#now cleaned up even more + a gala :) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

occasionalsnippets · 23 days ago

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Hmmm vague sort of batfam & fem(?) reader idea in broad strokes and probably incorrect lore and characterization.

Thinking of titling it something like “my brother’s father” or “my brother’s brothers” or “my brother’s father (and brothers and sisters and family and-)”

It’s a little something like this:

You are the first born child of Jack and Janet Drake and you are 3 years old when they tell you you’re going to have a little brother. He’s small and round and so very tiny when you first meet him. You barely process anything your parents tell you beyond the fact that his name is Timothy Jackson Drake. You’re an older sibling now and you’re ecstatic about it even if your parents mumble about how you’re a mistake and Tim isn’t.

(Things feel a little familiar though… just maybe…)

Anyways! You take classes (which are really just lessons from your parents) on how to be all prim and proper for Gotham high society while your little brother is snoozing as a little baby. At some point you debut in some gala and meet Bruce Wayne in passing who is… something. Ditzy. A little charming but quite bizarre. You think there’s supposed to be something else but, ah, you can’t remember what.

Tim gets bigger and so do you. By the time he turns 3, you’re certain you’ve carried him around more than your parents have. It seems wrong, somehow. But, Tim’s shaping up to be a little genius and you’re thrilled when he toddles after you more than he does to your parents. He gets a similar schedule and classes and eventually he debuts in high society as well.

There are rumours beginning to circulate that something is lurking in the shadows of Gotham City…

Haly’s circus comes to town. It’s a family trip to go and see them. The flying Graysons are amazing and wonderful and you and Tim get to talk and take a photo with the Graysons and see a quadruple somersault and-

The Graysons go splat. Falling to the ground like birdies shot out of the sky. Your parents do not usher you and Tim out fast enough to avoid seeing the aftermath of the disaster. As you leave, you catch a glimpse of Bruce Wayne, watching, with a sad look of resignation lingering on his face.

Things are quieter after that. Your parents begin to leave to go on long archaeological adventures and you’re left in the care of a rotating cast of babysitters who never stay long. They leave you with a mostly empty manor, unrestricted internet access, their contact information, and a black credit card.

Something more concrete about what has been running around Gotham and taking down criminals begins to take form. The Batman. Or just Batman maybe. Some nights you can see a light shining against the cloudy Gotham backdrop, a signal to him. Tim seems super interested in this Batman so you gather up newspaper clippings and take photographs of the signal when you can.

Every now and then your parents drop back in to socialize with high society Gothamites and bring you and Tim to galas to be cooed at but otherwise, they’re “too busy” for the two of you. Phone calls barely last a few minutes. Celebrations are missed on the regular. You think that it’s only going to get worse.

You continue to glance at Bruce Wayne and his new charge, Dick Grayson, at galas. They’re a riot from what you can see from the parties and news tabloids. Despite the short amount of time Dick Grayson has been with Bruce Wayne, you can tell Wayne cares deeply for him. They’re... fascinating.

Robin debuts by Batman’s side in traffic light colours, scaly shorts and a whole array of acrobatic moves and witty comebacks. Tim is enamoured by the dynamic duo and you think you might be too.

Your parents stop sending babysitters because “you’re old enough to take care of yourself and Tim, aren’t you dear?” which- Wow. Just, wow. You are ten years old. This is not your responsibility. You suck it up and pretend like you're making them proud by being "mature" and "responsible".

You go grocery shopping. You find recipes and learn to cook. You clean the dishes and pull up a stool so Tim can watch how to do it properly as well. A housekeeper drops by every now and then but the two of you don't talk to them.

Sometimes you think about calling the Waynes who are just next door and asking Mr. Pennyworth what you should do. You never do but you see him around when grocery shopping at times which makes you long to ask all the more.

You watch your parent’s company emails with increasing interest. School is dreadfully slow and there's nothing better to do. Your parents have mentioned once or twice at galas and during lessons that they hope you’ll inherit the company one day.

You still remember the lessons they teach you. Who to speak to. How to determine their worth. Whether you should climb atop them, crush them beneath your heel, or hold their hand and stand by their side. Those days you feel like your mother. Sharp as broken glass. Waiting to press against someone unsuspecting.

On Tim’s birthday, he asks to go out and see Batman and Robin. It was inevitable in hindsight. You give him a camera, a safety lesson, dress him up in clothes to blend in and head out with him. You’re absolutely sure if you said no, he would sneak out anyways.

And thus begins Tim’s (and yours by proxy) illustrious career as a stalker.

To sum up your thoughts, Batman and Robin are amazing. Sort of up close and sort of personal (a few rooftops away), you and Tim take plenty of photos and jot down notes on them every couple nights when you’re sure there’s nothing important for school the next day. It’s exhilarating.

On a night both you and Tim aren't out, Robin does a quadruple somersault. Tim, who had taken to coding and hacking, gets security footage of the night. The gears start cranking in your head.

Another few nights stalking out the duo. Another few nights that bring you closer and closer to Wayne manor.

Tim shakes you awake one night, hovering over you, saying it’s something important. You blearily sit upright and ruffle his hair out of habit.

“Dick Grayson is Robin,” he says with absolute confidence that you could be proud of.

“Dick Grayson is Robin...” you echo and with dawning horror, you say at the same time as Tim, “and Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

And you lean back into your bed, let the gears click into place, and pass out.

In retrospect, that made a lot of sense. Both about Batman and you. But wow. The Drakes f*cked up real bad. You are not supposed to exist. One very private breakdown later because "Oh no, Tim is going to become Robin and a Wayne and he's so f*cking stupid sometimes-"

You're taking things very well.

Newfound (old-recovered?) knowledge aside, you still have to go to school, make sure Tim is doing okay, and continue stalking Batman and Robin. You and Tim have even figured out their patrol schedule recently so really, it's not like much has changed.

The next little while goes by in rapid succession.

Batgirl, Barbara Gordon, debuts. Robin and Batman get into some kind of argument. Batman goes without Robin for a while and Nightwing debuts in Bludhaven. Jason Todd is adopted by Bruce Wayne. A new Robin flies.

You see him in school at times as a mere passerby in a different age cohort and Tim who’s in a lower grade sees him even less often as Jason Todd. As Robin 2 though, you’re seeing him almost every single night. He’s different than Dick Grayson was, obviously, more cuss words and less acrobatics, but still Robin. The light to Batman’s shadows. Magic.

He catches the two of you on a rooftop once. It’s still early in the night and you’re rooting around in your bag for the extra memory card when you hear Tim squeak and something thump on the rooftop.

“It’s a bit late to be out right now, isn’t it?” he asks.

You find the memory card and slot it into your camera. “Late night photography.”

Robin doesn’t look impressed but hey, you’re not the one going out late at night to fight crime.

Tim, who is tucked by your side glances up at you. You nod and nudge him forward.

“Robin!” he calls out. “Can I get a hug?”

Well, you know Robin. You know Jason Todd. He won’t deny your little brother a hug. So as the two of them step forward, you raise the camera and take a picture. You smile as you look at the developed photo later at home. One for you, one for Tim, and one for the Waynes if it ever comes to pass.

Some nights you let Robin spot you and Tim. The three of you chat and get some food before he's pulled away by crime. You make him promise not to dig into the two of you. He agrees.

Things are quiet for a while or as quiet as Gotham ever gets. You wait for the other shoe to drop. Something bad is going to happen soon. You can’t exactly recall what or when but you know something and-

Robin- Jason Todd dies. Barbara Gordon is paralyzed. The Joker is still alive, still having the last laugh at the end of it all. You hate it. You hate him.

Tim throws himself into some kind of frenzy to hide the pain just as Bruce Wayne loses himself in his grief. Batman does not kill but he comes very close in this time. The hospital records climb. You bring more and more medical supplies because if you don’t interfere these people, often petty criminals, are going to die before the police ever arrives.

"Batman is going to kill himself if this continues," Tim tells you.

"And what," you say because you think you know how this is going to play out, "do you want to do about this?"

The answer, it turns out, is to find Dick Grayson. In true Tim Drake fashion, he stalks him (or rather, he stalks Starfire), hacks into a database or two, and finds his address in Bludhaven. You probably shouldn't have encouraged this kind of behaviour but ehhhhhhh... it's fine.

Since you aren't inclined to allow Tim to head to Bludhaven on public transportation alone, you go with him. You can imagine it's quite a sight when Dick Grayson opens the door to two teenagers who tell him that they know who he is and that "Batman needs a Robin".

It's a very awkward car ride back to Gotham with too many questions like "Where are your parents?" and "What do you mean they're halfway across the world?" and "How old are you?".

He won't return as Robin. You didn't expect he would. Despite that though, he allows you and Tim into the Wayne manor where the two of you meet Mr. Pennyworth officially. He's cool and probably not paid enough in your opinion.

Dick Grayson shows the way to the Batcave as Tim explains what the two of you know. Dick Grayson leaves as Nightwing, not Robin like Tim wanted him to be. The three of you wait and wait until all communication with Batman and Nightwing have disappeared.

"I'm going to become Robin," Tim declares. “It’ll only be for a short while. Until Batman recovers or someone else becomes Robin.”

“Right,” you say dryly. “Just a short while.”

And that, perhaps, seals his fate. You allow Tim to go out as Robin just this once with Mr. Pennyworth as you navigate the Batcave and prepare everything in the medbay and start monitoring comms. If there's anything you know about vigilantes, it's that they always end up injured at the end of the night.

You have a plan though for the future. A very stupid plan perhaps but a plan nevertheless.

You’re going to be Robin too. Not always (vigilante night life isn’t really all that appealing to you) but lord knows you can’t trust Tim to not go out and do things even when injured.

At the end of the night, Batman, Nightwing, Mr. Pennyworth and Tim return to the Batcave where you are sitting disapprovingly on the chair by the batcomputer.

“This is…?” Batman’s voice is low and as harsh as gravel.

“(Y/n) Drake,” you answer sharply, feeling remarkably like your mother in some ways. “Let’s discuss how things are going to go with Robin, shall we?”

It’s your first real introduction to Batman and at the moment, you aren’t impressed but at the very least, you know he will do his best not to allow Tim to die. Tim will be Robin and eventually, Bruce’s son. But not now. You will not allow this Batman to be Tim’s father (not that you think he wants to right now) when he’s still mourning the loss of Jason Todd.

In many ways, Tim’s transition from stalking to fighting is easy. The Drake manor was never somewhere the two of you spend too long at anyways between school, nighttime photography and staking out at Barbara’s library to do work so heading over to the Waynes for training whenever there was time was easy. It’s just like another extracurricular to be picked up.

Tim trains and you convince Bruce Wayne to let you follow the same routine. He caves easily. So, so, easily.

But besides that, when your parents return briefly from a trip, you convince them to let you meddle with their company more for a little variety in your life more than anything else. You’re pretty sure the company is on track to going right under which- oof, that’s what happens when you’re off at random archaeological digs and don’t participate in the important decision making.

Although Tim is not yet allowed to be Robin yet, Bruce Wayne still goes out as Batman, still solves cases, still has not processed the grief. Taking care of him, you find, is very much so like taking care of another child. Replace his coffee with decaf, cross your arms disappointingly and drag him away from the batcomputer, double down and sic Mr. Pennyworth on him, make sure he’s staying hydrated-

The list goes on and on. More than a few times, you catch Tim repeating your actions which is cute and gives you hope that maybe he’ll also take care of himself when the time comes.

Mr. Pennyworth is great, as usual. He makes snacks when you and Tim come over, cooks meals you’ve never tried to make before, and teaches you about guns. Having him around is, perhaps, the first time in a long time you have had responsibility lifted off your shoulders.

Barbara Gordon is every bit as strong and fiery as you recall from the times you have seen her in the distance. She is also very much so enjoying having Tim be her little protege in tech. You come around from time to time to see if there’s anything new but hm… timeline is farther in the past than “back then”. Some things that are outdated to the you of before are still brand new here which means some of your previous knowledge isn’t particularly helpful.

Oh well. It’ll catch up eventually.

Dick Grayson’s presence in the manor is spotty. It always feels like he's going to try and corner you about you and Tim's living situation which a. is none of his business right now and b. you have it under control.

It's fine to leave Tim to him because Tim is super happy to be hanging out with him (the first Robin!!) and Grayson is doing that weird sort of "I want to be a good brother to new Robin because I wasn't good to Jason at the start and I want to be better this time-"

Whatever. Misplaced guilt complex aside, Grayson still gets into arguments with Bruce Wayne about a myriad of things so he never stays too long at the manor. You work real hard to make sure Tim doesn't overhear those arguments.

Man, you hope they get it together soon.

The pro of having a new set of adults in your life is that now you can off load things to them like picking Tim up from school when you have other extracurriculars.

You, texting Dick Grayson: hey, can you pick up Tim today?

You, texting Alfred Pennyworth: hi Mr. Pennyworth. can you pick Tim up from school today? Thank you!

You, texting Bruce Wayne: Pick up Tim up from school. Do not be late.

Things are going pretty well in your opinion. The two of you train with Mr. Pennyworth, then Batman, then Nightwing. Tim bonds with the members of the Batfamily, you remain ever so slightly distant but still involved and things are going pretty well.

Then, you get an urgent phone call.

Janet Drake died and Jack Drake has fallen into a coma.

It’s as though the world stops when you find out. You… you didn’t know this happened. Sure you assumed something must have happened for Tim to be adopted but you… you hadn’t thought it would be this soon.

You tell Tim.

You plan a funeral.

You become the teenage CEO of Drake Industries.

The world continues on.

Tim officially becomes Robin which you suppose is the start of a new era. You give him a very lengthy talk about it and tell him to let you know if he plans on staying nights over at the Wayne manor when you're busy with company work.

He's old enough to be responsible for himself, right? You always kind of see him with the rose-tinted glasses that comes with raising him basically most his life.

Tim goes out every few nights as Robin and gets more and more involved with Batman's vigilantism and the various cases in Gotham. You spend countless hours on work and school and try your best to help out in the Batcave when you have the time. It's rough the first couple weeks but you trust in Oracle, in Nightwing, in Mr. Pennyworth and in Batman to keep Tim alive.

And then, of course, Tim gets injured.

"You don't need to coddle me," he complains when you block him from the entrance of the Batcave.

"Right, Mr. three broken ribs and a stab wound." You stare at him, unimpressed. "Go rest up, I'll fill in for you."

He startles. "Wha-? What do you mean fill in- Hey!"

You hand him off to Mr. Pennyworth, shut your laptop, head down, and get suited up. Batman, who is sitting by the batcomputer, impressively does not flinch when you approach but you can tell he's hesitant and maybe a little shocked? You aren't as good at reading him when he's Batman as Tim is, unfortunately.

You roll your eyes regardless.

"Why do you think I asked to be trained alongside Tim? Let's go."

Your own first run as Robin is fascinating. Dangerous? Yes. Exhilarating? Also yes. No one notices that you're not actually Robin 3 which is a little annoying because yeah, Tim hit his growth spurt and is steadily climbing in height but you're still taller than him!

That aside, you know being Robin isn't sustainable for you. Definitely only a backup plan so you let Tim keep the reins on that. Jim Gordon is pretty cool though.

At some point, Batman brings Tim up to meet the Justice League. A couple weeks later, so do you. Almost everyone thinks you and Tim are the same Robin. Neither you nor Batman correct them.

You think Bruce Wayne is starting to feel better when you catch him giving those sad little orphan eyes to Tim when he isn’t looking. The grief has ebbed. The cruelty faded. It’s not enough for you to be satisfied.

“Go to therapy Mr. Wayne,” you say. “Tim will not be a replacement for Jason Todd.”

And- yeah, you’re being a little mean because you know that isn’t the way it actually is. Despite that, he still flinches at your words.

"You should also make it mandatory for all heroes at the Justice League by the way," you add.

“I don’t need-“

“Liar. You obviously do. If you’re worried about the whole secret identity thing, find a way around it, especially if the Justice League is going to be getting it as well.”

He sighs quietly and turns away.

“By the way,” you call out as he walks away with increasing speed, “if you don’t find a solution within the next three months, I will make a solution.”

He walks faster.

“You can count it as a threat!”

Less than three weeks later, he goes to therapy. It also becomes mandatory for every hero. Every single one. He also, very awkwardly, offers his help with running Drake Industries if you ever need it. You count it as a win.

The days continue on. You rework Drake Industries to an acceptable standard, spend countless hours at meetings and stare longingly at the coffee shops you pass by. There are always cases upon cases to work on.

Jack Drake awakens from his coma. Your life is thrown into chaos once more.

He’s a bit different now, probably because of the whole near death thing, and he’s weirdly more interested in “being a family” now. You scoff a little at his attempts. You’re old enough and remember enough that the neglect and unwilling role of a “parent” you’ve been put through is enough to make you disillusioned with fixing this family. You’re not cruel- he’s not a terrible father but he’s 10 years too late to be making an attempt now.

You snub him for company work. Tim snubs him for vigilante work. With nothing else to do, Jack Drake turns to dating a younger woman. You hire a housekeeper, Mrs. Mac, to help care for him. It’s just the way things are.

Spoiler appears in Gotham. She and Tim have this kind of... thing going on you think. Tim also has this thing going on with another girl or something. You don't really want to know but you give both of them a sex ed talk anyways. You read over her case, whatever is going on with Cluemaster, and leave it up to Batman and Robin.

On one of your stints as Robin, you pick up one Cassandra Cain.

You vaguely remember something about her being officially brought into the Batfamily before Batman got lost in time but you aren't really too clear on the when that happened. Was it supposed to be now? Whatever, it's probably fine. It takes quite a bit to coax her over (hmmm she seems more partial when you’re Robin compared to Tim so you were working overtime for a bit as Tim took on a different case) but eventually it works.

Regardless, it's a pretty terrible case. A child (nevermind she's around the same age as you) assassin brought up to be a weapon by David Cain and Lady Shiva. Doesn’t understand any language other than body language. Wants to become the next Batgirl (?)

Well, at least Bruce Wayne might be happy to have a daughter. Barbara is too old and has a good father. Spoiler hasn’t “officially” revealed her civilian identity and probably isn’t willing to be actually adopted. And well, the less that’s said about you the better.

Tim joins a group of teenage superheroes. You meet them too and there isn’t much to say but they’re nice and figured out you weren't Robin-Robin pretty quickly. You think you may have given them a heart attack though when they realized you were an imposter.

A bit later, a few months maybe, as you’re sitting in the Batcave, working on a case Nightwing asked for help on, Tim stumbles back into the Batcave with a slightly dead look on his face.

"Don't let me become evil gun Batman."

“?”

“Just… please.”

Did he meet an alternate universe version of himself or something? That’s a thing that happens often enough in DC right.

“Sure, okay, don’t let Tim become evil gun Batman. I’ll write that down.”

At least he seems relieved at your promise even if you don’t really understand what being “evil gun Batman” would entail.

“Oh and don’t become Batman just in general. Or like Bruce Wayne, okay?”

Batman offers to train Spoiler officially. Therapy must be doing something good to Batman because he asked you first if he should tell her Robin's identity before beginning training instead of just doing it. You call him a f*cking idiot and that settles that.

Stephanie Brown and Tim begin dating for real. It's um... a bit tumultuous. But, they have their little identity reveal and you get to meet her as yourself finally so, yay?

And of course, all good things must come to an end. This time it’s Jack catching Tim sneaking back home as Robin.

You’re away at a company meeting when it happens and by the time you get home, the dust has already settled and a deal has been made. Secrecy in exchange for giving up Robin. This won’t last, of course, but it’s better than other alternatives you suppose.

In the meantime, Stephanie Brown becomes the fourth Robin.

Her stint as Robin was very short if you remembered correctly. Months of training, something about disobeying orders and a gang fight. Also something about dying…? You keep an eye on the situation as Tim goes off to school for real for the next while.

Sure enough, Batman fires her and she sneaks out to deal with the criminal underworld. Thankfully, you've asked Oracle to keep an eye out on that so the moment she leaves, you're able to head out as well. You tell Mr. Pennyworth you’re going on a “ride”, half-suit up (can't also be Robin here!), borrow the Batmobile keys and rush off according to Oracle’s instructions.

