to me to open the door, Mr. Heyman following him without paying any more attention to me.

- "No phone Miss Simon" – he advised from afar, just before I was left completely alone in the aisle and I distinctly felt the weight of the entire campus falling on me.

I had risked making another scene, I had volunteered for something I didn't even know what it was, I would have had to move lessons to keep my word and I would have thrown away even the amount of time I had left to sleep. And once again that wasn't the worst, but the fact he remembered and had already targeted me before I could even apologize.

What awaited me was a role as an assistant for the entire duration of the course, but I only found out the following day, after spending the whole night awake. I wouldn't have much time to do anything else, it was clear from the first moment, but I had no intention of backing out after having volunteered. It wasn't just a way to make up for my bad impression, it was an opportunity for which anyone else would have gladly given an organ, I myself would have done so - who needed two kidneys? One was enough - and that would certainly help my career, I was lucky. Professor Reigns was a successful doctor, he had changed the landscape of pathological anatomy with his works and his presence was an honor for the university. Admissions to his course were closed after just one day and the program specified that a selection would still be made by him personally. Assisting him and observing how he worked could have given me a great advantage in the selection phase and that was what I was aiming for. Memorizing had always been my thing, but anatomy was much more than listing body parts.

However, reality once again did not correspond to my expectations and in the following three days, I felt more like a secretary than an assistant, with alla those emails and calls. He always arrived early and most of the time I found him sitting at his desk, looking at personal documents and boxes full of medical records. He worked with his head down for hours, often without speaking or taking a break, which wasn't good for my ambition, but at least it helped me not to get distracted because the rare times I saw him looking at me were a test of mental resistance.

His presence demanded attention, his imposing body promised what it shouldn't with the most banal gestures like a pen between his fingers. Calling him a good-looking man would have been an insult, the world was full of handsome and insignificant men, but he had something vaguely frightening, something I had never tasted before and it awakened an almost primordial impulse in me.

The sound of someone knocking on the door brought me out of my thoughts and I quickly straightened up, hoping nothing in me would give me away. I couldn't think about certain things, I wasn't there to daydream about affairs, not when my future was in play and my lifelong boyfriend had cheated on me. A student I had seen a couple of times appeared in the doorway, wearing a lab coat, a deep neckline underneath. Her blue eyes scanned the room where I was in search of what interested her and which was instead sitting in the near room.

- "I know it's not reception hour, but is the professor over there? I would like to talk to him in private about some things" – she said without even trying too hard to simulate and I batted my eyelashes at her, fascinated and annoyed at her courage before stopping her.

- "Unfortunately he is busy. If it’s important you can ask via email or otherwise wait for the course to start. Lessons start tomorrow morning, the time and place are already confirmed" – I anticipated, getting a reproachful look.

- "I need to see him now."

Oh, I could imagine it and I would have complimented the clever attempt to show up when no one was waiting if she hadn't been trying to call me dumb.

- "Can I help you now?" – I proposed without getting too upset and she seemed on the verge of losing her patience.

- "Can I have an appointment?"

- "Sure, I'll put you on the list."

I didn't see her expression, she was probably furious, but she didn't give me time, huffing her disappointment out of the studio, leaving me with the agenda in my hand. I closed it with a heavy breath, putting it back in my bag, where I had been advised to keep it so that it was always with me and never unattended. When I raised my head I almost had a heart attack, discovering Professor Reigns intent on staring at me from his desk, hands crossed, his expression curious.

- "I'm busy?" – he inquired and his low, rough voice made my neck tingle.

I hadn't told a lie, he was busy. He worked on those medical records all day, there was always some document on which he kept his eyes glued. Why was he staring at me like that? Maybe I shouldn't have spoken before asking yes, but my intentions weren't bad, I was trying to be helpful.

- "With the material for the research project and the visit to the rector this afternoon, plus I don't think she really had any questions" – I explained, clenching my fists praying that I could use them against myself because it would have been much better.

I spoke without being involved, I made decisions independently, now I also commented and implied. The unkind thoughts I'd had about Tobert were backfiring on me, bad karma.

- "Is that so?" – Professor Reigns asked curiously, leaning back in his chair and knowing for a fact it was better keep my mouth closed, I nodded, returning to look at my laptop in silence hoping to not have to explain anything else.

