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vivwritescrappythings · 1 year ago

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just love me and eat

vampire!eddie munson x reader

You watched Eddie die, so this must be some nightmare in your room.

tw: blood, biting, i think its gender neutral?

also just really loved Bones and All and the concept of cannibalism/vampirism as love so made this lil guy

word count: 2k

part two

masterlist

—

Your room was dark, the curtains pulled shut and the lights off. It had been a month since Eddie died and you didn’t have the energy to pantomime life without him. You had no sense of what time it was, every day simply becoming another day where he was gone and you were left unmoored. If it wasn’t for the sound of birds chirping and kids playing outside, you wouldn’t have guessed time was passing at all.

You didn’t sleep, you hardly ate. Nancy and Robin brought you food like offerings, using their keys to enter your apartment and leaving simple meals outside your bedroom door with soft knocks on the wood. Their little tupperwares were probably the only things keeping you alive–you knew Eddie would be upset if you wasted food on his account.

The Hellfire shirt Wayne had given you was soft and well-worn, but it hardly smelled like Eddie anymore. The familiar scent of tobacco and leather and the incense that he used to try to cover the stink of weed was fading, soon you wouldn’t be able to detect it at all under the sharp tang of your sweat.

Curled up in your comforter, you kept thinking about how it should’ve been you instead. Eddie would have known how to keep living, he would’ve been able to move on. You? You were just surviving.

Sleep threatened the edges of your vision, you’d been staring at the fuzzy polaroid photo you had propped on your nightstand. It was of you and Eddie at some party, he was smiling broadly at the camera with you tugged neatly to his side. Both of you held solo cups, your head rested on his shoulder like it was meant to be there.

It was your last good memory of him, before Chrissy Cunningham died and everything you ever knew fell to pieces.

—

Your dreamless sleep was interrupted by something tapping at your window. At first you thought—prayed—you were hallucinating it. Maybe it was just a lack of sleep accumulating to finally make you hear things. But it insisted, the knocking at your second-floor window was incessant enough that it managed to pull you from your bed.

The quilt came with you as you carefully crossed the room to your window, trepidation making you bite your lip before you finally pulled back the curtain. It was a quick motion, ripping off the band-aid with the expectation of seeing a woodpecker or a squirrel or something normal on the other side.

What you didn’t expect to see was your dead boyfriend in the moonlight.

You nearly screamed, your eyes widening into dinner plates as you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. It must’ve been a dream, or a nightmare. In your effort to get away from the window you tripped over discarded shoes on the floor and fell back onto your butt. Panicked, delirious tears roll down your cheeks as you start to roughly pinch the skin on your exposed thigh.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” you mumbled to yourself as you hyperventilated through the tears. It couldn’t be Eddie, Eddie was dead. He was in The Upside Down. You were never getting him back.

It was too late when you realized your window was unlocked, not-Eddie placing a palm flat against the glass to push it up. It was slow, you were too stunned to get up and try to close it. You were just outright sobbing on the floor of your bedroom, angry welts across your leg from where you’d been pinching at it almost hard enough to draw blood.

This Eddie looked different… he looked off. His eyes weren’t brown anymore: they were too bright, almost looking like a cat’s eyes in a photograph. Your window was fully open now, not-Eddie pitching himself through with a grace you’d never seen before.

“Did you miss me, baby?” he asked, his voice sounding the same as it used to. Your heart twisted, breaking into a million pieces—you’d dreamt of Eddie before, but never like this. His clothes were ripped and dirty, his battle vest in shreds along with the shirt beneath it. You could see the gnarled, twisting scars on his arms and his neck and parts of his torso through the shirt—everything the demobats had done to him.

He took in the state of your bedroom, appraising it with the careful eye of someone who had been there many times before. You kept crying into your hand, not able to catch your breath. Your head was spinning, part of you wanting to wake up from the dream as the rest wanted to stay asleep—you wanted to soak up time with any shred of Eddie you could have.

Not-Eddie took a few careful steps toward you, his not-so-white Reeboks softly hitting the ground as he crouched in front of you. He had his Hellfire shirt on under his shredded battle vest and leather jacket, blood and dirt and foggy black stains clinging to the fabric. The one Wayne had given you was an extra, something found in the back of Eddie’s closet.

“You… you’re dead,” you finally croaked, your voice cracking and raspy from disuse. The breath you took rattled in your lungs, the scent of earth and blood and something vaguely like tobacco filling your nose. “I watched you… the bats…”

It was rushing all back to you, the way you screamed when all the bats fell around Eddie. You and Dustin ran to him, watching him die in your arms. Steve carried you out of the Upside Down kicking and screaming.