It's chaos which is to be expected really. The entire time you're driving, you're cursing Batman out under your breath.

"F*cking Batman... can't keep a Robin to save a life." You turn a corner. "And here I thought therapy would make him better at communication."

Truly a Sisyphean task to make the Robins believe they aren't inadequate. You hope that by the time Tim goes back to being Robin, Batman will pull his head out of his ass.

Anyways, you head to where Robin is being held, crash through a couple of things and hit Black Mask with the Batmobile. Whoops, you think you decelerated enough to not break everything in his body. You get out of the car, toss Robin into the backseat and drive off to see Dr. Leslie Thompkins.

“What- can you… even drive???” Robin 4 asks as she bleeds heavily on the nice leather seats of the Batmobile.

"Don’t worry about it, I got my driver's license ages ago." You wave around the card as you break several traffic rules at once.

Eventually, you arrive at Dr. Thompkin’s clinic where she is able to be treated. While you linger beside the Robin as she is being treated, Dr. Thompkins apparently found it fitting enough to air out all of her concerns regarding child vigilantes and Batman to you. You really don't think you should be the one she should be telling this to.

Towards the end of the treatment, Batman shows up in the shadows, like always. Speak of the devil and he shall appear and all that.

"So, you've heard her thoughts," you say because you don't doubt he'll have heard everything already despite only showing up now. "Make yourself clear. Speak before you do something irreparable to each other."

With that, you usher both him and the doctor outside to speak properly. On the operating table, Stephanie Brown breathes, her chest falling and rising slowly and steadily. You end up falling asleep in the clinic.

In the aftermath, Stephanie Brown pauses vigilante activities to recover and Tim returns to being Robin. You and Jack Drake have an enlightening conversation about that but that's a story for another time. Oh, also, Stephanie Brown and Tim break up. It happens. At least it seems to be a mutual agreement.

Things enter equilibrium once again. You graduate high school, enrol in university part time, and immediately throw yourself full time into Drake Industries which has grown into a powerhouse you’re very proud of.

Stephanie Brown goes back to being Spoiler. Cassandra Cain goes out as Batgirl. Barbara Gordon is Oracle. Dick Grayson continues on as Nightwing. Tim is Robin and Bruce Wayne is Batman. Everything is steady for another little while.

However, the Joker is becoming a problem. You've observed enough of the happenings in Gotham to understand which things you can categorize as "threats" or "things that can be handled". The League of Assassins? Fine, handleable. Important for other things later on. The Court of Owls? Fine, you're working on purging some things that the others aren't aware of.

But the Joker? There are enough birdies in the Batfamily now that you're starting to worry.

So, what should you do?

You plot. You plan. Everyone is busy enough with cases (crime never stops in Gotham after all) that you're relatively undisturbed. It should be fine, you think. Harley had broken up with the Joker ages ago, you don't have qualms about killing, and you don't have to follow the "no killing" rule since you're not really part of the Batfamily. Besides, it's not like you're doing this as Robin.

A week later, you put your plans into action.

In truth, it's so easy you’re almost disappointed. All that planning just for tonight. You’re well aware of how swamped everyone will be with numerous rogues coming out to play. But the Joker will be preoccupied, hidden beneath the chaos he would normally thrive in.

Luring him out is simple. Killing him even more so. You like a little bit of poetic justice so a crowbar is the way to go.

The bats may not be able to kill the Joker for thematic reasons but you can.

The Joker laughs and laughs at nothing at all. He doesn’t know who you are. You think you almost crack a smile when you’re finished, his head bashed open and blood splattered against the floor. You wipe out the body, all the evidence and head back to the cafe to complete your alibi.

Midway through your fifth meeting of the night, you remember, “hey isn’t Jason Todd supposed to come back to life and get mad at Batman for not killing the Joker?”

You’ve encountered the League of Assassins in passing as “Robin”, made vague comments in Talia Al Ghul’s direction about “hidden parentage” and about how "the League is dangerous for children isn't it?" but you realize you’ve never really dug about Jason Todd. Well, um, it’s probably fine. You’re pretty sure you’re way too late to help him now with the whole revival thing anyways.

You go to bed at sunrise and rest with a weight lifted off your shoulders.

The very next day, Red Hood appears in Gotham City.

Talk about timing, huh? You're almost impressed.

Well, the good thing about all of this is that his appearance is enough to take attention off of the fact that no one's seen the Joker in a while. Relatively quickly, Red Hood takes over Crime Alley and starts messing around with the gangs and Black Mask. You end up hearing about the 8 heads in a duffle bag soon after.

As he "cleanses" Crime Alley and you work on providing help through Drake Industries to the residents undergoing this period of unrest, Gotham begins to shift uneasily. The Joker is gone, people whisper. He hasn't appeared for far too long.

Despite being stretched thin, the Bats still investigate. Mortal enemy privileges, you suppose, but you're well aware that they won't find anything.

Nightwing and Batman are the ones who conduct your "investigation", unsurprisingly. When they show up, you stop typing up company emails and sigh.

"Yeah, yeah, covering your bases, I know," you say before they begin. "Let's get on with it."

The meeting ends with "indeterminable". You may or may not have killed the Joker and while it's possible you could have, you also might not have. Schrodinger's killer if you will. You shrug and decide it's fine if they don't think you're totally innocent. Being around a family of detectives is just like that sometimes.

Soon after, Red Hood's movements sort of... halt for a bit. You think it might be because you wrecked all his plans by killing the Joker which oops, sorry, ruined his dramatic return and all that. He still clashes with the others and leaves hints dangling above their heads (you would know, you check the reports in the Batcave) but it's quite subdued.

Eventually, Bruce Wayne finds out Jason Todd's coffin is empty. Despite figuring out that Red Hood is Jason Todd, he doesn't tell anyone.

Because it's "dangerous" right now and "his safety is compromised", Tim gets grounded at Titans Tower. This is the first time your little brother has ever been grounded which is objectively, hilarious.

So, obviously, you "take a break" and go visit Titans Tower.

You're semi-suited up and masked (again, can't have two Robins here) to meet the Titans as kind-of yourself for the first time. They're, understandably, pretty shocked that you're meeting them not as Robin.

Anyways, since Tim is grounded and can't go out on patrol, he's stuck working on cases in the Tower. Looking over evidence, deciphering messages, etc, etc. He complains to you the entire time. Despite all this time, he's still the same as ever. Still your little brother. Still Tim.

Eventually when night falls, you usher him to bed with a promise to "take care of whatever is unfinished". Red Hood is coming tonight. You know he is.

In the dead of night, you wander and wait.

You arrive at the Hall of Fallen Titans. Jason Todd, in his Robin costume, stands before you.

The lights flicker.

"Jason," you tilt your head and let your footsteps echo. "You should come home."

Darkness descends.

Despite being a solid head shorter than him and nowhere near as built like a fridge as he is, you're absolutely certain that he won't attack. You're just "not-Robin" enough for him to pick up on the fact that something is wrong. You’re fairly certain he thinks you and Tim are the same person though.

Sure enough, when the brightness comes forth yet again, he has vanished.

You smile even as the alerts finally start going off.

The next day, Tim, who found out that Red Hood broke in while he was sleeping, gets kind of mad at you.

"What do you mean he was here?! Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I had it handled. Besides, it's just Jason."

"What? That's not the point!"

"It's fine," you insist. "Besides, you were so sleep deprived that it wouldn't make a different if you were awake or not."

Everyone knows it's Jason at this point in the aftermath by the way. It wasn't hard to piece together.

The Joker is officially declared "missing" but everyone knows that he's dead. You don't get accused of killing him again so you consider it a win. You do vaguely remember something in the comics about a whole separate confrontation with Red Hood, Batman and the Joker that didn't end well but um, you ruined those plans as well so you aren't really sure what's going to happen now.

Things vaguely simmer down afterwards. Red Hood is still active, of course, as well as the Bats and Birds but it's a smidgen more awkward, you think. You don't go out as Robin in this time but since everyone is still working overtime, you spend more time at the Wayne Manor then you normally would.

One morning, Jason Todd shows up at breakfast without a single word in advance.

Just waltzes through the front door and into the dining room where you’re seated, reading over a report from last night. He’s dressed like the exact same as usual just without the Red Hood mask. Seeing him up close now, he really only vaguely resembles the Robin you stalked in the past.

“Good morning,” you greet, just loud enough for Mr. Pennyworth to hear in the kitchen.

Jason remains silent for a few moments before responding. “… yeah. Good morning.”

As Mr. Pennyworth steps out, you slip away into the kitchen. You hear exclamations of joy and disbelief as you flip the eggs in the pan so they don't burn.

Tim shows up next, groggily wandering into the kitchen where you've prepared a cup of coffee. Once he's awake enough, he blinks at the scene in the living room. You watch with great interest as Tim drops his coffee mug that would have nearly shattered had you not caught it.

"That-? Jason Todd???"

"Yup." You nod and crack another egg into the pan. "Go out and say hi."

Dick Grayson walks in next and also freezes dramatically. You think he's started crying as he wraps his little brother in a hug. You nudge Tim out the kitchen as Bruce Wayne shows up. By the way, Cass and Steph are having a sleepover at Barbara's place so they aren't here.

Anyways, as that dramatic reunion is happening and you catch Jason Todd do a double take at Tim and you, you finish up the rest of breakfast and begin plating. And well, this is a good moment to remember so you snap a picture while you're at it.

*elden ring style title card*: family reunited

Whatever moral code issues they have can be dealt with later.

So, that was a whole thing. Hurrah for communication, you're very pleased that all that got resolved. Jason Todd isn't going to stop being Red Hood but they're worked something out that you don't care to be privy to. It's not perfect but it's something.

You have a couple of conversations when you cross paths. Apparently he remembered enough of you and Tim stalking him. You're kind of surprised. When the topic of Titans Tower comes up, you clarify that you were the Robin he saw there.

Apparently he did think something weird was going on back there. Good to know.

Things go badly again when Captain Boomerang breaks into the Drake manor the one night you're home. He and Jack Drake kill each other and you get injured in the scuffle. Dana Drake (the lady your father married at some point), suffers a mental breakdown and gets sent to a mental hospital in Bludhaven.

Yikes.

This is a really bad time. A really, really, bad time.

People filter in and out of your hospital room as you recover. You're like, mostly fine, you think. You'll be good after some bedrest. Anyways, you spend most of your time in the hospital planning for Jack Drake's funeral as Tim effectively bans you from doing work.

The funeral isn't really too different from Janet's. They were alright parents. Neither you or Tim are as broken up about their deaths as others think you should be. It's complicated.

However, this brings about the next issue. You and Tim are orphans now. Although you're an adult (barely), Tim is still a minor which means someone has to be listed as his legal guardian. He made up a fake uncle or something in the comics, right? But, since you exist, wouldn't you just be listed as his legal guardian now?

"Bruce offered to adopt me," Tim tells you one day as you're organizing the Drake manor.

"Oh, congrats?"

"I'm not sure if I want to be adopted though."

"You don't have to give him an answer right away." You shrug. "Think about it."

You do know that he does enjoy being at the Wayne manor for reasons other than vigilante business. He fits in well with the family and your mandated therapy for vigilantes and heroes has been good for everyone. You've been around enough to decide that Bruce would be a good enough dad.

"What about you?"

"Hm?" You blink. "What about me?"

"Are you going to let Bruce adopt you too?"

What.

"Why would he adopt me?"

Tim looks back at you in confusion. "Why wouldn't he adopt you?"

"I'm an adult?"

"Adults can still be adopted if there is a mutual agreement between parties."

"I'm not part of your vigilante party."

"I think he wishes we all weren't."

"I don't think they would all want me around?"

You were pretty sure the others thought of you as a weirdo who barged into their home to keep watch on Tim. You're mainly around because you're Tim's sibling and while they've bonded well with him, you're a whole different story.

Isn't it weird to also have someone who's just "Tim (little brother coded)'s sibling" also become their sibling?

Despite it though, Tim looks at you, aghast.

"Wait, we're getting off topic, this is about your adoption. No one's even offered to adopt me or anything-"

"No, we're continuing on this topic-"

It ends in a mild argument, really. Not seeing eye to eye and all that. Apparently though, the interactions between the two of you have frosted over enough that everyone starts commenting on it. Luckily (or unluckily depending on who you ask), the ice that formed gets broken by an unexpected variable.

Damian Al Ghul shows up at the doorstep of the Wayne manor.

You're the one who opens the door since everyone is preoccupied. Of course, you recognize him instantly. He really does resemble Talia and Bruce. Still, this is... a bit early isn't it? He's like, a literal child.

He greets you by your full name, hands over a stack of papers (which were DNA tests and a letter from Talia) and introduces himself.

"Okay," you sigh. "Come in. I'll call Bruce and he'll do his own DNA test just to be certain. Mr. Pennyworth can make you something to eat if you'd like."

Damian lifts his head dismissively. You can already tell he's going to be a brat but he's young enough that it's still cute. After calling Bruce who rushes back, doing DNA test and confirming that "yeah this is real", Damian is brought into the fold.

Man. The number of assassins and people trained by assassins in this household is rising yet again. You decide to firmly leave the matter of Damian to Bruce. His child, his problem. While he has a breakdown about this, you push him off to talk about it in therapy and start working with Alfred to get everything for Damian in order.

Damian doesn’t settle easily in the Wayne manor. He’s prickly, self centered and very proud of his parentage and training. You'd know. He's already gone on his spiel about "the blood son" and "becoming Robin" and all that.

Tim, who has temporarily stopped being mad at you because there's a new variable, is skittish.

"What if they give him Robin?" he confides in you.

"They won't," you say. "He isn't even allowed in the cave yet. Plus, the title is yours right now, if they do give it away, I'll deal with it."

"Family" dinner rolls around. Jason is here, surprisingly. Apparently he and Damian knew each other from the League. So naturally, Jason is his favourite sibling (or rather the only one he acknowledges).

You had planned to grab a plate and sneak off into your room to finish reading the quarterly budget reports but Alfred got a hold of you first so you’re stuck at the dinner table as Damian argues for why he should be allowed to become Robin.

“Damian,” you interrupt midway through the same argument you’ve heard several hundred times, “you haven’t even hit double digits yet. You’re far too young to be going out at Robin at the moment. Besides, you haven’t been properly trained as Robin nor are you aware of the rules. You’re unfamiliar with Gotham, patrol routes, the rogues and far more than you may imagine. There is more to being Batman’s partner than just whatever you’ve learned at the League. Although you may be ahead in terms of physical abilities, you lack the experience.”

You take a deep breath. “In addition, you have yet to balance the public attention that comes from being Bruce Wayne’s child. Your civilian life must be sorted out before any vigilante activities may occur."

You've been around Wayne Enterprises. His PR team is in a constant state of being on fire.

“Fine.” Damian scoffs but settles petulantly in his seat. "I suppose not all of you are incompetent. You are as well spoken as Mother described."

Talia Al Ghul? Talking about you? Can’t be anything good. You decide to ignore it and continue stuffing food into your mouth.

Damian gets enrolled in school. It’s going to be a little awful and he’ll hate it but it’s necessary. You make a goal to motivate him. If he gets good marks, he’ll be allowed into the Batcave. It’s an acceptable trade off.

Surprisingly, for normal issues regarding school, Damian starts going to Tim for advice. It's a good thing you think? They snipe at each other (very sibling coded) but there aren't any murder attempts yet.

Damian gets less prickly. He likes art. He likes animals. He'll reluctantly play along during Galas and let the old people try to pinch his cheeks and coo at him. It’s an improvement.

The topic of Tim’s potential adoption hasn’t come up again. When Jack Drake was in a coma, the two of you were technically placed under Bruce's care (or Alfred's rather) but everything right now is kind of still up in the air. Maybe if you ignore it long enough it won't exist.

The days churn on.

You check your calendar.

Meeting with Talia Al Ghul tomorrow at 3 PM.

At least she went through the Drake Industry protocols to book a meeting, you think optimistically. And at least it's not Ra's Al Ghul. It's been pretty quiet on that end actually, you would've been worried if Talia didn't show up soon.

You're still not sure why she booked a meeting with you and not Bruce though.

The meeting occurs in your office at the main Drake Industries building. There's a lot of small talk. A lot of skirting around topics. It's the same as every other time you've spoken to Talia. The two of you discuss Damian for a bit.

And then Tim breaks into your office. Actually, it's more like Tim and Damian and Bruce (all of whom are in civilian form) but you digress. Talia and Damian (and Bruce) exchange words (you've already said he seems to be doing well but this is probably better for them) before she decides it's time to go.

"You know how to book another meeting," you say as you wave her off. "I will let you know how it goes with Linda from accounting."

She nods in a suitably appreciative way that reminds you of your mother, "Of course."

You answer some questions about how many times this has happened before shooing everyone else out of your office so you can do work.

Later, at night, Damian approaches you.

"You were always her favourite of Father's other children."

"Favourite?" You look away from your laptop and fight the urge to grimace. Tim is Ra’s Al Ghul’s favourite so you aren’t really sure what being Talia’s favourite could mean. But most importantly… "What do you mean of Bruce's other children?

"Are you not Father's ward?"

"No? I've never been adopted by Bruce."

"Yet Grayson and the others refer to Drake as their brother."

"That's Tim. You don't see them calling me their sibling, do you?"

"Hm."

As he turns and walks away with a contemplative expression, you can't help but feel as though you had picked the wrong dialogue option.

The fic sort of set up like a 5+1 thing (five times Bruce is not your father and one time he is/five times the bats are not your family and one time they are).

Roughly, part one would start to the end of Dick Grayson as Robin. Part two is Jason up until Tim's first night as Robin. Part three is training to Stephanie's end as Robin. Part four is killing Joker to Jack Drake’s funeral. Five is post-funeral until the end.

And then of course, there's the plus 1. It's mostly set up as like an outsider POV, observing you from the perspective of others. Despite your narration indicating that you're "not that close" to the Batfamily since you aren't a full-time vigilante, that's not really true.

Your POV focuses a lot more on "plot events" and your work dealing with Drake Industries but there's a whole bunch of things outside of that where you're just hanging out. You go shopping with everyone, you bake cookies with Alfred, you teach Cass language, you take Tim to skateboarding competitions, you give everyone Christmas presents, you do so so much outside of what you consider “really important”.

Despite what you think, you’re a really good sibling actually and you have gotten close with everyone in the Batfamily. If only you could see it. Of course, it doesn’t really kick in how you think of yourself as an outsider until the whole adoption thing. Did all that time spent together not get through your head?

Some part of it might be the rough start when you and Tim first became involved. Your relationship with everyone is… complicated. More than complicated.

You spent hundreds of days and weeks bringing Bruce back from the brink after Jason’s death. You dealt with the brunt of the damage he caused in the time just to make things easier on everyone else. It’s not an exaggeration to say you remade Bruce, remade Batman, in the image you wanted. It’s a complicated dynamic. He concedes to you often, too often for the two of you to really hold a normal parent-child relationship in any sense.

His reflection on his interactions with you and Tim are also super complicated, especially since when Tim first got involved as Robin, Bruce was stewing in grief and really did not want the two of you to be around. He does appreciate you but winning your appreciation afterwards is difficult.

You've also spent a lot of time when you first met Dick to basically plaster in his face "even if you're mad at each other, Bruce still cares about you and you should come back to the manor sometimes". Although you encouraged Tim to hang out with Dick, you never really sought him out that often on your own. You always seem a little confused when he spends time with you, as though you're an obligation to him.

Jason's memories of you and Tim from before his death are spotty at best. He remembers vague feelings. Giving Tim a hug. 2 figures running along the shadows of rooftops. Hiding along the edge of the room at galas to avoid people and finding you and Tim there as well. It's enough that it's impacted his time at the League and his feelings after his dip in the Lazarus Pit.

Much of his anger was directed towards Batman more than it was towards the new Robin. Especially after recalling some of the bits and pieces of who the Drakes are. Talia's "favouritism" towards you may have helped a bit.