I couldn't talk about those things with a professor, someone who could have mentored me, it didn't matter if there wasn't that much of an age gap between us and we ended up on the topic. It was an off limits talk and I tried to focus on the topics outline he would analyze the following day during the first lesson, it had to be detailed and precise, but I couldn't even read what I had summarized until five minutes before.

- "Savannah right?" – I heard my name being called and even more shocked, I watched him finally get up from his desk to join me – "you want to be a cardiologist"

- "How... who"- I spluttered in surprise and putting hands in his pockets, he smiled at me amused.

A smile that would have knocked anyone out, perfect and soft, so incredibly unexpected on an authority figure like him. For three days he had paid almost no attention to me, only addressing me as necessary as Miss. Simon and I had never hoped for more than that, because of our first meeting and his role. Plus not many people knew my goal, after giving up and coming back was something I had learned to keep to myself.

- "Paul is a friend of mine and the rector's. He has his people. He was doubtful at first, but he thought better of it after a few calls and was right as always. You're doing a good job" – he replied, clarifying the doubts I wasn't even able to express and I felt my stomach tighten with emotion.

I knew I shouldn't expect recognition, not in such a competitive environment and when I was a nobody, but it was nice to know my effort was being noticed. Noticed moreover by people of that level. It was a rush of positive energy I really needed to give value to my sacrifices and know investing in myself was the right thing. Tobert and this sort of incestuous relationship we'd had had tried to screw everything, but I was still in the running.

- "I do my best, it's an honor" – I said enthusiastically, matching the smile he had given me, but he raised a hand to stop me, swinging his head.

- "Let's leave this out, I need support and an objective opinion at every lesson. I'm not a real professor, I'm a doctor, but it's an opportunity and everyone has something to pass on. Do you think you can do it, without distractions?" – He asked, throwing another dig at me, but this time I quickly got over it, nodding immediately.

At that point I would have done anything he asked me, I couldn't refuse him anything. It had been three days as a secretary, ignored and perpetually under pressure, but I had passed the test, I had earned his trust. He really wanted me to become his assistant now, he asked for my opinion even though we weren't equals in that field. Screw karma, I had already won in life at that point!

- "I can give my word Sir" – I promised and once again that smile appeared on his perfect face.

- "Good girl" – he approved, before leaving me again.

Those two words rang in my ears right inside my head, as dangerous as a spell and I had the impression of feeling my blood warm, while my body suddenly came alive and melted at the idea of having deserved that pet name. Subconsciously, I scratched my notebook, legs clenched under the desk as I watched the profile of his massive back. We had had an important moment and there I was holding my breath for something that Tobert had never in a lifetime been able to give me, after two words said without any intention.

I saw Mr. Reigns sit back down, rolling his shoulders with ease as he resumed whatever had occupied him before our chat. His eyes searched me one last time and a part of me that shouldn't have throbbed around nothing, making me lower my head to the lesson plan.

I was imagining it, it was in my head and it had to disappear as soon as possible.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @headoftheetable @sortudademais

[unspeakable-imagination]

Not My Girl || Logan, Wade x reader

Cw: use of alcohol, sad Logan. It's just sad angst. That's it I think. Not proofread.

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My masterlist is here and my requests are open

Logan's time with wade had been eventful, to say the least. Despite how he made it look, he actually enjoyed his time with his found family. It had only been a few days since they'd come home from the whole debacle with the TVA and void, and Wade was sitting, squished against his thigh, completely ignoring the cushions that were free on the other side of the sofa. He was going on and on, and nothing of the topic really caught his attention. Until now.

“I forgot to tell you about my girlfriend. Oh my god,” he gasped. “I haven't told you about.he her. How could I forget to tell you about her?” Logan finally turned his head to acknowledge Wade. “Oh that caught your attention? Didn't think it would after the argument we had about my stripper ex in the Honda.” Wade patted his pockets and grabbed his phone from the pink pajama bottoms. He swiped over the cracked, taped screen and unlocked his phone before he showed Logan the screen.

Logan Felt his heart drop to his stomach as he gazed at your familiar face. He swallowed Thickly and blinked away his surprise before he looked to Wade. “She's beautiful. She- I, What's her name?” He was double checking if you were who he thought he was.

