#multi-chaptered fanfic

[cravingrickgrimes]

CHAPTER ONE | ❝IN THE DIM LIGHT❞

rick!grimes x male!reader (smut) top!rick x bottom!reader

multi chapters / not finished word count: 1018

summary: You were relatively new to the prison. You had the same story as most of these folks here—no family, and alone. On your fifth day here you got your first work assignment. You manage to get paired up for field duty on the prison… in the blistering heat. It wasn’t until a few minutes in the heat that your work-assigned partner finally arrives…Rick Grimes.

CHAPTER TWO ->

CHAPTER ONE:

The mid-summer heat was dreadful. Far worse, in fact. It was terrible enough that you were assigned field duty today, even worse when you realised you were going to have to do most of the work by yourself. You realised quickly that the jacket sticking to your back would be no help so you escaped it before it could do you anymore discomfort. You assumed the partner you were assigned with had just never gotten out of bed. That is, until you saw him walking right toward you. His hips jutted out gracefully from his sides as he grinned slightly. As he exited the prisons shadows he placed a hand on his already sweaty forehead, eyes trying desperately to hide from the sun. He was stunning, and you don’t even think that was half of what he was.

“Hiya.” He smiled. “Rick” He stared at you for those few seconds before he corrected himself with a chuckle accompanying it. “I’m Rick Grimes.” You fought your teeth to stop them from biting their lips at his southern drawl. It was the most attractive thing you’d ever heard that’s for sure.

“Hi.” You gave him the tightest smile possible and took a sip of your water.

“Hot isn’t it. This shirt won’t do any good today.” His strong hands clicked each button undone. You couldn’t help but gaze at the way his veiny hands undid each button on his shirt. Was he trying to get you wet? It was surely working. “Sorry ‘bout that.” His shirt was off. He was sweating. His shirt was off, and he was close to you.

Too close.

He looked as if carved by gods. His pecs were like plates of the finest armour. And not to mention the sharp defined abs that were riddled on his chest. Small dark-brown hairs were sprinkled on his chest. As if to hook you even more a trail of hair went from his bellybutton to…

Oh God. You thought. This day is going to truly be hell.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It had been two hours now. An hour of being remotely near Rick Grimes would have any person completely on their knees. But two? You were struggling not to strip right here and now. The weeds surrounding clothe prisons walls were almost done. The both of you agreed to start on opposite ends and make your way to each other. You agreed, drunk on the way his body shone in the sun.

Now you and Rick were almost done, he was quite literally almost touching you. You pulled on the weed aggressively. It was to no avail. You pulled and tugged, but nothing. “Y’kay?” His southern accent was thick, but you took that to mean “you okay?”.

“Yeah, fine, just—a strong weed!”

“Ah, let me help darlin’” Not helping! You almost shouted. He moved behind you and grabbed the weed whilst your hands were still clasped around the stubborn thing. You were trapped under his strong grasp. Trapped under him. Trapped and smelling him. He pulled but it didn’t budge. You both moved with the tug and it looked and felt too much like a thrust. Your face flushed quicker than you could stop it. As inconveniently as it was you suddenly remembered him calling you darlin’ and you would give anything for him to say it again.

“Sorry ‘bout this.” He chuckled nervously. So he did know how awkward this was? He came off so confident you would have never guessed. He may not be as confident as you first thought, but he is as compelling. Your eyes followed his arm muscles as they tensed under the strain. He pulled again but nothing happened. Rick leaned back and thrusted into you to try and get a better grip. You stifled your moan. No. You forced your mind to be clear. Rick Grimes is not fucking you. All he’s doing is helping you out. That’s all. You could have sworn you felt something hard and stiff at your backside but he pulled the weed out before you could feel it again. He waved a hand of apology.

“You weren’t lying,” He ran a hand through his soaking hair and you noticed that every part of him was sweating. “really was strong.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You sat in bed that very night with only one thought on your mind. How was Rick Grimes’ pace in bed? It wasn’t the most appropriate thought but those thrusts were…thought provoking… to say the least. The prison was quiet that night, as if even the prison was trying to get you to do what you wanted. And all you wanted was to touch yourself. To touch yourself and think of Rick Grimes every time you slide your hand up and down your cock.

You did just that.

You didn’t need to get hard, you already had been the moment you saw Rick take his shirt off. Maybe even before that if you were being honest. It felt fucking amazing. You stroked your length once thinking only of his chiselled body. The second time his thrusts. The third his scent. You almost kept to that cycle of those three things until you got to the topic of his cock in your mind.

You spat on your hand and kept stroking. This was getting good. You imagined a six inch cock—modest, considering the large lump you felt between his legs earlier that day was just that…large. You thought of a thick foreskin covering almost all of his head. You could almost physically see the amount of veins crawling up from the base of his cock to right before the head. You could see yourself sucking and worshipping the man’s dick.

You knew all too well that you would if you had the chance. You prayed that it tasted just like he had smelt in that blistering heat, like a man.

Your cock pulsed quicker in your hands now. You imagined you were giving Rick a handjob. God it was the best thing you could have done. You squirmed against your pillow whilst you released your hot cum onto your chest.

[thegallavault]

currently locked in The Gallavault 🔒📚✨

HOOKING UP WITH FEELINGS by PEPPERMINTKATIE ↳ ↳ with cover art by LULUXA

Multi-Chapter | Rated: E | Word Count: 119K | Completed in: 2022

Mickey accidentally stayed the night after a failed hookup.

[ download from The Gallavault | leave love on AO3 | reblog the art on tumblr | follow the creators @peppermintkatie & @luluxa ]

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ FIRST ENCOUNTER — “I hope we can play again one day.” Growing up together — from childhood to adulthood. Sunday x GN reader series.

Word count: 2.8k

Contains: Fluff (lots and lots of fluff), first encounters, first friend (his), different backgrounds, growing up together (main stages of life—will progress over each post), lighthearted topics, lonely child Sunday + more!

Chapter: (1)

Starting school wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Like the adults in your life said—it’s only scary until you go in and experience it. You have to keep your head held high and believe in yourself, and that’s exactly what you did. To your relief, you made your first friend easily. She was a girl, a lot smaller in height than you. You found her outside of the classroom, hyperventilating while the teacher attempted to console her. Before you could step inside the room, the teacher pulled you aside. You were asked to keep her company since she was having a tough time settling in, and you did it in a heartbeat. 

Her name was Robin. The two of you became inseparable, always found sitting next to each other in every class. For the first time in your life, you were invited back to someone else’s home. After getting permission with some extensive begging, your parents eventually caved and drove you over to her house. You never shut up about her, and she never shut up about you. Both of your families had to endure the nonstop chatter about your best friend. 

When the car stops outside of their house, your breath is taken away by the sheer size. This is way bigger than your place! As soon as the car door opens, you sprint up the path and wait outside of their entryway, a giant smile plastered to your face. You wave behind you at your parents, watching as they get back in the car. They were so proud of you for stepping out of the comfort zone you stuck yourself to when you were younger. Before you started school, their main concern was that you’d have a hard time fitting in amongst the crowd. You didn’t particularly get along well with the children in your neighbourhood, but you didn’t tell your parents the reason why. Those kids were just too mean, nothing like Robin. 

Fiddling with your hands, you began to wonder if anyone was going to let you in. Just as you reach to press the doorbell, the door opens. A man towers over you, a somewhat surprised look on his face. He turns his head back to look in the house, his attention temporarily assigned elsewhere. That’s when you notice the younger boy clinging to his leg, his head tilted as he stares at you with curiosity. 

“Hello, little one. Are you Robin’s friend?” The man pushes the young boy aside, ruffling his hair before crouching down to be on your level.

“I am! We’re best friends.” You give him a cheesy grin, and his face softens. 

“Robin and her mom aren’t here right now. You can come in, it might be a little wait.” He steps out of the way, clearing entry for you.

“Okay! Thank you, sir.” You take your shoes off and wander into the house, taking a look around at the interior. 

Too preoccupied with being wowed by their house, you didn’t hear the conversation between Robin’s father and the young boy who appeared to be hiding from you. Letting out a sigh, Robin's father strolls back over to you, accidentally startling you by placing a hand on your shoulder.

“This is my little boy, Sunday. He’s Robin’s older brother.” His dad drags him forward by the arm, almost crashing your two tiny bodies to the floor.

“Hi…” Sunday speaks quietly, unable to look you in the face.

“Hi, Sunday.” You smile, your eyes drifting down to see him fidgeting with his hands in a similar way you do.

“Do you wanna play with my toys…?” Mustering all of his courage, he looks at you and waits for your answer. 

You stare at him, then up at his dad. You were supposed to be here for Robin, but no one gave you a time frame for how long she would be missing. Since you had nothing else to do, you nodded. Sunday’s father made a cheer noise before leaving you in the living room with the young boy. He had long hair, a similar bluish shade to his sister’s. The wings attached to his head flutter before he extends his hand out.

“Let’s go play.” He beams, accepting your hand that you stretched out to meet his. 

The two of you scurried upstairs, a half-sprint, half-walk, speed. Neither one of you was that fast, but there’s no rush. Family pictures decorated each space on the wall, ranging from baby pictures to wedding photos. It was nice to see how well everyone seemed to get along, it made you happy that Robin had a nice home to live in.

Sunday’s room was huge—even bigger than your parents’ bedroom. Your mouth dropped as you looked around at all his belongings, a wide collection of stuffed animals littered on his bed. You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t get any words out of your mouth.

“Um… Do you want to play with my teddies? You’re looking at them funny.” Sunday walks over to his bed, taking one of the stuffed animals into his arms.

“Sorry! I think they’re cute. We can play whatever you want!”

“I want to play with the teddies.” He mumbles, scooting over to make space for you on his bed.

“What are your teddies’ names?”

“Oh, I didn’t give them names. Am I supposed to?”

“It makes it more fun! Can I name them?”

“If you wanna.”

“My one is gonna be called Cuddles and your one can be Patchy.”

“Patchy…” Sunday looks down at his teddy, squeezing it tighter in his embrace.

“What job is Patchy gonna have? Cuddles is a teacher!”

“I want Patchy to be the president.”

“Wow, the president?”

“Yeah, I wanna be the president too when I’m older.”

“That’s so cool!”

“You think?”

“Yeah!”

Sunday’s cheeks grow warm from hearing your excitement. He stretches Patchy’s arms and makes it “hug” Cuddles.

“Do you go to my school?” You inquire. You’re sure Robin would’ve introduced you to her big brother by now. 

“I’m homeschooled.”

“You have school at home?”

“Kinda. My parents have a tutor that comes in and teaches me stuff.”

“Ohh.” You’ve never heard of homeschooling, but it piques your interest. “Do you have any friends from homeschool?”

“Not really.” He didn’t want to admit that he was the only one who attended the private tutoring sessions.

“Why don’t you come to school with me and Robin?”

“I like it at home.”

“That’s awesome!” You give him a thumbs up, continuing to delve into the roleplay you created in your mind.

After a while of having Cuddles teach Patchy some valuable life lessons, such as how to pour a glass of water without spilling it, you begin to wonder where Robin is. You’ve been here for at least an hour or two, but then again, you don’t know how to tell the time quite yet. Sunday’s eyes were sparkling as he watched you play—this was his first time playing with someone who wasn’t part of his family.

“Do you wanna be friends?” Sunday asks, his nose scrunched while he waits for the big news. His wings were completely still—it almost seemed like he was holding his breath.

“Of course I wanna be friends! You’re really fun and nice.” As you would with Robin, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him, feeling the flutter of his wings brushing against your cheeks. It tickled, and you began to giggle.

“Can I tell Dad?” There was nothing but joy in his voice when he broke free, springing to his feet straight away.

“If you want to!”

Bursting out of his room, Sunday runs down the hallway calling for his father. Met with urgency, he comes running at the call of his son, bumping into him before he can make it down the stairs.

“Dad!” Sunday exclaims, practically jumping in place with Patchy still in his hands.

“Is everything okay?”

“I have a friend!”

“Is that so? I’m glad, kid! Go on, go back to play.”

“Are you proud of me?”

“Very. Good job, Sunday.” Placing a kiss on Sunday’s forehead, his father pats his back before he dashes back off to his room. 

Sunday returns, stumbling over his own feet. He lands flat on the bed, chuckling to himself as you stare down at him. This was a big thing for Sunday, and you could tell that this friendship meant a lot to him. 

“Do you know when Robin is gonna be back?”

“She’s at singing practice with Mom. But it’s okay, we can play together.”

“Robin can sing?!” You gasp, clasping your hands together while Sunday nods.

“Yeah, she’s been going to those lessons since like, forever. She’s really good too!”

“Wow, you guys are so cool.”

“You’re way cooler.”

“Am not! You’re super smart and Robin can sing, I don’t really have anything like that.”

“You’re good at imagining things! I couldn’t even think of names for my teddies until you gave them some.”

“Is that cool?”

“I think it’s cool. I dunno how you do it so easily.”

You feel a surge of happiness wash over you, cuddling your knees to your chest. Sunday was so nice. Part of you wishes he could come to your school so you could all play together at recess, but Sunday seemed pretty adamant about liking his homeschooling. 

Time passes by quickly, you and Sunday continue to play with the teddies, having their identities expand rapidly. You yawn, rubbing your eyes and putting down Cuddles. Outside of Sunday’s window, you can see that the sun has started to set, and Robin still hasn’t made it back. You’re sad that she ditched you, but it wasn’t all bad with Sunday’s company.

“My parents are gonna be here to pick me up soon.”

“Already?” Sunday whines, his bottom lip flipping down. “Maybe I can ask Dad if it’s okay for you to stay for dinner.”

“Will I be allowed?”

“I think so. We have a lot of empty seats at the dinner table.” Sunday takes your hand, leading you towards the door. “Come on, let’s ask dad! Maybe if we add extra pleases it’ll work.”

Scurrying down the hall, you skip a few stairs as he drags you into the living area. You take a moment to catch your breath while he sprints off, heading straight towards where his father is sitting. Due to the distance, you can’t pick up on the conversation, but you see Sunday pointing at you with a pleading expression. Calling you over, you walk slowly towards to the two, still recollecting your breath.

“Sunday asked if you could stay for dinner. Is that what you’d like?”

“If it’s okay I’d like that a lot.” You put on your best smile, remembering what Sunday had mentioned. “Please.”

“What a well-mannered child! You didn’t need to ask so politely, but who am I to say no to a new friend? Do you have your parents’ phone number?”

“Um, I think I gave Robin a piece of paper with my family stuff on it. She said she gave it to her mom.”

“I know where it’ll be. Get comfy on the sofa, you two. I’ll call your parents and let them know to collect you after we eat.”

“Okay! Thank you, Sunday and Robin’s dad!”

Heading to the bigger sofa, you and Sunday climb on, legs dangling while the TV plays in the background. You were thrilled to see what they would have to offer since their house is so fancy, but you’re also worried in case the meal they serve isn’t to your liking. Either way, your parents taught you to eat what you’re given. Whether you like it or not will be kept to yourself. 

“I told you it’d work.” Sunday smiles subtly, kicking his feet which hover above the floor, not quite reaching it yet.

The two of you proceed to watch TV, a nature documentary which had been left running while his father made a call to your parents. After a few minutes pass, he returns and tells you both the good news, catching both of your faces ignite with thrill. It didn’t take long for the meal his father arranged to finish cooking, now scooping fair portion sizes onto three respective plates. The leftovers go back into the oven, keeping them warm for when Robin and her mother return from their outing together. 

Their dining room was grand. It’s the first time you’ve seen a chandelier hang over a dinner table in real life—you always thought it was something exclusive to the rich people in cartoons. It made you wonder if they were rich. They had so much more than you and the other kids in school did, but Robin never spoke much about home. If you lived here, you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about all of the luxuries. They’re extremely lucky.

When you took your seat, your face contorted at the vast arrangement of cutlery in front of you. You were only used to the classics, unsure of why there were spoons of different sizes displayed neatly in front of you. Sunday pulls out the chair beside you and sits down, patiently awaiting permission to begin tucking in.

“Um… I think your dad gave me too many spoons…” You fidget with the spoons of different sizes, and his gaze drifts over to you. He seems perplexed by your statement. 

“Huh? You have everything you need.” 

“Why do I have two spoons?”

“This one is the main one you’ll eat with,” Sunday picks up the bigger spoon, then slides it over to you. “Use that one first.”

“What about the little spoon?”

“It’s the one you use for dessert.”

“Oh.” You nod your head, blissfully unaware of fine dining etiquette. “In my house, we use big spoons for everything.”

“Really?”

“Before we eat, it’s fair that we show our gratitude for receiving this meal.” Sunday’s father stands to his feet, followed by Sunday. Unsure of what to do, you remain gawking at the two until Sunday tugs you by the sleeve, encouraging you to stand too.

There was a moment of silence over the dining room until his father bowed, followed by Sunday, then you. A domino effect. Now that it had been announced that you could eat, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t sure what the exact name of this dish was, but one thing is for sure—you devoured it. You could hear the small chuckle Sunday’s father attempted to suppress as he looked at you. It was embarrassing; you thought he would be mad at you, but he seemed to understand the circumstances. 

“If you’d like more, I can get you another serving.”

“It’s okay! Thank you. It’s sooo good! You’re super lucky, Sunday! Your dad is such a good cook.”

“Ah, I didn’t cook it. Our chef did. I’ll be sure to send your compliments later on.”

“You have a chef?!”

“We do indeed.”

“Wow! Like a private chef?! Do they make anything you want?”

“That’s the sole purpose of a chef’s career, dear.” Sunday’s father snickers, reaching for his glass of aged red wine. 

When everyone had finished their plate, a waiter appears from a door you hadn’t initially acknowledged and collects the dishes. Just seconds after, another appears with two bowls of dessert. Your eyes widen as you see the ice cream placed in between you and Sunday. It appears to be drenched in syrup and other toppings. 

“I figured that Sunday would like to share his dessert with his new friend. Is that okay with you both?” His father glances in your direction, watching the nods in unison.

Sunday didn’t seem to eat much, mainly scraping at the sides of the bowl. When you looked up at him, he was smiling to himself, pleasantly happy with the small serving he was given. 

It was about time that today came to an end. You walk towards their door with Sunday and his father following behind. Your parents had already rang the doorbell—now greeted face to face with them as you ran out. Sunday remains close to his father’s side, his cheek resting against his leg while he watches you. Your parents show their gratitude and encourage you to say your thanks and farewells. With a small pinch on his shoulder, Sunday speaks up.

“Bye, I hope we can play again one day.” There was a pout on his face—you swear you saw his lip wobble.

“I hope so too!” You give your final wave as your parents cart you back to the car, setting off as soon as everyone is buckled in.

Inside the house, Sunday sniffles and runs back upstairs, gently closing his room door over. Cuddles and Patchy remain sitting next to each other, and he begins to cry. Tears spill from his eyes at the thought he might not be able to play with you again. After all, you were Robin’s friend first. When Robin is home, you probably won’t even look his way if you come over. That doesn’t remove the memories he made with you from his head though, and he keeps his hope that one day the two of you will reunite and continue to construct Cuddles and Patchy’s future together. 

[spaghettixdemon]

J Stands for more words than one PT.1

“While introducing his new girlfriend to the team, JJ is automatically confronted with her feelings for Spencer when they begin to get in the way of things"

DISCLAIMER You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Minors do not interact. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read it.

Warnings: Drinking/Drunkenness, P in V, getting freaky in a car, fighting, slight mentions of death, Jealousy??

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

This was originally in my Google Doc but I seem to have lost access to it :( SO I am re-writing it! (I will definitely add more chapters bc omg this is long)

—————————————————————————————————

"Alright anndd finally done!" Emily turned to JJ, clapping her hands together and beaming. Today was a paperwork day, and everyone had been working until the late hours. "These reports are killing me...I've been on the same one the majority of the day..." JJ spoke to Emily with a sigh and a slight smirk playing on her lips. Yes, JJ had been stuck on the same case most of the day, but it wasn't just the amount of work, no. That wasn't the only reason her day was moving so slowly.

Right across from her desk, in perfect view, was Spencer Reid- their little resident genius. His legs were crossed in his office chair, his curly hair fell in front of his eyes, and his long, slender fingers traced down the written report, scanning every word and spreading it within seconds effortlessly. JJ had always been close with Spencer- because of their tight-knit team, their ages, and of course, the butterflies she would get around him. They were the two closets in age at the BAU, so maybe that was part of the reasoning behind her crush, but honestly, she just thought he was very attractive.

So earlier today, when Spencer was talking on his phone nonstop, JJ was confused. Spencer was not a fan of technology, thinking back on how it took Spencer literal years to finally sign up for an email address. So, whatever was keeping Spencer on speed dial on the other line clearly didn't bother him too much. JJ would sneak glances towards her coworker hourly, taking in his body language and how he seemed to be head over heels. He would fidget and spin in his office chair as someone talked to him, he had a faint blush on his cheeks, and a smile plastered on his face. In all actuality, she'd never seen Spencer look so dopey- maybe he truly was just happy right now, but the emotions on his face surprised her.