It's only really after he kind of rejoins the Batfam and you and Tim chat with him does everyone realize how far your stalking went in those early days. The two of you had alluded to following Batman and Robin around in the past but Jason really brings to light the amount the two of you knew before you and Tim actually got involved. It's a... conversation for sure.

You've spent much of your life basically raising Tim, you’re almost equally his parent as you are his sibling despite only being three years older than him. And well-

Across the multiverse, Tim finds that there are hundreds of thousands of constants.

You are not one of them.

He has met many alternate selves, enough that there are protocols for when it happens. There is always Batman. There are superheros. There is Tim Drake.

There is no (Y/n) Drake.

He has not come across a single universe where you exist. None except for his. It's a difficult truth to swallow.

In those glimpses of other worlds, he sees how different things could have been, how many things have fallen apart without you. How fundamental you are to everything.

But he knows you. He knows you better than anyone else so he isn't surprised when Damian says that you do not believe yourself to be part of the family.

The rest of the +1 segment is sort of your induction into the Batfamily for real and everyone making is very clear that they do view you as family (an effort spearheaded by Damian who snitched to everyone). You stop repressing a bit and admit to it eventually. The adoption topic comes up again where you're like "it's going to be a PR nightmare" and everyone's like "it's fine dw about that".

I think towards the end, both you and Tim decide that you're both okay with being Bruce's wards but don't want to really be adopted-adopted. Some stuff after that would probably be passing on the Robin mantle to Damian, Tim becoming Red Robin and maybe a Duke cameo towards the end as well.

Some additional notes:

There are some other dynamics with you and the other characters in the +1 section but uhh i haven't decided what kind of dynamic. There would be more slice of life stuff in +1 segment though.

Tim did not go to boarding school because Jack and Janet decided you could take care of him well enough. In addition, the Drakes moved to become neighbours with the Wayne early because baby you stared at the Wayne manor often.

Your relationship with Jack and Janet is complicated. Very complicated. You resent them a bit more than Tim might just due to the whole being parentified thing.

There's more gala shenanigans early fic w/ Dick and Jason before you and Tim get officially involved with the Batfamily. Like passing candy around, hiding from other rich people, etc.

Tim was Robin every single Halloween since Robin debuted. You helped him update the costume every time.

You go to Tim’s parent teacher interviews. It’s only a little awkward when the teacher in question was one of your previous teachers. No one goes to your parent teacher interviews.

Anyone who has had a crush on Tim or been in a relationship with him has gone through the very Bisexual experience of also having a crush on you. It's a rite of passage really.

You’ve accidentally Pavlov-ed Bruce. Kind of. He tends to straighten whenever he hears your voice. It's a remnant of when you were essentially nagging him all day while Tim was training to be Robin. You haven’t noticed but everyone else has.

Actually, everyone has an automatic response to when you scold them. It's kind of the same as when Alfred scolds them.

You are Tim's favourite sibling. No competition.

You might also be Cass's favourite. She was very sad to find out you didn't consider yourself family.

Tim figured out you killed the Joker at some point and you know that he knows. He hasn't told anyone and covered up any remaining evidence that helped him piece it together.

You've spoken with Jason about if he wants to legally come back to life and enroll in university. He does come back to life legally eventually but hasn't enrolled in anything yet.

Everything about the Joker is still kind of up in the air but you admit to Jason that you killed him at some point.

It is well known that there's normal Robin 3 and scary Robin 3 (you). There's a bunch of theories about why Robin 3 is scary sometimes but most chalk it up to occasional mental breaks from dealing with Batman during that specific time period where Batman was terrible.

Although Tim is probably the best detective in the family, everyone knows that you "just know things" sometimes. They've come to just not question it when you say certain things must be done.

There's a bunch of background company plot stuff while you're working on Drake Industries. Like beefing with Lex Luthor and other billionaires, running your charity events, trying to fill out the spaces where Wayne Enterprises hasn't been focusing on and so on.

Even after Jack Drake awakens from his coma, Drake Industries is still really your company. He doesn't involve himself with it.

the main Gotham job prospects aren't great. It's either working for a company run by a teenage CEO, a company run by a billionaire playboy or becoming a henchman.

You get kidnapped often enough that you've gotten to know the goons and henchmen. You've also convinced them to unionize.

Again, despite your whole thing about "not really being that close with the batfam", there are traces of you everywhere. The medbay organization system? Yours. The fact that everyone in the Justice League is mandated to go to therapy? Your work. A good chunk of the emergency codes? Also yours.

You and Alfred have an ongoing back and forth of: "Mr. Pennyworth", "Just Alfred, Master (Y/n)", "Please, just (Y/n)"

You have your own room in the Wayne manor. So does Steph.

You lowkey micromanaged everything in the early days of Tim becoming Robin. If anyone were to ask you, you'd say it was a necessity. You still kind of micromanage everyone's schedule to make sure they all get a sufficient amount of sleep.

The rogues who are aware of the whole Bruce Wayne is Batman thing break into your office at Drake Industries pretty often. You'll get them all to book their meetings officially eventually.

When you go out as Robin, you try to swing around Crime Alley since it's what Jason used to do.

The Justice League does eventually become aware of the fact that you and Tim are indeed different people posing as the same Robin. Superman and Wonder Woman were already aware prior to it being officially revealed.

You respect Alfred a lot but you also think he lets Bruce get away with a lot and that he isn't harsh enough sometimes.

The majority of the time, you're on comms with Barbara while the others are on patrol. When you're busy with other things, you work on it in the Batcave in case an emergency pops up.

Damian goes to you for help about what to do at galas and such events since you've been at that game the longest out of all the batkids.

You don't know much about what happens when the others meet alternate universe selves. Everyone tends to stay quiet about it. You always think "surely it's not that bad is it?".

Spin off idea: 5 times other people thought you were Tim and one time people thought Tim was you. Featuring: Teen Titans, the Justice League, Jason Todd, Batman, the rogue gallery and the various employees of Drake Industries and Wayne Enterprises.

A couple of au ideas: 1. you get sick and Tim calls the Waynes. Early adoption stuff; 2. you catch Jason digging out of his grave and is like “shit okay guess I’m doing this now”; 3. You become an intern at Wayne Enterprises a bit before Jason dies. You get stuck there even after your internship is after.

So, yeah. Isekai with incomplete knowledge. Family Drama. Unreliable narrators. That's the fic concept I'm probably never going to write.

#family dissonance au #<- calling it that for now #mumblings #from me #thinking about concepts #batman #batfam #dc #dcu #dc x reader #batfam x reader #dcu x reader #platonic #tim drake #batfamily #bat family x reader #reader insert #written in second person #my writing

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fancyfeathers · 2 months ago

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Love the mother daughter pair, but not gonna lie, fascinated by the thought of bruce blackmailing reader, and then having to properly try and woo her back essentially. If he really wants a seemingly loving family, he has to know he needs to coax his wife and the mother of his daughter into a better mood and viewpoint. No matter how much blackmail he has, she can start gaining just as much now that she's in his life, and I doubt the daughter will start trusting him properly with the tension between him and her mother. How would bruce coax the mother back? And would Talia actually have an easier time establishing a connection? Could see Bruce feeling jealous of Talia if that was the case. Idk just the tangent my mind ran on, even if that's not the case still love the work

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

The blackmail is practically all there is he does that truly hurts him, and that’s only if she does not agree to his proposal when states his intent of gaining custody of their daughter. But after that comes to pass everything would be perfect for a normal couple, news about their engagement spreads like fire, and the wedding will probably be the social event of the century given how they were engaged once before and now it’s back on. The most perfect white wedding and Bruce treating his darling like the perfect husband.

Their daughter does not know the details of what happened, one moment it’s her and her mama having a perfect life together, traveling the world and being each other’s best friend, and then the next all of that is over, her father is back in her mother’s life and now she has siblings and none of them feel like the family she had with her mama, it feels suffocating and her mama doesn’t seem as bright as she once did.She clings to her mama every single day and is only separated when her attention is dragged away forcefully from her daughter and one of her brothers of father comes right to the littlest one’s side.

His wife does not push any of them away, she lets her husband hold her in the morning hours when they have just woken up and press kisses onto her face, she lets Dick call her mom as he runs up to hug her, she lets Jason help her daughter with her homework even though she asked her for help, she lets Tim take her daughter out to the park even if it’s their mother-daughter day they have, or used to have, every week, she lets Damian sit down by her and lay against her while she reads to her daughter. She will never be happy but she will fake it, she does not want to make a scene and have her daughter see and realize something is wrong and do something herself. She wants her daughter to be happy and have a future, go to university, leave Gotham and go back to what is left of the life they had, parents make sacrifices for their children and she is willing to do everything for her. She plays the game of pretend, acts like the perfect wife and mother and stepmother, stays calm and bites back all the internal rage she has building up inside her.

Honestly it is after every she has been through just for her daughter’s sake is when Talia starts to think a bit more highly of her, she understands the strength it takes to make sacrifices for one’s child. She also knows how possessive and protective they all are of her and her daughter, so meeting her discreetly is the best option. Like at a charity gala and someone accidentally spills something on her dress and has to go to the bathroom to clean up and-

“Hello again.”

She nearly screamed when she turned on the bathroom light and saw Talia’s reflection in the mirror. Talia helps her clean up and change into a new dress all while talking to her about what she has found out. She went from viewing her as Bruce’s house pet, because it was clear their marriage was not equal, to seeing a mother who is willing to sacrifice and do whatever it takes to take care of her daughter.

But it is during this the question arises and the answer is terrifying…

“What are you going to do if your daughter is just as trapped as you are? What if all you did for her was in vein?”

“I-I….”

“You are far too soft, you will never get what you desire for your daughter while you stay docile, playing the role of a perfect housewife, a house pet…”

“Talia…”

“I should be off now, but do take care of my Damian, he adores you as his stepmother.”

She leaves her alone in the bathroom and she just cries, feeling like a failure of a mother and she she can barely look her daughter in the eye again.

She just lays awake at night with the thoughts of the life she grew up with, she had a golden childhood and all she wanted was that happiness for her own daughter.

After that there is no chance of anyone winning her over, but she will not act out either, she just feels dead inside, like a complete failure of a mother. Her daughter clearly notices something is wrong and while her mother will stay perfectly compliant, her daughter is a completely different story.

The moment she sees her mom loose that shine in her eyes like she had when raising her on her own she knows this is all of their faults, they took her and her mom away from their life they loved and now there is nothing left of the mother who used to teach her to dance at parties, or attend her piano recitals and sat in the front row to applaud the loudest and despite the busy schedule of meetings she had she never missed one, or when her mom who could not help but boast about her daughter’s latest achievements…

Remember she is still her father’s daughter and has a level of determination that should not be tired under pressure.

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the-flaneur · 18 days ago

Note

dearest darling flan would you ever consider writing for lewis 😔 i do not see nearly enough fics to justify js how attractive he is and it pains me

dont go insane (lh44)

pairing: lewis hamilton x driver!reader, platonic grid x reader

summary: when george invites some of the drivers over for a drunken presentation night, what better topic to present than your speciality? lewis' di-...outfits

warnings: suggestive mentions

wc: 1243

a/n: your wish is my command 😉 may have deviated a little bit, but dont worry i have many more fics lined up for this very attractive man

[masterlist] [request]

“ok ok everybody, thank you for joining us for the very first annual driver’s presentation night, hosted by yours truly, george russell. a connoisseur of powerpoint presentations, if i do say so myself,” george grinned.

the driver’s spare meeting room, which had been earlier crammed with spinning wheelie chairs and long white desks, had been replaced with the comfort of some old beanbags and blankets, as you, max, george, lando, oscar, charles, and alex settled in for a very long evening. as the last words left george's lips, a round of uncoordinated cheers erupted from the drunken audience. max let out an especially loud whoop before nearly faceplanting into a beanbag.

"you're all welcome," he said with exaggerated politeness. "now then, without further ado, let's dive right into our first presentation of the evening!"

he gestured grandly towards you, nearly losing his balance in the process. "everyone, please welcome the one the only, the illustrious and femioone-feminonnena…blimey…” he cackled, tossing you the screen remote, “oh you know who it is…y/n! welcome yourself up to the stage,”

"thank you, georgie poo. and hello everyone, i'm very very happy to be here tonight to present a special look back at the goat’s fashion choices. i would’ve rather regaled you with tales of his other…talents, but george made me promise to keep it pg, cause there are children here,” you giggled in front of all your friends, with a pointed look at lando and oscar, who seem to look mildly offended.

“obviously as the stunning wife of formula 1's golden boy himself," you continued, clicking onto the first slide, which showed you and lewis posed together for his recent dior collection, the boys hooting and hollering appreciatively, “i am the best and the only person able to give such a presentation, so make sure you’re listening,”

more applause and whistling followed as you clicked through to the first slide of lewis from the 2024 met gala, “of course, we gotta start off with a newfound lewis hamilton classic, the 2024 met gala. simple, classy, a great message and followed the theme, unlike so many others,” you rolled your eyes at the last bit, as the boys laughed.

“i can’t believe he disses my fashion sense, when his older met gala looks are questionable,” charles groans, swiping to show the group a photo pulled up on his phone. you sigh when you see lewis’ zig zag suit from 2019; definitely not camp enough for you or 2024 lewis.

“hey cut the man some slack,” alex laughs, seeing your pouting face, as you continue to click through the slides showcasing his various looks. the room continues to fill with laughter and playful jabs both at your commentary and the well-meaning yet snarky comments from the other drivers.

on the seventh slide, a photo of lewis in a see-through mesh top from the early 2021 season appeared on the screen, which definitely caught the drivers’ eyes. his chiseled features were highlighted with the bright backdrop, and the material of the shirt definitely emphasised his broad shoulders and toned physique. as well as the absolutely sinful tattoos criss-crossing his biceps, yummy…

"he looked absolutely dashing here, didn't he?" you purred, voice dripping with admiration. pausing the presentation, you let the image linger on the screen as you continued, "and trust me, he cleaned up even better in private that night..."

the room erupted in good-natured eye-rolls and chuckles at your suggestive remark. lando, never one to miss an opportunity, quipped, "well, we all knew lew was a total “stud”,"

oscar snorted, "yeah, until he decides to show up to the races in a black shirt and pants with hummingbirds on it," the others groaned in agreement, recalling lewis' infamous (amongst the drivers) outfit choice from several years prior. you laughed, unfazed by the teasing, "okay, okay, i get it. but this look right here? classic lewis - sophisticated, stylish, and undeniably sexy,” pointing once again to another showstopper lewis look.

you continued to advance the slideshow to the next image, another candid shot of you and lewis leaving a glamorous red-carpet event hand-in-hand. george leaned in to whisper something to alex, both of them grinning mischievously.

george, still smitten with his own awaiting powerpoint prowess, decided to inject some competitiveness into the situation. "alright, let's not forget why we're really here, shall we? fashion, schmashion - who still really wants to hear more about y/n's insightful analysis of lewis's wardrobe choices?"

the room erupted in laughter, as you shot george a stern look, "hey now, my presentation is far more interesting than your mediocre slide designs, george!"

undeterred, george retorted, "oh yeah?”

your face grew warm at the snide remark, but a spark of competitiveness ignited in your eyes. "oh, i think i can handle whatever you throw my way, george! don’t mess with the best," with a dramatic flourish, you clicked the remote to advance the slideshow featuring a collage of george's most...questionable outfits from past casual outings events. the drivers gasped in unison, their jaws dropping at the sight of george sporting everything from neon-colored blazers to patterned socks that clashed with his trousers. even the most tame of them were at least questionable to the discerning eye.

max let out a low whistle, while lando and oscar burst into uncontrollable laughter. with a sly grin, you continued, “i wouldn’t get ahead with the insult boys…george ain’t the only one who needs to pay for fashion crimes,”

"let's start with you, maxie," you sighed, pulling up one singular image on the presentation, the red bull racing suit, “unfortunately, your one fashion weakness is that you have no variety. did you know out of almost all the media pictures people get of you, it’s like a 1 in 500 to get one of you not in your suit, let alone anything fashionably interesting. you really need to convince pr to dress you in something else. how else am i supposed to critique you?" you humph.

max held up his hands in mock defense, laughing along with the others. "clearly, it was a stroke of genius."

as your merciless fashion critiques continued, the room descended into a fit of giggles and playful jabs. even george couldn't help but crack a smile, impressed by your preparations. lando shouted as you ripped his metaphorical fashion career away from him, "you know, if you're going to tear us apart like this, maybe we should just let you design our outfits from now on."

"oh, i think i've got enough on my plate with being mrs. hamilton already. besides, i have a feeling everyone might object to me dressing up the entire f1 grid in matching juicy couture tracksuits." the group erupted in laughter once more, and max raised his glass in a toast.

"to y/n, the only person in this room brave enough to call us out on our questionable fashion choices," max declared, his voice laced with humor and appreciation, "may her sharp tongue and keen eye for style forever keep us in check," the others echoed the toast, clinking their glasses together.

“but don’t worry i’ve saved an absolute treat for last,” you giggled, clicking towards the next slide, and the drivers, not for the first time tonight, were speechless.

there, plastered across the screen was a very…tasteful selection of lewis’ best pics. and the title: best clothes = no clothes.

being mrs hamilton was so much fun ;)

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon @princessminjikwon @nina-or-anna-or-nora

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spidernuggets · 5 months ago

Text

Jason Todd x Reader

Established relationship (married), hurt/comfort

You and Jason have been married just for a year now. And tonight was your 2nd anniversary. And unfortunately, instead of staying home, cooking you all your favourite meals and desserts, and maybe some extra private time alone, like Jason wanted, the two of you were here. In Wayne Manor. For another charity gala.

Bruce hadn't known your anniversary was today. Therefore, he was unable to reschedule. In addition, the billionaire had forced Jason to come since he hadn't made an appearance in a long while.

So, here the two of you are now. You trailing closely behind Jason as he cringed, scanning the crowded ballroom.

You walked up beside him, holding his bicep and giving it a squeeze. "Hey, it's okay," you quietly said to him, trying to soothe his nerves. "It's just a couple of hours."

Jason just hummed, only imagining the things he could do instead at home to celebrate your anniversary.

You tiptoed up, placing a lingering kiss to his cheek for extra reassurance. Jason then tensed. He wasn't a fan of PDA. He was a private man and wanted to spend his affectionate time with you alone.

"No kissing... please.." He muttered, bending down to your ear level.

You pouted. "Aww, c'mon!" You cheekily said. "It's just one kiss. It's not like we're making out or anything."

Jason sighed, shrugging your hands off him, then cupping your cheek. "Baby, you know one kiss will lead to making out." He said as you huffed in feigned annoyance. "Can you wait til we get home for kisses?" He softy asked, petting your head.

You basically purred as his hand rested on your head as you nodded per his request. Jason lightly smiled, appreciating your understanding.

As he was about to walk further into the hall, you tried to hold onto his hand, though, oddly enough, he pulled his hand away. It broke his heart to di so, but he knew if he held your hand, Jason would want to kiss you and hold you and hug you and tell you how much he loves you. But he simply couldn't find the comfort to do that in front of so many people.

"I.. I know you said no kissing," you chirped behind him. "But can I at least hold your hand?"

Jason's heart ached at the question, his skin just itching to touch you. "No." He said firmly.

"But—" Before you could say anything else, he walked further into the hall, mingling with the other guests and patrons, as Bruce ordered him to.

Jason sighed as he talked to one of the guests. A young woman with a clean cut dress and naturally flowing hair. His mind was going insane, thinking that a few inches behind him was you. So close and so easy to just turn and grab your waist and smash his lips against yours.

You understood Jason had to talk to the other guests. So you thought it wouldn't hurt if you just stood quietly beside him, holding onto his arm.

Jason's body involuntarily tensed up when he felt your hand on his arm. Normally, he would've been relaxed and felt happy, ecstatic even, to feel your fingers on him, your hand grasping onto his arm was practically a habit. But he needed you to not touch him right now.