“[Name], isn't it nice? She's a mutant, too. Shes” wade words faded out as Logan stared at the picture. It was really you. Back in his world, before the incident, you were two peas in a pod. Lovers. You'd never made it official, which was Logan's downfall. He never told you how much he loved you and he'd regretted it every day until Wade brought him home. This place was a new start for him, and he used that idealogy to push down every thought he had of you and lock it away in the deepest parts of his mind.

Wade's phone screen timed out and he noticed, putting it on the coffee table.

“Honestly, I Think i want you to meet her. She couldn't come during the party, she was working the night shift.”

“Is she another stripper?” Wade gasped at Logans comment.

“Oh god no,” he clapped his hands together. “She's a teacher at the night college for adults. She helps teach a lot of immigrants seeking citizenship, and when she's not teaching that class, she's teaching kick-boxing to the kids at a dojo just a few miles away.” She sighed and looked off to the side of the room, making some remark about how generous and kind the reader was before he put his attention back on his roommate.

“She hardly gets a day off. I think her first day off is tomorrow. It's been like two weeks.” Logan quirked a brow, suddenly invested in your life here.

“You'll let me meet her tomorrow?” Wade nodded.

“Yeah, I'll find us A cozy place. There is this underground pizza place. Really nice, I'm thinking about that.”he scratched his head.

Logan hadn't had pizza in years. He hadn't seen you in years. He began to wonder. Had you known him in his world? Were you with him in this world before he died? Would you love him the way you used to? He flexed His fingers, fidgeting to relieve his growing anxiety. He bent them down and popped his knuckles. Wade looked down, still talking.

Loagan stood, coming to his senses as Wade slipped off his thigh, falling towards the armrest. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To take a shower, I'm realizing I really, really need one.”

Wade seemed to have forgotten to mention that the pizza place was also a bar. He sat across from him in a booth, a pizza on the way. They were both waiting for your arrival. The bell above the door jingled and Wade's expression lifted. Logan turned, twisting to look at you. You were dressed in a simple pair of black slacks and a pastel yellow button up. You wore dainty silver jewelry and had a black faux leather bag hanging of one shoulder. You waved at Wade, not even seeing Logan behind the booth seats backing. Your face glowed and your eyes twinkled as you slid into the seat next to Wade, giving him a peck against his cheek. You turned your attention to Logan and stretched your arm over the table to shake his hand.

“Logan, Wade's told me so much about you. Truly, you sound like a great friend to him.” He blew a breath he didn't know he was holding ad he shook your hand.

“Wade didn't even mention you till today. He seemed to have forgotten you while we were in the void.” His words were partially mumbles, But you understood him and broke into a fit of laughter. Logan's heart swelled knowing he made you laugh.

“Hey, stop. I didn't forget about her, I was trying to save the universe? Marvel Jesus?” Wade looked offended as he looked to you.

“No, no, That sounds like you.” he watched your hand lay flatly and Wade's chest and he felt his previous Pride deflate. Perhaps you didn't love him like you did in the other world. He watched as you slid you hand over to the other side and leaned over to him, laying your head on his shoulder. “It's okay, pookie,” you said playfully. “I'll love you even if you forget me.”

Logan Felt awkward, like a third wheel, but his momentary bout of disappointment was put to a swift end when a piping pizza dish slid onto the table. It was a sixteen-inch split into three sections, one with pineapple for Wade, a meat-lovers for Logan, and a mushroom, olive, and chicken for you. You jumped off of Wade's chest and your hand flew to a slice of pizza. Logan watched as you hastily took a bite and hum at the taste. You were enthralled with the pizza and already eating, practically inhaling. Wade and Logan each grabbed their own slices, but logan lost himself, chewing at the same pace as you. He felt like it made him just a hair closer to you. it made him believe He was with you, instead of you with wade. Wade, despite his full mouth, was babbling about the day. You looked away from your boyfriend and focused on Logan.

“So you came from Another universe, like ours- but different? What was yours like?” Logan stiffened. Right now the only differences he's been aw To think if, was the fact that you were with him- not Wade. Deadpool didn't even exist where he came from.