"Hey lover-boy, what's going on over here?" JJ shot her head down, burying her face in her work. It was Derek who popped the question already on JJ's mind. Derek crossed his arms and leaned against Spencer's desk as Spencer looked up at Derek. Rolling his eyes and hanging up the phone, Spencer set the phone down on his desk. "Was that a girl on the other end of the line? I don't think I've ever seen you so happy to pick up a call at work." Both men laughed as Spencer grew a little quiet, sheepishly shrugging. "I mean- yeah, actually, you're right for once." Spencer laughed as an expression of excitement and shock plastered onto Derek's. "Wow really?" He laughed, a little in disbelief "Congrats man! That's awesome!"

JJ watched as the two guys hugged and discussed Spencer's new girlfriend. Weirdly, JJ felt a pang in her chest of embarrassment...or more like frustration. Why? She wasn't sure. JJ could read anyone within minutes, but she could never read her own emotions that well.

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

Days had passed, and work was pretty much back to normal. Normal meaning JJ wasn't constantly hearing about Spencer's new girlfriend, who he adored so much. It was cute, yeah, and she did feel happy for the man and his newfound love, but it would get pretty repetitive after a while. Derek and Penelope, in particular, would not let up on the subject. It was cute when Penelope giggled and twirled her hair when asking about this girl, but the way Spencer would drop information on her so easily was frustrating.

Penelope beamed, ecstatic over all this new news. Then, looking at Derek, she gasped and clapped her hands together. "You should bring her here! We could all meet her it would be so nice..!" Spencer looked a little uneasy. The few times his relationship did start getting this serious, work would interfere and often kill the relationship. Though, Derek backed up Penelope and agreed it would be fun.

"I don't know guys...That might be a little intense..." JJ heard this and thought over the idea in her head. Meeting the girl Spencer was so enamored by might be interesting...to say the least. She looked up and smiled at the three talking. "No Spence you should totally bring her in! I want to meet this girl!" Spencer gave JJ a hesitant look, visibly thinking over the interaction in his head. He slowly smiled and rolled his eyes, looking at the three before him. "Ok Ok..I'll bring up the idea and if she's cool with it, I'll bring her here next Friday"

Penelope and Derek cheered while JJ sat there, smiling quietly. She clapped her hands together and sighed "Amazing! I can't wait".

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

The week that followed that conversation wasn't a pleasant one. The team had traveled out of state to work on a pretty gruesome case- Spencer, in particular, had a rough time during the case. He should be used to the horrible feelings that came with the job, but it was never really easy dealing with death so often.

The team had thankfully made it back to base Friday, and everyone was exhausted. They spent the day quietly filling out paperwork and trying to unwind as they worked into the early hours of the night. Around 7pm, Spencer got a call. JJ noticed this in particular because of how eager he was to answer the phone. A small smile appeared on his face, and the faint blush was back. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, hanging up the call with a simple goodbye.

Spencer looked around at his friends as the smile on his face grew. "My Girlfriend is apparently downstairs in the lobby! ...I was thinking of bringing her up is everyone ok with that?" The office was suddenly filled with energy again, and everyone seemed to wake up. JJ in particular, shot her head up and looked at Spencer, a little shocked. She had completely forgotten this would be happening...She made eye contact with Spencer and looked a little hesitant as she spoke up. "um...yeah that would be great..!"

"Yes, PLEASE bring her up! I need some fun to distract me from all this work." Penelope popped her head out of her office as she spoke to Spencer. Spencer looked a little confused by what JJ had said but smiled and nodded anyway. He slowly made his way towards the elevator, a bit of pep in his step.

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

Everyone in the office had quickly wrapped up what they had been working on and made their way to the office cubicles to meet this girl Spencer was so into. Penelope pulled up a chair next to JJ and beamed. "Are you excited to meet her?" JJ...still felt very conflicted. Just earlier that week, when they had been solving the case, She was staying in the hotel room next to Spencer's. She thought about how she ran into him shirtless and wearing sweatpants. He apologized and made his way inside his room, but she felt so conflicted.

She wasn't upset that he was shirtless...definitely not...but something about getting caught off guard like that made her blush. She remembered the feeble nerd she used to work with. He was in his mid-twenties and looked so new to the BAU world. Now, the man she saw earlier that week and today was a bit different. He had toughened up more and was a bit more muscular- not to a Derek level, but he definitely wasn't feeble anymore.

"Something like that" JJ mumbled to Penelope, a faint blush on her face. Penelope was about to question JJ, just as an elevator 'dinging' noise saved her. Everyone's attention was on the elevator and who was inside.

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

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 30

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: Talia is ... not a great mom. Luckily Reader is! Fluff, some hurt/comfort, some big emotions and intense conversations, more fluff, and holiday themed Wayne family shenanigans!

wc: 4.2k

Chapter Selection

 “I don't fully understand what you've done to make that girl so loyal to you, but it is impressive. Well done, Damian.”

Damian breathed slowly, forcing a calm, emotionless exterior. “Mother?”

“The girl who tried to tell me she was ‘just doing Jason a favor by doing his father a favor’ by being your emergency contact at school.” Talia smirked. “Someone obviously warned her about me, and yet she was willing to lie to my face for you. It was almost believable too. Almost.”

Damian stayed very still, hands held behind his back, posture perfect, face blank. Talia observed him, frowning slightly. “What is not at all believable … is you pretending you don't care about her too.”

He clenched his jaw, tilting his head ever so slightly; “... I don't know wha-”

“Don't lie to me, Damian. This girl means something to you. What?”

He slowly met his mother's firm gaze; “... She's Todd's girlfriend. She has a bigger heart than is good for her; she is no threat to anyone.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, “... And what is she to you?”

“... She is kind.”

Talia frowned a bit, leaning forward to examine his face for any hint of his true feelings. Moments passed before she pulled back to her full height, a dissatisfied look on her face. “... Be wary of that girl, Damian. Kindness is the wrapping, but what you will actually receive is weakness. … I will allow you to stay, but this is the final straw. Your strange affection for those animals was one thing, but this… If you still wish to live here, you must get yourself under control before I am forced to bring you home for retraining.”

“I understand. I will not disappoint you, Mother.”

She nodded once, looking him over again. “... Bruce is treating you well?”

“Father is good to me.”

“And the others?”

“... They have accepted me as family. … They are also kind.”

She nodded. “... Very well. The League is watching you, Damian.”

He nodded once before she turned to leave. “... Goodbye, Mother.”

Talia finally left Gotham, and Jason and I prepared for Thanksgiving at the manor. Jason's Thanksgiving traditions started the day before, so on Wednesday afternoon we headed over. Alfred invited us in, hugging Jason tightly. We tossed our overnight bags in his room, and Jason led me down toward the kitchen. I brought down two large tupperwares full of ma'amoul cookies I had made for everyone.

Alfred was standing by the counter, mixing something, and Jason and I washed our hands. He took a seat at a large table where there were some washed vegetables. I sat beside him, and he grinned; “ever since my first Thanksgiving at the manor, I've helped Alfred with some of the holiday meal prep work. Mostly cutting veggies and stuff.”

“Cute~” I chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Can I help?”

“If you'd like, but if you want to just sit with me, you can do that too.” He smiled softly.

“I'd like to help. I hate to feel like a mooch.”

Alfred chuckled, bringing over another cutting board and knife. “You could never be a ‘mooch’, dear girl. You are our guest.”

“Thank you, Alfred, but still. If my mother heard I was invited over for the holidays and didn't help with something she'd be incredibly cross with me.”

He chuckled, nodding once. “Very well then. Master Jason knows what needs to be done.”

I nodded, and Jason offered me the bowl of potatoes. “You wanna peel and cube potatoes?”

“Works for me!” I got started, and moments later Dick, Tim, and Cass peered into the kitchen. “... Hi guys?”

Tim frowned, stepping forward and circling me. He seemed to be examining me for something. “... Look at me.”

I frowned, but turned to look at his face. He peered into my eyes, frowning deeply. “... What?”

“... Well, she doesn't appear to be possessed, and she's definitely not a zombie.” He turned to the others.

“What?? What's going on?”

Jason frowned deeply, giving Tim a pointed stare; “explain.”

Dick piped up; “did you really manage to lie to Damian's mother?”

“... I mean, I survived.” I shrugged.

“And she believed your lies?”

“No, she did not.” Damian piped up, entering the kitchen. He pushed a chair close to mine and sat down; “however, she said it was almost believable.”

I froze, clenching my jaw. Fuck. What had I done? “... I- is she taking you away? Jason said she might…”

Damian shook his head, hesitantly squeezing my wrist. “She said I can stay, for now.”

I slowly released my breath, dropping my potato and peeler. My hands were shaking, and my vision blurred. I rested my elbows on the table and pressed my palms to my forehead, trying desperately to calm down.

“… Good…” I barely heard the strained, sharp approximation of the word that I managed to force out. My pulse was thrumming in my ears, and I could feel my heart beating much too fast. My face was hot and wet, and my breathing was strained.

Tim cleared his throat awkwardly; “... H- hey, it's ok. She's gone now.”

Jason gently rubbed my back, and I felt Damian shift closer. “... Sister? … Why are you crying?”

I kept trying to control my breathing; “... I … I just can't lose ya, kiddo … i- if she took you away because of me, … I don't know what I'd do…”

A gentle hand pressed between my shoulder blades, and Alfred leaned over me, setting a cup of tea in front of me, along with a soft white hankie. “Breath, Miss. … Miss Talia did not take Master Damian. We will never allow her to take him against his will.”

I slowly nodded and he rubbed my back a few times before stepping away. I shakily reached down for the cup. Dick and Tim awkwardly smiled at me.

“Yeah, what Alfred said.” Tim nodded.

“Yeah, finders keepers - Damian's our problem now, she doesn't get to take him back.” Dick chuckled.

I carefully sipped my tea, smiling weakly. I didn't know how he knew, but Alfred made it exactly how I liked it. Once I set the cup down, Damian took my hand, squeezing tight. I turned toward him, a bit surprised by the determined look in his eyes. “I will never leave you, Sister. I promise... Not unless you tell me to go.”

I sniffled softly and nodded. “I will never send you away, baby brother.”

Before I could open my arms to offer a hug, he leaned in to take one. Dick and Tim stilled, staring like toddlers at the zoo as I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tim fumble with his jeans pocket, trying to covertly get his phone.

“Do it and I end you, Drake.” Damian growled softly.

I giggled, stroking his back gently. He pulled back and I reluctantly released him. I saw the boys shift toward the doorway, and I looked over. Bruce smiled awkwardly, and I hesitantly smiled back.

“B, tell me you saw that.” Dick pleaded softly. Bruce nodded once.

Damian scowled, pushing his chair back a bit. I chuckled softly, going to the sink to wash my hands again. “Don’t make a big deal, Dick.”

“But it is a big deal! I mean … seriously, Damian, where did that come from?”

Damian shoved past them to escape the kitchen and his brothers’ questions as I returned to the table, peeling the potatoes in front of me. “And that is exactly why he doesn't usually do that. So, once again, please, don't make a big deal.”

Dick sputtered a bit more as Alfred ushered them all out of the kitchen. As the man headed into the pantry, Jason leaned over to kiss my shoulder; “good job, mama~”

I blushed a bit, hushing him softly. “Jay!”

“What? Damian can't hear me. And you've made it very obvious, you care more about him than his actual mother. I know he insists you're ‘Sister’, but that's just because he knows his mom would lose her mind over being replaced.” He smirked a bit, whispering; “you and I both know, whether we call it that or not, you're being his mama. And you're doing a damn good job of it too.”

I blushed more, smiling into my chest. “... How so?”

“Last time Talia came to check on him, he was withdrawn and broody for a month after. This time she's been gone for a day and he's already socializing with the family. That's all you, ma.”

I smiled softly, finishing cubing the potatoes. “... You're a sweetheart, Jay. But you shouldn't give me credit for his progress. He does the work, he fights for it tooth and nail, I just provide a safe space. Just like I do for you.” I leaned in to kiss him gently; “you both work so hard to heal from your pasts; to be better and do better…”

His cheeks and ears turned pink as he leaned in, whispering; “you make it possible.”

I dried my hands and cupped his cheeks, whispering back; “you do the work. I just make sure you're safe and taken care of while you do it. It is so much easier to sit in your trauma and just accept that that's how things are now. Fighting your demons is painful, and complicated, and incredibly brave. You are fighting an enemy that doesn't tire, doesn't fall back to regroup, doesn't even die. And yet you have pushed them back. You’ve told your demons that they do not own the territory of your mind, you do. You've made remarkable progress, and you should be proud of yourself. Don't ever give away the credit for your victories; they are yours, you earned them. I'm just here to support you in the fight.”

He blinked a bit, hugging me tightly. “... Damn, baby girl. … Ok.”

I smiled softly, tilting his head up to kiss him gently. He sighed happily, kissing back. A moment later, Alfred cleared his throat from behind us.

Jason jumped back, blushing bright red as Alfred spoke in an intentionally calm, measured voice; “if you two are done with those vegetables, I believe the others are starting a movie in the family room.”

Jason cleared his throat, nodding. “Y- yeah, thanks Alfred.”

We brought the veggies over and Alfred offered Jason a bowl of popcorn. He gently gripped my elbow, gesturing for Jay to go, before offering me a small piece of paper. “My mobile phone number, Miss.”

I blinked a bit, taking it. “Oh… thanks. … Why?”

He chuckled; “you said it yourself, Miss. You are here to support them. … Young Miss Barbara and I have been the only members of the support team for quite a while; it will be nice to have a third teammate to work with.”

I smiled softly. “I see. Then I look forward to working with you, Alfred.”

He nodded, offering me a large bowl of popcorn. “Master Bruce mentioned you'll be providing medical care.”

I nodded, gathering the cookies I'd brought before taking the bowl. “That's right, once I have the necessary training.”

“... It is a big job, taking care of the Waynes.”

“It’s not a job to me, Alfred, it’s just love. … The trick is loving people the way they need to be loved. The way they’ll accept love. Jason is … so brave, and kind. He’s good to everyone but himself. He needs someone to be good to him. Someone to tend to his wounds, to chase away the nightmares, and be a safe port in the storm. I can do those things for him. Damian needs space to be a child. Someone he can trust to take care of the responsibilities, and just let him experience being young. And I can do that for him. … It’s not a job to love them, it’s my greatest pleasure. And it’s an honor to be someone they trust, especially when they have been punished so harshly for their trust in the past…”

He smiled warmly, nodding. “Exactly, dear girl. Love is not a mere emotion, or empty words. It is action, and loving the Waynes, loving them well, … it takes a certain fortitude. Fortitude I believe you have.”

“Thank you, Alfred. … I won't let you down.”

“Oh, you mustn't do this for me, Miss. There must be something inside you calling you to serve.”

I chuckled softly; “not to worry, there is. Obviously I love Jason and Damian very much, and the others, … they've all been such good friends to me. I was taught to take care of my friends. … The world is not always the beautiful, bright place we were promised as children. But I know how to make candles. And if my candles aren't enough to push back the darkness, I can make more. If there still aren't enough candles, I will build a bonfire. And if that’s not enough, if the darkness presses in anyway, … I will lasso the sun if I must.”

Alfred smiled at that. “... I believe you would, Miss. … Go now, enjoy the movie.”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Thank you, Alfred.”

I headed to the family room, taking a seat on the couch between my boys. Damian stared at the tupperwares in my hands intensely. “... What did you bring?”

I chuckled, offering him one of them before setting the other on the table. “This one is just for you, and the other is for everyone to share.”

He slowly opened the tupperware, grinning. “... You … made ma'amoul?”

“You said your mother used to make them for you during the holidays. Your holiday traditions are just as important as the rest of ours.”

He held the tupperware to his chest and leaned against me for a moment, mumbling; “... Thank you, Sister.”

I smiled softly, running my fingers through his hair. “You're very welcome, baby.”

I was woken in the morning to Dick playfully pounding on Jason's door with both fists and singing; “Waaakeyyyy waaakeyyyy! You two better not be nakeyyyyy!”

Jason groaned, grasping blindly at his bedside table. He got ahold of his alarm clock and threw it. Dick cried out, startled, at the noise of it crashing against the door, making me giggle softly. Jay's arms pulled my back against his chest as he grumbled softly; “... Fuckin’ Dick …”

“... Hm ... Think his parents named him that on purpose?”

After a moment of silence, Jason snorted softly, burying his face into my neck. “Dork …. Ughhh, ’s too early… wha' time is it even?”

I chuckled, grabbing my phone to check the time. “... 9am.”

He growled, pulling me closer. “... Mh. … Much too early.”

A soft knock on the door drew a more aggressive growl out of him. I laughed, calling out; “yeaaah?”

“Dick was supposed to get you for breakfast.” Duke called through the door.

“Thanks Duke, we'll be down soon. Start without us, ok?”

“Kay.”

I slowly turned over to face Jason. He sighed, opening one eye. “... Now that's not fair.”

“What?” I frowned.

“You got startled awake just like I did, but you’re already fully recovered and you look like a goddess. Meanwhile I look and feel half-dead.”

I giggled, running my fingers through his hair. “Aw, but you look cute all sleepy like this~”

He grunted softly, blinking slowly. “Oh do I?”

“Very cute. Plus, your voice sounds extra amazing in the mornings~ that's truly unfair.”

He smirked softly, kissing my forehead. “Mh~ ... Let's blow off breakfast. Just stay in bed and cuddle all day.”

I chuckled, stroking down his chest. “But I'm hungry … plus, you know Dick or Steph will come knocking if we're not down there soon.”

He sighed, stroking my hip. “... Yeah … ok, fine.”

We slowly disentangled, getting dressed for the day. Jason had told me family holidays were always a casual-clothes affair at Wayne Manor, thank goodness, so we ended up at breakfast surrounded by sweatpants, joggers, and pj's. 

Dick grinned, already done with his food by the time we came down, and watched us eat. I blinked a bit; “... Dick?”

“Hm?”

“... Ya good?”

“No, I'm not good. You aren't eating.” He frowned.

“You're staring.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “He wants to start on the tree, but we don't start the tree until everyone's had breakfast.”

“... I see. Well, stop staring and I'll eat.” Dick sighed, his leg bouncing uncontrollably.

We all finished breakfast, and Dick practically herded the group to the family room. I looked around, frowning a bit. “... Is Bruce not joining us?”

“Ah, he's in the cave…. Bruce doesn't do much on holidays. Especially Christmas, so … he doesn't do this part of Thanksgiving.” Tim smiled weakly.

“... Why?”

“... He misses his parents.”

“Oh. … Well that's super sad.” I frowned.

Dick shrugged. “It is what it is. He'll be up for dinner though.”

I nodded slowly. Dick made us all sit in a semi-circle on the floor around a large pine tree. The tree had been set up at some point in the night after our movie, and I hoped Alfred hadn't been made to lug it in on his own.

“Now,” Dick grinned, surrounded by plastic tubs; “as most of you know, there will be other trees in the ballroom and foyer, for the Christmas gala. But, the family room is our room, and as such, this is our tree. Where the other trees will be elegant, themed decorations, fit for the public eye, this tree, our tree, will be the gaudiest, ugliest, least public-appropriate Christmas tree in all of Gotham! As Bat-family tradition, the youngest present family member will provide the first ornament on the chopping block.”

Damian rolled his eyes affectionately, standing. He approached a tub and removed the lid, selecting a cardboard and construction paper star. It had clearly been a child's craft project; the points were uneven, the glitter was half gone, and there was a small photo of Batman and one of the Robin's in the center. “I present the ugliest ornament in the Wayne Family Collection; made as a present to Father by one Jason Peter Todd for his first Christmas at the manor, age 12.”

There was a round of applause as Damian put the ornament on the tree and Jason bowed dramatically. I giggled, watching everyone take turns presenting their bid for the ugliest ornament in the collection. There were some truly hideous options, and a few I wasn't sure were meant to be kept past the Christmas they were made for. Finally, Dick gestured for me to stand.

“Now, as this is your first Christmas with our family, tradition dictates that you act as our judge.”

“Judge?”

“If you would.” He gestured to the tree. “Which decoration is the absolute worst in the Wayne family collection?”

I looked them over, chuckling softly. “... This is a no hurt feelings contest?” Everyone agreed. “And what does the winner get?”

“Bragging rights, and the offending item is finally thrown away.”

I chuckled again. “I see … ok, well … this ceramic mouse has incredibly unsettling eyes …” Tim pumped his fist. “Buuut, the name of the game is ‘ugliest’, not ‘unsettling’, so … I think I will give it to Cass.”