Not-Eddie tutted at you, his yellow eyes roving over your form. They paused at your neck, at the hem of the Hellfire shirt against your thighs. Something inside you kept telling you to get off the floor and run, but you remained rooted to the spot.

“You really think some silly little bats could keep me away from you?” Not-Eddie asked, his head tilting. “Nothing could keep me from you. Nothing.”

His hands were freezing when they wrapped under your knees to drag you closer. Fat tears rolled down your face, stinging at your eyes and hot against your cheeks.

“This can’t be happening.”

Not-Eddie chuckled, his smile revealing perfectly white teeth. His canines and outermost incisors in the top row of his teeth were elongated, looking like fangs more than anything else. Your mind stuttered, frantically trying to keep up.

His hands were still on the backs of your knees, his gaudy costume rings cold against your skin. His calloused fingers pressed at the popliteal veins at the backs of your legs. If anything he seemed to be preoccupied with rolling them under his fingertips, tracing along them.

“Guess they weren’t normal bats, baby,” he muttered, rolling from crouching on his feet to kneeling between your legs.

Your breath hitched as he bent over you, one dirt-crusted hand pressing against the floorboards near your head. His long curls fell down around you, curtaining your dark bedroom from your view as your breaths became shallow. He was so close to your Eddie that you almost found yourself convinced.

He leaned down, nosing at your neck. Hot breaths huffed at the curve between your neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he growled in a low voice, a large hand pressing to your sternum to pin you to the floor. He was so strong, it was like he had placed a weight on your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” you whined, your voice pathetic and soft. You stared up at the ceiling, your hands loosely tugging at his leather jacket. “I shouldn’t have let Harrington drag me away, should’ve stayed.”

He shushed you, pressing his nose to your skin and inhaling deeply. “S’okay, baby. You’ll make it up to me,” he mumbled, his voice seeming only partially present in the conversation. Not-Eddie’s lips pressed to your throat.

“Your heart is beating so fast… smells so good,” he groaned, licking up the side of your throat for a moment. “I’m starving, baby. You gonna help me?”

His voice was dripping with soft affection, like someone talking to a skittish wild animal. “Eddie…” you whined, your instincts screaming that something was wrong.

“Shh shh,” he mumbled, placing open mouthed kisses over your pulse point. His voice was broken, a desperation in it that you understood and recognized. “It’s okay... I just gotta eat, I’m so hungry. Haven’t eaten anything… wanted to see you first.”

Your head was spinning, the realization that this is your Eddie snapping into place like a sudden, infallible truth. Your heart was still pounding against your ribs like a hummingbird trapped in a cage. For the first time you felt like prey as Eddie kept you cornered against the floor. But he was still gentle, not taking what he easily could have.

“I love you,” you whispered, tears clouding your eyes. He was different, more monster than man, but this was Eddie. Your Eddie.

“Love you so much,” he said, his teeth scraping against your delicate skin. The words sounded like a prayer, like they’d been ripped from his chest. He seemed stuck, his muscles clenching as he traced his tongue and teeth along the thick vein in your throat. “Missed you.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Eat, Eddie. S’okay,” you mumbled despite your instincts screaming at you to get him off of you.

“I know you’re hungry, let me help.” You tilted your head, pressing your throat to his teeth. A lamb to the slaughter. He stiffened at the action, fighting to keep himself under control. “Don’t want you to be hungry. Not anymore.”

The sound he made was like he got punched in the stomach. Eddie groaned, his fingers pressing into the floorboard hard enough to make the wood split. Your brow pinched, concern running through you. He still hadn’t taken action, not yet.

Your fingers threaded into the soft curls at the nape of Eddie’s neck, pulling his head closer. “You won’t hurt me, Eds. Just love me and eat.”

He grunted, the ghost of a nod coming from him as his nose bumped your neck. The pain of Eddie’s teeth sinking into your neck made you whimper. His hand moved from your sternum to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. The sting faded to warmth, Eddie’s lips pressed firmly against your throat as he suckled at you.

After a while you could hardly keep your hand in his hair, so dizzy and tired that the back of your knuckles smacked against the floor. You felt like you were melting into it, vision doubling as your eyes crossed. Your breaths were shallow and slow. It was hard to think, your mind not able to even tell what time it was or how long it had been.