“Uh, the world is alot darker,” he said, looking directly at you. “It's less colorful. It's like the life was sucked out of it. Alot of my friends are gone. Alot of pain has been left behind. People are diffrent.” His face turned awkward and his lips pursed as he shifted his gaze away. “It's not something I don't like to talk about.” You nodded, understanding. It seemed like a sore topic for him, so you dropped that topic.

The rest of the night at the pizza bar passed without a hitch. For the most part. Logan had ended up ordering so many beers that the staff had cut him off, even though he wasn't drunk. After that, the three of you returned to Wade's apartment and settled on the sofa, The merc in-between the two of you. Wade laid his head on Logan and you were leaned away from the two, leaning against the armrest in your side, humming as you watched the movie. You had a glass cup in the shape of a can with a bamboo- sealed lid And straw between your thighs, full of soda that you'd been drinking. There was a bowl of peanut butter covered popcorn on the table. Every few minutes Wade would shive his hand for another fistful That he'd fail to offer to logan, and ended up shoving in his own mouth. Loagn wondered if you disliked popcorn here, the same way that you did once In his world. He remembered how you'd whine at just the smell, talking about how bad it was, about how much you hated it.

By the time you'd been getting ready to go, well after the movie ended, you were standing at the door. Wade was wrapping a scarf around your neck and mumbling something to you that made you laugh. Logan sat on the couch, watching you and envying him. You leaned forward on your tiptoes and kissed him. Logan imagined himself there as Wade dipped his head to meet your own kiss, but Logan Felt his stomach churn. When you waved at them both and but them a good night, it took everything in him To not walk out after you. It took everything in him to remind himself that you're not his girl.

Taglist: @kneelforloki @kathieycarrerarosshley @callsign-ember @clawsandbullets

[ripleylove]

We're in this together.

requested by @alexandra3719 saying:Can I request Rhea with depressed reader?

pairing: Rhea Ripley x fem reader

genre:angst

summary: even when you're feeling low,Rhea is here for u.

A/N: this made me get war flashbacks,also listen to this song to get the vibe!

⋆ ˚｡⋆𔓘⭒๋࣭

Today,you felt empty.

Despite all the sun,the birds chirping and the blue sky illuminating the day,you still felt dark inside,as if it was raining in your heart.

You didn't have the strength to wash yourself or to go out,only getting out of bed to do basic tasks,like going to the bathroom or eating.

This bad feeling was eating you whole and to make it worse,your girlfriend Rhea wasn't here to comfort you because of her packed schedule in California,but she called you every night to make sure you were okay.

Rhea was your safe space,your comfort person,and your anchor, holding you to the ground,never letting you go away.

You two met at your worst,and she helped you to heal and to get better.

You fell in love with her because of this: for her patience and for her confidence in you,because she was sure and confident about you healing from your problems.

The sound of a car honking outside took you out of your trance,and you realised you were staring at the ceiling again.

You missed your girlfriend strongly.

You missed her scent,her lips,her warmth,her laugh,her muscular arms and her mama bear hugs.

Trying to fill the Rhea-void (you liked to call it like that),you picked up your phone on your white nightstand, instantly opening the facetime app.

Rhea answered after 4 or 5 rings,and you were instantly cheered up just by seeing her face.

"Hey,pumpkin! How are you doing?" She asked cheerfully, her enthusiasm transmitting itself onto you.

"Not bad but not good" You shrugged,and she asked the reason of that response.

"I think I'm in that period again,I feel like nothing has got a purpose,I don't have strength to do anything and I'm just sad. What do I do?" You started rambling about your feelings to Rhea,while she was listening carefully.

"Oh,baby. I'm sorry." Her pout was heavily visible, and you arched your left eyebrow.

"For what?"

"For not being here for you when you need me the most. I promise to come home as soon as possible, okay? I think tonight I'm gonna come home,so if it's like that you'll find me next to you in bed." She admitted with a smile,eager to see your cute face.

"Thank you,Rhea. I actually don'tknow what i would do without you." You started to get emotional,but you shook your head trying to get rid of the newly formed tears.

"Oh,baby,it's nothing. Remember,we're in this togheter, and im not gonna ever leave you."

taglist: @stellakiddsblog @bibibi-tchx @p-mp

[sarawritestories]

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: Life isn't worth living without your mate by your side.