I pointed to the popcorn garland Cass had put up. What little popcorn remained was mostly flattened, and had been spray painted white and yellow, creating a poor illusion of fresh buttered popcorn. Cass smirked, bowing while the others groaned and clapped.

“Thank you for your service to our family, Judge.” Dick shook my hand, grinning. He ripped the ‘garland’ off the tree, dramatically handing it off to Cass who threw it in the trash. “I hereby declare this tree ready to decorate!”

We spent the afternoon eating snacks, watching seasonal movies, and taking turns adding ornaments, lights, and other decorations to the tree. Periodically Dick went up and rearranged things, he was apparently unusually particular about ornament placement. By the time we were done, it had the strangest assortment of decorations I had ever seen. Craft projects, tinsel, lights, vintage, modern, every color and theme imaginable, it was all there! It was everything Dick's speech had promised; ugly, gaudy, and not at all something the public would expect to see at Wayne Manor.

Once our movie was done, Dick called us all back to the tree. He made a few more adjustments, circling it slowly. “Well done, team! This is by far the ugliest tree we've ever done! You should all be proud of yourselves for your efforts. … But, it's not complete just yet.”

He pulled out a selection of velvet boxes and opened the first one. “Let's see … looks like Duke is first this year!”

Duke grinned and took the box, popping out a glass sphere ornament, about the size of his fist. It had a pearlescent finish, and his name painted on it in black in an elegant cursive font. He found a spot for it -one of the spots Dick had so carefully constructed during his ornament rearranging all afternoon- and sat back down. Dick opened the next box, and Stephanie was called up to put an identical ornament, this one adorned with her name, on the tree. One by one everyone put up an ornament with their name on it, until there were four boxes left.

“As we all know, Babs is with her dad today. She will add her ornament when she visits tomorrow. Alfred will be in after dinner to add his, and Bruce will come in when he's feeling up to it. … So, that just leaves…” he held a box out to Jason; this one was adorned with a red bow.

I tilted my head, curious. Jason had already put up his ornament. He turned to me, beaming, and offered me the box. “This one is for you, my love.”

I blushed bright red, slowly taking it from his hand. I popped it open, and there it was; an ornament, identical to all theirs, with my name painted in a swirling cursive font.

“I … I don't know what to say …” I blinked, trying desperately not to tear up.

Tim chortled; “oh no, we broke her!”

Damian shushed him, scooting closer. “You don't have to say anything, Sister. Just put your ornament on the tree.”

I chuckled softly, carefully removing it from its box, and stood. Dick helped me find an empty spot for it, and I delicately hung my ornament. He grinned, offering me a tight hug. “Welcome to the family, little sister.”

I got a glass of water before heading up to bed. Dinner had been incredible, we'd played some games, and the house was finally settling in for the night. I put my glass in the sink and made my way up the stairs, going down one hallway and then another, slowly making my way toward Jason's room.

“Father?” I heard Damian’s soft voice around the corner.

“Yes?”

“... Do you know any lullabies?” I could barely hear the whispered words.

“Of course?….”

“... Ok.” After a brief silence, Damian walked briskly past me, staring at the floor in front of him. Bruce turned the corner and watched him go, a confused look on his face. We made eye contact and I hesitantly smiled.

“... Bruce, can I ask you something?” Damian’s door snapped shut at the other end of the hall.

He sighed; “... yes?”

“What did Damian just ask you?”

“If I know any lullabies.”

I shook my head; “those are the words he used, but … that’s not what he was asking.”

“Fine, why don’t you tell me then, since you’re so smart? What was my son asking?” He snapped.

I bit back the sharp retort on the tip of my tongue. This was for Damian, I had to be gentle; “... As I’m sure you know, Damian struggles to request things. He’d rather die than suffer the humiliation of asking for something he desperately wants if there’s any chance he’ll be denied. Most especially when he views his desires as childish, or inappropriate. It’s much easier for him to ask a question that is designed to guide you to make an offer. … So, when he asked if you knew any lullabies …” I trailed off, hoping to let Bruce fill in the blanks.

He frowned deeply; “... he wanted me to offer to sing one?”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Exactly.”

“... He’s fourteen…”

“When he was a baby, his mother taught him to kill. She gave him no chance to be a child. Now, here, he is allowed to be whatever he wishes. It is perfectly rational, healthy even, for him to seek the childhood experiences he didn’t get at the traditional ages. And seeking them from you implies that he views you as a safe person to be vulnerable with.” His shoulders fell as he sighed. He looked so defeated. “… It’s not too late Bruce, why don’t you go prove him right?”

Bruce blinked a bit and nodded, rushing toward Damian's room. He stopped beside me to mutter; “... Thank you.”

I smiled softly, looking up at him. He seemed so unsure of himself; like a new father worried about holding his baby wrong. “You’re welcome. … Go take care of your son.”

He smiled a bit and went to knock gently on Damian’s door. I continued down the hall to Jason’s room, knocking before I slipped inside.

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[lilacxquartz]

A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES

part 1 of 3 • mahito x reader

summary: following an accident that destroyed your vision, you begin to suspect that your boyfriend, your caretaker, was actually replaced by an imposter.

tags/themes: body horror, psychological horror, reader insert, disturbing themes, dead dove, dark

ao3 • masterlist • more series • part 2 >

1. Fade Away

The accident itself came out of nowhere.

All you could remember was the squeal of the tires and the slamming force that threw you forward against the dashboard. The glass around you held for maybe a second before it collapsed and fell like sharp, near lethal snow.

Soon after, darkness followed, but not the slow pull of sleep or even death, but quite literally something pitch black and devoid of colour that crept into your vision, or lack of.

Before you knew it, the world was taken away from you and as was your remaining hope.

Essentially, you were left unable to see.

At least maybe temporarily, or so the doctors had otherwise claimed, feeding you a false sense of promise that the light could one day return. Days, maybe weeks all blurred together in perpetual darkness otherwise, so it didn’t take too long for your hope to fade.

The recommendation was to wear eyepatches over your eyes, or rather, a dual patch to both protect your eyes as they heal as well to hopefully make the gradual return of vision not feel so overwhelming.

You hated the things if you were honest; the very feel of them resting atop your eyes only served as a mocking reminder of just how easy it was to ruin the course of your life within mere seconds.

Your boyfriend however, as sweet as he was, tried to see you through it all. His calm and kind voice was the only consistent thing throughout your entire experience. He was always there to guide you when you couldn’t find your way—telling you it was all going to be okay—even if that word no longer made sense to you.

What was it… to be okay anymore?

Everyday, you looked forward to his calming voice and his gentle touch, except for when you didn’t; at least not anymore.

It was a subtle shift in the air, but something had changed.

When he walked into the room, something about his presence felt off. He greeted you the same way that he did before and the sound of his voice was familiar enough, but there was a different quality to it. It wasn’t wrong, at least not exactly, but something about the way he spoke had suddenly felt unnatural.

The way he touched you felt slightly… off, too. His touches were usually light against your skin; yet whoever this was, seemed to apply an uncomfortable amount of weight against you.

The scent in the room, the scent of his cologne that he wore was the exact same, although it was certainly faint, as though stale.

Maybe you were just going insane…?

It wasn’t that unlikely, you supposed. The trauma was life altering enough and after being in a loop of total darkness for the last couple of weeks, it was highly probable that the very last strings of your sanity were finally on their last threads. This whole thing was disorienting enough, since you essentially lost what you knew as the entire world in just a matter of minutes, so maybe it was the case of your senses being elevated a little too much.

It was a possibility, right?

Your mind was probably to blame, playing sneaky and cruel little tricks on you and feeding into the exhausting paranoia of losing one of your most vital senses.

The feeling however still persisted deep down. It was a creeping unease that would sink to the depths of your stomach and bubble away into poorly digested yet festering doubt every time he would reunite with you.

His laughter, while soft and familiar, now carried a hollow tone. His breath felt somehow hotter, his words felt almost… rehearsed. Your heightened remaining senses be damned; you knew it in the core of your very being that you weren’t crazy for picking up on such things.

It was the way his footsteps walked down a methodical path on his way to be with you. or how he hesitated to say your name, instead calling you sickly sweet nicknames that he had otherwise never before in his life used on you.

It was strange, but the company of someone you supposedly had loved for the last five years, had become almost foreign to you.

At one point, you reached for his hand while lying down next to him in bed and your fingers grazed against his, only for you to pull back away in an instant. His soft palms were now calloused and you could feel strange sorts of sutures line up his wrist in brushing retaliation.

You continued to try and drill in the idea that this had to have been all in your head out of desperate delusion, hoping, praying even, that it was the fault of the darkness for twisting everything into something so vile.

But still, that nagging feeling persisted. It wasn’t fear clouding your judgement; it was an innate warning to trust your gut to understand that something was actually terribly wrong.

You didn’t dare question him however, because after all, this person—whoever he actually was—was the only one who had fed you, bathed you and cared for you. How could it not be him? You kept telling yourself that it had to be because you were otherwise stumped on all other plausible explanations.

Whoever it was that tucked themselves away next to you in bed and idly traced haunting patterns in your skin was not the person you once knew.

It was absolutely, without a doubt, someone else.

Someone pretending to be him.

~~~

The doctors had been cautiously optimistic concerning your recovery; a phone call with the person who had initially treated you had revealed that while the accident had been devastating, your future might not be in ruins just yet. With time and provided that you were correctly taking the medicine that your boyfriend had been giving you, you should actually begin to heal.

There were signs to look out for in your returning vision; flickers of light, passing shadows and the like. They warned you that it might at times seem alarming, but it was all positive; a sign of healing, if you were lucky enough.

And much to your delight, you started to indeed notice hints of your vision returning after a while. Exercised moments without the eye patches would reveal partial sight in the form of colourful blurring patches manifesting within your view. It was something so little yet so hopeful, but you couldn’t help but cling to the fleeting glimpses of colour that painted your vision with almost elated anticipation.

Anything but constant darkness.

If you could at least see colour, even if it wasn’t so clear, then suddenly the future wasn’t as bleak as before.

Yet, every time you thought you were getting better, the progress would soon slip away every time he visited.

Just like the initial shift, it all started subtly. The brief casted moments of light would be stolen from you the second that he left the apartment, leaving you behind in a suddenly plunged black void and whenever you would mention this in a call to the doctors, they were simply perplexed. According to them, if you were seeing positive changes in your vision, then it should be improving—not deteriorating.

They told you that they would arrange for your partner to pick up a changed strain for the medication, hoping that an adjustment to your treatment should guide you in the correct direction.

But try as you might, the pattern continued to repeat itself, again and again.

You would heal and then the lights would go out.

You could have sworn that it was his doing somehow, even if the assigned blame was insane in its own right. With every touch from his tainted fingertips, he would somehow weaken you despite being otherwise gentle. It was so odd, because it was like he eluded poison from every stroke against the contours of your flesh.

You soon grew to fear contact with him as a result; dreading any sort of contact with the impostor who claimed to be your lover, lest he would damage you again. It was as though every time his fingertips brushed against your skin, he changed something about you and with every recurring visit, it only got worse.

You kept trying to talk to him about it, hoping that his once warm personality would return and tell you that you were wrong about your assumptions but you never got such comfort.

Again and again, you would ask him something of the same sort of variation, “I’m getting worse, aren’t I?”

But there would be no comfort that followed.

“Don’t be silly,” he would often taunt, almost, his words always so playful as they flicked off of his tongue with hidden venom. “Why would you feel worse, huh? That’s so funny to me, because you shouldn’t. I’m taking such good care of you, silly. You should be feeling better.”

His voice was soft when he spoke too, like smooth dripping honey against your weary ears. “Maybe you’ve got it all wrong, even. You’re feeling worse from me not being around. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep you running, safe and sound.”

His words were now more erratic, almost playful. He no longer carried the same patterns that your partner once did with his speech. You wanted nothing more than to pull away from this monster—because that’s what he must have been—to escape from him, to scream at him to leave you alone because how dare he pretend to be someone you loved?

And yet you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Instead, you did nothing, resigning yourself to just sitting there, laying there as he would continue to purr falsely planted reassurances into your ears with promises that you prayed that he would not keep.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he would say, “I’ll be right here, always. Watching every last bit of you unravel—I mean heal. We’re in this together, right? I’ll stay with you until there’s nothing left—I mean, until you’re fixed right up.”

You could only sigh and endure, the ache behind your eyes getting gradually worse, as if something was pushing and pulling inside of your skull somehow; messing around internally, poking and prodding in places that should have remained untouched.

It didn’t take long for your body to feel wrong, like it wasn’t put together correctly anymore.

Like it didn’t belong to you anymore.

You could have sworn that your skull was contorting under your skin, slowly twisting and waning through whatever pressure his passing touch would apply.

Sometimes, late at night (or what you assumed to be night), you would lie awake and feel things moving inside of you; slowly, and deliberately—as though something was crawling beneath your flesh.

And all you could do was just sit there.

Broken, blind and waiting for the next visit.

For the next time that this thing wearing your boyfriend’s persona would return and wrap its hands around your body once again, uttering sweet little lies while tearing you apart from the inside.

“It’s all gonna be okay,” he would murmur or rather, mock, “I’m here for you, after all.”

But it wasn’t going to be okay.

That much you did know.

In fact, you had a very good idea that nothing was ever going to be okay ever again.

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 4) // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested* In an attempt to forget about the events of the last few days, you try to relax yourself as best you can. You pull a book and some tea down to the common room but are shocked to see that Theo had the same idea.

+ WARNINGS - Language, sensuality (described in mind), nothing else really

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

affection - BETWEEN FRIENDS

*sorry for the short chapter

- - -

You awoke early the next morning. Much earlier than normal. The small clock sat on the desk beside your bed barely had its big hand brushing the four. There was little to no light outside. You pulled your hand to your face to rub some of the sleep out of your eyes.

The only sounds around you were the occasional soft snores from your roommates and a deep rumbling in your stomach. Shit. You must have fallen asleep last night without eating anything. You raised your arms above your head and coaxed a few cracks out of your spine before slipping out of bed. The green, fur-lined slippers lay right beside the head of your bed, waiting patiently for you to sleep your feet in.

You were no longer tired and didn’t feel like laying in bed until classes started, trying to urge yourself back to sleep. You figured you could catch up on some personal reading and have a mug of tea.

Beneath your bed, was a small wicker basket your mother had made for you on your eleventh birthday. It was intricately woven with two pastel ribbons secured on either handle. You loved it dearly and it had held many things as you grew up. At the moment, it held a large assortment of teas and a small kettle that you could hang over the fire in the common room. You knelt down and retrieved the items, deciding on a nice rose and lavender blend.

You gathered the things together, slipped the book you were currently reading into your arms, and made for the common room. At 4 o’clock in the morning, where the sun was not even up, you were expecting few students, if any, to be occupying the room. You were hoping for none.

The common room was always pleasantly splashed in moonlight around this time of the morning. Its cool rays showed through the water just outside the windows and bathed everything in the whiteness. Everything except for the warm fire in the middle of the room. You waltzed over to one of the plush couches, not seeing anyone else around—thank Merlin.

Wandlessly, you conjured some water, watching as it filled your small kettle. You hang it on the fireplace hanger and collapse into the couch, propping your book open. It had been over a day since you’d last read—some fiction about a knight’s journey dealing with the PTSD of his position—and you wondered if you even remembered what had happened the last few chapters. Your eyes found the small words on the page and let yourself fall into the story.

After a few minutes, the kettle began to whistle. You marked your place in the book and tossed it to the cushion beside you. You wanted to get the kettle off the flame before it started screaming and waking up the whole Slytherin house.

You wrapped your hands in your night robe and slipped the kettle away from the fire. With a whispered incantation, your favorite mug from under your bed appeared on the side table. You poured the steaming water into it and watched as the steam poured over the lip of the cup, its billowing moisture brushing against your bare legs.

Once you’d allowed the tea to steep and it had cooled, you became comfortable once again, leaning against the edge of the couch’s arm, sipping your tea every once in a while. It really was a good book. You’d almost found yourself forgetting about the ridiculous events of yesterday.

Until….you sigh. Out of the corner of your eye, a pair of legs appear coming down the stairs to the male dormitory, then a chest, then a face. A particularly difficult pair of eyes met yours. You all but groaned and rolled your eyes. You could not believe it.

“Hey,” he said, a small chuckle coming out of his mouth. It was awkward and the silence that followed it was somehow worse.

“Uh, hey?” You knew he was just talking to you now because he felt just as weird as you did—at least, that’s what you assumed. Before, he never went out of his way to acknowledge you, now…

No one spoke for at least a minute, the both of you just stared at one another, briefly found the other’s eyes, then quickly glanced away again.

“Well don’t let me interrupt you, I was just passing through,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of the plaid pajama pants he was wearing. Your eyes followed him as he began to walk towards one of the bookcases in the corner. He wore a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms beautifully. Your line of vision traced the thick vein that wrapped around his arm, curled down his wrist, and disappeared with his hands in his pants pocket. The pajama pants sat low on his waist and framed the sharp edge of his hip bones. You watched closely as he contemplated the options on the shelves before him.

His eyes caught something interesting. He raised up on his tip toes and lifted his arm to grab it. The tank top slid up his stomach, revealing the strong line of muscle that traveled from below his ribs and down to what lay beneath his waistband. The band of his undergarments traveled briefly over his hips. Fuck. He looked absolutely edible.

You shake that thought off and turn your head back to your book, forcing yourself to focus on the words before you. Surely, this was a normal feeling. It was just natural hormones forcing you to look for a mate. This was simply Mother Nature taking its course. Completely ordinary.

But Merlin, the way he had looked at you when he’d come down the stairs. His eyes, so dark and wanting, glancing over you in your too-big night robe and your ratty shorts. You felt like the most desirable thing in the world with the way he looked at you. Maybe you were just imagining it, but he looked as though he wanted to devour every inch of you.

Your fingers scraped over the book’s pages, letting the light scratch of the parchment control your thoughts. Intrusive ones that you indulged for just a moment before realizing what a weakness it was. Ones that gripped your hips and bit your chest and traced your thighs.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” His voice appeared behind you suddenly. You jumped at his abruptness.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Nott, take a seat wherever you’d like,” you sighed, trying once again to refocus yourself. But as he traveled over to the love seat at the far end of the rug probably no more than ten feet from you, you couldn’t help but glance up over the pages every so often.

You watched as he made himself comfortable, legs spread wide open with one ankle resting on the other knee, one hand against the arm of the chair propping his head up, the book balanced against his raised leg, and a strong arm coming up every once and a while to flip the page. As he launched himself further into the story, he began to fidget a bit. His thumb and forefinger pinching his bottom lip, the knot in his throat sliding up and down as he swallowed, his hips readjusting themselves, sliding them slowly against the cushion and—

You slammed your book shut. You couldn’t live like this. You were just going to force yourself back to bed. At the sudden sound, Theo’s eyes shot up in a worried glance.

“You okay?” he asked. You began to gather your things, tucking your now-cooled kettle under your arm. When he realized what you were doing, his book dropped to the cushion beside him and he stood abruptly. You stopped and the two of you watched each other, waiting for the other to speak. His eyes were slightly widened and he was breathing a bit heavier than usual. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly. Neither one of you moved.

“You know I’m—” “I’m sorry if—”

You both began talking and stopped at the same time. Theo dropped his head and you glanced away, finding the stained glass windows particularly interesting.

“You go first,” he says. You sigh.

“I was just going to say that I’m going to go back to bed,” you explained, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh,” he says, sounding particularly dejected. Or maybe he didn’t. You couldn’t tell what you were and weren’t imagining the last few hours.

“What were you going to say?” you ask.

His eyes glanced around the room. His fists opened and closed, flexing the tendons that ran gracefully along his forearm.

“I was going to say I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the whole…,”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you brush it off, “let’s not make it more than it is, okay?”

“No, yeah, I didn’t mean to,” he quickly says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His eyes find yours and for a second you feel your heart liquefying, melting and rushing down your ribs, sliding across your stomach and legs. Your eyes hold and it feels as though neither of you can look away. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears and echoing against your back.

His lips open and close multiple times and the heavy breathing is back. His chest rising and falling, rising and falling. His honeyed lips pulsing with each breath. His eyes slipping down the length of your body but your vision is too shaky to even notice it. And when did you guys get closer to each other? His hand now rested delicately on the back of the couch you stood in front of. There was but an arm’s length between the two of you. You could just reach out and touch him…

“Yeah, uh…,” you interrupted, your eyes falling away from his. You broke the moment. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking in, Nott.” He chuckles.

“Do you even know my first name?” His eyes find yours once more. No, thank you. You finish gathering your things and begin to walk around the side of the couch.

“Um, I do but…you know, if we aren’t making this weird, I figure we just go back to the way we were. You not knowing I exist and me not caring that you do.” Yikes. Fucking harsh. You shake your head and start walking past him to the staircase.

His hand suddenly wraps around your arm, your skin stinging like he had electrocuted you. You jump and he pulls away quickly. He mumbles a quick apology. You brush it off swiftly. God, this was painful. You imagined your friends watching this play out and cringing so hard they passed out. Because you were on the verge of doing the same.

“Is that seriously what you think of me?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with concern. You sigh again.

“I’m sorry, that was rude, I shouldn’t have said that,” you apologize. “But before…this whole situation, we didn’t talk to each other. We went about our days, blissfully ignorant to one other.”

His eyes hit the ground. He knew it was true. The both of you knew that if this hadn’t happened, nothing would have changed between your relationship—or lack thereof.

“If you want to…you know, be friendly,” you start. His eyes raise to yours. “Come to the library with me or have lunch with me.” You felt pretty sure he wouldn’t. He had a reputation to uphold.

He and all of his friends were ‘well-known’ around Hogwarts. They were all handsome, smart, and hailing from very old, wealthy Wizarding families. Everybody liked them or wanted to be them and you knew that well. All cliches aside, you were a Half-Blood and probably none of their concern if not the subject of their bigotry.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I will do those things with you,” he shrugs. “Give me a time and place.”

You were flabbergasted. And you were sure your face was showing it painfully well. You didn’t know what to say without sounding like a fool.

You wanted to say yes. God, how you wanted to say yes…Should you? Is it even worth all of the trouble? You know if anyone sees the two of you chatting it up at lunch, rumors will fly and you’re not so sure you’re comfortable being at the center of those. Yeah, no. You’re definitely not. Say no.

“Um…alright,” you breathe, smiling nervously. “I usually eat lunch by the Black Lake and read. I’ll be there today.” Merlin, help.

“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Well, don’t be reading while we’re eating lunch together.” You laugh.

“I won’t, as long as your conversation can keep my interest.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it can.” He sends a wink your way. Embarrassingly, a bit of heat blossoms in your stomach. This was ridiculous. You weren’t thirteen. You needed to get it together.

“We’ll see.” The two of you smile and begin to slowly separate. You didn’t really understand what was going on and you half-wondered if this was even worth it simply due to the amount of teasing you were going to get from your friends. But he seemed…nice. You wanted to see what lunch was all about today. It couldn’t hurt to have a new friend.

Part 5!

[shaylogic]

Anyone else hung up on the part where Esther captured the ghost boys in that glass box?

What were they feeling/thinking in that state?

Forced proximity, raw souls touching, scared but together just before being separated in peril, already emotionally tender from Crystal leaving.

Knowing the last time they survived Esther, it was only because Crystal was there to save them, and for all they know in that moment, she's gone and unaware of their plight

"This is it" Edwin may be thinking, unable to articulate it verbally

Charles desperate to break out and protect Edwin, unable to move or speak, utterly helpless again, and heartbroken that he just lost Crystal, and now he's going to lose Edwin, too