He looked over at you, and as tempted as he was to just pull you in to hold you against his chest, Jason bit back a grimace and looked away. "What are you doing?" He hissed under his breath.

Your brows scrunched together in confusion. "What do you mean?" You quietly replied.

"Stop holding onto my arm." He muttered. "Go talk to the other guests or something." He hadn’t realised how harsh he sounded. All he wanted to get through this night, focusing on politely talking to the guests without any distractions. Unfortunately, including you.

As your shoulders sagged in disappointment, Jason's heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his embrace, telling you how much he adores the ground you walk on. But he couldn't. Not now. Not with the hundreds of eyes in the ballroom. He always hated his relationship, his privacy, his life with youxto be the center of attention.

You looked around the ballroom, not recognising anyone except Jason's siblings in the ballroom. But, like Jason, they're preoccupied talking with other patrons.

You fiddled with the fabric of your outfit nervously, feeling your hands getting clammy. You wanted to try again. Try to hold onto Jason. A habit that you've picked up when you get nervous.

So, you tried to hold onto the hem of his blazer. He tensed up as he was trying to talk to this woman who was clearly keeping a keen eye on him. Your hold made Jason feel even more awkward and uncomfortable, even though somewhere in his mind, he knew you needed to hold onto him.

Jason tried hard to focus on the conversation, but your silent, yet obviously upset presence behind him was eating away at him. After a few more minutes of the awkward and painful interaction with the girl, he excused himself, turning around to glance down at you.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his scowl as he turned, “Can I talk to you for a minute. Alone?”

You raised a brow. "Okay.." You quietly said, following him to an isolated corner.

Jason led you to a secluded spot, away from the crowd and the chatter of the gala. Once you were alone, he let out a long, tired sigh and looked over at you.

"Are you intentionally trying to get a rise out of me?" He said, his voice low. "You know I can't let you just hold onto me like you normally do when we're in public."

His words made you tilt your head in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Why?" He echoed. "Baby, you're driving me insane. You know I hate PDA, and you keep clinging to me like a damn baby." He hissed.

He quickly scanned the room to make sure he was out of earshot before turning back to you with a low voice. "Please. Just for tonight, I need you to lay off a little." He said firmly.

You looked at him with wide eyes as you slowly nodded. "Okay, okay.. I'm sorry.." You muttered.

Jason sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "No.. No, don't apologise.." He said, bending down to your eye level, his hands resting on your shoulders. "Just one night, okay?" He softly said.

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat as you nodded slowly. "Yeah.. Yeah, just one night. You can go back." You said

Jason walked back to where he had left the woman and quickly picked the conversation back up. He did his best to focus on what she was saying, but his brain was still preoccupied by thoughts of you.

No matter how much he tried to engage in polite conversation, his mind was stuck on you. On the way you’d clutched onto his arm or the hint of disappointment in your voice when he’d told you to stop. He couldn’t stand it, feeling like an asshole for hurting your feelings.

As Jason left, losing himself among the sea of people, his words replayed in your mind. 'Clinging to him like a baby'? 'Driving him insane'? He's never acted like this before. He usually accepts your affection with open arms. You knew he wasn't a fan of PDA, but.. He wouldn't even let you hold his hand.

The thought of him being embarrassed of you crawled into my mind. No, it couldn't be. It's your anniversary night. People are bound to know of your relationship. Though.. It was our first appearance at a gala together..

The thought of him being ashamed of you made your heart ache as you stared back at him talking to the pretty woman. You didn't even notice you started crying. You quickly wiped the tears away, making sure no one noticed. Before Jason could see, you quickly walked out of the hall.

You climbed up the stairs of the manor, sitting at the balcony that hovered over the hall , wiping your tears, ruining your makeup as small sobs escaped your lips.

While Jason was talking, he glanced back to where you stood to double-check that you were still there. But you weren't, and Jason immediately panicked. He quickly scanned the hall to see where you were, but he just couldn't find you.

He politely but hastily excused himself from the conversation, telling the woman he had to go use the restroom.

As he searched the crowded space, Jason's mind was racing with growing worry. He couldn’t see you anywhere. He walked around for what felt like an eternity, growing more and more anxious by the second.

Suddenly, he turned his head and looked up. His eyes scanned the balcony above the main hall, and he found you sitting up there, head bowed and shoulders trembling.

He froze for a second, his eyes widening as he saw you wiping your tears. His heart cracked at the sight, and his stomach twisted in knots. He felt like vomiting. He wanted to turn back time and prevent anything that could've led to his partner crying. Crying because of him.

He didn’t even pause to think. Jason instantly started making his way to the stairs, his steps quick and decisive. He walked up the stairs, making his way towards you, wanting to hold you and comfort you and make you stop crying, right that second.

As Jason approached the balcony, he could see you more clearly. The faint sounds of your sobs reached his ears, and it was like a punch to the gut. He cursed himself for being such a damn idiot.

He walked towards you, a mixture of guilt etched on his face. "Hey.." He said softly, his voice gruff. "Darlin'…?"

You hiccuped as you heard Jason's voice, quickly trying to wipe the remains of your tears, pretending you weren't literally just sobbing in front of him.

"Y—yeah?" Your voice trembled. "Uhm- Sorry, I had to.. step out for a moment. I'll come back down.." You said, about to stand up.

Jason reached out gently but firmly grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down. He sat down beside you, his eyes fixated on your tear-stained face.

"No, don't go,” he said hoarsely, his voice filled with remorse. “Please don’t go."

He let out a slow sigh, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and sadness. "Come on, darlin’,” he said softly, his hand still on your wrist. “Why were you cryin'?”

My brows furrowed, hurt and annoyance creeping up on you. "Why was I crying? Please tell me you're kidding." You hissed, barrowing your eyes at him.

Jason's heart sank as he saw the anger and hurt in your expression. His hand didn't loosen on your wrist, but his grip softened, his rough fingers moving back to stroke the inside of your palm, tenderly caressing your skin.

"Sweetheart," he started, his voice gruff. "I... I know I said some stuff earlier. Stuff that I didn't mean, I was just-” His words trailed off, his throat suddenly feeling tight. He swallowed hard. "It just came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”

"Said some stuff? Are you serious? Not only did you say some stuff, you- you left me the whole time!" You exclaimed

Jason's eyes widened as you raised your voice, guilt shooting through his body. "Darlin,’” he tried to call out, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. "It’s a gala, I was just…”

He couldn’t even finish his own sentence, the excuses sounding hollow and pointless. Deep down, he knew he was in the wrong. He’d hurt you so badly, and it was eating away at him.

"Just what?" You hissed. "Just embarrassed of me? Is that it?!"

Jason couldn't believe what he heard. Embarrassed of you? How the hell could he be embarrassed of you? He loved you more than anything. He loved you more than being Red Hood. The idea of being embarrassed of you was beyond ridiculous.

Slowly, he held your hands, swallowing the lump in his throat. "No.. No, darling, I could never be embarrassed of you.." He softly said, rubbing his thumbs against the back of your hands.

"You didn't even let me hold your hand!" You snapped, ripping your hands away from his. "I needed to hold your hand, Jason! You know I did! I'm in a giant room filled with a bunch of people I don't know and you dropped my fucking hand!" You raised your voice.

Jason winced at your words, feeling the weight of his actions with every passing second. He knew, deep down, that he'd been in the wrong. He'd been trying to keep up appearances to maintain some level of decorum. But in the process, he'd hurt you deeply and pushed you away when you needed him the most.

He looked at you, his expression solemn. "I know," he said quietly, his voice filled with regret. "I messed up, okay? I was stupid, and I didn’t think—"

"And then, you called me a clingy baby!" You cried as you interrupted him. "This was supposed to be OUR night, Jason! Ours! But you left me! You left me standing on my own so you would talk to some woman!" You sobbed. "I didn't care if we spent our anniversary here. I don't care where we spend it, as long as I'm with you! But you left me alone! You left me in an environment with hundreds of people, where I don't know anyone! 'Lay off a bit in public'? Are you serious?" You cried, recalling his words.

He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to face the guilt and shame that was consuming him as every word you said punched him in the gut. "I know, I know," he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean it like that. I was just... just being a dumbass. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You sniffled, looking down. "I was looking forward to spending our anniversary tonight.. Showing off to people that you were the guy I married... We didn't have to kiss or anything.. I just needed to hold your hand.." You muttered, looking down as a few more tears fell.

Jason's heart shattered. All you wanted was to spend your anniversary with him. And he completely neglected you selfishly.

He shuffled closer to you, his hand still tenderly resting on your cheek. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I was an idiot. I didn't understand how much it meant to you. I... I wasn't trying to push you away, just... just didn't want people staring at us, y’know? I thought.. I thought I was doing something right, protecting you or somethin’. But I was wrong. So wrong."

"I wanna go home.." You quietly whimpered, wiping your cheeks.

Jason's breath hitched at your request, but understood. "Okay, sweetheart.." He whispered. "We can go home... I'll take you home.."

Carefully, he supported you up, helping you down the stairs. With each glimpse of your tired, saddened eyes, he was reminded how much he had failed to make this night perfect. He knew he fucked up, and it was only your second anniversary. It made him rethink his position as a husband, thinking why you would ever say yes to marrying him.

Once the two of you reached the car, he opened the passenger door for you, helping you in. He got into the driver's seat, starting the car, neither of you speaking a word on the way home.

The silence and thick tension were killing the two of you. The car was usually filled with loud music, witty banter and continuous laughter. But not tonight. Jason took a glance at you every now and then. And each time, you faced the window, Jason catching a glimpse of your dejected look through the reflection. And each time, his grip against the wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white, and his jaw clenched harder.

Finally, what felt like hours, he pulled up in front of your house. As Jason turned the engine off, the two of you sat in silence for a few moments.

Jason then turned to look at you, taking a breath. "Baby..." He called out.

But you shook your head slowly. "It's fine.." You said quietly, turning to him, giving him a crooked smile as you got out of the car, heading up into the house.

Jason almost flinched at your forced smile. It wasn't fine. It was everything but fine. And he didn't understand why you would lie to him.

With a heavg sigh, he got out, locked the car, and followed you inside. Closing the front door, he wanted to apologise yet again, but you spoke up first.

"Do you want me to cook, or should we just order in?" You asked, placing your bag on the couch, pretending nothing happened.

Jason froze at your nonchalant question. How could you act like nothing had happened? Like he hadn't completely screwed up your night?

He moved slowly towards you, his face lined with guilt. "Sweetheart..." he started, but his words trailed off. He wanted to talk about it, to apologize, to make things right. But the look in your eyes told him that now wasn't the time.

"Order in, I guess," he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. You hummed in response, pulling your phone out ti order from your usual Chinese place.

Jason stood awkwardly beside you, the air thick and tense. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. He’d messed up so badly, and now you were acting as if everything was fine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you hung up the phone, turning to face him with that same light smile on your face. Jason couldn't stand it anymore, the pretend normalcy was driving him crazy. He took a step towards you, his voice ragged. "Can we talk, darlin’?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remembered to order your ebi gyoza," you muttered, heading to the kitchen.

Jason watched you walk to the kitchen, feeling like he was losing his mind. You were acting like everything was fine, like nothing had happened. It was driving him insane, and he couldn’t stand this pretending anymore.

He followed you into the kitchen, his steps heavy. "Damn it, that’s not what I meant!" he exclaimed, his patience finally snapping.

You flinched at his sudden raise of voice as you turned to face him.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened?” he said, his voice sharp. "Like I didn't mess up tonight? Like it’s all just sunshine and rainbows? I... I ruined our anniversary, and you're just..." He trailed off, his voice hitching in his throat.

You shook your head. "I said it's fine." You retorted. "You don't like PDA. You wanted to make a good appearance. I get it."

Jason's jaw clenched at your response. You were still missing the point. It wasn’t about PDA or appearances. It was about him hurting you. About letting his own insecurities and worries get in the way of what should’ve been the perfect night.

"It’s not 'fine'," he replied, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I didn’t want to make a good appearance, I wanted to make you happy. And I screwed it up. Can’t you just be honest with me?”

"I am!" You said, raising your own voice to match his.

"No, you’re not!" he shot back, his voice rising further. "You’re just saying what you think I want to hear. You’re pretending everything’s fine when it’s not!"

"Yes, it is—" You were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. You sighed, running your hand through your hair as you went to go answer it.

"Thank you," you queitly said to the delivery guy as you handed him a tip, getting your food off him. You returned to the kitchen, placing the paper bag on the counter.

Jason stood there in the kitchen, his jaw clenched and his heart pounding. He could hear you talking to the delivery guy, exchanging polite words, as if tonight was just another ordinary night. It infuriated him.

He watched silently as you put the food on the counter, the tension in the air so thick it was almost suffocating. He couldn’t stand this anymore. He had to make you understand.

"Sweetheart," he said, his voice filled with frustration. "We need to talk about this. We can’t just pretend everything’s fine. You’re clearly upset about what happened, and we need to address it. I'm so sorry about tonight, I didn’t..."

He trailed off, shaking his head. He knew just saying sorry wasn’t enough, but fuck, he was willing to say it over and over if that’s what it took.

"You already said sorry. And I said it was fine." You said, eating one of the spring rolls. "Eat your food before it gets cold." You muttered, turning around to the counter to switch the radio on to prevent any awkward silences.

Jason's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. He was struggling to keep his temper in check, but you weren’t making it easy. You were avoiding the conversation he desperately wanted to have.

Despite his irritation, he knew better than to keep arguing while you were like this. So, with a heavy sigh, he reluctantly turned to the counter, grabbing his food and starting to eat, still keeping a sharp gaze on you.

As the radio softly played in the background, your song began to play. The song you and Jason always danced and sang to no matter what you were doing; cleaning, showering, arguing. But you were so immersed in your own head, you didn't even realise it was playing.

Jason stopped eating, hearing the familiar sound of your shared song, his heart aching, just a bit. It was the tune that always managed to lift your spirits no matter the context.

He looked over at you, waiting for a reaction, for some sign that you were going to acknowledge the significance of the melody. But you continued to eat silently, your face stone cold and expressionless.

Jason clicked his tongue in annoyance, setting his fork down and walking closer to you.

"Dance with me." He said, more of a demand rather than a request as he held his hand out in front of you to take.

You looked up at him, still unaware that your song was playing. "What?" You said, watching as his extended hand out in front of you.

"You heard me," Jason replied, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a mixture of determination and pleading. "Dance with me."

He kept his hand out, waiting for you to take it, hoping that this would be what it took to break through the wall of false normalcy you’d built around yourself.

You hesitated but gave in, knowing the two of you never miss the song. So, weakly, you placed your hand in his as he pulled you close.

The two of you danced around the kitchen, swaying with the melody. You couldn't help the small upwards tug on your lips as the song became more upbeat, Jason twirling you around.

He pulled you back flush against him, your bodies moving in sync with the rhythm of the song. "I... “ he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m sorry I messed up tonight, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. It... it wasn’t how I wanted our anniversary to go. Not at all."

You sighed, wrapping your arms around him. "No, it's fi—" You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence, knowing it would make things worse.

You sighed again. "I'm sorry. I should've given you space. I know you don't like PDA.." You muttered, leaning your head against his chest.

As you leaned your head against his chest, Jason felt a wave of relief wash over him. He wrapped his arms around you snuggly, holding you close.

"No, darlin’," he said, his voice rough. "I... I shouldn’t have left you like that. I’m the one who messed up, not you. The last thing I ever want is to make you feel like I’m embarrassed or ashamed of being seen with you. And I’m not. I’m the proudest man in the world that you’re with me." He declared, softly placing a kiss to your forhead.

He pulled back slightly, his hands moving to hold your face, tilting it up so he could look into your eyes.

"I love you, darlin’," he said, his voice hoarse. "More than anything in this world. The last thing I want is to hurt you. And I’m so, so sorry that I did."

Your heart soared at his words as your grip around him tightened. You pressed a qiick soft peck to his lips.

"I forgive you.." You softly said. "And I love you too. I'm sorry I tried to act like everything was fine.." You muttered. "Happy anniversary, Jay..." You then whispered, smiling softly up at him.

Jason returned your smile, his heart swelling with love. The tension had finally left the air, replaced by comfort.

"Happy anniversary, my love," he whispered in return, his hands coming up to cup your face, fingers gently tracing the curves of your cheeks. "I promise next year, we’re gonna have the best damn anniversary ever. No mistakes, no worries, just us."

"Just us." You echoed in a whisper as you leaned into his touch.

#mickeysideas #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd is my life #titans jason todd #i love jason todd #dc titans #jason todd titans #jason todd headcanon #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #red hood x gn!reader #red hood x gender neutral reader

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bucksangel · 2 months ago

Text

more than a mid day amusement

pairing: sugar daddy/silver fox!bucky x reader

word count: 5k

summary: being in a relationship with an older man comes with challenges, all that come to a head one night when an old friend digs up some insecurities and threatens to break everything you have with the man you love.

warnings: 18+ ONLY, sugardaddy!au, age gap, angst, fluff, jealousy, love-making, fingering, unprotected p in v, bucky is a silver fox, pet names (princess), daddy kink, love confessions, happy ending

a/n: i read this fic by @witchywithwhiskey and decided I wanted to write a sugar daddy!bucky fic, so here y’all go! Thank you molly for unintentionally giving me inspiration🤍

masterlist | tip jar | ao3

Upon walking through the doors, you have to fight to not let your mouth drop open. The ballroom is, to put it simply, utterly gorgeous. Several chandeliers hang from the tall ceiling, the tile floors are pearly and pristine, and the artwork adorning the walls is almost too beautiful to look at. There was a large Angel fountain in front of the property, and there’s a matching one inside in the middle of the room. Dozens of butlers walk by every minute, all holding a tray of champagne or an array of Hors D’oeuvres, and maids linger on the outskirts ready to clean up any messes. There are easily over two hundred people here to raise money for some children’s charity that you can’t remember the name of, and all are ready to spend more money on a single sculpture than you spend on rent for an entire year.

The people that you engage with upon first entering are dull, so much so that you grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and sip on it while staring at the art, letting Bucky do all the talking. He does his best to involve you in the conversations whenever he can, but he understands you’re not here to talk business, so he doesn’t let the talks dip any further than surface level – always mindful of your time. While you never mind, after all you know why you’re here, you are thankful because you’re pretty sure your brain can’t hold any more information on Stark’s stock prices.

These parties – galas, charities, call it whatever you want – are always boring, too many rich people with fake laughs and ulterior motives and side eyes. Your first was about six months ago, and you were pretty sure your anxiety had never been so bad, obsessing over the dress Bucky chose for you and if it would be appropriate, if people would think you looked nice, if your hair was in place because you would be damned if you made Bucky look bad by looking bad yourself. And, maybe you wanted to look good for him too.

Your relationship isn’t conventional, it never has been. You met through one of those stereotypical romantic comedies “we walked into each other and spilled our coffees on each other” meet-cute situations outside of the coffee shop. Except, you weren’t all that cute about it. It was your favorite shirt, and you were going to be at work on time except now you had to go to the store to get a new one because your apartment was too far away to simply go back. You’ll admit that you were a little rude to him, especially since even then you knew it was an honest mistake, but one flash of Bucky’s pearly white teeth and the low tenor of his voice asking if he can buy you a new one – a shirt and coffee – had you crumbling.

He understood your reservations about you letting him drive you to a nearby store, you were strangers after all, but he had absolutely no trouble pulling out his wallet and flipping it open, and you will also admit that the sound you made when he did so was not dignified. The stack of one-hundred-dollar bills was obscene and the sleek black card on the side was taunting you, prompting you to wonder what in the hell this man did for work. He was older, maybe later forties or early fifties, dressed in a sharp black on black suit with matching loafers, his hair was perfectly slicked back, and you still don’t know much about cologne, but you were pretty sure that his easily cost hundreds of dollars.

He handed you three hundred dollars for the new shirt, waving off your balking expression by saying that he feels really bad because he can see how upset you are so “please treat yourself.” You were a little apprehensive about taking it, but Bucky was so sincere and kind and, truthfully, you needed the money. So, you took it.

And his invitation for a date.