A/N: I'm making my angsty mood everyone else's problem. 😘 I also got misty eyed writing this

Content Warning: PLEASE READ CAUTIOUSLY Suicidal Ideation, Self Harm, suicide attempt, Death of a Main Character. Grief

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Title inspired by this song:

You couldn't escape him. Every where you turn, it was as though he was there. His scent, his clothes, his weapons it was suffocating. Cruel. Two years. You only had two years with Cassian before he fell in battle. Two years with your mate.

How cruel the mother was two years of stolen kisses, late night snacks, morning runs, and his constant need to have his arms around you. With him, you were safe, loved, and cared for.

You had begged him not to leave to stay home with you. He simply pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, "I promise to come home to you, Sweetheart." You sobbed as he pressed his lips to your and then kissed your tears away, "I am the General of the Night Courts armies. I have been to many battles and have always come home. I will come home to you sweet girl." Another soft kiss, "I love you."

With a wobbly lip, "And I love you. Be safe." You hand him the necklace that he gave you for solstice of an eight pointed star. He wrapped the chain around his neck and took to the skies.

When Rhys and Azriel returned, your eyes searched everywhere for flashes of red. Only to notice Cassian's brothers had streaks on their mud ridden and bloodied faces from where they shed their cheers. It was Rhys who held out his hand, and you hesitantly took it. He held your palm up and placed something cold in it when he moved his hand, the eight pointed star necklace caked in dirt, and blood stared back at you. Shock riddled your body as Rhys said in your mind, I'm so sorry, Darling

Shaking your head, you clung the necklace to your chest. You found it difficult to breathe as you reached through the bond. Calling out for him, only to find the other side empty. Hollow. Hands were on you as you collapsed to the floor and sobs overtook your body. Still pushing love down the bond, only to be met with cold, dark air where his warmth and love used to be. You screamed, "Cassian!" Over and over until your voice became dry and you ended up dehydrated.

Az scooped you in his arms and brought you to your bed where the faint scent of Cassian remained and a fresh wave of tears came. What if the smell faded? Would your memories of his smile, his eyes, his long, onyx hair be gone too. Az just sat and held your hand until your sobs turned into hiccups and exhaustion pulled you into sleep.

After two months, you were finding it hard to get out of bed. The necklace tucked to your chest, wearing one of his shirts, and you still reached out to the dulled golden string. You hoped that it was a bad dream.

Rhys and Az would alternate taking care of you, making sure you were fed and made sure you stayed hydrated they had a schedule and a pattern that you picked up on.

You had overheard them talking about trying to get you out and into society again. You barely saw the point, your mate was ripped away from you, and now, colors were dull, music fell flat, nothing was worth seeing without Cassian.

You sat up from your bed and sighed, and you wanted him hear in your arms in. You wished that he would appear again. You hung your head low because you knew that was wishful thinking and that he would never come back.

You pulled something out of the dresser on his side, trying to fight the tears as a fresh wave of his leather and Sandalwood scent flooded your nose. You headed to your bathroom, placing the Star pendant around your neck. Not noticing the tendril of black watching your movements. You whispered to the void, "Az, Rhys, Please forgive me. Mother, please take me home to my mate."

You took the knife, and pressed it to your skin, Az and Rhys hadn't noticed the faebane you stole from Rhys' office that you took in concentrated doses to slow your healing. You watched as the blood pooled against your wrist as you dug the blade deeper to drag down.

You heard the door slamming open and hurried footsteps to the bathroom, "Y/N!" Az shouted as he grabbed the knife from your hand had a shadow bring him a towel to wrap around the wound. He pressed your back to his chest and held you close whispering words your couldn't distinguish in your ear.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Three times and anger bubbled over. You began to thrash in his arms his strength out matched yours. "You bastard, I wanted to go home to my mate! I don't want to be here without him! Why would you do that? Let me die!" Your screams turned into cries, "I just want to die."

Rhys walked to face you, tears streaking his own face. "Darling. He wouldn't want that for you."