~~~~~

Omg can you imagine Charles somehow gets out and reforms, but Edwin is still stuck as a soul orb, so Charles has to grab him up and run with him

Charles is so protective and caring but scared and baffled and sometimes rough and clumsy

Edwin is the one who comes up with the plans and Charles is the one who takes risks and swings the bat

Charles: *cupping Edwin's soul to his heart, hands shaking* it's gonna be okay, mate, I swear! I'm gonna fix this

[ziv-helpless]

When war divides part I

pairing: uncle!Aemond x niece!Reader

Summary: Reader is the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, second born. In another adventures night in the brothel she gets pulled aside by Aemond ending in a questionable conversation.

warnings: incest, mentions of past trauma, hate for bastards (duh, it's Aemond), questionable morals?

words: 2564

a/n: First fan fiction that will be multi chapter. If you want to get tagged for the next chapter just comment. I hope that everything is understandable since Englisch isn't my first language. I let a few friends read over some parts, but over all it is not prove read.If I forgot to put any warnings or if you can find some mistakes feel free to tell me.

anyway, enjoy! ✨🖤

It is an evening like the others. Aemond has been seeking the comfort of the brothel more often than usually, the war has been getting to his nerves, the death of Luce gnawing at his guilt. Moans and the sound of skin slapping against each other filled the air as he made his way across the room to where Sylvi was waiting for him, punctual as always.

He tried to ignore the people who were fucking around him by keeping the gaze of his good eye focused on the floor until he reached the curtains of his whore’s room. Aemond never understood how the smallfolk could have sex like animals all in the same house with barely any privacy.

Or maybe he was just weird for seeking a mothers touch in a whore. It was not his fault his brother Aegon brought him here when Aemond was only thirteen, what else could a young boy have done? Apparently that never changed and so for the sixth time in not even a moon was he here again, naked, vulnerable and in the arms of Sylvi. Only when the hours of the wolf was reached did he get ready to leave again, this time with more confidence, the strong walls around his heart built up again, laying over his face like a mask.

Aemond held his head high as he strode out of the brothel, a heavy hood concealing his identity when something in the corner of his vision caught his attention.

Some knight of the kings guard slamming into a silver haired woman with a face of beauty. A beauty he knew. It was you. His niece getting fucked right next to him by a knight of the kings guard. To say that guy was going easy on you was an understatement.

Sweat glistened on your skin, illuminated by the candles spread across the room, surrounded by other men and women enjoying the show. Not only was Aemond’s eye wide opened once he recognized you, but you seemed to push the guard away, stumbling around to grab your clothes and disappearing into a different hallway to get away from your uncle as quick as possible.

Aemond how he is followed after you and once you were in reach he grabbed your arm harshly, pulling you into a secluded corner.

“What do you think you are doing here?”

He practically spat at you, anger and confusion seething through his veins.

“You are supposed to be in Dragonstone.”

Shame rose in you as you stood bare before Aemond, his grip harsh.

“What even are you doing in a brothel getting fucked by a knight of the kings guard?”

He continued, almost berating you as you awkwardly try to move with your back against the wall.

“The same reason you are here for, Uncle.”

It was a hidden threat as if you knew he was not here for pleasure. Your words did not face him as he kept his guard up.

“Do not worry your head around it. I will be out of your sight before you realize that the hour of the nightingale has struck. No need to end me like you ended Lucerys.”

Your words plunged a dagger into his heart, Aemond’s jaw clenching tightly. The sight of you so vulnerable not only in front of him, but in front of the smallfolk did little to quench his anger, on the contrary.

“I know where to go for moon tea if that is your issue.”

The seething tone on your voice was an indicator that this conversation should be done soon and it was.

Without another word Aemond let go of you, exiting the brothel in haste. By the looks of it he will not tell you, not with how his eyes lingered on your exposed form a little too long.

You returned to the knight to say farewell and to apologize for being interrupted before leaving yourself. Aemond’s words plagued your mind as you absent mindedly wandered through the streets, unsure whether to go back to Dragonstone or to stay here.

Should someone recognize you and report you the king would imprison you in an instant without a second doubt. Aegon was never one to be on the side of the blacks due to Rhaenyra’s bastard sons. Even despite your hair he still hated you to his guts just because you were the daughter of the usurper queen.

With guilt gnawing at your inner soul your feet carry you through the cobbled alleys, the noise of wet puddles echoing off the walls as you trudged closer to the red keep a flood of thoughts overwhelming your every being.

Your shoulder suddenly bumped into something, finally pulling you out of your racing brain. You were met with the eye of Aemond, staring at you with furrowed brows. In the rush of your thoughts you must have been fast enough to catch up with him and ended up ramming your shoulder into his.

Both of your faces were mostly concealed by hoods as you just stood there speechless, your eyes scanning his every feature.

“Why are you following me? Did you not risk yourself enough by being in Kings Landing?” Despite the obvious annoyance in his tone there was some hint of worry. Was he worried you might get killed? It was probably just the regret that spoke from him.

“I…” Rather confused you looked around, only now noticing where your feet had dragged you to. “I wasn’t paying attention.” You cleared your throat, trying to appear in control of yourself.

“Mh.” A hum was all you got, it was what most got. Aemond was never talkative, keeping things to himself most of the time. He always appeared to be lost in thought.

“I apologize, my prince.” With a few blinks you try to ease your raging mind, yet the confusion on your features did not go unnoticed to your uncle.

“I offer to hide you in the keep until it is safe for you to fly back to Dragonstone. I am sure your mother is worried for your absence.” Not a single emotion could be traced through his words. They were dull, calculated and cold. “In exchange for information.”

Of course he would only help if there was something in return for him. Without knowing any better you agree, nodding your head ever so slightly, following him back to the Keep.

“What you saw is a secret between us now, right?” Insecurity laced your voice as your cloak absorbed the soft raindrops from the night sky, the sound of wet footsteps in puddles filling the else silent alley.

“I suppose so.” His eye met yours for a second before focusing on the dimly lit path.

Aemond led you through a hidden entrance into the castle as the two of you snuck passed guards and private chambers until you reached his and he let the door fall shut behind him. Heavy breaths left your lungs after practically sprinting to his room. Never in your life have you been in your uncle’s chamber, but it was not as bad as someone might think. Books and candles littered his desk and at every place were it was possible candle wax dripped down. The room seemed cozy and warm, a stark contrast to the front Aemond put on in front of others.

Maybe he was not too bad after all. Maybe all it took was getting close to him, something you two definitely were not.

“I do not know much. Only that Daemon is currently in Harrenhal, trying to expand my mother’s army.” Your voice pulled Aemond out of his thoughts as he leaned over his desk, his hands gripping the edges tightly as he seemed to be studying maps of Westeros.

“What about your brother?” It seemed as if he did not believe your words, he did not trust you. You could not blame him. The last time you saw each other was at the family supper, before your grandsire, his father, passed.

“He is in Dragonstone. Mother does not allow him to leave. She is… distant, I suppose.” Your hurt and sadness were reflected in your soft voice as you swallowed down the lump forming in your throat.

“Stop staring at me.” Aemond caught you red handed as your eyes trailed over his hands the whole time he fiercely gripped the wood. Immediately you averted your gaze to the candles next to his bed. You could feel the heat pool at your cheeks as a red hint rose over them.

“Do you hate my family?” After what seemed like an eternity your words broke the heavy silence, only for one twice as heavy to return. You did not understand the war, not the reason the family is split in half, not the reason why it even was the way it was.

“I apologize. I should not have asked.”

“No.”

“Then wh-”

“I do not hate.” Aemond made it clear he didn’t like being questioned, not by anyone and especially not by you.

With a quick nod you apologized, staying silent. Despite everything your eyes stayed on him. You knew he could feel your gaze, but you did not know how else to keep your mind busy.

Aemond turned his head a little, gazing behind his shoulder to were you were still standing by the door. He nods towards a chair in front of the fire place for you to sit down in and you do as told. Carefully you take of your wet cloak and hang it in front of the fire for it to dry.

“I forgive, but I do not forget.” He was obviously referring to the loss of his eye. You had been there to witness it all, the fight between Aemond and your brothers, Alicent attacking Rheanyra, all of it.

It pained you to see the anger inside of Aemond still burning after all those years. Who could blame him though? No one apologized to him, everyone stamped it off as a little fight between boys yet they fought like men with daggers.

“I am sorry, Aemond. For what happened. My brothers have a fragile ego, but that’s easy for me to say considering my hair.”

A short silence filled the room, the only sound being the fire crackling as the flames ate at the wood.

“Do you think I’m a bastard, Aemond? The timing fits, doesn’t it? But maybe I just got lucky or they had the misfortune of nature taking it’s course despite the blood of the dragons.” Aemond’s fist hit the table, all different kind of metal objects clattering at the impact. The sudden sound made you flinch as you had been staring absently into the warm light.

“Do not play with me and shut your mouth.” He hissed at you like you struck a nerve. Never had he shown his anger or frustration in such a way. Of course he was violent, but not violent against you.

“Please. I just want to understand.” You were almost begging as you tried to keep your voice from quivering. Shouting scared you, shouting at you to be specific. It released that primal urge in you to hide from the world, but you could not run so your fingers clawed at the chair, trying to supress the fear.

“Nyke gaomagon daor gīmigon skoros naejot pendagon!” Your uncle’s voice went from anger to something that resembled frustration. The guilt in his tone and body language was evident.

No matter your fear you quietly get up from the chair, walking over to where he stood, placing a gentle hand on the back of his tunic. Aemond seemed to flinch away a little form your touch, not used to one of gentle form. (I do not know what to think)

“Nyke gaomagon daor jaelagon bisa vīlībāzma. Nyke gaomagon daor jaelagon īlva lentor naejot sagon ezīmagon kesrio syt hen pirtra.” You tried to comfort Aemond with the ways your mother comforted you as a child. It always appeared to you as if Alicent never held her children. You pitied them, but to what use? In your youth you tried your best to give Aemond the comfort of a mother although you were just a child yourself. (I do not want this war. I do not want our family to be split because of falsehoods.)

“I want to leave the past behind. At least for the two of us, hold a grudge against my brother if you want to.” Your breath tickled his neck, a shiver running down his spine as goosebumps formed on his skin. Slowly your hands fall away from his shoulders, fingertips gracing his back before your arms fell next to you.

“Do it again.” Aemond demands.

“What?” You were utterly baffled as he grabs you hand and presses it back on his shoulder. He was deliberately seeking physical connection, you. A huff of air leaves your nose in contentment as you press yourself against his back again. Everything stayed silent after this, actions speaking louder than words.

Aemond turned his head to the side his lips impossibly near as you looked up to him from his shoulder. Unexpectedly he cupped your right cheek and his lips meeting yours in a soring kiss. After a mere seconds you broke apart and you hid your face in the crook of his neck in shame.

He clears his throat, looking back down at the map on his desk, standing there like earlier. “I apologize.” Soft words for such a harsh man. It was the first time you have ever heard him apologizing.

“It’s… it’s alright.” You words were muted by the lack of distance between your bodies. The air was heavy with unspoken feelings neither of you addressed at the moment, too caught up with the war about to break out any day.

A soft sigh left you lips, making it’s way across Aemond’s skin. Your lips gently press against his neck, a sweet-tempered gesture to calm both of your racing hearts. His head fell back a little, giving you more access as your nose pressed against his artery while nuzzling into the crook of your uncle’s neck.

“Careful, your treading on thin ice, princess.” His words were nothing more than a hum as he enjoyed every single second of the moment, wishing it would never stop.

The both of you knew the inappropriate gestures like the palm of your hands, having spend countless hours in the street of silk and in various brothels.

“I did for my whole life. What is the difference now?” The exhaustion did not go unnoticed to Aemond and neither did the hint of sarcasm. But your words were the truth, something your uncle probably has not heard in a while.

“You should rest.” If you would not know any better, you might have said he sounded like he cared, when in reality it was probably more of him wanting to get rid of you. It was moments like these when you wished for the power to look into others minds or have the powers of Helaena to see the future through dreams.

“And where do you suggest?” You yawn softly into his shoulder, a way to intimate gesture to be between you and Aemond, when you were on opposite sides of the war.

“My bed. I have enough space in the library.”

Divider from @targaryen-dynasty

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XLII. “2am”

parts: previous / next

plot: Bruce struggles to contain himself after your impromptu meeting.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, arguing/belittling

words: 5k

a/n: i love them together so much AHHH even when they’re being them…

You’d found an old deli, Mallozzi’s, on the east side of the Tricorner bridge. The word sever echoed between your eardrums like a march; it was why you hadn’t called Bruce for backup, even though you were headed to Crown Point past sundown. 

Even the taxis were superstitious; Uber and Lyft hadn’t let you hitch a ride here at this hour, and the taxi driver who did made sure to drop you off on the closest main street—a quarter mile walk to your destination. You’d charged your taser this time, and set your phone to send all emergency contacts your precise location with only two clicks. You’d worn all black to try and blend into the shadows, going so far as to don black eyeshadow, lipstick, and a thick beanie beneath a baggy hoodie. A small insignia of GU was embroidered into the breast, the only thing you’d had the money to buy at orientation two years ago. 

The hustle and bustle was overwhelming downtown, but the lack of it here was eerie. Every splash of your foot in a puddle was loud enough to startle. Fall’s chill crept in with every passing day, a reminder that you’d helped get people off these streets. It helped steel your nerves. If they had endured frigid winters and the constant threat of violence, you could handle one meetup. Especially with Batman on speed dial. 

You winced. Severing.

The afternoon floated around your thoughts as you made your way through the damp streets, interpolated with particularly destroyed buildings that made you run away with stories of how heinous the flood had been. Wiped out this entire neighborhood. Some of it looked flattened. You stepped around a massive hole in the concrete; it started in the middle of the street, its arms reaching the sidewalk on either side. Maybe a pipe had burst in the flooding. Had they truly not had the budget to fix this place up? Never before had you seen such blatant classism; one of the poorest neighborhoods blown to shreds, untouched two full years later. People here didn’t give a single shit.

It had been too easy to convince yourself to come here—the situation at Arkham had perked your ears to something awry, and the timing of this was too convenient. You’d tried responding with some questions: what is this concerning, is this to the right person? but it hadn’t gone through. Whoever wanted to meet didn’t want to risk it being traced. Which only made you curious. You also wanted to challenge the idea that this was the most dangerous area of Gotham; you couldn’t trust a damn thing this city said when they made their priorities so transparent.

Taking this anonymous meeting was also a welcome distraction from having to deliberate on Dr. Crane’s orders, which distracted you from wondering what you’d do when you got home, which distracted you from your mom, which distracted you from staring into the abyss of likely having to start your life from scratch in a small town with no friends nearby, only potholed roads and weathered church buildings to talk to. And Walter.

Which distracted you from another glaring situation: whatever the hell had happened in his shower the night before, and the potential depth of that yearning. Your mind lingered there, haunting you. Taunting you. Last night had made everything real. Clicked so much into place. Why you kept coming back, why you felt so frustratingly drawn to him. Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne… 

Right. Severing.

Mallozzi’s looked like it might have been a great shop in its heyday; now, the shingles were half gone, windows busted, every corner encrusted with mold. Mildew and sawdust singed your nostrils as you entered, the glass door barely opening wide enough for you to squeeze through. A quick sweep of the room revealed you were alone. Stepping over broken glass and copious amounts of rat poop, you managed to find a single stool that hadn’t been ripped to shreds and situated there. Your heart hurt looking around, reminding you of how it felt watching mom and pop shops close up in rural Washington. The countertops had what appeared to be hand-sculpted designs on each square, color-coordinated with the faded faux awning above the destroyed registers. 

Two minutes, then five. The more time passed, the greater your inkling that following this had been a mistake. Would it have been so bad to ask Bruce to cover for you? Climb on a roof somewhere and keep lookout, just in case?

A hinge creaked ten past two. A hooded figure had wedged the door wider than you’d managed, and you thumbed your taser in your left hand. They had both hands tucked into their pockets, head down, and it was impossible to tell if they were a danger yet. Impossible to tell if this was even who you were meant to meet with. They’d given no descriptors, no street name. You opened your mouth, but they spoke first. Stating your first and last name like a bored secretary, with the voice of someone in their late twenties, maybe thirties. You nodded, apprehensive. “That’s me.”

They pulled up a stool you’d avoided, too encrusted in dirt that looked very much like poop, but the stranger dusted it off with the back of their hand and sat. Their hood was cinched tight. You could make out tanned skin in the light from the smoggy moon that danced off the puddles, but that was it. 

“You need to leave Gotham.” It wasn’t said like a threat, but it registered like one. You almost heard it in Bruce’s voice, and for a millisecond you considered if he’d set this up. Sent someone to unsettle you, convince you to leave. Maybe he’d figured you’d be more eager to listen to a stranger than the billionaire vigilante who definitely didn’t have ulterior motives for getting you out of his hair. 

“Why?” Wanting them to think you weren’t easily intimidated, you kept measured. Bruce may have been able to x-ray vision through your chest to see your pounding heart, but…

“If you don’t leave now, you’ll get yourself killed.” A shrill noise of air pulling into cold lungs, a small puff of air exploding between you. “Housing people in Point put a target on your back.” Another breath, increasingly shallow. Like being in here was a trigger. 

“Associating with Bruce Wayne was enough to save you for now, but do not count on it. If you can even trust him.”

As great your desire to follow the Bruce of it all, you narrowed your focus. Claiming to foresee your imminent death was quite the opener. “How do you know I’m a target?”

The stranger shuffled in their seat, teeth beginning to chatter. “Everyone who tries to clean up the city is. Especially young women.” 

“W—”

Their voice was firmer, stronger now. “Listen to me. Crawling around Arkham, City Hall, Bruce Wayne, Oz Cobb. You take one wrong step and you’re cooked.” You noted a subtle gleam in their eyes as they lingered on your sweatshirt.

“Why would they care about hurting me?”

“You’re sticking your nose in their shit.” Their voice was caustic now, frustrated that you weren’t rolling over and following orders. “Look what happened to the mayor. The task force she set up discovered the DA was funneling money to Arkham, yet the facilities remained unchanged. Next thing you know.” The stranger took their hands out of their pockets and slapped them against their thighs. “They all end up there.”