But your exhaustion was enough, Eddie pulled away. He lapped at the remaining blood on your skin for a moment before sitting back completely. You looked up at him with dizzy eyes, vaguely categorizing the way blood was smeared across his full lips and down his chin.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, gathering your loose limbs from where you’d sprawled on the floor. He seemed more himself now, his actions considerate and his voice back to its normal cadence. He lifted you in a smooth motion, carrying you to bed with a tenderness you remembered from him. He was so much stronger now.

After situating you on the covers, he removed his jacket and toed off his shoes. His body settled behind yours, making the mattress dip as he pulled your spine to his chest. You were fighting with every blink, trying to keep your eyes open for as long as possible. If this was a dream you didn’t want Eddie to disappear.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I swear,” he said into your hair, his large hands smoothing along your waist and your bicep. The reassurance was enough for you to drift off, the blood loss pulling you toward unconsciousness. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #kas!eddie #vampire #bones and all movie #gn!reader

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in1-nutshell · 7 months ago

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In a nutshell how would batman's rouges react to Nightlight?

The rouges have met Nightlight before, but they all assume that the Bat's just made a robot out of the batmobile.

In a nutshell...

Killer Croc and Bane have tried to take down the 'robot' before in hand to hand combat... that did not end well. At least the robot is polite and didn't toss them in the back of the Asylum van. Heck, Croc even got to keep his tail this time! Bane also over heard the 'robot' arguing with one of the guards about using the electrical rods on them too many times.

Penguin was mortified when the 'robot' decided to pick him up like they were taking a rat to the dumpster bins. Though he could have sworn that he saw the 'robot' coo at some of his birds...

Two Face has mixed feelings about Batman's new robot. One side LOATHS it with a burning passion. The other can't help but respect. Just the other day when he was up against Batman, the 'robot' ended up siding him with several points in the argument. Oh, he loved the stink eye Bat's gave the 'robot'

Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy love this 'robot'. This robot not only is polite and dare they say 'sympathetic', but the 'robot' has a soft spot for plants and hates the Joker! These are win wins in their book. Once they break out of the Asylum again they find several little plants mailed to their apartment with an anonymous note attached. It just had the Bat symbol on it.

Joker hates Batsy's new toy. It seemed the thing had a vendetta against him the one time he decided to kidnap Red Hood and Red Robin. All he wanted to do was recreate a master piece and the next thing he knows is a giant robot is busting down his wall with a giant gun. That thing nearly ran him over several times!

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #nutshell summary #tfa x platonic reader #tfa x reader #nightlight #batfamily #dc comics

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diejager · 10 months ago

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Joyce, can we have headcanons regarding that sicko bastard known as Jeffrey Hawk aka The Clown? I ADORED that thing u said about him having a dad bod ❤️❤️

*Hands you an ordinary Ultra Ball as a gift*

Oddballer, you’re asking a lot from me, aren’t ya?? That man is just so big and filthy that I’m sure he smells.

The Clown NSFW Headcanon

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, drinking, blood, gore, amputation, clown stuff, manhandling, gas/hazing??, tell me if I missed any.

Once a young and athletic kid, building his body to fit a certain way to help him ease through all the hard labour he did, now it his under a warm layer of fat, thick and heavy, bulging over his belt and breast round and soft. He might’ve had some difficulty to run, ambling or striding across the fields with a slow and taunting skip to his step, menacing while he hit the cork of his bottles and shook his special concoction. It made him all the more terrifying, slow and comfortable in his walk, strategic and strangely familiar with every type of hunt, ears keenly aware of the screams and pants of survivors, hungry for the dopamine those pained sounds gave him —especially yours.

His special bird, the first he’d every wanted to keep, locked away from the other killers and survivors alike, chained to his carney’s caravan by the ankle, bloody and filthy just to his liking. It brought back memories, favourable ones, his first successful hunt, catching a little robin in his hand, the soft and pretty red plumage picked and broken, but you weren’t something he wanted broken.

He liked the fire in your eyes, the fearful and spiteful glare you sent him when he cornered you in the chosen realm, snarling at him like a feral creature. While he hated doing unnecessary work, abhorred the thought of you losing the flare in your being, taming such a wild cat was rewarding by itself. If he could tame you enough to be able to hold and touch you without too much fight, but keep your temper, it was a win-win in his mind. There was nothing more he hated than a husk, a shell of a broken man to keep as a pet.