You’re still not sure how he got you to agree to it, even now Bucky says he’s not sure either, but you chalk it up to the fact that he’s a dangerous sweet talker. The fact that he’s a walking God among men just sweetened the deal. The silver in his beard and the grays at his temples made him look refined, dignified, like he was confident and knew what he wanted, and would do anything to get it.

Apparently, you were what he wanted.

The date was nothing short of lovely, a beautiful dinner at some fancy high-rise restaurant in Manhattan overlooking the city as the sun was setting. It wasn’t packed, so there was only the quiet murmur of conversation mingled in with the Orchestral strings from the band in the corner while you ate better than you have in your entire life. Surprisingly, you both had a lot in common, you have similar music tastes, book recommendations, food palettes, almost everything really. The connection came as a shock considering you’re easily twenty years younger than him, and that’s when you really understood that age was just a number.

Given your age gap and his obvious wealth, you had a feeling you knew where this date was headed, but Bucky hadn’t made you feel awkward or made any inappropriate advances or comments, so you pushed it aside and sat through the date with a wide smile and a full belly. By three glasses of wine in, you were giggly, and Bucky was a little flushed from the bourbon he’d been nursing, and when the waiter took your plates and went to get the dessert, he broke the news.

Bucky, as you can see, is older, he’s not married, has no kids, living in a too-big house. Being one of the top CEOs in the country, all the women he meets are after his money, always with an ulterior motive, and to an extent he understands why. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though. But, Bucky doesn’t have a lot of time to go out and find the perfect woman right now, so all he wants is some companionship, someone to take on trips and dates when he gets bored, someone to spoil and dote on because he’s a provider by nature. He’d want you to accompany him to the events he has to attend as part of work, and in return he’d give you an allowance on top of paying for your apartment.

He laid everything out, asking you questions and answering anything that you had, talking in depth and easing any worries you had over an older man asking you to be his sugar baby. You’ve never done this before, so it felt a little weird to be talking about it, but by the time you’d finished dessert, you were free of any hesitation.

You went home that night with Bucky’s number in your phone, five hundred dollars in your wallet, and a pending payment to your apartment complex for that month’s rent.

Tonight is similar to other charity events, boring small talk with even more boring people that’s only made better by Bucky’s arm around your waist. Also the new necklace he’d given you when he picked you up earlier that evening.

The necklace – a simple pearl on a gold chain, matches your light peach dress. The dress cups your breasts and hugs your waist, then flows around your hips to form a small train behind you as you walk. It’s smooth silk, and Bucky laughed when you asked to marry him because he made sure to tell the designer to add pockets. It’s beautiful, something Bucky has taken note of multiple times tonight.

“You’re stunning, you know that?” Bucky asks softly, his lips pressed to your ear and his hand warm on your lower back. You’re standing off to the side with drinks in your hands, facing each other in your own little bubble as you talk and joke about the people walking by. “The most beautiful princess ever.”

Giggling, you can feel your cheeks heating up at the same time as your eyes roll a little.

“You’ve said that like five times tonight,” You tease, reaching up with your free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.

“Well, how rude of me,” He says with a mischievous smile. “It should be triple by now.”

“You know you don’t need to sweet talk me, I’m already going home with you.” Again, you giggle, shaking your head teasingly.

“It’s not about that,” Bucky says seriously, his voice turning stern. “I don’t care if you sleep with me tonight or not, you’re beautiful, and you should know that.”

Butterflies fill your tummy, and your face grows warmer. Your heart bursts with affection at the same time feeling like it’s been stabbed. Lately, Bucky’s been getting a little more affectionate with his words and actions, which is saying something considering he already doted on you quite a bit. Part of you wonder if your feelings for him are reciprocated, if you’re not falling in love alone.

Because, as much as you tried not to, you fell for your sugar daddy.

It’s probably a bad idea to let yourself sink into the delusion that you’re actually a couple, that you’re both in love without the monetary incentive. In fact, you know it’s dangerous.

That’s not going to stop you tonight.

Leaning up, you place a soft and lingering kiss on Bucky’s lips, both of you sighing into the kiss. “Thank you, daddy,” You whisper when you pull away, looking into his eyes and seeing a twinkle in them. You’re not sure what it means, and you want so desperately to ask why he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world, but the words die on your tongue. You don’t want to ruin the moment by revealing your feelings.

After a pause, Bucky smirks. “You’re welcome, princess.” He leans down this time and kisses you again, this time it’s a little more passionate. His tongue invades your mouth, his hand drifting to your waist and gripping it tight, pulling you flush against your body. The kiss feels different somehow, the sparks are flying higher than usual, and something deep in your bones knows that things are going to change tonight.

You pull away only when your lungs are screaming for air, even though you’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening kissing him, touching him, worshipping him and letting him worship you. Intimacy is never boring with you two, it’s always intense, whether he’s plowing into you from behind and calling you degrading names or you’re in missionary, whining and whimpering because Bucky won’t speed up his hips. He could, and has, spent hours eating you out, making you cum over and over until you black out, only for him to fuck you awake. You’ve sucked his dick under the tables of various restaurants. You’ve let him convince you to wear dresses without panties on your dates. Whatever it is you do, you know you’ll have fun.

Hours pass by with Bucky guiding you around the ballroom, making small talk with people you don’t know the names of, playing the part of his doting date expertly. It’s when he leaves your side to go to the bar that things heat up.

“Oh my god,” A deep voice says behind you, and for a split second you have a sense of nostalgia, like you’ve heard that voice before. A hand touches your arm, prompting you turn around and come face to face with the man that approached you.

And wouldn’t you know it, it’s Aaron, your best friend from childhood. Happiness immediately floods your body. You haven’t seen or heard from him in so long, not that there was a bad falling out, you two just grew apart. But it’s still good to see him, he was a part of so many happy memories when you were a kid.

“Oh my god!” You repeat, your eyes widen. Both of you outstretch your arms at the same time, going in for a hug with smiles on your faces. “Aaron, it’s so good to see you! We haven’t talked in so long.”

“I know,” He says remorsefully, sporting a sheepish grin that you match. “I’m sorry about that. You were my best friend.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault, okay? It was both of us.” Your reassurance seems to put him at ease, and you fall into an easy conversation, catching up on your lives and reminiscing on your younger years and the trouble you both got into.

“Remember when Anthony tripped you for saying no to his marriage proposal?” Aaron asks with a chuckle, and you let out a laugh at the memory.

“Well, we were seven and at that time all boys had cooties, so I’m not sure why he thought I’d say yes.”

“Princess.” Bucky says from behind you, and you turn around to see him holding a glass of bourbon with slightly furrowed brows.

“Oh, Bucky!” You exclaim, reaching out for him and tugging him closer. “This is Aaron, we used to be the best of friends when we were kids.”

“I know Aaron,” Bucky says cooly, wrapping his arm around your waist possessively. When you look back at your friend, you completely miss the anger in Bucky’s eyes. “We went to the same college. I was a TA for a few of his first year classes.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you look between Bucky and Aaron with a quizzical look.

“Really? Wow, the world is small.” You laugh softly, as does Aaron.

Bucky stays silent. In fact, he stays relatively quiet for the entire interaction, letting you and your friend reconnect for what feels like hours. Eventually, though, all the champagne you’ve drank has gotten to your system and the need to pee hits you straight in the gut. Extracting yourself from Bucky’s hold, you tell the men that you’re going to the bathroom, and kiss Bucky’s cheek before turning and walking towards the hallway that leads to it.

And while you’re in the bathroom, you’re ruminating a little on your conversation, and an unpleasant feeling settles in your stomach when you finally register all the compliments Aaron was throwing your way and how Bucky’s grip would tighten with each one. But you saw his wedding ring, so you’re sure he doesn’t have an ulterior motive. Maybe he just genuinely wants you to know you look nice.

However, when you get back to the ballroom and scan the crowd, you see Bucky’s back as he faces your friend. Aaron has a smug smirk on his face, his hands in his pockets, and his posture relaxed. He doesn’t seem phased by whatever Bucky is saying, making you curious as to what they’re talking about. When you get a few feet behind them, you start to hear it.

“…So leave her alone, okay? She’s taken.” Bucky’s voice is deep, using what you’ve deemed his Important CEO voice.

“I don’t know about that,” Aaron says, and the unpleasant feeling grows. “She didn’t seem to mind that I was flirting with her. Plus, what are you, like, seventy? You’re way too old for her, grandpa. She’s going to leave you eventually.”

Anger flares up in your body, your eyes filling with fire and your heart filling with rage at his degrading comments. Bucky is perfect. He’s kind, respectful, funny, the whole nine yards. So someone insulting him, especially about your age gap which you know he’s already a little self-conscious about.

“She’s my girl,” Bucky reiterates sharply, and you can see his hand tighten around the now empty glass he’s holding. Quite frankly, you’re surprised it hasn’t shattered. With the short pause in their conversation, you decide now is a time to butt in.

“Bucky,” You say, walking up to him further and placing your hand on his back. You want to yell at Aaron for being so rude, maybe even punch him, but you know causing a scene wouldn’t be a good look. You decide it’s safer to play dumb. “I’m not really feeling good.” Bucky’s eyebrows furrow with worry, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, he’s always taken your well-being seriously, and the affection settles you a little.

“Nothing, I just think I drank a little too much. Do you think we could leave?” You briefly glance over at Aaron, seeing that he’s now looking pissed off.

Good.

“Of course we can, princess,” Bucky says softly, leaning forward and kissing your forehead tenderly. “Come.”

You don’t bother saying goodbye to Aaron, you don’t even glance at him as you let Bucky tug you along to the car. You’re starting to get worried with each step you take because you can see that he’s tense while at the same time despondent. He’s never said anything about your age gap bothering him, but you can be observant. You’ve noticed that lately he’s been a little timid when telling anyone how old he is when you’re around, almost like it just drives home the point that you’re so far apart in age and causing others to judge and sneer at both of you. He gets a little shifty when someone comments on it or makes a passing joke, and you always try to reassure him without outright saying that you know.

When you get to the car, he opens your door for you, going about the usual routine of buckling you in and kissing your cheek before shutting the door and going around to his side. Things are quiet and tense the whole drive to Bucky’s penthouse, he’s not even holding your hand or resting his on your thigh like he usually would. It upsets you, and you want so badly to ask what he’s feeling, to tell him that it’s okay because you genuinely do care for him and that Aaron was out of line for saying the things he did.

Again, you can’t seem to find the words.

You still don’t speak when you get to his place. Getting out of the car, the walk into the building, and the elevator ride up to his floor all go about in silence. It’s not until you get into his kitchen that he says anything.

“Are you happy with our arrangement?” He asks as he hands you a glass of water, and the question physically hurts you.

“Of course I am,” You say, even though it’s a complete lie. In reality you want to actually be with him, but you’re still deciding on if you want to tell him. “Are you not?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, and a pit forms in your stomach. Is he really not happy with you? He told Aaron you were his girl, but his silence to your question is deafening.

“So you wouldn’t prefer to actually be in a relationship?” He asks tentatively, putting his hands in his pockets and looking at the ground as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “There are plenty of men out there that would love to have you as theirs.”

That stabs at your heart, and you have to force the tears from forming in your eyes. That ‘plenty of men’ comment crushes you, because it just proves to you that he doesn’t see himself actually being in a relationship with you.

“No,” You say after a moment, now looking down at your hands to hide your sad eyes in case he looks at you again.

Everything is quiet for a long while, anxiety bubbling up and threatening to spill. You’ve never felt this way about anyone else, never felt this type of all consuming love for another person, and you don’t want to lose it.

It seems like you might, tonight.

“Um,” Bucky says after a while, clearing his throat. “I can, uh, take you home if you’re still not feeling good.” This time tears do form in your eyes. You don’t want to leave, but it seems like he’s pushing you out as politely as he can.

You know what you need to do.

“If you want to end our arrangement, I understand.” Your voice is soft but thick with how hard you’re trying not to cry. “If you want to be with someone else, it’s okay.” It’s not, not really. But you know it’s not your right to demand that he stay with you if he doesn’t want to.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” He confesses hesitantly, and you can feel his gaze boring holes into you. You hear his shoes pad along the carpet until they appear in your line of sight. His hand rests on the back of your neck, guiding your head up to look at him through tears. “But I’m too old for you. You need someone younger, someone better suited for you than I am.”

“You’re perfect for me,” You blurt out despite your better judgment. “You’re not ‘too old’, and there’s no one better suited for me than you. We get along, don’t we? Don’t you at least like my company?”

“I love your company.” Both of you pause, and this time a spark of hope ignites in your heart. “I love you.”

His soft admission causes you to gasp, and your anxiety completely fades away. Now that you know his feelings, you’re not going to let him push you away.

“But- “

“But nothing,” You say, standing up on wobbly legs due to your heels. Bucky immediately reaches for your waist to steady you, and they don’t drop when you’re upright. “Even if it’s difficult, if we love each other, it’ll be worth it.”

“You love me?” Bucky sounds shocked, his eyes widening almost comically, though hopefully.

“I do,” You whisper, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear and then cupping his cheek in your palms. “I love you, Bucky. You. Not anyone else. I don’t care how old you are because we connect. We understand each other like I know no one else can.”

Bucky sighs, relieved, and leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. Slowly, he leans down further until his lips are hovering right over yours, but not taking the plunge. Only when you whine does he actually kiss you. It’s not all tongues and teeth and clashing and intensity, it’s warm and passionate and loving, it’s perfect. You kiss for what feels like forever, your lips gliding against each other as you soak each other in. After a while, Bucky pulls away, though only enough to once again hover over his mouth over yours.

“You really love me, princess?” The tenor in his voice shifts the mood, the way he pulls you flush against his body so you can feel the hard outline of his bulge.

“I really love you, daddy.” You smile, as does Bucky, before he suddenly leans down and grabs the back of your thighs so he can lift you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist.

He stares into your eyes the entire walk to his bedroom, and you almost want to cry with how happy you are. The brief angst of almost losing what you have is gone, replaced now with love and lust. He gently sets you down on the floor, wasting no time yet at the same time taking great care of undressing you, sliding your dress off as he presses kisses wherever he can reach. You’re whimpering, your need bubbling up and threatening to make you cry with frustration. You always get a little dumb with Bucky in the bedroom, easily going under until all you can think of and focus on is Bucky.

You look at Bucky while he lowers himself to his knees, putting your hands on his shoulders to steady you as he takes off your heels. He places kisses on your thighs, spreading your legs a little so he can brush his nose along your pubic bone and inhale your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” He groans, his tongue darting out and forcing its way through your folds to tease your clit. And you’re extremely thankful you went without panties tonight.

“Daddy,” You whine, shifting forward into Bucky’s mouth, but he retreats as soon as you do. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” He murmurs, standing back on his feet. And, even though you want to tear his clothes off, you also don’t want to ruin the serenity of the moment. So you’re slow when taking Bucky’s clothes off, also kissing him and relishing in his pleased sighs and quiet moans.

“Da-“

Bucky cuts you off with a kiss, once again taking you into his arms so he can lay you gently on the bed. He climbs on top of you, continuing to kiss you until you’re breathless and only vaguely aware of Bucky’s hand creeping up your inner thigh until you’re gasping into his mouth due to his thumb settling right against your clit.

“Say it again,” He demands, and you know what he wants to hear.

“I love you.” At that, he rubs his thumb in slow circles, dipping one finger into your aching hole in one fluid motion. You moan loudly, arching your back slightly and pressing your breasts against Bucky’s chest.

He doesn’t speed up his movements, is methodical in how he takes you apart just with his hands. While he fits a second finger in your pussy he starts massaging your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple as he kisses and sucks and nibbles at your jaw and neck, no doubt leaving marks of ownership that you’ll wear proudly.

He continues his gentle movements, only speeding up slightly when he notices your pleasure is growing.

“Fuck, princess, need you to cum so I can be inside you.” His begging only gets you more worked up and you’re so close you can taste your release. “Please, cum.”

And you do, letting go with a wail that Bucky swallows with his mouth. He fingers you through your orgasm, only stopping when you start whining at the sensitivity.

“Daddy,” You say, though you’re not sure exactly what you want to say.

“What do you need, princess?”

“You.” Your response is immediate, and you see Bucky’s features soften. “Always you. Only you.”

Bucky groans and hurriedly situates himself between your spread legs. He reaches between his legs and grasps his cock, hissing at the pleasure before he guides himself to your entrance. With a loving look into your eyes, he smiles and says, “I love you.”

And that’s all the preamble needed for Bucky to push in, slowly stretching you and splitting you open until you’re fully speared on his cock. You can’t do much more than grasp his shoulders, pulling him flush against you so all you can feel, smell, and see is Bucky, your love. He stays still for a moment, letting both of you adjust, simply staring into each other’s eyes as though you can’t get enough of it.

“Please move, daddy.”

He does, pulling his hips back and then thrusting forward, forcing a moan from your mouth. He does it again and again until he’s worked up a steady rhythm, making love to you and worshipping you with his mouth, his hands, and his words. He’s praising you endlessly, telling you how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how lucky he is that you want to be his.

You don’t realize you’re crying until Bucky’s lips ghost over your cheek and catch a tear, shushing and cooing at you.

“Princess, fuck princess, I love you so much. You feel so fucking good around me, you’re fucking perfect, you know that? The only one for me for this life and any others I live.” Bucky doesn’t stop there, he keeps telling you sweet things and thrusting his hips and nailing your special spot with each one.

“I’m gonna cum, daddy!”

“Hold it,” He says, fucking you a little faster. “Cum with me.”

You whine, and you desperately want to cum, but if Bucky doesn’t want you to then you won’t. So, you hold off as best as you can, resigning yourself to simply feeling, sinking into the pleasure and your head going fuzzier and fuzzier until you’re vaguely aware of Bucky’s desperate and husky voice ordering you to cum.

Through tears, you cry out as your orgasm washes over you, gripping Bucky like a lifeline as he spills inside of you. It lasts eons, flames igniting your skin as both of you share such a special moment. When you finally come down from your high, Bucky is clearly trying not to collapse on top of you, causing you to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, teasing.

“Nothing,” You assure, now rubbing up and down his back. “I’m just happy.”

Bucky sighs, smiling softly before leaning down to kiss you chastely. Carefully, he rolls you both over so you’re now lying on top of him with his cock still lodged deep in your pussy, keeping his release in place.

“I’m happy too,” Bucky confesses, smiling wider when you do. You both go quiet for a long while, you’re resting your head on his chest and he’s rubbing your back and sides, reveling in the love you share. When you yawn, Bucky chuckles, kissing the top of your head.

“Go to bed, princess. I’ll make us breakfast in the morning.”

“M’kay,” You mumble, nuzzling his chest and kissing over his heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too, princess,” Bucky murmurs, kissing you again. “I love you too.”

You sleep better than you ever have, happier than ever knowing that no matter how hard things get, you have Bucky by your side, and that alone will make things easier.

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on-the-clear-blue · 4 months ago

Text

Dead Man's Diner pt 7

Hearing the chime of rhe bell above the door, Danny mentally prepared himself before poking his head around the corner "Heya! I will be with you in one hot sec!"

Rushing around the kitchen, Danny set the chili to simmer and quickly cleaned himself up before coming back to greet his newest customer.

Stepping upt to the bar, Danny put his best customer service smile on and opened his mouth to speak, but the words that came out were not in English.

"Hey there! Welcome to Big C's diner what can i..." Blinking a bit before frowning, Danny looked closer at his customer, his eyes flickering a bright green as he squinted at the man.

Because either this man was the very strong revenant that had claimed Crime alley as his huant, or there some how was a 4th Halfa in the world.

---

Jason found the little diner comfortable, more up to date than the typical dive that was in the Alley, there wasn't even any blood splatter in the back booths!

He kinda didn't like how there was only a single person working there at night, being so close to the Alley and all, but that was easily fixed if he just happened to come around in his Red Hood outfit.

Sending a smirk like smile to the teen that came out from the kitchen, who had the fakest smile that Jason had ever seen outside of a gala.