“What do you mean ‘they all’?”

“That’s precisely what’ll get you killed. Stop asking questions.”

Your voice rose without conscious awareness. “If something like this is going on in the city,”

“It is, and you aren’t able to stop it.” The stranger stood up to leave, and you mirrored them. 

“I could use my connections at G—”

“You don’t think we’ve tried that?” They whipped their head around so fast they gripped the crumbling countertop for balance. “You see any other young buck journalists out here? You stick your nose in shit, you’re gonna get shit. I left after my apartment got hit. Never looked back.”

“You were a journalist here in Gotham?” No wonder they’re giving me a warning. 

“And now I hide in bushes all day so they don’t remember I’m alive.”

You knew it was pushing it, but adrenaline was coursing through your veins. “Who is ‘they’?”

“Bye.”

“So other journalists have been killed here?”

“I might be the only one who hasn’t.”

Dr. Vry probably wanted to know about something like this; something to help protect the journalism students, maybe some leads into who had gone missing and when. She seemed so desperate for people to join the program, and this could explain the low numbers for the major. Their refrain echoed: ‘you don’t think we’ve tried that?’ “Why hasn’t this been picked up?”

“It’s Gotham. People die here.” They said it like a recycled political headline. “Especially if they’re tuities.” They gestured to your sweatshirt and the taser in your hand, clues you were only here for the scholarship. “Go back to wherever the hell you came from. And hope that’s far enough.”

“This is why you didn’t want me to bring anyone.”

“If you speak of this, I’m fucking dead. We both are, so I guess that’s some good stakes.” The stranger was halfway to the exit, your thoughts swimming.

You grasped for any drop you could squeeze out of them, certain you’d never cross paths again. “Do you know the names of the other journalists?”

“No.”

They couldn’t leave you with nothing. Make vague, disparaging comments about leaving, then drop you into the pit. Your frustration bled out. “Sounds like you do, but you don’t want to tell me.” 

They turned around, slowly this time. “Yeah.” Their chuckle was dry and humorless. “You’re as good as dead.” You swallowed hard, and they heaved a hissing sigh. “I know you think you’re doing good, but you are nothing but a pebble at the bottom of that goddamn river.” 

Your heart sank.

“You want to do something good? Stay alive, and go make the world a better place somewhere else. They’ll knock you out like a straw house.” The stranger turned around, yanked the doorhandle, and slipped into the night.

You didn’t stay long. The wind cut through your hoodie, and it was a brutal endeavor being alone in such an environment after what you’d just heard. Thankfully you’d written the number of the taxi service who’d driven you, but they wouldn’t answer. After enough phone calls, perusing Scypher to see if tragedy had stricken the city, you decided you’d have to walk until an Uber could meet you on a main street. On this side of town that would take a half hour, minimum. 

You slunk through the alleyways with dim lighting, avoiding ones as dark as the pits of hell. Something about them felt familiar; if they’d been part of the group offered housing, why hadn’t they taken it? Were they completely alone, unable to live with someone under a different name? If their life now was relegated to hiding in shrubs, they probably wouldn’t mind hiding in a warm apartment. Funneling money to Arkham? Lashing out at journalists for looking into it? City Hall, Bruce Wayne, Oz Cobb? Who the hell is Oz Cobb?

A noise down the alleyway scared you into turning around. A few streets over you saw a flickering streetlight, and set off toward it. You struggled to keep your thoughts clear, the decision of whether or not to leave Gotham sitting like a rock. Was it futile to chase this? Had they tried talking to Dr. Vry? Now the president of GU, she had more sway. Who else was locked up in Arkham? Bella Reál had been scrambling to get out. No one cared. The abruptness of Dr. Crane’s covering of the window, his thinly-veiled threats. Severing. 

At his next prescription pickup. A week and a half away. Maybe you could poke around for a week, and if you didn’t find anything you would leave. Maybe you’d still leave, and send any tips over to Bruce for Batman to work through. Point him in some direction, a parting gift, a lead he didn’t have to work himself to the bone to find. Something to make his life a little bit easier.

But what if they did kill you? Would they leave you alone after leaving the city, thinking you were no longer a threat? Would that open things up, now farther away from Bruce Wayne’s reach? Was that article the only reason you were alive right now? Would they hit you after the hype died down? Once you began to fret over if they’d tapped your internet service, you reminded yourself you were wandering alone around dark, ghoulish streets in Gotham City. This wasn’t the place to mull anything over. 

Chasing the streetlights left you unsure of where led to a main road. All the brick looked the same, the monotonous crumby concrete under your feet giving no sense of direction. Intermittent shouts and clanging metal frightened you more than it should have. You were weak. Too soft. Used to leaving cars unlocked on the road for a quick trip. Never carrying a bike lock. Finding yourself in a city where any publicly parked car would be smashed by morning. 

Severing. Your thumb hovered over Bruce’s contact, and your stomach somersaulted. Creeping butterflies, heat rising to your cheeks. For a second the air didn’t hurt your lungs and the darkness wasn’t scary. Childlike crush. Somehow bright and innocent despite the tangle of lies it was covered in. 

You put your phone to your ear. You knew better than to keep wandering; at least no one had seen you yet, noticed you as a target. Mar and Rai didn’t have cars; he was your only ticket out.

“Hey. Everything alright?” He didn’t open by saying your name—like he’d come to expect talking to you. Too enamored by the sound of his voice, the words didn’t fall out of you. Only a few hours apart felt too long. How the hell were you going to leave next week?

He said your name now, a worried edge to his voice. “You okay?”

“Are you busy?”

He paused.

What did you mean by that? He leaned back in the seat of the Batmobile, deliberating. The armor of his suit crunched against it, a noise he was so used to it didn’t register. Half past two in the morning. You didn’t sound distressed. Maybe you’d had a nightmare? Calmed yourself down a bit before calling? 

“What do you need?” He bit back a million questions when you asked for a ride out of Crown Point. He’d wanted you to stay on the line, but you assured him of your safety, though he wasn’t at all convinced. His phone pinged with your location share, and he rushed like every word of yours had been spoken in code. 

He found you at the end of a dark alleyway, one that barely fit the Batmobile with enough space to open the passenger door. It crunched open, not used to being utilized, and you thunked into the seat. He scanned you for injury as you buckled in—nothing. Now persuaded of your safety, chills peppered his skin remembering how you’d caressed him the last time you were in here.

The cabin glowed with a pink and purple haze when you entered. Felt his shoulder pads dig in. The restriction of the belt and his taut leather gloves. The sound of the world shutting off around him. Alongside this crush (he withheld a visible cringe), worry bloomed. He drove under a streetlight and noticed black makeup adorning your face. Black hoodie, black pants. You’d wanted to blend in. 

His hands tightened around the wheel, bracing himself for something terrible. Had you been threatened? Coerced into something? Fell into some shady deal? “What are you doing in Point this late?”

He felt your hesitation like a brick of cement. If you hadn’t been up to something, you would’ve shot back with a defense before he’d finished his sentence. Was this related to how you’d acted over lunch? Withdrawn, sullen? 

“Following a lead.” Out of the corner of his eye he watched your lips purse into a thin line. You had more to say. He didn’t like the feeling inching between you, widening the gap. 

If you wanted to tell him what lead, you would have. What was of greater concern was if you were safe. Though he didn’t think you’d be particularly honest. “At two in the morning?” That didn’t come out right. Neither had his tone; it was verging on scolding. He reigned it in when you turned to look out the window. “I need to know if you’re in danger.”

“Need to know.”

His eyes narrowed, your scoff hitting him like a punch. Where was this coming from? “I can help.” His patience was wearing thin as anxiety bit at him. 

“You are. By giving me a ride home.” You turned your head even further away. Your tone was clipped. He slowed to a stop, his intuition screaming at him. At least he hoped it was logic and sense, not some twisting of this newfound infatuation. 

You looked at him like you were ready to jump from the car, angry, when he faced you. Your shoulders slumped when he met your gaze. He wondered if you could sense how nervous he was. How worried he was. How gutting it was to feel like you weren’t being honest with him. 

“If you’re in any sort of danger, I want to know.” He swallowed, and you looked away. Again. Shit, you were, weren’t you? Why else would you be in this part of town right now? He moved closer, as if it would help you hear him. As if the only problem was you couldn’t make out his words. “Please.” 

“Stop.” You squeezed your eyes shut and wrung your hands in your lap. He thought his heart might give out. “It’s nothing.”

Your cuticles were shredded, your skin flushing light with the force of your grip. Did you want to speak, but felt like you couldn’t? “Did they say not to tell anyone?”

Your lashes fluttered. He leaned closer, wishing he could take off the cowl, but he hadn’t spent enough time in Point lately to know if any security cameras still recorded out here. Your face would be shrouded enough from the shadow he kept you in as he drove close to the alley walls. He softened his voice to make up for the harsh lines and bullet marks in his armor. He didn’t want to intimidate right now. “You can tell me anything. No matter what they told you.”

You were continuously looking back with rose colored glasses at the snarky, mean-spirited man he used to be. How roughly he used to handle you, like he didn’t care if you broke into a million pieces. Nice Bruce, kind Bruce, caring Bruce was impossible to dismiss. How little could you give him where he’d be satisfied? What would make the wheels of this car start turning? He looked stressed and frayed. You couldn’t put any more on him. “A journalism thing. One of the people I think we offered housing, just talked about it.” 

As usual, nothing slipped by him, undeterred by your contrived nonchalance. Why did you have to get in cahoots with the single most focused, discerning person in existence? “This was the only time you both had available?”

“They didn’t want to meet during the day.”

“Who were they?”

“They didn’t want to reveal their identity.”

His brow furrowed, voice raising a few decibels. “You didn’t know who they were before coming to Crown Point alone in the middle of the night?”

“This is starting to sound like a lecture.” Your taser fell from your side onto the ground, and he flexed his jaw. You tensed, bracing for an argument. “I came prepared, okay?”

His tone kept restrained. For now. “What if they’d had a gun? What if they’d brought others?”

“They didn’t.”

“What exactly did you talk about?” 

It was hard not to lie again. It was hard not to tell the truth. Hard being in the car with him. “It’s private.” 

“Are you meeting with them again?”

“No.”

“If you do something like this in the future, let me know beforehand.”

Won’t have to worry about that for very long. Little did Bruce know, you’d be out of his hair before the end of the month. Maybe he’d throw a party. Christen the halls of Wayne Tower with the aimless whimsy of the public getting a peek into his world. 

He bristled at your laugh. You weren’t taking this seriously, and it was imperative that you did. Painfully so. “Will you?”

“Please, I want to get home. I’m tired.”

Begrudgingly, with a plan to bring it up later, he released the brake and started downtown. You drove in silence through back alleys and the occasional tunnel until your guilt got too big. Watching his hands tighten and loosen around the wheel, his blinking speed up. He deserved something.

“Do you know anything about someone named Oz Cobb?”

The car slammed to a halt; the seatbelt clicked hard into place, shoving you back into the seat. “Is that who you met with?”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Is that who you met with?”

His tone scared you. Jagged and deep, like shards of glass. “Jesus fuck, no!” 

“How do you know him?” His eyes were cast in shadow, his face a blob of black leather. Gone was the tentative, concerned Bruce—maybe you liked when he handled you gently. The rosy glasses were falling off your face. Who the hell was Oz to have him act like this?

“I don’t.”

“Have you ever spoken with him outside of City Hall?”

City Hall? You never spoke to anyone there.

“Have you?”

Interrogative. No longer was this a conversation between allies. The car cramped under the weight of his gravelly tone, his armor coming off far more aggressive. You wouldn’t let him know that. “Just drive.”

“Absolutely not.” He wasn’t leaving until you understood. Your frustration was a small price to pay for making you understand that your life would be at risk, that Oz was dangerous, that keeping things like this from him was a death sentence. 

“So you’re stranding me here?”

He made his voice stronger, feeling it begin to shake. “Don’t ever go near him.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I said don’t ever go near him.” He felt nauseous. And faint. Intrusive images of you lying with a bullet through your skull made his vision go in and out. Made him nervous to look at you, though he still did.

“You don’t control me.”

“Promise me you’ll never go near him.” His pulse raced in his ears.

“I can do whatever the hell I want.” If he didn’t drop it this second… His tone was venomous when he next spoke. 

“He’ll kill you.”

You rolled your eyes wide enough for him to see. Now you could see him, his eyes flashing, then narrowing, his mouth tensing into a snarl. “A lot of things could.”

“Promise me.” 

Sounded like a threat. You looked around, pretending to be bored, your blood boiling over as you began to feel like a hostage.

He was on the brink of a panic attack. “Promise me, goddammit!”

You gasped out your response, shocked his voice had risen to such a yell. “Don’t talk to me like that, what the fuck?”

“You’re telling me to let you hold a loaded gun to your head and pull the trigger.”

“Take me home.”

“Tell me you’re not that stupid.”

“Fuck off.”

A wheeze squeezed from his constricted throat. Yeah, he was about to pass out. “If you don’t want me to track you,”

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Are you planning to meet with him?”

You stared at your lap. You. Still. Weren’t. Listening. 

“Answer me.”

Your nose turned up at him. “Your intimidation is less effective when you know it’s just you under that fucking suit.”

“You need to know how serious this is.”

“Take. Me. Home.” The steadiness of your voice was fading as helplessness crept in. You turned to look out the window. 

You started hashing at your cuticles. His voice was softer, though marginally. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“You need to listen, please—”

“TAKE ME HOME.”

Bruce reached out to touch your elbow, but you yanked your arm away so fast your wrist slapped against the glass. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not accepting any apology until I’m back.” 

The silence breathed for a few seconds, interrupted eventually by the clicking of gears. After a few streets you recognized the turns, the knot in your stomach loosening. The whiplash of twenty-four hours ago put a lump in your throat. 

A few minutes later he pulled into the signature alleyway. You hustled to unbuckle, the sound of small clinking rattling your ears. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed he was shivering.

“I’m sorry, everything I say is coming out wrong,” his voice was weak and bruised. 

“You don’t own me.” You unclicked the buckle. 

“I know.” A humorless laugh fell from his lips, and you stiffened. He shook his head like he hadn’t meant for it to occur. “That’s the thing, I know I don’t. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

He took off his cowl, sighing as he held it in his lap. A football field of distance sat between you, and he felt it like a hot branding iron. “I’m sorry for not taking you home when you asked.”

Tears stung your eyes. “Don’t ever act like that again.”

Bruce’s face contorted with pain as he watched you bite your cheek and blink back tears. He nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re not stupid. I was way out of line.”

You resumed fiddling with your hands. A light patter of rain dusted the windshield and echoed off the metal roofing. You didn’t know what to say to him. Each time you thought you were past something, it circled back.

“I won’t track you. I already said I wouldn’t. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re fucking mean.” It blurted out of you with a pitiful sob, and you angrily wiped at the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don’t even know who the fuck he is.”

It was agony knowing he’d made you cry. It bled into his inflection, this frail, bleeding desperation. “It won’t happen again. I was, I was scared, his pockets are in the courts, I can’t get him—”

“So you scared me?”

He froze. “I scared you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You wiped your cheeks with your forearm and popped open the door. 

“It matters a lot.”

You didn’t leave, but you didn’t speak. The two and a half block walk was more intimidating than ever, exaggerating the empty staleness of sitting in his car. 

“He’s the one person in this city I can’t save you from.”

“You don’t need to save me.”

You got out, saying a curt goodnight, and walked south down the alley. Hopefully no one would harass you at this hour. Hopefully getting home so late would mean the hot water would be plentiful. Hopefully you had a snack in the freezer you could eat in the shower, while you sat on the floor and deliberated if your life was worth staying, or leaving. 

Crunches of gravel alerted you to Bruce’s presence. Mussed hair and splotchy black eye paint sweat in a fade halfway down his cheeks. He hadn’t put the cowl back on, his identity on full display for anyone with the thought to look behind them on the sidewalk of the main road. It shocked you out of your melancholy. “What are you doing?”

He looked… uncomfortable, but earnest. His jaw twitched on every syllable. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I mean it. I’m really sorry.” His eyes bored into you, then trailed to the small pools in your tear troughs. “I don’t want to make you feel like this.”

You tore your eyes away from his. You might’ve drowned otherwise. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

When you got home you scrubbed your makeup off in the shower, buzzing from the constant state of whiplash Bruce kept you chained to. Reactive, and, belligerent, and, apologetic, and intense. He couldn’t fucking talk to you like that. Like you were a petulant child. He was the petulant one. He was so, fucking… aggravating!

He sat in the car for the next hour, unmoving. Half of him felt silly. Pushing off patrol over an argument. The other half was in excruciating pain. He didn’t give you enough credit for what you had endured, and what you had done. It wasn’t like you ran into Point shouting at the top of your lungs, pointing a spotlight at yourself with your full name and address on display. Wasn’t like you didn’t know Gotham was dangerous. Probably still had remnants of the bruise on your thigh. 

He cut the night short. He couldn’t concentrate with the thought of you miserable in your apartment. His head spun. Maybe he was going soft. Being self-indulgent and unreasonable. Cutting patrol short in a city of millions over one person? This was why he kept at a distance. Public service was supposed to be egalitarian; creating any sort of hierarchy was unacceptable. Yet there you remained, and here he was at Wayne Tower with the moon still high in the sky.

He’d never, ever speak to you that way again. 

[http-tokki]

don't go insane

~ choso kamo x fem!reader (tattoo artist choso au) ~tags/cw: mature content, lil smut, explicit language, talking about the pains of being a woman (iud, pap smear etc), aged up yuji. ~ mixed/third pov ~ wc: 2.5k ~ part of need to know fic: chptr one

~a/n: very small chapter because believe it or not, this took so much mental effort to get out, I could not figure out how to progress it past the initial meeting but the next part is coming soon, this is a lil taster

Saturo was no help. A constant barrage of jokes flooded your phone screen in every form possible, with an encouraging text from Suguru slipping into the stacking text notifications, the former however was no help. The little goblin made of nightmares named Anxiety settled into the walls of your stomach, poking at the fleshy, spongey insides and giggling each time you clenched your fist. The repetitive motion usually calmed the nervousness, a habit developed in early childhood that had so far in life been a great distraction from the impending doom that seemed to encompass you each time you stepped a foot outside your front door, but today it was no help at all. Afraid of looking silly in front of two rather attractive men you find yourself abandoning the action in favour of a more discrete tactic, one you had vowed to give up in response to the scar tissue that had built along the inside of your bottom lip.

Getting out of the house these days was a little tougher and required more effort and energy to step out into the world and socialise, and that was okay; at least, that’s what your therapist tells you each time you fork over two hundred and thirty dollars for a sixty-minute session. It is all right to be a little uneasy when going out into the world because everyone else is just as unconfident in their footing, and you can only control your actions; the decisions made by others are uncontrollable and unplanned, and that’s okay. It’s all okay, it’s all fine. Fine.  You feel your lips pull down into a frown.

“Hey, you all right?” a voice asks from your left.

You turn to face the voice and are greeted by the smiling boy who had greeted you.

“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks,” a sigh whooshes from your body. “Just a little nervous about being alone is all.” You feel your mouth mirror the smile he gives you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Yuji!” the boy beams and leans further over the counter. “And don’t worry, Choso is very chill; he’ll even let you pick the music if you ask!”

You genuinely smile at his childlike demeanour, and your stomach knots loosen a tad. Yuji is warm, his energy comforting and familiar as if you had met him once before, and come to think of it, he did look rather familiar to someone you had met when you were younger.

“Have we met be-“

“Did you want to – ohh, sorry. You first,” Yuji stumbles over his words, pausing and gesturing you to finish your thought.

“I was just going to ask if we’ve met before, You’re familiar.”

Yuji beams at your question but shakes his head, pink hair falling over his forehead. “I don’t think so, I would have remembered such a pretty face.”

Warmth blooms in your cheeks at the blatant flirting, and you’re flattered and maybe a little too old for him.

“Can you stop flirting with my client?” Choso walks into the foyer, holding stencils, ID, and consent forms in one hand, and a pair of grey slippers in the other. The shoes looked a little too small for someone of his size but they could just be normal size and look tiny in his gigantic hand.

Locking eyes with your artist, you finally get a good look at him and he is unnervingly beautiful in a way that you never thought anyone could be. Deep shadows cradle tired mulberry-hued eyes that are framed with thick lashes that fill you with no end of envy, and his face is exhausted and gaunt, yet the fullness of his cheeks and lips suggest that he is healthy and not malnourished in any way apart from sleep maybe. A raised but old scar ran over his nose, tinted a slightly darker shade than his porcelain complexion, but it was the imperfection, the rip in what is undeniably a beautiful artwork of a human, that made him all the more gorgeous and the hair, oh god, his hair. Raven-coloured locks fell to just above his shoulders in messy layers and pushed back from his face with a zig-zag headband that had your chest heating in both envy and desire. 