You sobs continued, "What about what I want?" Your voice cracked. You leaned your head back against Az shoulders. "Why did the mother have me meet my mate only to take him away. I only had two years. You both had centuries." The cries turned to whimpers, "It's not fair." Az began to rub soothing patters around your waist. "I wanted more time."

The two males had no words, so they both just sat on the floor with you and let you sob. Your constant murmuring of time stolen and wanting to be with Cassian.

And once you had cried yourself to sleep, did Az and Rhys have madja heal your arm and place you in Az's bed, both agreeing that you were not to be left alone for a while. The two males watched you sleep with a crease between your brows.

And even in your sleep, you tugged on the fading gold thread. Never knowing that somewhere in the afterlife, The General was desperately tugging back.

[foolinafable]

man i love ur fics smsm keith kogane 🔛 🔝

Thanks, here's a gift to show my appreciation!

Home is where you are

SYNOPSIS: You have finally returned to earth, but is it still home? PAIRING: Keith x reader

–

You thought you would feel more. This was the place you dreamt of every night while in space, the thought of one day coming back being what motivated you to keep going. But now that you're actually home, you feel nothing. A void replaced what relief, joy and tears you’d expected when your feet hit the tarmac of the garrison. You thought that after saving them from Sendek, it would change, that you were simply too worried to be happy, but now that Earth was safe from him and the prospect of leaving again to finish the job off appeared, you still felt nothing. Your bleeding heart seems to have clotted over.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Keith slowly made his way towards you, words quiet as if to not startle

“Don’t think that's the currency anymore” Shrugging your shoulders, unsure, he smiled in reply, something he had been doing more recently, as he manoeuvred into the space next to you, eyes daring for a comment when he shuffled close enough for your arms and thighs to touch 

“Don’t be coy”, he nudged your shoulder when it became clear you weren't going to look back at him “You understood the sentiment” 

You nodded “I did” it almost wasn't fair how mature he had become, being a leader does that to people

“So tell me what’s wrong and don’t say nothing because we both know that's a lie” You bit your lip in contemplation, leg furthest away from Keith shaking slightly, still trying not to meet his eyes, knowing that you’d lose any resolve left if you did

“I thought..” you finally met his gaze, eyebrows furrowed “I don’t know what I thought”, words barely above a whisper 

“I know it’s different from what we believed it would be, coming home. I don’t think anyone could have imagined coming back to a war and having to leave again so soon after, it’s not fair” his hand reached out to your shaking limb, stroking despite the awkward angle

“That’s not it” you admitted voice barely above a mumble

“It’s not?” he asked, shuffling around to try and find a more comfortable position, not once removing his hand from your shaking thigh

“No…” you trailed off, trying to gain some semblance of courage “If anything, I can’t wait to go, maybe distance will make the heart go fonder or, in this case, grow some fondness within me for this place”, you gestured to the space “Because this, our home, it just doesn't feel that way anymore”

“Feel like what?” Keith pressed his lips together in thought, clearly not following 

“Home” you admitted teeth pulling at bruised lips, pulling his hand away from your now steady legs so he could once again sit normally instead letting him continue his ministrations on your hand. 

“I get it��� he admitted and you smiled, happy to not be alone in this feeling “I’ve not got much to miss when away from Earth. Everyone I care about is coming with me” You looked at him then, meeting his soft stare “I mean that’s what a home really is, the people”

You squeezed his hand “You're right”, scoffing at the look on his face “What?” 

“Never thought I'd see the day” he smiled, cheeky 

“Oh shush”, you laughed, missing the way his entire demeanour brightened at the sound “Maybe it wasn't really earth that I was missing”, you admitted, a new hypothesis coming to light in your mind “I mean, the homesickness only really started around the time of the Voltron shows, I just thought I was missing earth because lance said he felt the same, missing the oceans and the sky but maybe I was just missing you” 

“You think” he teases

“I mean, it makes sense, I felt a lot better on the journey back to earth and my lack of care for leaving and even being here. I guess Earth is not really my home, you are” You try to look away, somewhat embarrassed, but Keith doesn't let you, hand quickly grabbing at your jaw and pulling your face close to his, he kisses you softly, only for a moment before moving away a mischievous look in his eyes

“Well then technically you were homesick” he confirms

“I guess I was”, you admit, letting him win.