But his smirk slowly slipped as the kid spoke, his words both sounding clear and distorted at the same time, he could make out words but it was very clearly not words at the same time.

Then, the kid's eyes flashed, and Jason had seen those eyes before, he had seen them in the mirror more times than he was willing to admit.

(Holy shit this kid is about to have a Pit episode in front of me...how the fuck did this kid get in the pits?) Jason thought as he leaned back into his seat, his hand instantly going to where his guns usually were, but only grasped at air.

(Right...forgot those at home...) He thought, settling instead to set his hands on the counter, Jason narrowed his eyes at the teen

But just like that, the green was gone, and the teen cleared his throat, "Sorry about that, um, welcome to Big C's, what can I get ya?"

---

Danny gave a weak smile, he didn't exactly want to throw down with this potential halfa, sure he liked a good ghostly welcome every now and again, but he just cleaned up and he would like his diner to stay that way thank you!

The man across from him glared for amoment longer before shaking his head, "Shit, ugh...gimme a coffee and...what's your special today?"

Reaching for the coffee pot, Danny felt a rumble in the diner cart, and there was suddenly a chalk board on the wall behind him.

Pouring his customer a mug, his brain paused for a moment, translating the ghost script before he spoke "Cadavers chili hotdogs, made with 100% not person meat...I promise neither are made out of people, definitely didnt seen any bodies when I made it my guy."

---

Staring at the blackboard that Jason was very much sure wasn't there a moment ago, he felt his chest tighten and ache as he read the...sigils? Words? They were definitely something and he totally shouldn't know what they mean.

Biting back a snort at the dry comment, Jason focused on him "I will take two...Danny? That your name or just the name on the aprin you got?"

Jason was totally not digging for information, because he totally wasn't a Bat or a Bird, and he totally didn't have an urge to know everything about the person across from him.

Getting a dry chuckle from the guy on the other side of the counter, who could only shake his head, "Sadly, that's my name, I will be back in a sec with your food, no running off tho' ya hear? Already dealt with dine and dashers once this week."

Letting out a chuff, Jason kept his eyes around the room, he knew logically he should be more freaked out by this whole experience, but he couldn't help but feel his body relax and his mind comfortable slow.

Holding the cup of coffee in both hands, he took a long sip and memories hit him harder than a crowbar.

It was his mother's coffee, not the bitch that sold him out but his mama, Catherine, the woman that struggled to keep him happy and fed.

It was the watered down brew, stretched to make it last longer.

It was milky and sweet with sugar packets pilfered form diners such as this and powdered milk he used to steal from the grocery store just for her.

His mama gave up so much for him, why couldn't he just do one little petty theft for her?

His heart aches again, and the intense feel of the pits roar in his ears, but they weren't calling for blood, the pits crooned in nostalgic heart break.

Usually remembering before his death was a trigger, was something that made him rage, but right now? He could only mourn for the mother and son that used to cuddle up together under a ratty blanket, of the mother that whispered stories to him during long quiet nights, of the woman that he had found dead on one such quiet night.

---

Tossing on the last bit of fresh diced onions, Danny had a cheesy grin on his face as he brought the plate to the front, mouth opening to speak before noticing his customers disposition.

He was hunched over on himself, looking small (which was impressive for a man thst looked twice his size and 4 times more muscular)

Tears were streaming down his face as he stared at the now half full mug, for some reason it felt heart breaking to see.

Setting the plate down carefully in front of the man, Danny placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's okay man...your okay bud." Awkwardly Patting his customers shoulder, Danny felt a bit of panic, he wasn't Jazz he didn't know how to like, console people!

It took a few minutes for the man to calm, and Danny handed him a few paper towels to clean himself up, patting him on the back one last time, Danny let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, "Well...um, hope that the coffee is so bad that it made you cry, I-uhh, could comp it if you want?"

The man just shook his head, "Fuckin' hell, ain't bad, just...God damn it..."

---

Rubbing at his eyes Jason huffed, "Sorry for, um....blubbering on ya like that..

don't usually get teary at coffee, that's more of Timmer's shtick, just tastes...tastes like my mom's coffee when I was a kid..." shaking his head, Jason looked at the chili dogs, they still steamed, the cheese now melted on nicely.

Danny just nodded, "Yeah, some reason i have gotten a few comments on that" shrugging his shoulders, he started to figgle with a cloth, wipping down the counter as he spoke "Meh, Gotham is fucked up and I don't want to even begin to try and figure out."

Croaking out a laugh Jason dragged the plate of food closer, "Fucking right about that...though if you keep making it like that you got yourself a regular customer."

Reaching a hand across the counter, Jason gave Danny a weak smile, "Names Jason, nice to meet ya."

Taking the hand, Danny gave a smirk back, "Got it, one sad cup of coffee for you then-" Snapping his head over as he heard a beeping sound, Danny got a panicked look on his face "Oh shit! My cookies!"

---

Storming to the back, Danny ran to the oven, throwing it open, scrambling for the oven mits, he phased a hand through them instead of tugging them on, and quickly pulls the smoaking batch of sweets from the rack.

Plopping them on the counter, he hears the oven snap shut as he sighs, turning to thank the diner, he pauses to see the sight of a man he was hoping that he would never have to see again.

"Oh little Bager, King of the Realms making food for the common folk? How the great have fallen.." Vald said with a viscous grin, his hand reaching up to flip off the oven, "Did you think I wouldn't find you? Thought you could rum off and not tell dear old Uncle? Don't worry Bager, while old Vlad might not come around to vist much..."

There was a flash of black light and where a man once stood was a ghost, his grin pulled back devilishly "I am sure Plasmius will make up for it very...very well."

---

Laughing a bit as he watched Danny scramble inot the back, Jason stared at the food, he was still hungry but...he held an apprehension of sorts, was this going to bring back memories? Would they be good like the coffee or...

His thoughts were cut off as a body was through through the deviding wall from the front of the house to the kitchen.

Bolting up out of his seat, he watched as Danny stepped out of the hole in the wall, shaking out his fist as he did, "I really don't have the fucking time for you Plasmius, don't you see I have a customer?"

Jason stared as the body that was punched through the wall, that looked mangled, twisted and broken start to twitch and crack back into place, limbs bending back from positions they should never be, and then the man sat up, a feral grin on his lips.

(Really fucking bad day for not having my God damn guns.)

#batman #batfam #dc x dp #dpxdc #dead man's diner #danny is a little shit #danny phantom #ectoplasim in food makes it nostalgic #ghost king danny #vlad plasmius #Vlad is a bastard man #jason todd having ghostly shit happening #Jason is having a loy of big feelings #ectoplasm in food makes it nostalgic #No jason you dont bring guns to a ghost fight #think ghost thoughts and punch Vlad in the dick #bruce in the batcave looks up at nothing: one of my children just got into some bullshit #tim: damnit B stop being weird

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sukunasweetheart · 1 year ago

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👀👉🏾👈🏾 Sukuna x Reader ex's to lovers?

wowowow i cant believe im doing like another celebrity au again but here goes nothing ahaha...

i love this trope, i ended up writing a WHOLE, lengthy ass, detailed plotline on it i hope u dont mind <3 (A WHOLE WHOPPING 6K WORDS YALL)

prepare for hella angst, OOC sukuna, insecure fem!reader, ghosting, messy break up, conflicting and complicated feelings + sexual tension and then intense smut @ the end (make up sex)

imagine sukuna being like, an amateur model-turned-actor, with you being his highschool sweetheart, who was there to support him since day one

a very happy, fulfilling relationship for the most part-- until he starts gaining huge amounts of popularity.

youve always known that he was meant and born to reach sky-high levels of success, and you were certain he was going to make it one day

but things get rockier by the second, and insecurity is such an ugly, ugly thing

seeing him model with other beautiful celebrities, acting in roles where he had a love interest to kiss and fondle, reading those gossip scandal articles involving him and another party every few months or so-

it all got too much for you.

all you needed was some reassurance... but young and vivacious sukuna, drunk on this fame and attention, failed to recognise that and left you feeling neglected.

not on purpose tho, he's never engaged in infidelity, he's never gazed upon someone else with lust or love on his mind - he was using everyone around him as a stepping stone towards his own career

sukuna's known you since forever, and he was confident that you knew his affection for you was unwavering... so he failed to understand where you were coming from whenever you brought these things up

arguments after arguments after arguments

the worst part of it was that he wanted to keep his relationship with you a secret. saying something about how having a significant other would slow his progress in his career down... the decision was urged on by the entertainment company that he was in a contract with

it hurt so damn much when he was being interviewed on tv about his romantic life, only for him to tell the world he was single.

it leads to more arguing.

of course, as a rising celebrity, he was quite awfully busy with many business trips and attending a lot of parties and galas

another terrible fight occurred right before he had to leave for a flight overseas but by then, youd pretty much already decided that you were going to leave him

you basically ghosted him, packing all your belongings overnight, blocking his number and all his social media accounts, making sure even all yours and his mutual friends didn't know of your whereabouts. you're going to start fresh. and give him no closure.

it was petty revenge, and maybe immature of you, but you were just as young as he was, and you wanted him to hurt as badly as you were hurting back then.

sukuna's still overseas, having just come back from another fancy gathering and is fresh out of the shower, in his hotel room... he decides he's gonna try and give you a call, but ofc you don't pick up

he sighs and convinces himself that he'll sort things out with you later when he gets back, not knowing that there won't be a 'later'.

meanwhile you're dragging a suitcase out of the apartment, taking a taxi somewhere else far away, crying as you pass by giant billboards that have pictures of sukuna plastered all over

he feels like such a faraway person now. no longer someone who you used to cuddle closely in bed, or hold hands with. you're not even sure of who you are without him anymore.

you could imagine his reaction when he came home, only to find your entire existence missing. seriously, it was like you were never there. you left nothing of yours behind, and the place was cleaned spick and span, not a hair of yours to be found.

when was the last time sukuna felt so panicked?? this dull ache in his chest, as he spams you calls and texts that never reach you

he contacts mutual friends in rotation but everyone is absolutely clueless... he considers filing a missing persons case but then a trusted friend of yours tells him to not look for you... and that you wanted them to relay a message to him, just a simple goodbye.

what the fuck are you talking about?

oh, here comes a severe headache.

his mind is whirring with overlapping memories, thoughts, regrets, thinking about any clues that might give away where you couldve gone, but theres simply nothing

the shock moves into sorrow, then denial, and then it turns to anger. does he mean nothing to you? so much so that youd abandon him without saying a word?

its like he was going through the five stages of grief, but for someone who he knew was still alive..

eventually, he finds a rebound out of spite. if youve left him, then it's means he's free and single, right? he gets himself piss-drunk, and beds another, only to wake up feeling absolutely disgusted. it feels like... it feels like he's cheated on you. even though you're already gone. he's just a mess of conflicting emotions, and it lasts for so long.

the reason why he doesnt hire someone or use some other underhanded method to actually look for you is because of a weird mixture of both his pride and feelings of insecurity, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you do deserve someone better, someone who understands you more... (and he's also fearful that someone like you, might've already found love somewhere else, and he's definitely not confident that he'll be able to act maturely if he sees its true)

eventually, acceptance does come... but does it really?

i like to think he went through many failed relationships, his partners always leaving him upon witnessing him getting intoxicated and calling for none other than your name in his state. someone who no one around him knows anymore.

years pass, and time really does allow you to forget. for both you and sukuna alike. in your mid thirties, both of you are single at this time.

you've been busy with your new job at some company (dont ask me, i was too lazy to decide what kind, so u guys can make this one up bye), and he made sure to keep himself busy as well. no time for fleeting romance.

of course, until fate does that weird thing where it pushes people together again... a new project lands in your lap, where it involves some kind of collaboration with THE celebrity, ryomen sukuna. of fucking course.

you really did desperately try to get it off and pass this off to some other colleague but they insisted your involvement was necessary. what are you supposed to do? you almost decide to quit... but this job means a lot to you... you can't just throw everything away because of an ex... right?

and, oh my god, when the first meeting does happen, involving the celebrity himself, you and a couple other coworkers to discuss the project, sukuna sees you and his brain short circuits for a moment.

he starts doubting his own vision, and then he reminisces, in the middle of whatever the fuck everyone else was talking about during the meeting.

"... Mr. Ryomen?" one of the other participants ask.

he clears his throat, regains his composure and regathers his focus. he's an actor for god's sake. and he starts speaking, with thoughts of you in the back of his mind. about how much youve changed, but also remained exactly the same...

during introductions, you shake his hand and act professionally. his eye twitches. will you continue to pretend not to know him even afterwards? should he talk to you separately after this? no... doing that would mean he's the desperate one...

when you saw sukuna hesitating, part of you felt relieved. so you're not the only one getting freaked out. you don't expect him to acknowledge you anymore, though.

after the meeting, he walks out feeling confident that he's going to ignore you back, if this was the kind of game you're going to play with him. you mean nothing to him, just as he means nothing to you.

but he remembers the shock that went down his spine at the feeling of the warmth in your hand. he watches you take an elevator by yourself, and tries to make a split second decision on whether he wants to let you go, or if he wants to chase you down.

he probably shouldn't bother.

but he impulsively speed walks down towards you, anyway.

youre startled when the elevator doors are blocked from closing just at the last second, with someone's arm coming through between. your heart skips a beat seeing that it's none other than sukuna.

what is this sensation? this mix of fear and... excitement. you should be unperturbed. you're over him. he's someone from the past. you're buzzing with these feelings, but there also comes a creeping resentment that finds its way to you again, as you try to remember why you left him in the first place.

he unclicks whatever level you were heading to, and clicks on the highest level instead. he's gonna take you to the rooftop of the building, where he can confront you peacefully.

"Mr. Ryomen? Is there something wrong?" you ask him. still feigning ignorance. like salt to a wound. you know its another petty move from your part, but you can't help yourself.

"Don't call me that. You know damn well why I'm here," Sukuna drawls, sounding more sad than angry. they've really become strangers.

you grow silent, being hit with a pang of guilt. deep down, you knew you shouldve handled it more maturely than that. he deserved closure, and you needed it too. but isn't it too late for all that now?

the conversation flows tense, but unravels slowly. there's still a lot of questions being withheld though. he wants to ask you how youve been. were you able to sleep peacefully after you left him? why did you have to leave in the worst way possible?

a familiar headache creeps up.

simultaneously, the anger finds its way in his heart all over again. he knows he didn't do much good towards the end of their relationship either but ghosting him was plain disrespectful and childish.

you surprise him when you give a sudden heartfelt apology.

you tell him that you know apologising now after all these years is frankly almost meaningless but still, he didnt deserve to be left behind in that kind of way. you admit that you should've communicated with him properly that you were breaking up with him.

he's left kinda speechless, bc he was so ready to be all snarky to you after everything.. he's still mad, but he can't really say shit anymore without sounding like too much of an asshole.

truth be told, if you did stay around to tell him that you were breaking up with him beforehand, he probably wouldn't have let you go... where would you guys be now, if you never separated?

"i've always wanted to apologise. it's been weighing on me ever since i left."

...and yet, you didn't ever think to call or text him even once afterwards? he never changed his number in hopes for that, and he hates himself for it.

"i understand that you hate me now, but let's try to get through the collaboration without trouble. and then we can part ways again."

that one pierces his heart, like a bullet. you haven't said anything technically wrong. he should hate you. or at least, he should feel indifferent by now. and yet... the way that you automatically assume so irks him badly.

"do you really believe that i hate you? aren't you the one that hates me?"

it's a stupid fucking question. what the fuck is he even saying? he wants to kick the elevator door.

"...i left because i thought you hated me, that you didn't need me anymore. and i tried to convince myself that i hated you too. but that couldn't be further from the truth. even now, i don't ha-"

before you can say any more, the elevator doors open, and a small group of employees are standing outside them, looking curiously in at you and sukuna. then, they realise who he is. they come flocking in, asking for autographs and pictures.

you quietly slip out of the crowd, and after giving one quick glance at sukuna, who visibly wants to pursue you again, you walk away to avoid gathering attention on yourself. wait-! dammit- he thinks.

he can't chase after you. he can't call out for you to stop. he can't push all of these people away. if he did, it will cause rumours and unfavourable articles to fly out. let's try to get through the collaboration without trouble. his own fame becomes another obstacle between you and him.

back then, you were his whole world, yet somewhere along the path, he started to fail in making you feel like it.

he watches you take the fire exit towards the emergency stairs, while he's surrounded by overbearing fans who beg for his attention. you're going to have to walk down in your heels, all because of him. as he catches the final glimpse of you, as he's reluctantly dealing with his fans, he begins to understand, a little bit. he didn't want to understand why you decided to leave him. but he does now. a little.

a couple of stairwells down, you eventually pause for a moment and sit down on the last step to take a breather. you wipe your sweaty palms against your skirt. the familiar tug at your heart, in which your insecurities come flowing back to you, seeing him surrounded. you need to build higher, stronger walls around you from now.

when sukuna is done on his end, and sends them off down the elevator, he goes off to check down the stairs you went, but you've already booked it. slipped right through his fingers. you were about to say something important. with unresolved feelings, sukuna also takes the stairs down, with a heavy heart. each step down brings him another old, nostalgic memory of you to him.

from then on, the more he interacts with you during work-related matters, the more apparent it becomes that he still harbors feelings for you. he tries to ignore it, push it back down, but it only returns twice as overwhelming.

your voice. the way you smile. the scent of your perfume. exactly the same as back then. yet, he also observes the changes that have occurred in you; how you act, speak and the kinds of words you use, as well as seeing you in such a professional setting rather than personal - everything is coming together to allure him more, and he's in a state where he's unable to resist this attraction, but also unable to act on it, because he's not sure how you'd react to it.

he knows it's not just him getting drunk on nostalgia.

the next time he catches you alone, he makes sure to tell you that he doesn't hate you like you believe he does. you'd never admit it, but that gave you butterflies in your stomach.

in fact, everything sukuna does, even just locking eyes with you for a few seconds, is enough to make your heart rate increase, intensifying when he looks at you almost like... almost like he wants you. you must be imagining things.

he finds himself doing uncharacteristic deeds, like sending coffee for all the staff members. his manager passes them out to everybody, including you. he doesn't know if you still like your coffee the same way as he remembers, but he makes sure that yours is a little different, a little more specific than everyone else's, in hopes that you'll notice these small gestures of his.

over the course of the project, he inches closer to you, ever so slowly. but you don't seem to budge. even worse, you seem to be avoiding him as much as you possibly can. you avert your gaze from his. stagger away when he gets close.

he brings it up on one occasion, when he's able to approach you at the back of the building, where there's no one around, and no watchful eyes of a nosy audience. it's definitely frustrating and unpleasant- when he wants to speak with you, he has to keep distance in case another scandal rises. he doesn't want to drag you into the spotlight, without knowing if you're okay with it first.

sukuna only really talks to you when there's nobody around. maybe he's being considerate of you, but it gives you the impression that he doesn't want to be seen hanging around with you. it makes you remember things you don't want to. it makes you remember that being with him now requires a courage that you're not sure that you have. at the very least, you know you definitely didn't have it back then.

you keep conversations short with him, and try to leave. but he keeps at it persistently. what is he trying to do? is he toying with you?

"you're acting like you want us to get back together. don't do things that'll make me misunderstand," you tell him. you were trying to provoke him. expecting him to deny it harshly and back away, because you knew he was prideful- he'd never be caught being hung up over an ex.

"...and? what if i told you that i do want that? would you stop avoiding me then?" he takes one step forward, and you take one back, proving his point.

why is he pushing aside his ego for you? where did all his arrogance go off to? this isn't how the sukuna in his twenties would've responded. his answer makes you waver, and you don't appreciate that. you try not to show it.

"no. i'd only begin to avoid you even more. so don't start."

"i'm not," you deny, but your voice betrays you. he clings onto that.

"why? ...afraid that you'd cave in to me?"

like the way he's already pretty much caved in for you?

"you don't sound very convincing."

"...would you want someone who'd choose their career over you?"

that stops him in his tracks. he has nothing to say to that. because he did make that mistake. where he prioritised his job over your feelings.