More heat spreads across your face, tinting your ears in a soft blush at the heavy emphasis on possessive adjectives, and you know he doesn’t mean it that way, but you can’t help your heart's racing.

 Yuji frowns, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“She could be my client,” he turns back to you, eyes wide in asking “and Cho can supervise, I need the training.”

You frown, dramatic apology written across your features as you look towards Choso. In any other instance, you would be willing to sit for an apprentice but you had been wanting something done by Kamo for months now and as much as you didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, you wanted Choso’s work more.

“Not today, bro. I’m sorry.,” Choso beats you to the punch, slashing through his apprentice’s hopes to tattoo and score a date with one clean strike. “Ask Yuki when she comes in; she’ll let you.”

Yuji’s pout deepens, and you can’t deny he is cute, but maybe next time, when you need a little filler or you have some cash to spare. You share a frown with the pink-haired boy and turn to Choso, careful to avoid eye contact as he holds out your identification card and the pair of slippers.

“These are for you if you want to change out of the boots.” His eyes flick down to the heavy Doc Martens that adorn your feet. “You can go into the room, I’ve just gotta grab a few things from the storeroom.”

Oh, that’s why they were so small. You accept the shoes and card with a shy smile, thanking him quietly for the unnecessary kindness with the borrowed slippers and follow him down the small hallway. You want to say something, a small joke to fill the silence, but nothing comes to mind, your brain suddenly devoid of any thoughts other than how much you wanted him to pin you against a wall. Fire twists in your gut at that image. Strong tattooed hands pinning yours above your head as his mouth trails down your neck, nipping at the delicate skin of your throat, then collarbones, then chest. How easily he could rip the front of your dress open, hands groping and mouth biting.

“I’m just gonna duck out to grab some more ink cups but make yourself comfy. You can sit wherever until we put the stencil on.” Choso stops in the doorway of his space, gesturing into the room with an open palm. “Bathroom is down the hall” he jabs behind him with his thumb.

With a shaky breath in, you nod and step into the room, carefully avoiding any contact you might have with him in fear of possibly melting into nothing but a puddle of blood and bones. He gives you a tight smile before disappearing down the hall. How were you meant to have him tattoo you if you could barely hold it together when there was space between you both? Your skin is burning, tingling with whatever it was he made you feel and there was an ache so deep in your chest it hurt, but all those things could be anxiety, could be caused by the fact you were out of your element and not by the fact you were about to be tattooed by the most gorgeous human you had ever seen. Or maybe it was your body telling you that you needed to get dicked down by Choso Kamo. But anxiety and horny go hand in hand, right?

--

“Can you relax for me?” Choso’s request is soft and accompanied by small taps along your spine as he readies your skin for the stencil.

A shaky breath leaves your lungs as you whisper a sorry and roll your shoulders forward in an attempt to shed the stiffness that had taken over your entire body the instance Choso’s fingers brushed across your skin. 

Your poor body has not known relaxation since stepping into the small studio. Between the constant heat coursing through your veins, your heart racing to the point of panic and your stomach twisting so uncomfortably good, you couldn’t focus on anything apart from the man before you, well behind you. Initially, you had wanted the tattoo running along your forearm, having just enough space for the small dagger and wings but after Choso had suggested moving the piece to run down your spine, your mind had been changed. It was perfect! You had been wanting to get something along your vertebrae for months now but hadn’t found anything you loved enough to commit, until now.

 What you hadn’t accounted for was how it would be tattooed. You had very well thought you would be lying face down on the bed, Choso hovering over you as he inked your skin but that would have surely been murder on his back and judging by the looks of him, he was not ready to make that sacrifice, so now you sit comfortably on a small cushioned stool, hunched over the bed to allow Choso access to your bare back.

 Oh my god, you weren’t going to make it through the appointment.

--

Warm hands are laid flat against your shoulder blades and you flinch, unaware you were going to feel the full weight of his hands on you.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean-“Choso rushes to apologise, removing his hands as if having them on you was a great offence.

“It’s okay. You just scared me, I didn’t know you were going to touch me.”

“Oh, uhh is it- am I going to “he struggles with the sentence, unsure as to how to word his question without sounding like a misogynistic asshole. “Are you going to be okay with me touching you? For the tattoo!” Choso all but shouts the end of his question, the clarification sending heat to both your cheeks.

“You can touch me, it’s okay.” You nod, perhaps a little too feverishly than you wanted to but you needed to ease his worries that you might be that kind of client. 

The kind of client that flinches at every pass of the gun and begs for breaks every ten minutes. You know first-hand how embarrassing it is to watch someone cry and whine because of a tattoo as if the pain was unbearable and unavoidable. You had suffered through years of period pains, laser hair removal, IUD insertions, pap smears, getting smacked in the boob right before your period, eyebrow threading and so much more and even then, you refused to make a sound. Almost passing out on the gynaecologist’s table when she rammed the measuring rod right up into the top of your uterus, and even then the only sound that came out of you was a small ouch. You refuse to be seen as someone who would flinch at a tattoo. 

Choso smiles back, restrained and small and you worry that maybe your over-enthusiastic consent may have contributed to that less genuine more annoyed retail worker smile and you find yourself starting to spiral into thoughts of needing to apologise and make up for the weird tension that now filled the room but that would be three steps backwards according to your therapist.

‘It is not your responsibility to figure out other people’s emotions before they have them and even then, it is not your responsibility to fix or change it’  

Each week you are reminded of that in that small corner office and you’ve heard those words so many times, you might as well get it tattooed on your arm to remind you of that fact.

So instead of opening your mouth and spewing word vomit everywhere, you smile back and take in a deep breath, nodding at your artist to continue prepping your skin for the stencil.

--

Choso sits behind you, gently laying the paper atop your skin, lining up the tip of the dagger with vertebrae, and he has to concentrate extra hard to stop his hands from shaking because he cannot place this stencil on you for the fourth fucking time. It had taken him three attempts already and not because of the size of the drawing or the curve of your spine, but the fact his mind wandered away each time his skin touched yours. Wandered to a place where no client should ever be found, a place reserved only for fictional characters and the occasional crush but here you were, front and centre in Choso’s mind. Bent over the tattoo table, dress pushed up just far enough for him to watch his cock sliding in and out of you, slick and precum dripping down your thighs and pooling on the sanitized floor below. Your hands grip the edge of the foam mattress, the other held behind your back fingers entwined with his as you whined and moaned, crying out Choso’s name as you barely held it together before coming all over his cock with a whimper.

The image has Choso’s cock hardening in his sweats and he curses the fact he decided to change into comfy clothes instead of the jeans he wore this morning. His attention needs to shift away from the thought of you and to the present reality of you. Looking up, he catches you already staring at him and for a split second, he freaks out and looks down at his crotch. Had he said something out loud? Or accidentally made it super obvious he was insanely horny for you?  The anxiety seems to do the job as he feels his dick softening, heart racing for another reason entirely.

“Do you need me to move or help you out with anything?” you timidly ask, brows furrowing in worry at the fact he had not been able to line the stencil up yet. Would he be okay to tattoo you? His hand did seem to shake a lot.

Choso shakes his head, puts down the stencil and reaches for the roll of paper towels on his station. “I think I've just had too much caffeine and it’s giving me a bit of a headache.” His gloved fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “My hands don’t shake this much, I promise. This has never happened before.”

Yeah, he’s never had a client so insanely hot he has been unable to do this job. Choso was not going to make it through his appointment alive.

[thegallavault]

currently locked in The Gallavault 🔒📚✨

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO by GRAYOLA ↳ ↳ with cover art by STEORIE

Multi-Chapter | Rated: E | Word Count: 214K | Completed in: 2020

At the age of 26, Mickey Milkovich gets his first apartment, his first wifi connection, and his first kiss. How he gets from wifi to kissing is a complicated story. Mickey is socially anxious. Ian is a frustratingly lovable escort working through an app. Mickey downloads said app. The rest is history.

[ download from The Gallavault | leave love on AO3 | reblog the art on tumblr | follow the creators @/grayola & @steorie ]

[nostarfights]

Chapter Six of Made Your Mark

Pairing: sugardaddy!rockstar!Eddie Munson X fem!reader

Summary: You and Eddie take some time to figure out the direction your relationship/arrangement is going in.

Warnings: One use of (y/n), a little cursing, smut

Word Count: 4.2K

a/n: i haven’t written smut in a loooong time so bear with me lol

Fic Masterlist

The time was now 7 p.m. and it had been a few hours since your mind had started to race and for now, your mind was clear as Eddie drove you home, silence blanketing the two of you for the third time that day. There was so much you both wanted to say but your fears continued to hold you back. These fears started to fill your minds, fears of coming off too strong, these intense feelings of love not being reciprocated and the fact that you fell in love with each other seemingly overnight. These fears easily filled your mind as you watched the sun set. But before either of you could allow your minds to become too busy, Eddie pulled up in front of your apartment building and parked his car.

Not giving you the chance to open your own door, Eddie quickly turned his car off and raced over to the passenger side door, opening it for you once he reached that side of the car. “Thanks, Eddie. I really enjoyed the time we spent together today.” you told him, a soft smile rolling out across your lips while you stepped onto the sidewalk, not wanting to say more than this in this moment out of fear that you might become too tempted to tell him how much you loved him.

A soft smile appeared on Eddie’s own face as your eyes met and he closed the door behind you, a nearby streetlight making a twinkle appear in his eyes. You truly loved that man more than anyone or anything else in this world.

“I’m glad, pretty girl. I enjoyed every second of today.” he replied with a quick wink, hinting at the kiss you two shared, successfully making you blush for what felt like the millionth time today. And as flirty as he was being in this moment, Eddie hoped that you couldn’t tell that he hadn’t wanted to take you home at all. He wished that the time you spent together today could last forever, he never wanted you to leave his sight. But all good things must come to an end.

You tightly hugged Eddie and gave him a quick kiss goodbye on his cheek before you started to head up to your apartment. As much as you adored spending time with him, you really felt like you needed some time apart from him to process your feelings and what the future could hold for you if you told him about these feelings. And as you walked away from him, Eddie could tell that there was something that had been occupying your mind for a little while now. He hoped again that it didn’t have to do with his worry about you not loving him back. But as for now, all he could do was continue to hope that this wasn’t the case and try to keep his mind clear of that worry. 

Before he drove off, Eddie sent you $3000 for the time you spent together, put his phone on do not disturb and set it in the cup holder next to him. You’ll figure out a way to get through this, he mentally reassured himself as his car pulled away from the curb and he started to drive back to his house. Everything would be okay in the end, he was sure of it.

Upon entering your apartment for the first time since you had left that morning, you closed the door behind you and briefly set your bag down by the door as you slipped your shoes off again. You then grabbed your bag, went over to your bedroom and got unready for the day in complete silence as your mind raced, not playing music while you went through your nighttime routine like you usually did. Your mind was filled with what you had been thinking about in the car as well as how the hell you were going to tell your best friend that you fell in love with your sugar daddy. 

Once you had finished getting unready for the day, you slipped into your bed and thanked Eddie for the money, you called Steve. As you waited for him to pick up the phone, your heart started to pound and you quickly decided that you were going to tell Steve what happened flat out. No beating around the bush. He picked up on the fifth ring, “Hey, what's up?” Steve said, sounding excited to hear from you, easing some of the nervousness you were currently feeling. “Steve, there’s something I need to tell you.” you admitted, your heart still pounding. After hearing the nervousness in your voice, Steve started to worry a little. Was everything okay? What was making you so nervous? 

“What is it, (y/n)?” he replied, now also feeling nervous as he waited for you to speak again. You let a small sigh escape your lips and told him the truth, “I’m in love with Eddie and I can’t escape or ignore my feelings anymore. I don’t know what to do, Stevie. I feel so stupid for falling in love with him so quickly.” you told him, almost making Steve’s heart stop in his chest.

After hearing about how well your first date with Eddie had gone, Steve had a small suspicion that this would end up happening, knowing you. But considering what’s he heard from you, Eddie seemed like a good guy that wasn’t going to hurt you so he decided to help you come up with a solution that would benefit both you and Eddie instead of telling you to leave him like he had done with the not so great guys you dated in the past. 

“Listen, I understand where you’re coming from, I do. You know I’ve been in a similar position a couple times before but I need you to know that you’re not stupid. How about I come over and we can come up with a solution to this?” he replied, only wanting to comfort his best friend right now. “Yes, please.” you told him right away, knowing that it would probably be a good idea to talk all of this through in person. “Alright, I’ll see you soon.” Steve quickly said before hanging up. In the meantime until Steve got to your apartment, you put your phone on do not disturb as well and put your attention on the tv in your bedroom. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thirty minutes had passed now since Steve told you he was coming over to help you out and you had started to distract yourself with your tv, trying your absolute hardest to not text Eddie or think about him. But just as the thought of Eddie began to enter your mind again, you heard a timely knock on your front door, signalling to you that Steve was here. So, you turned your tv off and dragged yourself out of your bed so that you could let him in. 

Upon entering your apartment and quickly taking off his shoes at the door, Steve gave you a one-armed hug, a bag of food from a local restaurant you both liked in his other hand. “Hey.” he said as he hugged you, making you smile a little. “Hi, Stevie.” you replied, that nickname you had for him making him smile too. You then swiftly grabbed the bag from his hand and went over to set it down on your coffee table, prompting Steve to grab some utensils for the two of you from your kitchen as you got comfortable in your usual spot on your couch. 

Once Steve sat down a few moments later, handed you your food and got comfortable himself, he started the conversation you had been dreading a little since you weren’t the biggest fan of talking about your feelings. “Tell me everything.” he simply requested, giving you the space you to empty your mind of every Eddie related-thought it had been filled with since you met him. “As cliche as it sounds, the second I saw him for the first time, I felt myself falling in love with him. And ever since then, it’s like I’ve been falling more and more in love with him everyday. But because of our arrangement and the fact that we haven’t known each other for that long, I feel like I’m not allowed to be in love with him. And because of that, I've got this war going on in my mind. I want to tell him how I feel so bad but at the same time I don’t because I worry that he doesn’t feel the same. But I also have this tiny suspicion that he does love back because of how he treats me. He’s just my sugar daddy and yet he’s more loving and affectionate then anyone I’ve dated in the past. I want to be his so badly but I also don’t want to feel like I’m overstepping if I told him that I’m in love with him. I feel like I’m drowning in my thoughts and the love I have for him.” you explained, sighing again now that you had gotten all of that out, prompting Steve to let out a big deep breath of his own as he processed everything you had just said.

“First off, I don’t blame you for falling in love with him so quickly. Hell, if a guy like him was into me, I would fall in love right away too,” Steve said, making you laugh a little, “Anyway I know you’ve got a big heart and a lot of love to give. But I think you should wait a little longer to tell him how you feel, like a few more weeks or something. That way when you tell him that you love him, your relationship won’t feel so fresh. Y’know?” Steve suggested and you had to admit, this solution sounded like a good way to go. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” you agreed as you then set your food down on the table so that you could hug Steve, “Thanks for always being there for me, Stevie. I really appreciate it, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” you told him as you wrapped your arms around him and squeezed. “Of course, I’ll always be here for you. I know you'd do the same for me anyway.” he replied, hugging you back as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

As for the rest of the night, you and Steve went on as if you hadn’t just had a very serious conversation about your love life, helping you forget about the internal conflict you had dealing with for a little while. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, once Eddie had gotten home not long after he had dropped you off and got comfortable on his own couch, he called Dustin. Now, while Dustin was younger than him, Eddie always found him to be brutally honest in his advice from when they first became friends to now. Which is exactly why Eddie chose to call him. And like you, while he waited for Dustin to pick up the phone, he too felt his heart start to pound. 

When Dustin did pick up the phone, Eddie started to explain everything that was going on. From becoming a sugar daddy to why he was on a sugar daddy site to discovering your profile and meeting up with you to falling in love with you the first time he ever laid his eyes on you to the day you two had just spent together that caused him to fall more in love with you to how his mind had been racing about whether he should tell you that he loves you or wait a little while longer.

“It’s just, I love her more than anyone else and I feel so stuck because what if she doesn’t love me? All I want is her but I don’t want to come off too strong.” Eddie said, ending his explanation. Dustin let out a deep breath as he processed everything Eddie had just told him, laughing a little at Eddie worrying about you not loving him back. “Dude, you’re so blind. From what you’ve just told me, it’s so clear that she loves you. I mean, she probably wouldn’t have kissed you back if she didn’t at least like you.” Dustin answered, easing some of Eddie’s worries. 

“I guess, but what should I do? I feel so stuck.” Eddie replied as Dustin quickly thought up a solution. “How about this? Wait a few more weeks, get to know her more then tell her how you feel. I’m sure it’ll all be okay.” Dustin proposed, making Eddie feel a bit more relaxed now that he actually had an idea of what he was going to do. “Yeah, I’ll just give this more time.” Eddie agreed, his heart now no longer pounding.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

But once Steve had gone home for the night after a few hours and Eddie’s call with Dustin had ended, you were both alone again and desperately yearning for one another. You both loved each other so much to the point where you felt as if you were almost bursting at the seams, but you knew that these solutions would benefit you both so the two of you continued to keep your feelings under wraps. 

You had tried to go to sleep not long after Steve left, but it was no use, you just couldn’t get Eddie and your love out of your mind. But for once, you didn’t fight or ignore these feelings, you welcomed them. You loved Eddie Munson and for once since you first fell in love with him, you came to terms with your feelings and situation. You felt free. As you laid in bed and let yourself think about Eddie, you reminded yourself that everything would be okay in the end, no matter what ended up happening. But for the time being while you were still wide awake, you decided that you might as well get some writing done.

Eddie was feeling similarly as he came to terms with the fact that he loved you. He laid wide awake in his bed for hours just thinking about you, how much he loved you and how your future together could be if you ended up feeling the same like Dustin had observed earlier. He laid there for hours as his mind raced with thoughts of you and only you until he eventually fell asleep.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three weeks had passed now since you and Eddie separately talked everything out with your respective best friends. Since those conversations took place, the two of you spent nearly everyday together, becoming practically glued at the hip as you continued to get closer and closer. Everyday you were together was spent mainly at Eddie’s house or your apartment and you had gone to The Rouge a couple more times since that night you two first met. Eddie did want to do more with you, but he feared what would happen if the paparazzi found out about you, he feared that they would harass you if they found out he was seeing someone. So he decided that it was best if what was going on between the two of you stayed private for now.

Every second you spent by each other’s side, the deeper you fell in love and the harder it became for both of you to not confess your feelings. Because of this, you thought back to the solution Steve had come up with a lot and you decided that now was a good time to tell Eddie that you loved him. So, on an evening where you didn’t have any plans with him, you decided to text Eddie and ask him to come over. “Hey, can you come over? There’s something I need to tell you.” you texted him, making him nervous. But nevertheless Eddie headed over right away as requested, arriving not long after you had initially sent him that text.

Upon arriving at your apartment, you greeted Eddie with a quick hug then walked over to your couch and patted the spot next to you, encouraging him to sit with you. Which he did, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he got settled and waited for you to say what was on your mind. He knew what this conversation was going to be about, you were either going to admit that you loved him or tell him that you didn’t feel the same and that made him more nervous than he had ever been in his entire life. Was he going to lose you today?

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you got the courage to say what you had been wanting to say so badly for the past few weeks. You took a deep breath then started to speak, “There’s a lot that I need to say so just bear with me,” you said, starting your explanation as you quickly peered over into Eddie’s eyes, a nervous look painted all over his face as he nodded and your gaze fell back to your lap, “I’m in love with you, Eddie and I have been since that first night when that hostess led me to that room. Over the past few weeks as we’ve continued to get to know each other and spend more time together, I’ve felt myself falling deeper and deeper in love with you. And I’m getting to the point now where I can’t keep my feelings a secret anymore, all I want is you, Eds, no one else. But I want you to know that I understand if you don’t feel the same because of our arrangement.” you explained, slowly getting the confidence to make a little eye contact with him. 

As Eddie listened to you explain yourself in this moment, he felt a feeling of relief almost instantly take over the intense nervousness he was feeling. You actually loved him back, his worries could finally be put to rest for once. It felt nice to know that you loved him all along and that he had been worrying for no reason. 

“I love you too, sweet girl. More than anyone or anything else, it’d be stupid of me to not love you, you’ve truly made your mark on me. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you and that’ll ever change. All I’ve wanted since the day I met you was for you to be mine. It’s been so hard to keep my feelings a secret, I’ve been wanting to tell you how in love with you I am since I first kissed you. Please be my girl, I can’t bear to live another day without you being mine.” Eddie told you, causing you to also feel a bit of relief. He loved you back and like you had reassured yourself, everything was going to be okay. “Yes.” you answered almost instantly after he had asked you that question. 