He took brave and foolish alike, young or old, nothing was off the table for him, all he needed was the true part of them, a finger to remember his exploits and victory, throwing away the part he deemed trash —fake. He could smell it from their bodies and figured that the hands - fingers - were the truth, a part that showed the person’s life, deeming it a satisfactory boon for him conquest, but you, all parts of you sang a different story to good ol’ Jeffrey Hawk. A true treasure to keep intact.

While he would love to keep you to himself, a little bird that would sing to him every day with snapping teeth and kicking feet, he wasn’t as favoured by her as other killers were, almost forgotten to his dirty little corner of the forest in his bloodied and smelly caravan, fingers littering every flat surface and beer bottles stacked or rolling across the floor. If he had such a favour, he would keep you in a comfortable corner, placed over a sullied mattress with blankets stacked over it, keeping you warm while he dressed you in his shirts, all browned and smelling of metallic blood and his musk.

It was thick and heady, mixing with a scent of alcohol and iron, age-old sweat and dirt. You’d complained about his stink, gagging and choking on the many times he cornered you, pressing himself against you to feel and smell you under his grasp. Nose buried in your hair and arms pulling you to his front, your back arching by the neck against the solid mass of his stomach, soft and pudgy if it wasn’t for his rough clothes scratching your tender skin.

It brought tears to your eyes. Be it from the stench of him and his intoxicating tonics, or his wandering hands, slipping under your shirt until it rode up, removing a piece of protection from his hungry eyes, he loved watching you cry. Call it a recreational hazard from his job, tears and wails were just a part of his duty under The Entity’s guidance, but he simply adored your pretty tears, pearly things rolling down your cheeks and your cute sobs filling his lecherous ears.

You don’t know how much it affected him, the pout when you bit your lower lip in frustration while you struggled against him, the squirming that riled him when he had you in his arms, and your spitfire-like tongue, hurling every insults under the sun at him. It stirred something deep in his guts, a dark pleasure bubbling from his loins, fattening the growing hardness between his leg. He easily got worked up by you, the solitude of his lifestyle and the starvation for any kind of touch led his to drool and hunger for it.

Your skin against his, soft and beautiful, bending easily under his kneading hands, his rough and bloodied glove as forced you on his lap, seated still to let him lap and suck at your small fingers. His tongue curling around your index, thick and lithe, and suckled in his warm and wet mouth while his tongue felt around, drool running down your wrist. He lost himself in these moments, aroused out of his mind and huffing hot breath against your disgusted face.

He liked your reaction —he liked any reaction you gifted him. He savoured each and every one, your gleeful ones, your sorrowful ones, your frustrated one, and your painful ones. He drank it all up like the drugs and alcohol he found pleasure in, gorging on you like an addict would. You were his new addiction, his new drug and dependence. And he hungered.

#x reader #dbd smut #dbd survivor #dbd killer #the clown #jeffrey hawk #dbd the clown #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight smut #Dead by daylight the clown #The clown x reader #tw: dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat #tw: dub con #tw: non con #blood and gore

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feyofmay · 2 years ago

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The Righthand Man

Laurie x March!Reader Summary: Assisting in making the costumes for Jo's upcoming show, Y/N, who is love with Laurie, is forced to spend time with Laurie, who is in love with Jo. Angst ensues. word count: 2.8k Warnings: Fluffffffffff, all platonic, angst, reader gets called "Ducky"

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader story, Foolish, Honest Love on ao3.

Also, I am taking requests for Laurie x reader drabbles/minifics in my asks!!! :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

A trickle of syrupy scarlet begins to pool and form a bubble on the tip of the young girl’s finger. However, the sight of blood does not squeeze even a squeal out of her. Rather, all she does is sigh and place the finger between her lips. Between her lips, a row of pins rest beside her finger like a line of spiked fences, a warning to wandering souls. With her free hand, she guides the loose fabric to curl around her waist.

“I must be the prettiest. I am the princess,” her younger sister declares like true royalty as she remains still under the middle March’s touch. Humming in agreement, she pulls her finger from her lips and leads the needle down a familiar trail. Although the house is always a little bit of a mess, in the most recent days it has grown into a beast of its own. Pieces of fabric are strung about everywhere, and loose pages of noted and edited scripts cover the floor as a gray and white layer of snow in autumn. A sheen of dust and the stink of old paper and musty fabric smothers in the autumn air. Without a knock, a boy enters, carrying the autumn breeze on the edges of his footsteps. Lost in her work, the middle March doesn’t pay any mind to anything outside of the glimmer of her needle as she works to avoid the wrath of her younger sister. If the needle is to even brush against her skin, the younger March will inform the whole neighborhood of the atrocity her sister has committed. Adorning a heather gray wool skirt, of which some other sisters have surely worn in seasons past, her heather purple bolero pinches around her collar and floats over her white collar shirt and black bodice.