"i don't hate or blame you for that anymore, sukuna. but you have to understand... i don't want to go through that pain ever again. i don't want to hold you back. we both deserve more compatible partners."

your own words sting yourself, and you try to go again right after saying that, because it's getting too much for you. his hand flies out to grab yours out of instinct, to stop you from leaving. leaving him again.

it's really not like him to be the clingy ex, pathetically begging to be taken back, but he's willing to throw such pride away if it means you'll be appeased. if you'll let him back into your life again.

"don't say that. you never held me back-- you were my home and my everything, and i was the one that started to take you for granted," he says gently, his low voice laced with sorrow, so uncharacteristically. you've only ever heard this kind of tone from him once before, and it was when his grandfather, who was like a parent to him, had passed away. his thumb brushes over your hand.

"give me another chance. this time i'll let the whole world know about us. about how much you mean to me."

he gets in close ever so slowly, and you let him, for only a moment, before gently pushing him away, with a hand on his chest.

sukuna hitches in a breath, heart sinking to his stomach. he wants to embrace you so, so, so bad. he needs your warmth. always has been. always will. but he sees that you're unrelenting, which breaks him.

"no, stop... i'm sorry, i can't."

you're still scared. you keep thinking about how lonely you felt when you were with him, at least right before the break up. seeing him laughing through the tv screen. alone in the living room. and all the arguments.

your hand slips out of his, and he lets you go. he feels empty when you walk away. hollow. the similar feeling he felt when you first left him, but less anguish and more despair. when he gets home, he tries to drink those feelings away. something he rarely does. old regrets and heartaches return, and he drinks until he passes out.

while he drinks, you weep. crying into your pillow, wondering if you're doing the right thing. wondering if this is how it's supposed to be. terrified of being with him again, but also terrified of losing him, like a hypocrite.

from then on, sukuna keeps a respectful distance from you... no longer trying to make approaches in secret, no longer pursuing you every chance he gets. but he still sends out coffee. even provides snacks to the crew. little do they know, they're the kinds of snacks that he knows you loved. hopefully, you still do. he'll keep his distance because it's what you want, but he wishes to keep doing these little things for you. subtly.

and you notice it, too. you have vivid memories of telling him about your favourites and preferences back then, and you recognise what he's trying to do. you drink the coffee. and you always grab a handful of the snacks. you do appreciate it. it makes you happy that he remembers. on a few occasions, you turn to look at him, only to witness him looking away at the last second.

it's not too long before the project is successfully finalised, and all their efforts have been rewarded. a celebration is due, and your boss throws a party at a fancy hotel for everyone to enjoy themselves at. sukuna had stopped going to so many gatherings and parties quite a while ago, but he attends knowing that you'll be there as well. he'll see you for the final time before he'll lose any excuses to be around you ever again. it'll be the final night.

you exchange a few words with him at the venue, but the two of you leave each other to mingle with other groups reluctantly, to avoid suspicion. both of you are quite tense all throughout the night, sipping on some wine to ease it, but it still doesn't relax the tension you feel, no matter how far away sukuna stands from you.

a few hours in, and you decide to excuse yourself early to head up into your designated hotel room. your boss covered the expenses for a night, and it would've been a waste to decline it, so you decided to stay. sukuna isn't around anywhere at the venue anymore, so you assume he's already left. you thought about saying farewell, but it didn't seem appropriate after you flat out rejected him. you still have doubts about the decision. because you miss him. but what's done is done, and you can't take back what you've already said.

however, getting to the hotel elevator, you notice he's standing there, with miraculous timing. you awkwardly "hey" him, and he says it back, hands in his pockets.

the two of you step inside when it arrives, and the thick tension remains.

"i'm surprised. i thought you'd be staying around longer for the party," you tell him.

he can't tell you that he found it unbearable, to see you hanging around other people, but being unable to get closer to you himself.

"i just got a bit tired," he lies. "did you have a lot to drink?"

"not at all. i had a few glasses, but i'm still sober."

"same here."

as the lift gets closer to your level, you get antsy, thinking about what to say before you leave, but your thoughts get interrupted when he asks you something abruptly.

"...can i walk you to your room? for the last time."

you swallow thickly on nothing, and feel how your chest aches at the words. last time.

"alright. sure," you say.

he wasn't expecting you to say yes, but he's glad you're letting him stay beside you a little longer. you're staring at the elevator doors, but he's looking at your face from the side. if only the lift would malfunction and stop, right here.

but it doesn't, and soon, he's really walking beside you as you get to your hotel room door, in silence. you unlock it using your key, and then that's it.

"thanks for walking me here," you say rather sheepishly. the thought of him wanting to spend even a few more seconds with you... your hold on the door knob is tight as you stand, face turned around to look at him. it's taking everything in you to stand your ground. last minute guilt and regrets are bombarding your thoughts, and...

"i'll say this now because i probably won't get another chance again," sukuna starts, looking directly into your eyes. his eyes are mellow, and he looks wistful.

"i'm sorry. i realised i never apologised, even though that's the first thing you did for me," he starts. he knows there's a mountain of reasons he is apologising for, but he decides he'll keep this short for your sake.

".. i can't lie to you and say that i wish for your happiness with someone else. 'm not that nice." you know it the best. and you understand, because you don't think you'd be able to withstand seeing him happy with someone else, either.

"find your happiness elsewhere, thanks," he grunts humorously. for god's sake. he's never been good at things like this. being heartfelt. at least it made you chuckle a bit. his expression of indignation melts away into a melancholic one again.

"i still love you." (always have, always will.)

you fight back sudden tears, and your throat begins to ache. sukuna unclenches his fist, and tries to relax himself more.

"and...i'll miss you," he breathes the phrase out. says it so quietly, like it hurts for him to say. (i don't want to let you go.)

something snaps within you and everything starts to scream at you to take everything back, and stop him from going away. don't go- don't go- don't go-

"...goodnight."

he notices your wet eyes, and he has to fight back against the urge to reach out and wipe it away. to rescind his farewell, and pull you into his arms again - forcefully, if he has to. he needs to leave, before he loses control.

you're panicking, and your vision is swimming, and you don't think you'll ever be happy again if you let him go like this-- you're gonna be heartbroken in the worst way imaginable. you want him back, and you know you're being unreasonable after turning him down like that, but you don't care anymore. you want to go against your fears. you want to try being with him again.

before you can stop yourself, your hand catches onto the hem of sukuna's sleeve, seconds before he takes another step away from you.

his eyes widen, and he looks at your grip on his sleeve, like he's checking to see if it's real, and he's not making this shit up in his mind. his heart beats impossibly fast. his hopes skyrocket. the world decided to have mercy on him.

"...you're being unfair, grabbing onto me like this. after i went through hell just now, trying to say goodbye." he's being awfully patient right now.

you don't respond, only silently weeping.

he waits to see if you'll let go, whether this was just an act out of a temporary fickle in your heart, but your grip remains tight, and you're now just looking up at him with tears rolling down, eyes glossy and desperate, pulling at his heart strings. you only let go when he comes back to you, not hesitant to brush his thumbs across your face now, wiping the wetness away.

"what do you want me to do? tell me, and i'll do it. leave? stay?" sukuna coos at you, like he's always done before, waiting patiently until you've calmed down enough to respond properly.

"i shouldn't... i shouldn't let you in. not after how much i'd pushed you away," you whisper. today was supposed to mark the end of it all.

he doesn't even give a fuck about that anymore. what matters is now.

"...but do you want to let me in?"

"...yes," you hic.

he takes a couple of steps forward, making you step back with him, his hand on your waist to make sure you don't trip on the way. he goes past the doorway and into your hotel room slowly. one- two- three- steps. he closes the door behind him quietly.

"and..? what next?" he asks in a low voice, standing close to you, one hand still remaining on your waist, and the other on your upperarm.

"i... i don't know. i just need you," you mumble, looking up at him, eyes red from crying and half-closed. your hands inch up along his back, grabbing handfuls of his suit jacket. sukuna hitches in a breath and something dark flashes across his eyes. they reflect his desire, his almost carnal desperation for you-

"forgive me. i don't think i can hold myself back, anymore."

he captures your lips in his, and groans shamelessly into you. you grip onto him tighter, heart beating so rambunctiously that you fear he can hear it too. it feels too good. the moment he reached you, it felt like the final piece of a puzzle clicking in to complete a full picture.

you part your mouth, and he wastes no time in slipping his tongue inside, kissing you in the way he knows you love, in the way it makes your lips tingle, and, oh god, even after all these years, he still knows how to get you going like no other.

sukuna tastes the traces of wine on your tongue, and even better, he tastes you, the one he'd been missing and craving all this time, the warmth of your skin and touch, your scent, just everything about you, you, you.

he backs you towards the bed, without breaking this breathless, hungry kiss, where he softly lays you down, with him being above you, chest to chest, arms supporting his weight. he momentarily pulls away from you simply just to breathe, and the two of you gaze at each other for a hot second, full of love and lust, breaths overlapping one another. he attempts to ask you "do you still wanna continue?" just in case, but before he gets to say a word, you grab him by his tie and pull his lips to yours again, beginning to loosen it and take it off.

he understands that you want it, now. you successfully manage to untie it, somehow, with just willpower alone, and you start aiming for his buttons next, undoing them one by one. your actions send sparks down to all of his limbs, and he feels so fulfilled by your desire of him, being as intense as how he obsesses over you.

soon after you're done with it, he takes them off and chucks his own clothes away, rendering him half-naked. your hole clenches around nothing at the sight once he pulls away again, his firm muscles and the same old tattoos that you vividly remembered the patterns of. you greedily run your palms across his pecs, eyes turning to hearts. he smirks at you.

it's his turn now, and he doesn't hesitate to start undressing you as well. sukuna gets dizzy at the thought of being able to feast his eyes on your body. he dives in to keep kissing you, and then begins to unbutton you with such speed, it almost startles you.

it's off. your breasts are out in the open now, and sukuna has his fill with massaging them with his large hand, having missed them so much. his palm feels so hot, and your nipples pebble up at his touch, making you gasp into his mouth.

his kiss moves over to the side of your face, it glides down your neck, shoulders, and eventually reaches the swell of your chest. your fingers brush through the pink of his hair as he does so, and you purse your lips together, basking in the feeling of his warm kisses littering your skin. he leaves you hickeys-- the same shape and size and same locations as he used to even during your days in highschool, and you chuckle to yourself at the thought.

it's not long before he's loosening your skirt and slipping your undergarments down, getting rid of your slick-stained panties, much to his satisfaction. sukuna rubs a thumb over your aroused clit, and you whimper, having missed the touch of a man- his touch specifically.

"fuck... you're so wet.... all for me?" he asks, proceeding to slip two fingers into your weeping hole. you arch your back at the feeling, how his thick digits scissor inside of you and press up against a particularly lovely spot. he watches your every response as he does so, watching how you moan because of his touch, and how you're grabbing at his wrist because it's getting too intense. his cock prods uncomfortably against his pants. you're producing so much slick, and his fingers are getting absolutely drenched.

when he takes them out, you whine a little in disappointment.

"i know, i know. i'll give you something better," he whispers, kissing your cheek.

he unbuckles himself, and lowers his boxers to reveal his aching dick, tip wet with precum, veins bulging out the sides. looks the same as you remember. he pumps it a couple of times with his hand that's still covered with your slick, and he twitches. this isn't a dream, is it?

"oh god, please, i need it-" you plead, your hole feeling eager and empty.

"it's all yours," he mumbles. your begging makes him lightheaded as he lines himself up at your weeping cunt.

"i'm all yours."

when he sinks in deep to the hilt, you cry out at the fullness, as his tip pushes the spot inside you that had been feeling so lonely for years. your hands finds themselves against his back, feeling for his tight muscles.

"shit- 'm gonna lose my mind," sukuna groans as he gives a few shallow thrusts into you, cock so hard and throbbing wildly as your plush walls clamp on him and coats him with your arousal. he grabs one of your hands from his back and interlocks his fingers with yours against the mattress, before leaning down to bring his lips against the side of your neck.

"oh, thank god... thank god, you changed your mind. i love you. i would've been so fucking miserable without you, doll. for the rest of my life," he croons, breath fanning so close to your ear. you shudder at the tone of his voice, tearing up again, mixed with pleasure and relief, and you grab his hand tighter.

you turn your head a little more to the side, making it easier for sukuna to bite and suck on the sensitive skin of your neck, as his thrusts increase in speed, nudging your g-spot with every movement.

soon enough, he's bringing his attention back to your tongue, which he caresses with his own, nibbling on your lower lip, maintaining this same perfect pace in his thrusts that brings you closer to your orgasm.

"sukuna- i'm- i'm gonna-" you say breathlessly.

but he merely kisses you again, swallowing up any words you could say or moans you could let out, not minding the gasps and whimpers that you make.

sweat beads on his perfect body, and he makes out with you through your high, groaning back when he feels your walls flutter around him. he's close. even once you've finished cumming, he begins to pound into you quicker, wanting to get to his own orgasm. you claw at his back, crying out in pleasure, as sukuna's tongue lathers your jawline.

he wants to breed you so fucking bad. but no, that'll have to wait. he can't do something to jeopardize your trust in him. he'd rather die than endure another second of being distanced from you again.

right before he's pushed off the edge, sukuna pulls out and desperately jerks himself off above your stomach, panting as his cock throbs in his hand with every spurt that coats you, feeling so hot against your tummy.

you feel a twinge of disappointment, because you also wanted to feel that in your womb...

his dick twitches weakly after being spent, and he breathes heavily, liking the sight of you being covered in his seed for another time. (and many more from now.)

" 'kuna... it's a safe day for me today," you suggest to him without thinking. "i want it inside me..."

the phrase is enough to get heat pooling in his abdomen, and he feels himself get hard all over again.

"you sure, doll? if it's what you want, i'll..." he begins to say, almost flustered by your suggestion. you know you shouldn't say this next line, but it's so easy to get carried away with this man... get caught up in the heat of the moment.

"i want your babies so bad."

you've hit his switch. sukuna growls and puts you into a mating press instantaneously, making you squeak.

"no takebacks," he mutters dangerously, beginning the second round.

the night is long, but heavenly, as soon after he dumps everything he has into your womb, then proceeds to eat you out, making you cry for the third time before sunrise.

when you're awake, it's already heading past midday, and you're relieved to see that yesterday's happenings were not a dream, seeing as the large man is sleeping with an iron hold around your body, as if subconsciously afraid you'd leave him before he woke up again.

he awakens from his slumber to your light, feathery touches on his face, which puts him in a good mood from the moment he opens an eye. it was the scenario he's always dreamed of. waking up next to you, smiling.

there's much to talk about. about what's to come next, future plans, worries, and things they need to do to make amends for all the lost years between each other. but you decide to take things slow.

back to bullet points again bc im lazy to write it properly now

you spend the weekend w him at the hotel and stuff, just playing eating and sleeping, catching up yk

he tells you on his own accord that he wants to let everyone know that he's with you now, but he's worried that it'll bring backlash to you but you tell him you're going to be brave and take it, bc you WANT everyone to know

anyway prepare for turbulence

but everything'll be alright bc hes with you

im thinking about how mopey he'll be when you have to separate from him bc you each have your own homes rn, hes always asking you to come over or if he can come over to your place

and he'll be begging you to move in soon, like old times (he lives in a rich man house now tho)

and also thinking about how its a fresh start, but they also go through old memories and now reminiscing isnt painful anymore bc yall are back together

sukuna also says he's stopped doing romance genres in acting bc he had felt annoyed acting in lovey dovey scenes when his own love life used to be in shambles all the time

and bc hes at a point in his career where he has more choice in choosing between scripts that are offered to him, he's going to continue to decline the ones that have love interests, it doesnt affect him that much anyway

he's just being more considerate of your feelings now... and you promised him that you'll never just disappear like that again when you're upset haha...

sometimes when you still have a few disagreements with him, he keeps subtly checking up on you (hes traumatised, leave him be)

lots of facetiming when he has to go overseas for filming purposes <3

okay, thats all, bye <3

Masterlist

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #poe answers

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littlediscoveredstars · 5 months ago

Text

I have a fanfic idea that I haven’t really committed to writing, so you can have it here.

Idea: Batman and Superman decide to finally put the bro-mance to rest and go on a proper date. The thing is, they both plan to reveal their identities at the restaurant.

Bruce focuses so hard on looking like Bruce Wayne, but also more himself that he does at galas. He’s wearing a turtleneck and his comfy work shoes. His hair is less organized and he lets himself slouch.

Clark isn’t sure whether to slick back his hair like Superman but keep the glasses or keep everything Clark Kent but leave the glasses home. He decides to just wing it and go as much like himself as he can: jeans, boots, and glasses. After all, he’s a Kansas farm boy under every layer of identity he’s created.

So, then comes the day for them to meet. They expect to see each other, be a little surprised, then go about their date as normal.

It turned out…not like that.

With neither knowing what name the table was reserved under, they both assume they’ve arrived first and watch every man that fits their date’s general build pass them by.

Clark sees Bruce Wayne and thinks, “Wow! What are the odds Bruce Wayne happens to be at the same restaurant? Funny.” Then he sits down at a booth and waits for Batman.

Bruce, to his credit, watches Clark pass by with suspicions. The guy looks kind of like Superman but those curls are so dense and he honestly cannot imagine Big Blue dressed like a cowboy, so he waves it, especially when the man doesn’t stop to confront him. He just stares the way everyone else has after seeing a celebrity out in public and moves on.

An hour passes. Then two. Both are sitting a few tables apart, looking around desperately for their hero coworker to show.

Bruce gets impatient first. He understand Superman has a lot on his plate and a single free night is a lot to ask. Maybe they’ll try again. Or they won’t, since Bruce has convinced himself this was stupid to begin with.

It’s as he’s preparing to go that he sees that cowboy again. The gorgeous man is looking down, crestfallen at also being stood up.

So, Bruce does something a little spontaneous. Bruce sits in front of the guy. He blames it on the glasses of wine he had while waiting.

Bruce: “I’m Bruce. May I be blunt?”

Clark, blinking in surprise: “uh, sure?”

Bruce: “I watched you walk in over an hour ago and no one has accompanied you. Seeing as my date did the same, I’d like to fill the space.”

Clark, again, surprised he’s even being talked to by a billionaire outside of his job: “Y-yes? Yes! I mean, sure! By all means!”

It’s not like Batman’s going to come crashing in from the window. Well, he could, but Clark’s been listening to the city around them. No sign of Batman’s grapple.

So, Bruce and Clark meet. They fall into conversation easily, even make each other laugh. It’s so effortless and slightly suspicious, but they’re having a fun time and Bruce isn’t self-sabotaging enough to break away now. Not when he’s needed this for a while.

Then, at the end of the date, Clark listens for Batman’s heartbeat. He tries to hear where his friend might be, to understand why he didn’t show, but the heartbeat is standing right in front of him. There, in Bruce Wayne’s chest.

And/or, Clark removed his glasses to clean them and it clicks in Bruce’s mind. He reaches out to smooth all of Clark’s hair back and a single, rebellious curl pops out.

They’re both so furious, Clark has to fly them to the roof to properly shout about it.

#fanfic #writing #batman #bruce wayne #clark kent #superman #superbat #misunderstandings #these idiots #I love them #blind date #accidental dating

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tinycoffeeroom · 7 months ago

Text

girlfriend of the enemy pt. 2 | charles leclerc

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

part 1 | part 3

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Charles never responded to your text, leaving you wondering just what he meant. Lying alone in bed, you run through every interaction you’d had with Charles, slowly piecing together piece by piece until a revelation knocks the air from your lungs.

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2018. The first time you’d met Charles Leclerc. You’d heard stories from Max about the infamous man, an old rival and a new friend of your boyfriends. He’d finally be given the chance to move up to F1, joining Sauber alongside Ericsson.

You’d wandered off from Max, leaving him with a soft kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of his hand as you went for a walk alongside the garages. Not looking where you were going, you walked straight into a sturdy body, a hand wrapping around your waist to prevent you from falling.