Happy tears started to pour down both of your faces and without another word said between the two of you, Eddie cupped your face in his hands and kissed you. This kiss communicated every bit of love and yearning you had been feeling for each other since you met without having to say a single word. You were finally his and he was finally yours, neither of you had to feel like there was a war going on in your minds for another second. Moments later Eddie pulled away, tears still falling down his cheeks, and began to observe your face as if he was trying to memorize every single feature. “God, I love you so much.” he quickly muttered before his lips met yours again. You kissed him back with a fervor like your lips would never get to kiss his again. 

Suddenly without warning, he pulls away from your lips once more and leans back into the couch, slightly spreading his legs. “Come here, baby.” he quietly said as he patted his lap, his pupils now bigger than they had been a few minutes ago. The desire to have you sit on his lap stronger than ever before. And just as he had requested, you crawled onto his lap and straddled his thighs and as you got settled in that position, Eddie’s hands met your waist and slowly slid down to your ass, giving it a squeeze before letting his hands relax again. “I need you so bad, Eddie. Please don’t tease me.” you complained as you slowly grinded against him, your breathing growing quicker while you stared down into Eddie’s eyes and you felt his dick press against you through his pants. “As you wish, sweetheart. Let me show you how much I want you.” he replied, his voice a little deeper and a look in his eyes that made your whole body feel as if it was on fire. 

He placed his hands back on your waist and slid his fingers under the bottom of your shirt, slowly removing it from your body as his fingers lightly glided across your skin. And in this moment, it was as if Eddie’s desire for you had grown even stronger once he saw that you weren’t wearing a bra under your shirt, prompting him to immediately bury his face in between your boobs, inhaling your scent. He pulled away seconds later, now holding your boobs in his hands as he played with your nipples a little, causing a soft moan to leave your lips. “Please, Eddie. I need to feel you so bad.” you quietly told him and the second you finished speaking, it was as if a switch had been flipped in Eddie’s mind and he stopped moving so slowly. 

Your body started to tingle as he quickly removed you from his lap and took off his clothes and underwear, putting his whole body as well as his dick on display for you. You found yourself softly gasping at the sight of his naked body, he looked gorgeous and you desperately wanted to taste him. But that would have to wait, you needed to feel Eddie inside you now. But before you got the chance to crawl back onto his lap, Eddie swiftly picked you up and placed you back on his lap himself, slipping your pants and underwear off for you before you could do so. And once you were straddling his thighs once more, Eddie planted one of his hands on your hip, his rings feeling like ice against your skin, spit on his pointer and middle finger on his other hand and ran them through your folds. “So wet for me, baby.” Eddie mumbled, the feeling of your pussy alone driving him crazy. 

But before he got too ahead of himself, Eddie quickly reached over to his pants that were next to him on the couch, grabbed his wallet and pulled out the condom he conveniently placed there earlier in case something like this ended up happening. He then removed it from the packaging and put it on, his own breathing quick and his hair messy as he started to line himself up with your entrance.

You let out a shaky breath as you slowly sunk down on his dick, your eyes rolling back into your head a little as you struggled to take all of him. And once you were fully adjusted to length just minutes later, you started to slowly bounce on his dick as you held onto his shoulders. But before you could do more than a few bounces Eddie stopped you, “Let me do all the work, pretty girl.” Eddie whispered against your skin and you obeyed, completely letting go as Eddie fucked you, giving you a kind of pleasure that made you feel as if you were floating on a cloud. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The time was now 7 p.m. and you both felt spent as you laid on top of Eddie and your bodies slowly recovered from the intense pleasure you had felt. But before you got too comfortable here, Eddie slowly slipped out of you and briefly set you down on the couch while he got up to throw out the condom he had used. When he returned, he gently scooped you up into his arms and carried you over to your bathroom.

Upon reaching your bathroom, Eddie gingerly set you down on the toilet in there and started to prepare a bath for the two of you. As the warm water filled the tub, Eddie grabbed a nearby washcloth that had been hanging from a hook, got it wet and gently wiped you in between your legs, causing you to take a sharp breath in at the feeling. You then let your heavy eyelids fall shut for a few minutes as you leaned your head against Eddie’s bare chest, “I love you so much.” you quietly mumbled to him, a soft smile on your face. “I love you too, sweetheart.” he replied as he wrapped his arms around you, scooping you up again a little while later once the tub was full.

As for the next hour or so, you relaxed with Eddie in the comforting water while you laid on his chest and he rubbed your back, kissing your forehead and quietly reminding you of how much he loved you every once in a while. 

[cryptidghostgirl]

Ritornello (Alastor x Cursed!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 3,565

Previous Part: Rhapsody

Next Part: Rapture

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Okay I know that canonically Charlie is like 200 but we're gonna make her 25.

After everything with Alastor, Y/n tried to continued their life as it had been before he'd stepped into. It was challenging, they faltered and misstepped. They had been good at being on their own once but now that they had a taste of the alternative, it was difficult to fall back into their old ways. Eventually, they managed to fall into a new pattern of being.

They were a bit more careful now, they didn't dash out unannounced from behind corners or secret hiding places. Seeing Alastor was the last thing they wanted to do. Now, they had someone to avoid.

For seventeen years, they continued on like this. They struggled through their battles on their own, against the overlords and against their own personal situation. They searched high and low for a cure but the only things they ever seemed able to come up with were false promises and temporary fixes. Every day, the curse the overlords had placed on them to limit their powers was growing stronger. Every time they used their magic, played their music, it became more and more corrupted and so, they learned to fight with their hands. This was until they got the call from Lucifer, of course.

The pair were old friends of a sort. Y/n had met him by chance within their first few days in Hell when he'd pulled them out of a tight spot. They didn't spend time together ever or really see one another at all but, Y/n had a vague sort of trust for the man, a strong sense of a debt needing to be repaid. Y/n didn't like owing people things, not even back when they were alive. They didn't like depending on people in that way. When he asked them if they could keep an eye on his daughter, they couldn't refuse.

Charlie was a lot. At twelve years old, she was bright and over the top and constantly bursting out into song. At first, Y/n had been rather uncertain about the whole arrangement, even when she'd gone through her emo phase at fifteen.

Y/n tried to steer clear of them for the most part. Picking her up from school, dropping her off. Babysitting when her parents needed a night to themselves, the normal stuff. When the issues started between Lilith and Lucifer, Charlie was suddenly thrust into Y/n's life a lot more. She had no idea the real reason, both her parents wanting to keep the trouble from her due to their own care and protective natures, and Y/n tried their best to keep it that way. It didn't help that by sixteen, Charlie had practically moved in with the demon but they managed.

Charlie had always pushed for a connection, something more than Y/n making her dinner and getting her where she needed to go. Y/n resisted at all costs. They'd been hurt before by trust, by care. The idea of going through it all again was terrifying. That all changed the day Charlie found out about the curse.

Y/n hadn't meant for her to find out. One of their situation's many many downsides was that while the curse ate away at their magic, it also ate away at their physical form. If they weren't careful, if they didn't temper their emotions and make sure they were eating enough raw meat, the beast would take over.

The beast was a horrific thing in their eyes, blood hungry and devastating. It was sub-human, sub-demon even, writhing and scornful. A mass of twisting shells of prey, a mass of claws and sharp teeth.

Of course, Y/n couldn't keep it from Charlie forever and on one fateful evening, Y/n had transformed. They'd been overworked, stressed about the fact that the Vees were gaining more territory and power, that soon they would be practically untouchable. They had forgotten to take care of themselves in the rush of it all, prioritizing Charlie and their plans.

When they had come back to their senses, come back to themself, it had been to the sight of Charlie. With a damp rag held to their forehead by the demoness and a whole lot of bones from victims of their situation on the floor around them, they had opened their eyes. Y/n had expected Charlie to flinch, to run in fear, to tell Lucifer who knew nothing about the curse. Instead, she had smiled brightly and told Y/n she was glad they were okay. From that day forward, they were absolutely inseparable, completely attached at the hip.

With Charlie's help and cheerful influence, Y/n was beginning to learn how to exist. They loved the girl like she was their own and Charlie knew if she ever had an issue of any sort, she could go to Y/n about it. Even when Y/n had relayed the story of how they'd been cursed and why, there had been no issues, no qualms, nothing. Charlie promised her watcher that she would help them break the curse, no matter what it took.

It was watching Charlie come into herself as a young adult, watching her meet and fall in love with Vaggie that made the real difference. The princess of Hell was unapologetically herself and Vaggie took everything she had to offer with open arms. Slowly but surely, the search for a cure took a back seat as did Y/n's goal of taking down the overlords of Hell. Their life was different, but they were happy. They found themself wishing for the past, the one they had shared with Alastor, less and less, channeling their energy into the world around them. They didn't even notice when the reports started to come in that the Radio Demon of the overlords had seemingly vanished.

Things hadn't been without their challenges. Charlie's relationship with her dad was strained to say the least and when her mom had disappeared? She'd been absolutely inconsolable but with one another's help, they figured things out, made it through.

When Charlie pitched the idea of the Happy Hotel, Y/n had been doubtful. They knew a lot about Hell, the way it functioned, the way the demons within were. It came from decades running around back streets and surviving in the underworld of the underworld. It was Charlie's hope that did it, her earnest gaze. Y/n had caved and after months of hard work, the Hotel had finally opened.

Things were going well, too well even. Then there had been the interview with Katie Killjoy, the other shoe dropping. Y/n had watched it from the sidelines with Vaggie. As soon as Charlie had come down off the set, they had enveloped her in their arms and held them close. With Vaggie's help, they managed to get Charlie back to the hotel.

Once she had calmed down a little bit, Charlie stood from where she had been seated in the sitting room beside Y/n, Vaggie, and the hotel's one resident: Angel Dust. She mentioned something about calling her mom before disappearing into the lobby.

Y/n and Vaggie exchanged a look. They both knew the situation Charlie was in with regards to her mother and how she tended to get after one of her failed attempts to contact the woman. Neither thought this was the time or the place to step in however, and remained seated, chatting idly with Angel as they waited for Charlie's return.

When she finally did, it was with a nervous attitude and a strained expression.

"Hey Vaggie?"

"What?" Vaggie asked as she and Y/n twisted to look at Charlie who stood in the door way behind the couch.

"Can you come help me please?"

Vaggie got to her feet and exited the sitting room with her girlfriend. Y/n turned to Angel to continue their conversation but had barley gotten a word to the spider demon out when Vaggie stepped back in the room.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?" Y/n replied calmly.

"Charlie actually needs our help with this one, I think."

"Alright then." Y/n got to their feet, shooting a glance back at Angel, "A true hotelier's work is never done." they lightly joked and Angel rolled his eyes.

"What's this about?" Y/n asked Vaggie as they followed her down the hall towards the hotel's main entrance.

"Just..." Vaggie sighed, "you'll see."

Noting the girl's odd behavior and stressed demeanor, Y/n steeled themselves. Not much put Vaggie on edge. She was strong, toughened, as far as Y/n knew, by a brutal upbringing in the streets of Hell. While each use of their powers made the curse grow stronger, they would not hesitate to protect Charlie or her dreams should the need arise. Besides, they'd become quite good at other means of self preservation over the years.

As they rounded the corner into the lobby space, Y/n was greeted by a flash of red as someone pushed past Charlie into the space from the street and a familiar voice.

"Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco on the picture show and I just couldn't resist. What a performance! Why I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929. So many orphans."

Y/n let out a low growl, summoning their lute into their hands and Vaggie pointed her spear at the Radio Demon. It was pure instinct. If they knew anyone, they knew Alastor and redemption was not the Radio Demon's cup of tea. As Charlie shut the door, he turned to face them. Y/n walked a few steps forward, planting their feet a little ways away from Alastor and poising their fingers to play.

"Get out of here." They said through gritted teeth.

Alastor's eyes widened with recognition for the smallest moment. As quick as he had lost it, he regained his composure.

"My what a protective force this Hazbin Hotel has." Alastor mused.

"It's called the Happy Hotel actually?" Charlie hesitantly corrected and he laughed.

"Not anymore its not. I did you the favor of fixing your sign."

A little threat couldn't hurt, a little reminder of who he was dealing with. Alastor had no idea Y/n was any less capable than when he'd first met them. One little note couldn't hurt, wouldn't show any of the damage done. Y/n plucked a single string on their instrument and the room around them began to glow. Everyone's hair lifted around their faces, the loose edges of their clothes beginning to flutter.

"Get out of here now. I wont ask you again."

"Now, is that anyway to treat an old friend?" Alastor replied, smirking.

Everything suddenly clicked into place. There was something different about him. Y/n couldn't put their finger on exactly what it was, but they could tell he hadn't been lying. He'd been at the Hotel for at least five minutes by now, maybe more with all Charlie and Vaggie's running back and forth since his arrival. If he had had any truly negative intentions, they would have revealed themselves, especially to Y/n. Alastor was a good liar, but no one was that good, good enough to trick someone who had watched them become the person they are.

"Old friend?" Vaggie repeated, turning to Y/n in confusion.

Their grimace faltered, before falling completely. They released their instrument, letting it hang loosely in their hand by their side.

"Alastor! You're embarrassing me in front of my kid."

"Your kid?" Alastor asked after a moment.

This time the shocked expression that crept its way onto his face stayed there.

"You know him?" Charlie asked at the same moment as Alastor spoke.

Y/n let their instrument dissolve into the air and gestured to Charlie.

"My kid. And yes, Charlie. I know Alastor."

Alastor turned, looking Charlie up and down.

"You got with Lucifer?" Alastor asked in confusion as he looked back at Y/n.

They laughed lightly at the notion, unable to stop themselves. They shook their head.

"No. Oh my gosh, I would never. Seriously just... great guy and all but no thank you. I just take care of his kid for him. Well, used to. We sorta got attached."

Charlie walked up to Y/n as they spoke, pulling them into a side hug.

"Y/n practically raised me. They were kinda the only one who was always there for me."

Y/n looked down at Charlie with a fond smile. They ruffled her hair and Charlie quickly batted their hand away.

It was clear to Alastor that Y/n had changed. They were no longer the trouble making demon he had known, that he had loved. Still, there was that same spark in their eyes, that fervent desire, that want. From just the small interaction playing out before him, he could tell that Y/n had learned how to trust and protect rather than just fight. They had learned to live hand in hand with that creeping need woven so tightly around their bones, rather than despite it.

It made him happy to see, it made him happy for her. At the same time, it caused his heart to ache terribly. They had finally been able to let someone in, and it hadn't been him.

In the years since their separation, Alastor had never stopped thinking about Y/n. Their memory was tender to the touch, shot sparks of joy or anguish down him depending on the day. It was like an old wound that had never quite healed right. Seeing them now was unexpected. The wound reopened. He sheltered himself.

Y/n saw the way Vaggie still had her spear pointed at Alastor, aimed straight at his neck. Gently, they placed a hand on it, pushing it down. Vaggie looked at them, her eyebrows raised.

"If he wanted to hurt anyone here, he would have done so already."

Vaggie stared at Y/n for a moment. Seeing how serious the demon that had become a mentor to her was in this moment, she lowered her blade. Y/n's hand fell back to their side.

"Now," Y/n turned to look at Alastor once again, "why are you here?"

----

It was late. Vaggie had told Y/n that Charlie wanted to speak to them about something in their office and so, Y/n found themselves outside the familiar door. They knocked once on the dark red wood.

"Yeah?"

They opened the door and Charlie smiled.

"What'd you wanna talk to me about, Sunshine?" Y/n asked as they entered the room, taking a seat in the chair across the desk from their young charge.

"Just about Alastor."

They should have known. Not only was the hotel at a potential risk thanks to the decision to allow him to work with them but Charlie had always had a sharp sense of curiosity. Y/n sighed.

"Fire away, kiddo."

"Well, how do you two know one another? Can we trust him? Do you think he means what he says he does? I thought you hated overlords? I.. I..."

Y/n smiled softly, the change in their face easing Charlie's nervous temper.

"We will handle these one at a time, no prying. Deal?"

"Y/n, you realize how suspicious that makes you sound, right?"

"Fine. A little prying. Deal?"

"Deal."

Y/n leaned back in their chair, letting out a sigh of nostalgia. Their hands rested on their stomach as they kicked their feet up onto Charlie's desk.

"I... I met Alastor practically right after he arrived. We both thought the overlord system was dumb and so, we decided to team up."

There was a moment of silence, broken by Charlie. The young demoness had always loved Y/n's stories, begged to hear them. They had never once heard this one before.

"Is that all?"

Y/n shook their head.

"We dated."

"You dated!" Charlie exclaimed in shock, nearly jumping out of her seat, "You dated the Radio Demon. Were you in love?"

Of course she'd go on and ask that next. Not 'how'd that happen?' not 'when was this?' No, Charlie had to go for the hardest question first, like she always did.

"Yes." Y/n hesitantly replied, "I did."

"I... oh my god. This is actually crazy. You dated? You actually dated. Like for real, in love, dated."

"Alright." Y/n clapped their hands, taking their feet off the desk and righting themselves in their chair, "Next question."

"Bu-"

"I said some prying."

"Fine." Charlie sighed, crossing her arms, "But I am gonna get that story out of you eventually."

"I'm sure you will, sunshine." Y/n chuckled lightly, "Now. Can we trust him? I... I'm not sure."

All the excitement vanished from Charlie as she looked seriously over at Y/n.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because, he's up to something but not with us. Or, if it is with us, it's not to hurt us. I... something happened to him, something is different. I am not sure what I just... he's not here to hurt us... I think..."

"You think?" Charlie repeated indignantly, "Can you be a little more sure of that maybe? Why only think?"

"It's been a long time since I've seen him, Charls. Maybe being an overlord is what changed him. I have no way of knowing but my gut tells me he's okay, at least for now."

"You knew him before he became an overlord?"

"You really think I would team up with one of those bitches? Come on. You know I hate them."

"I-"

"Next question." Y/n quickly interrupted, not wanting to think on the past anymore than was necessary, "I think he does mean what he says, as was implied in whether or not I trusted him but the same caveats that applied there apply here too. And I do hate overlords, I just..."

"You just love him." Charlie teased.

Y/n's cheeks grew hot. They looked away.

"I do not. I loved him. There is a difference."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Why did you guys break up?"

Y/n turned back to Charlie. They couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Well, he became an overlord. Also I maybe... never told him. About the curse. He could tell something was up and..." Y/n took a breath, "couldn't take it after a while I guess."

"So you guys still loved each other when you broke up."

"What are you scheming over there."

"Nothing! Nothing!" Charlie quickly replied as she not so discreetly scribbled something on a piece of paper, "How long were you together?"

Y/n placed their hands on the arms of the chair, pulling themselves to their feet.

"Alright, trouble maker, I think thats enough lore outta me tonight."

"But Y/n!"

"I'm gonna go to bed. Vaggie already headed upstairs for the night I think. Sweet dreams, princess."

"Good night Y/n." Charlie dejectedly replied as she realized she really wasn't going to be getting anything else out of her mentor that night.

"Good night."

Y/n was about half way through the Hotel back to their room when they felt a hand on their shoulder. Reacting purely out of instinct, they ducked out from under the person's grip, spinning around with their fists raised. Alastor smiled down at Y/n and they sighed.

"What is it?" they asked, straightening up.

He had expected Y/n to be angry, to have that familiar sharp edge behind their voice. Instead, they looked up at him. As if everything was normal, as if it hadn't been thirty years since they'd last seen one another, as if they had just been together yesterday, their eyes met his.

"I... it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too." they replied after a moment's thought, "What are you doing up this late?"

"You know me, sleep is not my preferred way to pass time."

"I meant what are you doing in the hall, but sure. Yeah, I know you."

"That darling Charlie asked to see me."

Y/n scoffed, shaking their head with a tired smile.

"Of course she'd... yeah."

They stood in the hall facing one another. Just a few feet apart. The silence was thick.

"You seem happy."

"I am." Y/n nodded, "Charlie is a great kid. I was pissed when Lucifer first asked me to look after her, I'll admit it but, she has grown on me."

"I didn't know you were acquainted with the big man. I thought you despised all authority figures."

Y/n looked critically at Alastor, over his whole being. He felt they were looking into his very soul, the heart of all his intentions and desires. He felt absolutely naked in the worst way under their gaze.

"No, just overlords. Especially ones who make deals for the souls of others. It's a stupid and outdated system. Even the best of them like Rosie abuse their power to get what they want."

It was a well sharpened arrow, the remark. Perfectly aimed. Alastor had, after all, introduced the small group inhabiting the hotel to Husk and Nifty just that afternoon. Y/n turned their back to Alastor.

"She has big dreams and the passion to see them through. I believe in her. Don't... don't fuck this up for her, Alastor."