Looking up in shock to apologise to the person you’d just slammed into, you couldn’t help but freeze at the eyes staring back at you. Molten gold surrounded by sea foam green.

Still young and clean shaven, you couldn’t deny Charles Leclerc was objectively gorgeous.

You apologised profusely, Charles brushing every sorry away as he made sure you were steady on your feet before slowly removing his hand from around your waist. He’d asked if you were a journalist or a technician for one of the teams, lips turned upwards in what you now recognise as a flirty smirk.

Before you had a chance to reply, Max appeared behind the two of you, lips pressing a quick kiss to your temple as he welcomed Charles to the paddock. Feeling his eyes roam over the two of you, green as fresh cut lime and just as bittersweet as they linger on Max’s hand that had replaced his on your waist, he responds jovially to Max.

Max introduced you as a real estate agent and then his girlfriend, something you appreciated as he knew you didn’t like when people only saw you as an extension of him.

You watched as Charles’ demeanour changed, slight enough that only someone who was paying close attention to him would notice. He greeted you politely, the smirk gone and replaced by a smile more suited to a first time meeting with his friend’s girlfriend.

His race engineer soon called him away, the three of you exchanging goodbyes as Max directed you back to his garage. Unable to resist, you look back over your shoulder, only to find Charles already looking back.

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👤 maxverstappen1, danielricciardo Liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 298,718 others

y/nstagram yeehaw ! 🤠 lovely to be down in texas with the bull boys 💙

maxverstappen1 even when i cant see your face, you’re still gorgeous x ↳ y/nstagram you like me so much its embarrassing xx ↳ maxverstappen1 y’all see how my girlfriend treats me?? ↳ fan yes humble him queen x ♥️ y/nstagram

redbullracing lovely to have you with us y/n! ♥️ y/nstagram

danielricciardo save a horse ride a cowboy ↳ y/nstagram ??!! ↳ danielricciardo I MEANT MAX!!! I MENAT MAX!!! ↳ maxverstappen1 you fucking better had ↳ fan literal pr nightmare ↳ redbullracing tell us about it!

charles_leclerc yeehaw! 🤠 ↳ y/nstagram see he gets it! Welcome to the paddock charles! 🥳 no inchidents you hear me 🤨🫵 ↳ charles_leclerc i am never living that down… ↳ maxverstappen1 not if i can help it!

fan but can she ride? ↳ maxverstappen1 very well ↳ y/nstagram redbullracing can someone take away his social media privileges ↳ redbullracing we tried… he bit the social media intern ↳ fan max was totally the child who bit ankles ↳ maxverstappen1 defamation??? ↳ y/nstagram true though

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2020. It was the first gala of the year and you and Max were inseparable. His hand clasped your slightly clammy one, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand as a way to calm your nerves. He knew you like the back of his hand and was well aware of how much you hated these large galas, people clambering for the attention of the rising rookie, often disregarding you with a simple greeting before you faded into the shadow of future world champion Max Verstappen.

You squeezed his hand once as you pulled yourself away from the group of people surrounding your boyfriend, slipping away to find the bar. As you plopped yourself down into the stool by the counter, you noticed you were not alone. A lone body sat beside you, hand tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. Looking up, you found yourself once again staring at Charles Leclerc.

Over the 2 years since he’d joined the paddock, you’d only ever spoken in passing, normally accompanied by Max who kept the conversation flowing. Charles was nothing if not amicable, often engaging you in funny stories about their karting times, correcting any biased stories Max had told you.

Those once bright eyes now seemed dull, worn down by the start of his 2020 season. You’d seen interviews of how proud he was to join Ferrari, wearing the red jersey with pride. But following incident after incident, whenever you passed him in the paddock, he looked more and more desolate.

The two of you stared at each other before you glanced away, noting his empty glass. Calling over the bartender, you order a Mojito and another whiskey. Charles thanks you with a smile, tapping his fingers against the countertop as his glass is replaced with a full one.

Not wanting to sit in silence, you ask how he’s feeling. The response is a shrug of his shoulders and a sip of his drink. Not good then. You raise your glass, tinking the edge of it against his before taking a quick drink.

Roaming your eyes across the crowd just past Charles’ head, you take note of Daniel and Max lining up shots for the 2019 rookies. You laugh at Lando’s wide eyes and Max’s wink as he catches your eyes across the bar, catching Charles’ attention. He follows your line of sight, joining in with the laughter as George full body shudders at the first shot of what was probably tequila.

The naivety of the 2019 rookies to trust your boyfriend and his best friend with alcohol breaks the last of the icy barrier between you and Charles, the two of you engaging in a genial conversation around the younger men. Charles recalls his own poor decision of letting Daniil and Daniel guide him to the bar during the 2018 gala, the story missing chunks as in his own words, his memory from that night was totally fucked.

The conversation flows nicely between the two of you after that, topic after topic being nicely segued by the drinks repeatedly replaced in front of you. You learnt about his family, childhood pets, his racing dreams. In return you told him about your family, how you and Max met, and your blossoming career.

Sebastian soon approaches the two of you, slinging an arm around yours and Charles’ shoulders. He ruffles the younger man's hair, nudging you as Charles grumbles playfully, hand coming up to fix the chestnut mess. He mentions a new sponsor that’s here, resting a hand on his chest jokingly as he apologises for pulling Charles away from your riveting conversation. You wave him off, waving goodbye to the two as they head off to hopefully secure more money for Ferrari.

Watching them go, you see Charles turn back, smile soft and warm as he sends one last wave your way. Someone replaces his spot next to you, hand reaching out to interlink with yours. The feel of familiar calluses under your palm brings you back to your boyfriend who was looking to see what had grabbed your attention.

An offhand comment about how he was sorry for being gone so long but he saw Seb at the bar and knew he would take care of you. The room was dark enough that you could understand how he could mistake the back of Charles for Sebastian, but for some reason you didn’t understand, you couldn’t bring yourself to correct the man.

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👤 maxverstappen1 Liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 301,819 others

y/nstagram such a good time at the gala with my gorgeous boy 💙

maxverstappen1 gorgeous x ↳ y/nstagram 😘😘 xx ↳ redbullracing our it couple 💙 ↳ alex_albon me and lily are crying in the corner thanks ↳ y/nstagram the it couple is me and lily lbr xx ↳ lilymhe i’m in love with you ↳ alex_albon i should have kept my mouth shut

sebastianvettel Beautiful as always y/n x ↳ y/nstagram thank you seb! Was good seeing you last night x

fan she’s everything and he’s just… there

fan no cheesy comment from max? 👀 ↳ fan he literally called her gorgeous shut up

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2021. Abu Dhabi. The year Max made history and ended Lewis’ world champion streak. It had been a difficult year for the two of you. Cancelled dates and a flat bought in Milton Keynes, sacrifices in your relationship made for this very moment. You could barely remember half of the race, too busy chewing the acrylic off your nails in stress. The engineers crowded him, hauling him onto their shoulders as champagne covered the entire garage. You’d barely been able to reach out a hand to pat his leg before he was carried off to the podium.

Standing below, tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight. Your boyfriend, in his usual spot at the top of the podium, hands clasped eagerly around the World Championship trophy. The Red Bull team around you patted your shoulders comfortingly, some of them having to wipe away their own tears. He looks past the crowd, eyes passing yours briefly without much recognition. You blamed it on the adrenaline, knowing his mind was a hazy mess as the reality of what had happened dawned on him.

Following the podium, he’d been whisked away by his team, press conference and the media paddock waiting eagerly to meet the new champion. You sat patiently in hospitality, welcoming warm wishes from whoever passed you. Alex had come bundling over, throwing his arms around you in congratulations. Laughing loudly as he squeezed you tighter, you hugged the reserve driver close to you.

The wait was killing you, time dragging slower than ever. You decided to walk along to the media paddock to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend. There he stood, in all his glory. Journalists threw question after question at him, microphone cords stretched to their limit as they all vied for his attention. He’d given his thanks, to the team, to his parents, to Christian himself. No mention of you. Again, you put it down to adrenaline, but something settled heavily in the base of your stomach.

You began to worry that you hadn’t done enough, despite going along with everything he had thrown your way this year. Agreeing to him moving to Milton Keynes for the year, flying across to him when you had some leave from work. The missed dates, declining phone calls and texts from his side. You never failed to miss a race, to congratulate him after every win and support him through every bad moment.

Brushing the sinking feeling off, you look across at the other drivers being interviewed. Most of the reporters were by your boyfriend's side, but some stragglers took this opportunity to catch the others as they made their way through the paddock.

You’re startled as your eyes lock onto a pair staring back at you. Charles was mid interview, nodding along to whatever the journalist was saying. You smiled at him, mouthing your congratulations on getting into the points. He returned the smile, mouth hung lopsided as he responded to the question he was just asked.

A Red Bull employee calls out for you, letting you know Max was leaving. You nodded towards the Monageqsue as a goodbye, turning to follow the employee. Your back burned at the feeling of emerald eyes following you.

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👤 maxverstappen1 Liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 509,174 others

y/nstagram my love, my light, my champion… forever proud of you for all you have and will continue to achieve. Drink it in, my dear, this is all for you ❤️

fan need someone to love me the way y/n loves max

fan the maxcheco hug 🥺

fan y/n supporting max is everything to me, true love fr

fan did no one else catch how he didn’t even hug her or anything? Like??? If i was him, she’d be the first person i go to ↳ fan i mean… i think they’re only together for PR rn … he’s also moved to milton keynes whilst she’s still in monaco, kinda dodgy ↳ fan he probably moved for work, also lets not speculate on peoples relationships pls and thx xx

fan no max comment? In the trenches rn ↳ fan he liked though! ↳ fan bare minimum ↳ fan dude he just won his first world championship he’s probably busy

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2022. The beginning of the end for you and Max. You suppose, looking back, the end had been looming long before then. Gone was the sweet, kind Max you’d fallen for, instead replaced by a beast. Win after win, pole after pole, championship after championship. His move to Milton Keynes became permanent, whilst you chose to stay in Monaco for your job. You still had Jimmy and Sassy to keep you company, a reminder of when life had been good.

You’d bought the two bengals after you’d officially moved into Max’s flat. Sassy had been a daddy’s girl but Jimmy was yours through and through. Following you everywhere you go, meowing constantly if he was ever forced to leave your side.

He was sitting beside you, one paw stretched out and resting against your leg when a text from Max came through. You already knew what it was going to say. Some excuse as to why he couldn’t make it back to Monaco between races. You sighed, reaching out to run your hand down the soft fur on Jimmy’s back. He purrs appreciatively, kneading gently against your skin.

Red Bull had sent you the tickets for the next Grand Prix and to be honest, you felt like skipping it altogether. It was midway through the season, and despite attending every race, it was like you didn’t even exist to Max.

Argument after argument continued, you tried to get across how horrible Max made you feel when he ignored you, him rebutting by saying you weren��t being supportive enough of him. Nights spent thousands of miles apart, phones silent on bedside tables and muffled cries from your end filling the solemn night.

You didn’t bother to reply to his latest excuse, instead grabbing your keys and heading out the front door, dropping a small kiss to Jimmy and Sassy’s heads. They had ran out of food, and without even having to look in your cabinets, you knew you had to.

The supermarket was a mere 10 minutes from your flat, the air warm and calm as you trailed down the pavement. The kind lady who ran the cafe on the corner greeted you warmly, pressing 2 kisses to your cheeks. You promise to come see her tomorrow, knowing she would have a latte and croissant waiting for you on your arrival.

Two aisles down in the supermarket and as you reach for the cereal on the top shelf, a hand pops out the corner of your eye and grabs a box too. You hear it drop into your cart, looking up to a now familiar face.

Charles smiles back at you gently, shopping basket in hand. The two of you didn’t speak, instead choosing to walk in comfortable silence around the rest of the store. Charles grabbed the oat milk you like, and you grabbed the cereal bars you saw him often chomping down on between qualifiers.

At the tills, he loads your shopping onto the belt for you, adding the three items he had got for himself behind. As you loaded the last few bits into the large shopping bags you’d brought along with you, the card reader behind you beeps. As you look behind, you see Charles pick up the receipt and chuck his three items into the tote bag over his shoulder.

You tried to argue that you could pay for yourself whilst thanking him at the same time, but Charles simply shrugged, walking out of the supermarket. You follow behind, loading the bags onto your arms as you bump the cart back into its spot with your hip. Charles watches you, a smirk on his face as you struggle to distribute the bags evenly enough to allow you to walk home.

Chuckling, he grabbed two of the bags, moving along to his car. You followed sheepishly, thanking him for the ride home as he loads the bags into the minimal space in the boot. Gratitude shrugged off once again, he held the door open for you to slide in.

He offered to bring the shopping up for you when you reached your apartment building but you gratefully declined, not wanting to take up any more of his time. Telling you to say hi to Jimmy and Sassy, he watched you walk into the front door, leaving only once he saw you enter the elevators.

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Liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt and 498,018 others

y/nstagram just a mum and her two (fur) babies 🧡🐱

fan !!!!! jimmy and sassy sighting!!!!!

fan which is which??? ↳ y/nstagram jimmy in the second pic and sassy in the third!! <3 ↳ fan they’re so cute 😭

francisca.c.gomes jimmy is SLUMPED ↳ y/nstagram hasn’t left my side all day, it’s tiring work being a mummys boy 😋

charles_leclerc did you tell them i said hi????? ↳ y/nstagram yes charles, i told them you said hi 🙄 ↳ charles_leclerc and what did they say? ↳ y/nstagram this is so stupid ↳ y/nstagram meow meow, meow meow meow, meowwwww - Jimmy and Sassy 🐱🐱 ↳ charles_leclerc my favourite kitties!!! I love you too 💖 ↳ fan charles is such a silly lil guy

fan y/n pls tell us what you ask for at the hairdressers!!! ↳ y/nstagram at the moment its a root touch up and occasional high and low lights, but when sometimes i throw in a chunky root ❤️ ↳ fan an ANGEL!!!!

fan not even a max like… on pics of his own CATS …. I wanna cry ↳ fan ngl i think you’re onto something there.

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2023. The year you had decided Max and well and truly fallen out of love with you. The two of you couldn’t go two minutes without an argument, hurtful words bouncing off the four walls of what used to be a happy home.

Two championships under his belt, and he was well on his way to a third. It wasn’t that he had changed entirely, the sweet Max you once knew was still there, he just seemed to hide away whenever the two of you were alone.

He would still dote on Jimmy and Sassy, would approach the lady who owns the cafe with a kind smile and warm words, would run off to padel to be with his friends, often posting instagram stories of him smiling and laughing with the same people he fought with week on and week off on the track.

He’d finally decided to grace you with his presence, moving back to Monaco for a week between races as he was pretty much guaranteed the championship as long as he placed above 4th in the next 2 races, and knowing him, he would.

You had thought this would be a chance to connect, a way to work through your issues and bring back the man you know and love. However, he had walked through the front door, greeted the fussing cats and gone straight through to the bedroom. You stood in the kitchen, a homemade meal still simmering away on the stove.

The sound of the shower pulled you from your spiralling thoughts, plating up the meal so it was ready for Max when he had finished. You’d nipped out that morning, especially to buy the ingredients for his favourite meal, sweating away in the kitchen as the private jet he owned flew from Milton Keynes to your home.

Max left the bathroom, walking into the kitchen. He was fully dressed once again, cologne pungent from when you stood nearly 10 feet away. He barely glanced over the meal, grabbing his keys and throwing a quick see you later over his shoulder.

As soon as the door shut, the dam inside you burst. Tears flowed uncontrollably down your cheeks, sobs choked and tore their way out of your throat, the sound primal and steeped in sorrow. Crouching down, you wrapped your arms around your bent knees, an almost upright fetal position. Jimmy and Sassy crowded you, confused purrs rumbling deep in their throats as they tried to nudge your head away from the home it had found between your knees.

You had no idea how long you’d stayed there, body rocking back and forth ever so slightly as a way to self soothe. By the time you lifted your head, the sky was a mottled mix of reds and oranges. You moved on auto pilot, scraping the now cold dinner into tupperware, slotting them into the fridge and grabbing the bottle of white wine you’d put in there earlier to chill.

A large glass sat beside you on the side table, body warm and safe under the blanket you had dragged from the back of the sofa. Scrolling through Twitter, you stopped for a moment as an F1 gossip page graced your screen. You’d normally swipe right past them, knowing they were onto the burning embers of yours and Max’s relationship, making up shocking titles to draw fans attention. This time, between the two of you, only Max was the headline.

You didn’t know what to think. Despite the growing tensions ontrack, the two men had always been friendly outside of the race cars. The tweet had gathered plenty of attention, already having nine thousand reposts and quote tweets. You pulled up your texts, hesitating as you hovered over Max’s name. He’d barely even glanced your way after 2 months apart, why should you worry about him now?

Pulling up the old text thread with Charles, you take a moment to try and think about what to say. Would he think you were trying to spy for Max? Or would he think you were just digging around for the drama? Mind wandering, you managed to type out the bare bones of a text before your phone chimed, Charles beating you to it.

You didn’t know why Charles was apologising. It wasn’t his fault your boyfriend fell out of love.

Digesting his message, you willed yourself to cry, to scream, to cuss Max out to the quiet walls of your home. But nothing came. Numb to the feeling and drained from your previous breakdown, you stared at the blank wall ahead. You knew you should leave Max, all you were doing was hurting yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words that would leave you all alone.

Moving from the sofa to the door, you turned the deadbolt, sending Max a text to let him know to find somewhere else to stay that night. You were sure Lando or someone else would put him up.

Falling into bed, you caught yourself hoping he’d find solace in the arms of another girl so you could use the excuse as a reason to end the horrible situation. Scolding your cruel mind, you turned your phone off and placed it face down on the bedside table, calling up the two cats who settled down either side of you.

The ache in your chest kept you awake for a while, soon soothed as you remembered how Charles had defended you. How fucked up was it that the best friend of your boyfriend was the one who brought the first genuine smile in months to your face, his actions a calming balm across the festering cracks scattered across your heart.

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liked by carmenmmundt, francisca.c.gomes and 10 others

y/npriv don't know, don't care

carmenmmundt you ok babe? ↳ y/npriv men... ↳ carmenmmundt ah you saw the tweet ↳ y/npriv yep... i'm chilling though, jim and sass are good company ↳ carmenmmundt want one more? ↳ y/npriv bring pastries pls and thank u x

francisca.c.gomes pierre chewed *** out in french after charles left, you should have seen his stupid face ↳ y/npriv tell pierre i said cheers x ↳ francisca.c.gomes he said thank you for giving a reason to shout at "fat head"

lilymhe can i come to the hangout 🥺 ↳ y/npriv ofc babygirl, the more the merrier x ↳ lilyzneimer i'm coming too then!!!! ↳ y/npriv ofc my lil sweetiepie 🩷

flavy.barla unbothered. moisturised. in my lane. focused. ↳ y/npriv don't think i didnt notice you omitting parts of the meme flavs ↳ flavy.barla well i'm not a liar... also i'll be there in 2 hours, este's driving me up ↳ y/npriv ugh a king x

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Dragging yourself back to the present, you pull in a shaky breath. Charles liked you. Charles had always liked you. And somewhere along the line, you’d ended up liking him too.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

a/n: part 2 is here! this will most definitely end up being a 2 parter, we're already at like 5k words 😭 let me know if you want to be added / removed from the taglist 🩷

taglist: @veryicyandspicey @oliviarodrigostan13 @fyegyall @inevesgf @brakingboundaries @boywondrgrayson @pand-de-pandora-blog @emily-b @barcelonaloverf1life @entr4p3 @asparklysoul @elia-the-bibliophile @ruebennett89 @sheslikeacurse @angywritesstuff @honethatty12 @hs-is-loml @krishasworld @velentine @weekendlusting @vintagefucksstuff @yourfreezing-hands @sinofwriting @cmleitora @ladyoflynx @zvrjkb @anuksunamon @sarahedwards16 @janeh22 @awritingtree @reguluscrystals

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 smau

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sophiethewitch1 · 11 months ago

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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