----

Next Part -> Rapture

@moonmark98 @luzzbuzz @snowlotr @randomuser-89 @fakeguysarehot @xdolls-crownx

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 11

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: angst, little to no comfort yet

wc: 2.2k

Chapter Selection

Dick: heeeyyyy Jay?

4:03pm

Dick: … Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay??? Bruce is asking questions about your relationship.

4:45pm

Jason: And I'm ignoring them.

4:56pm

Dick: Well don't! It's important.

4:57pm

Jason: Not possible. It's not his relationship.

5:02pm

Dick: Look, I know you don't like sharing details with us, but Bruce is wondering how serious this is. Like … is she coming to the next Wayne Foundation Gala? Should we expect her at Christmas? Are you gonna tell her about your night job? These are things we kinda need to know

5:10pm

Jason: First of all, I'm not going to the next gala, so why would she? Second, it is way too early in the year to be worrying about Christmas.

5:15pm

Dick: … And the job?

5:25pm

Jason: … When do you tell someone something like that? We've only been together for a few months, but at the same time we've been together for /months/. It simultaneously feels too early and too late…

5:29pm

Dick: Yeah … you're asking the wrong guy, dude. I've only ever dated people “in the business” as it were … Tim might have some insights on that one.

5:31pm

Jason: Yeah, that's not happening.

5:38pm

Dick: Which leads us back to TALK TO BRUCE.

5:40pm

Dick: … DON'T YOU LEAVE ME ON READ YOU LITTLE SHIT!

6:30pm

Bruce: Call me

8:30am

Bruce: Jason, I just have a few questions for you.

9:30am

Bruce: Jason!

10:45am

Jason: Jesus Christ, B! Dick told me about your questions, I don't know what you want me to say! I have no answers for you, ok? This is all new, just let me figure it out!

10:50am

Bruce: As long as you're considering how best to approach the situation. I'm sure you realize you do not want someone else to tell her these things before you have the opportunity to. If you are serious about this relationship, sooner will be better than later.

11:02am

Jason: Believe me, I know. My worst nightmare is her finding out because some asshole tries to kidnap her. I know that us being together puts a target on her back, and if she doesn't know it's there she's at even greater risk. I know all this. It will be handled soon.

11:30am

Bruce: … That sounds pretty final; are you planning on ending things before something goes wrong?

11:41am

Jason: That would be the smart thing. The selfless thing. And I've considered it, I really have. … But I just can't. I don't want to. Can't I have just one good thing? Just this one, and I'll never ask the universe for anything else.

11:50am

Bruce: Jason, of course you can have good things! … But you need to find a way to tell her, before circumstance takes the choice from you.

11:58am

Jason: Working on it

12:04pm

Bruce: Good. We'll see you both at the gala next month then.

12:09pm

Jason: I think the fuck not!

12:10pm

Bruce: It's your turn, you have to come. And if you think that girl doesn't want to be shown off on your arm we'll need to revisit your training, because your observation skills are slipping.

12:15pm

Jason: … This kind of thing is exactly why I didn't want to introduce her to the family.

12:19pm

Bruce: Is it so hard to buy your girl a dress and spin her around the dance floor a few times?

12:30pm

Jason: If any of those socialites flirt with her I won't be held responsible for my actions.

12:33pm

Bruce: You will not threaten, attack, or arrange an attack on anyone at the gala.

12:37pm

Jason: Of course not

12:40pm

Bruce: That includes after they leave, Jason!

12:43pm

Jason: … Damnit.

12:50pm

“Thank god you got the security system in place, huh?” she chuckled a bit mirthlessly as they watched the news. The night before, Jason had installed new security measures around her apartment; better windows with strong locks -and bullet proof glass, but she didn’t know that-, motion detecting cameras on the balcony and front door, and stronger locks on both doors. Perfect timing too, because Bane’s escape from Arkham had just been announced. 

Jason pulled her closer, stroking her back, and kissed her forehead. “Not gonna let anything happen to you baby. You just stay inside for a few days, ok?”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders; “can’t. Gotta go to work tomorrow…”

“... Please don’t. … Please, I’ll take care of your rent, just don’t go out there until the bats have him back in Arkham.”

She looked up at his face, frowning a bit. “Jay, we can’t let them hold us hostage in our own homes. He could be out for months, it’s happened before. Hell, if he doesn’t do anything immediately and someone else starts making trouble, he could be loose for years before they get around to him. Besides, it’s not like you’re not going to work while he’s out.”

This was it. This was the moment; he was going to tell her. The only reason he was going to work was because his work was putting Bane back in Arkham. Say it. Say it right now. … She needs to know, just say it. This is the moment… Maybe she’ll stay inside if she knows, then she’ll be safe. Say it. …

“... then … let me take you to work? And pick you up at the end of your shift too.”

“... Just for a few days.” She nodded, kissing his cheek.

He sighed, stroking her shoulder, and held her close. … Coward.

A week later they were sitting on the floor in her apartment, legs crossed, knees touching, both wearing short sleeve shirts. Jason's wrists were resting on his knees, so she could see his arms. He refused to look in her eyes; this was too awkward.

The point was to slowly get him acclimated to the idea that she was a safe person to show his scars to. His forearms had some of his less gruesome scars, mostly cuts and a few old burns, and he was already less uncomfortable with her touching him there, so it seemed like the most reasonable place to start. She gently squeezed his hands, looking down at them. Not touching yet, just sitting with the fact that they were there.

“... Can I ask how you got them?”

This was it. This was the moment; he had to tell her now. Tell her. Tell her where they came from. Tell her what you do. Do it. Right now… 

“... Um … well, …”

He was trying to find the right words, how to start this conversation. But all she saw was hesitation. So she squeezed his hands, smiling gently; “it's ok if you're not ready.”

It really wasn't. He knew it wasn't; she deserved the truth, she needed the truth, and she needed it soon. But it felt like too big of a thing to just say all of a sudden, and it was so easy to accept the easy out. He squeezed her hands back, smiling weakly.

“... I love you.” Just give him a little longer, he silently begged the universe; he'd tell her soon, just not today. Give him a little longer.

“I love you too, Jay~” God, how he hoped that would still be true when he finally told her…

“What do you think?” She spun on the pedestal, showing off a green dress. Jason and Steph had taken her to get a gown for the gala; Jason would have been happy for it to be just the two of them, but she insisted she needed a girl's opinion too.

Steph grinned. “I love that silhouette on you. … But the color ….” She waved her hand in a ‘so-so’ motion.

“What's wrong with the color?” She frowned, looking down at herself.

“Nothing, you look beautiful.” Jason smiled softly.

“But it'll look like Christmas!” Steph exclaimed.

She tilted her head, frowning. “Christmas?”

Steph nodded emphatically; “Jason only has one tie for these events, and it's red!”

“Oh! Well then I need a red dress!” She grinned, gathering up the skirt and running for the changing room. “I wish you had the tie with you to compare …”

“I can find a picture!” Steph grinned, going through her Waynebook photos.

Jason blinked a bit, not fully sure what was happening. “... Y- … huh? … you wanna wear red?”

She reemerged, grinning; “Of course; I want everyone in that room to know at a glance that I'm your girl~”  He blushed bright red, letting her take his hand and pull him toward a selection of red dresses. Steph smirked a bit, following along to help find a few dresses that would match his tie nicely. 

She blushed brightly and giggled at the soft groan that emanated from Jason's throat when she came out in a dress with a high slit and off the shoulder sleeves. Steph smirked; “That sounds like a yes to me.”

“Hmm…” She shifted and squirmed a bit in front of the mirror, frowning at her reflection. “I dunno about this one…”

Jason stood behind her, offering her his hands. “Why not? You look incredible…”

She blushed more, taking them. They stood in the mirror, him behind her and to the side a bit, her hands resting in his like he was leading her onto the dance floor. “I dunno, … the slit is really high, and the off the shoulder sleeves sit in a way that draws attention to my arm fat…”

Jason frowned, gently squeezing her hands. “And?”

She chuckled a bit, looking at his face in the mirror. “What do you mean ‘and’?”

“You're gorgeous. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise it's because they're jealous of how effortlessly beautiful you are. You're going to be the most stunning girl at that entire stupid gala. Really, getting to see you outshine all those hoity-toity-stick-up-their-ass bitches is going to make it worth going.” The sincerity on his face almost made her believe it. She giggled, turning toward him. 

“... I haven't danced since P.E. in middle school…”

“We'll practice. Come on, let's practice.” He gently guided her away from the mirror. He guided her hand to his shoulder, then held his hand by her side, hovering a bit. “Can I touch?”

She nodded, grinning, and his hand finally rested against her side, gently guiding her in a simple waltz. Neither of them was particularly graceful, but Jason had the most basic steps memorized from years of being forced to attend Wayne functions. They stared into each other's eyes, mesmerized by the adoration and security they found in each other.

The trance was broken by Stephanie's coos of; “Aww, you two are adorable~”

Jason cleared his throat, smiling softly. “So … this dress?”

She looked in the mirror again, fanning out the skirt a bit. “... You like it that much?” He nodded, unable to tear his eyes off her, and she grinned. “Ok, this one then.”

Steph spent the next hour helping her find shoes that she'd be able to walk and dance in before they were finally able to check out.

That night at her place, Jason offered her a plate and kissed her cheek. She was, inexplicably, excited about the gala, she had fun picking out a dress, and now he was going to butter her up even further with her favorite dinner. She beamed, leaning into the kiss, and blinked in surprise as he sat behind her, gently pulling her to lean against his chest. 

“... Babe?”

He hummed softly. “Yeah?”

“... You're … this is good?”

He nodded, arms wrapped around her waist, and kissed her shoulder. “This is good. Eat up~”

She grinned, trying not to vibrate with excitement, and ate happily. “Mh~ it's perfect~ thank you~”

“Of course~” Everything was falling into place. It had been a perfect day. There was no way she could be angry that he'd kept this from her for so long, right? She'd forgive him. She'd understand, and she'd love him anyway. She would… right?

Although, maybe he shouldn't be sitting so close when he told her. If it scared her, she might think him being behind her was a threat. And with him touching her like this, she was trapped against him. He didn't want her to feel trapped. He needed to find a casual way to let go of her, and get to the other side of the room so she would know she was safe when he told her … but he was so comfortable here … maybe just one more minute like this. 

… Besides, it was better not to ruin her dinner. … Actually, maybe he shouldn't do it today. He didn't want her to associate the meal with this news, after all. Plus, they had the gala coming up, if she was upset she'd feel beholden to him, to go together even if she was upset. He didn't want that. No, maybe he should do it after the gala. 

… Yeah, after the gala…

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus

[lilacxquartz]

TO SAVE A BROKEN SOUL • suguru geto x cursed spirit fem!reader

ao3 • masterlist • mdni < previous chapter • next chapter >>

summary: after much too long in confinement without feeding, you go stir crazy and suguru gets a reminder of what you truly are.

trigger warnings: death, non-con, blood, feeding, violence

Chapter 4: Like Clay

‘Divine Intervention’ is what Suguru Geto called your role in the cult; on occasion, you would be called to demonstrate his capabilities of something that could closely resemble a god—or at least a person blessed—chosen, perhaps.

Although, something strange continued to stir within him, as though he was overcome with a slew of odd feelings that he quite didn’t like whenever he beckoned for something negative to occur.

Whenever he had to watch you feed.

After a while, Suguru made an internal decision to bring you out less and less, essentially confining you to the manipulated pocket in the bedroom instead. There would be times that he didn’t visit you, leaving you to hibernate for perhaps longer than he had intended to do so.

He was a busy man, after all. Why should he worry, if you were capable of being dormant?

Initially, Suguru tried to keep away from you to lessen whatever strange feeling was boiling away from within him, but even as he stayed away, that same sort of carnal hunger continued to stir all the same. He would be gone for days, only returning every once in a while to inspect your form as if almost by routine; treating your statued presence as something close to a shrine.

It wasn’t that you were truly dormant though.

You were hungry, actually.

Maybe even starved.

Oh, you maybe even wanted to consume him just as a means to punish him.

The next time he visited you would have mean almost a full week with no feeding and after such a long break, you couldn’t quite control yourself as well as before.

Lurching forward as soon as he crossed the barrier, you toppled him down with a feral strength that could have matched his own. He found himself quickly pinned down against the floor, trying to wrangle you off of him before you could do any significant damage.

As Suguru locked his own eyes with yours, he managed to contain your outburst, but only just.

Pulling back as he pushed his body away from the manipulated space, he took a deep breath before speaking, “What the hell was that?”

“I’m hungry,” you replied without even skipping a beat. Although, you quickly tried to compose yourself, adopting a more humane tone. Something about him saying that you were capable of mirroring humans stood out to you, leaving you wondering if you could use that to gain sympathy from him. “I usually go hunting in the woods… but I can’t do that right now.”

Nodding, he tried his best to understand you better. “What did you eat before?”

“Wild animals,” you replied.

“And because of ‘Divine Intervention’, I take it that I’ve given you a taste for humans now?” he considered.

You resigned with a deep exhale, almost cautious to admit it. “…Yes.”

Suguru hummed as he thought of a solution, momentarily dulling the manipulation before leading you outside. There was a sort of suburb not too far from the temple, where mostly non-sorcerers resided. He had a dark idea form in his mind as he commuted to it, knocking on the door to a random unsuspecting house.

When an old man answered, he walked you both inside and closed the door. He grimaced slightly, taking in the scent of the house, cursing internally to himself that he had forgotten his disinfectant.

“Go ahead,” he murmured towards you, watching as you twitched, fully understanding what he was implying.

The hunger didn’t wait to kick in that time as you soon lunged towards the man, hearing his pained screams and cries as you tore through his flesh. Your eyes rolled back with almost extract coursing through your bloodstream before the high finally wore off and you had a moment longer to process exactly what he had you do.

Feeling once again disgusted with yourself—as well as him—for enabling such a thing, you leaned against a wall while Suguru dropped the corpse of the man he was otherwise holding in place for you, the body making a dull thudding noise as it hit the floor.

Something new came into his mind, something uninvited that once again tormented him. But he was starting to realise that whenever he watched you feed on others, that he could almost feel something close to… jealousy?

The walk back to his chambers was in complete silence as you resigned to the adjacent en-suite he walked you back into, standing perfectly still and blank eyed as he blotted blood off of your skin.

“Stay still,” he murmured, his eyes determined and locked in with intense focus, keen to disinfect and clean off the areas that he was certain that you touched the man with.

Suguru unfortunately now understood his feelings a little better; it was a familiar feeling, to feel lust. To feel a crush, even.

But he never imagined that it would be with something quite like you.

~~~

Returning you into the pocket of space, he had already concluded earlier today that he didn’t want you to perform ‘Divine Intervention’ anymore. There was a reason to stop with that anyway, as thinning the herd too often meant that there would soon be no sheep left to follow.

“You don’t have to do it anymore,” he murmured, seeming certain of something, “divine intervention, I mean.”

“Are you letting me go?” you asked.

However he shook his head instead.

Some unease played into your senses next, leaving you feeling unsure. “Killing me…?”

He shook his head again, instead stepping forward into the pocket, walking you back up against the wall to stare at you up close, using his fingertips to trace over your skin—his touch almost soft—yet somehow taunting, as though carrying a threat behind it.

It felt dangerous to let him touch you like that.

He focused on your eyes next, trying to convince himself one last time that his feelings were merely diluted. If cursed spirits were the manifestations of human negativity, then how was it that you could exist as something in between?

You didn’t seem negative, but you also didn’t seem positive.

You simply just were.

With this thought, he took a step back and led you out of the space again, gently sitting you down onto the bed. As long as he willingly held onto you, then you could pass through the pocket as needed.

Looking over you, Suguru crouched down ever so slightly as he started to undress you. His eyes intently scanning your body as he at long last reunited with the sight of what drew him in initially. Unable to take his eyes off of your bare form—he couldn’t help but stare longingly at the cursed marks once again—them to tattooed lingerie on marbled flesh.

He followed the blotches of organic ink with his eyes before standing up again, not speaking a single word. He hovered over you as he quietly got himself undressed, seeming tense the entire time while doing so, not quite believing what he was about to do.

(And who—or even—what with.)

Although, something did manage to bother him once again.

“You’re not going to try and stop me?” he asked, barely anticipating your reaction.

“I don’t want to do this,” you admitted, “but that doesn’t make a difference to you, does it?”

Suguru narrowed his eyes as he hovered over you, gently pushing your back against the bed. “Then tell me you want me to stop.”

“Why?” you asked, confused as to what he really wanted from you.

“Just try to,” he almost pleaded with a strained whisper, desperate for you to appear if only the slightest bit human in his eyes. Or not to, so that he could justify what he was about to surrender to.

Remembering the importance of emotion for humans, you tried to do so.

“Please stop,” you said that time, taking on a concerned tone. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Tell me to stop again,” he murmured again, positioning the tip of his cock against your entrance, his hands pushing apart at your legs.

“Stop,” you repeated, “I really don’t want this—“

“—keep begging me,” he encouraged, almost, spitting over his tip to further lubricate his entry into your cunt. He gasped as he slipped himself inside, feeling your firm yet soft walls take him in.

“Y-you’re hurting me,” you continued to say, adding more desperation into your tone, giving into the humanity you didn’t know you had, “please.”

However, Suguru had no plans to stop from the beginning. None at all. He pushed himself into you, shuddering at just how tight you felt clenched around his shaft, relishing the pleasure he felt from you taking him in.

You felt so unreal to him, as if perfectly sculpted to fit him, as if you were made for him and him alone.

“Try to fight me off,” he grunted, rutting into your cunt at unforgiving pace, unable to physically part his flesh from yours. His eyes were wide and manic—his expression almost bordering feverish—desperately consumed by how much he could lose himself in you, mesmerised by your form. His fingers continued to press into you, marring prickled crescents from his nails into your skin like bruising clay; marking you with fingerprinted petals that stained your flesh.

You pushed at him, but the position he had you locked in felt compromising and you couldn’t do a single thing. His chest pressed against yours, trapping you beneath him—his body soon produced sweat that rolled against your form—beads of it rolling off of your body and staining the mattress instead. He pounded into you instead, his hands roaming around your body like a sabotaging sculptor daring to claim you as his own, his hands intent to remodel you as his.

Suguru then presented you with his forearm, pressing hit right against your lips as he positioned himself even more over you. His eyes trained on your teeth, feeling confused as to why you were resisting and not feeding on him.

“I can handle it,” he challenged, seeing the hunger that was now familiar to him forming in your eyes. A beautiful hint of yellow that swirled around in the void, like a star lost deep in space.

You however continued to resist, turning your nose away and fixating your gaze onto the ceiling instead. Despite what he was doing to you and how much he seemed to be enjoying it—it felt like a trap to accept.

Reworking his approach, he withdrew his arm slightly. “How much do you need to take when you feed?”

“Not a lot,” you curtly replied, still feeling some hunger leftover from before. Blood was something you savoured much more than flesh, but your instincts could seldom be controlled when you fed.

“You’re hungry right now,” he stated, momentarily anchoring down his arm to steady himself, pushing harder to impale you with his spearing cock. “I can tell that you are,” he added, making sure to press himself harder into you, “so feed off of me. I can take it.”

Suguru melted over you, positioning his forearm once again over your mouth in an almost submissive and surrendering display, finding that the second time that he did so, you couldn’t help but give in. He grunted as he seethed, feeling your teeth grind into his now bleeding flesh—his body tightened—his inner instincts recoiling, his emotions tense, yet as he watched you feed, his eyes couldn’t help but soften.

As though it was something that was freshly awoken, his movement against your sore cunt became rougher, harder, almost violent as his own pleasure quickly built to an almost dizzying state. It was a feeling that was beyond his own understanding, but as he finally tore his arm away from you—before you completely drained him—he couldn’t help but give into his clearly sick obsession.

With an almost breathless grunt, still pounding into you, his tone of voice became aggressively possessive, “I’ll be the one to satisfy your cravings from now on, just as you’ll satisfy mine,” he panted, his expression momentarily grimacing at the bite marks. Undeterred, he rammed himself against you with more vigour, his release finally closing in at long, long last.

Picking up the pace a final time, he whined an almost pained guttural moan as he finally relaxed against you, the final thrust being just enough to milk him completely.

He fell limp over you, moulding himself against you, leaving traces of him behind and sculpting you into something sickening, maybe even something darkly beautiful, but ultimately, his and his alone.

Suguru shuddered as he felt himself empty, surrendering to your body that he tried to seek comfort from and yet found none from. He remained still confused, but almost devastated otherwise that you still didn’t seem to truly oppose him. That you didn’t cry from the pain nor try to fight him off anymore, despite claiming to not want this just moments before.

Your eyes and the now lacking light within them only continued to upset him, yet he could have sworn that he felt so seen in such a delicate moment.

So seen for who he truly was.

So, who really was the real monster here?

(Or rather, who was really a prisoner of who?)

~~~

this is part 2 of lilac’s bite sized yandere nightmares