“I’m sure you will-�� She begins, speaking around the pins in her mouth.

“Ducky, how’s the costume coming along?”

“- be. Just don’t paint the fabric without asking me first again,” Ducky continues while their older sister speaks around her. Like a knight in battle, the eldest of the three forces through the chaos of their home.

“Jo, you better have removed the part where I have to kiss a toad!” the youngest of the present sisters yells out to Jo. Ducky places her palm against the youngest’s stomach as a way to calm her and tell her to refrain from moving.

“Amy, you have to stay still, or I’ll poke you,” Ducky reminds her before returning to sewing the draping robin blue fabric. All of their conversation overlaps and forms a symphony of dissonant harmonies.

“I’m nearly finished with Amy’s, and all I have of Meg’s is final fittings, she’s putting hers on right now -” Ducky begins as she begins looping the thread into itself, forming a knot.

“Perfect, we’re just behind schedule!” Jo continues her own tangent while she stations herself besides Ducky and begins to digest Amy's appearance.

“- and then all I have left is to make your jacket, and figure out Laurie’s ensemble, and I’m unsure what you want for me, regarding ‘my part’ in the show, itself,” Ducky trails off as she picks up her scissors and frees her needle from the taut thread caught in the knot of Amy’s dress. A heap of tulle the color of a robin’s egg and a mellow baby blue silk cascade from underneath her beaded white bodice like a waterfall. Hours and hours have been spent on beading the bodice, alone, and, with sweat, time, and a minimal amount of blood, the middle March has managed to piece together the costumes for Jo’s newest and best show.

“You’re going to be the wise old witch who lives in the forest -” Jo starts to fall into her tangent as she waves her hands. In her right hand, the newest version of her script resides.

“I’m only acting because Marmee’s done getting involved in your shows,” Ducky confirms.

“- Well, yes, but that doesn’t make your role any less important,” Jo reminds her as Ducky rises to her feet and brushes off her skirt. Blood rushes into her legs and feeling finally slips back into her feet after sitting for hours on the rickety wooden stool. As the teen boy discards his jacket, Jo is alerted of his presence and her attention shoots over to him. Rushing over to him, her arms shoot out to greet him.

“Teddy!” Jo shouts when she’s engulfed in a hug. The two prattle on in a quick back and forth of banter and quips, and Amy waddles off to the mirror so she can properly admire herself. Leaving Ducky all by her lonesome, she sets down the pins between her lips and straightens up her makeshift sewing station. As she collects the spools of thread that had attempted to escape the nest of odd bobbins and spools of an assortment of colors of thread, she can't prevent her eyes from glancing over at the teen boy who’s attempting to swallow Jo in a hug. While she’s too young to wade deeper into her own emotions, she’s perturbed by the small pest named Envy that nips at the walls of heart. She’s not mad, not angry at either her sister or the boy, but she wants to be hugged like that. She wants to be seen & touched with the same feeling of “I feel you, and, therefore, I know you”. For a brief moment, the stories of far fetched courtship and romance are a faint taste on the tip of her tongue, real and tangy. Seeing her younger sister and being old enough to swim in the depths of her own feelings, the eldest March strolls over as a wreath of wisdom hangs around her head. With a knowing gaze and sturdy smile, she bends down so her lips are the same height as Ducky’s ear.

“Do you think he’s handsome?” she whispers to her younger sister as her words bubble up into a giggle. Ducky’s head shoots around to look at her older sister. A similar shade of red to the wound on her finger soaks into her entire face. Her nails dig into her palms, and her chest shutters from the pounding of her heart.

“Shut it, Meg!” she mutters out while gathering the last bobbins and placing them back into the small heap of thread. Laughing over the embarrassment of a young lover, Meg presses a hand against Ducky’s shoulder before gliding over to assist in admiring Amy’s dress by the mirror.

“Ducky, what have you planned for the right hand man to the hero, the protagonist, of my tale?” Jo enthuses as she rushes over to the younger sister’s station. Scooping up a pile of concepts and measurements all messily scrawled across different sheets of paper in looping, unfocused handwriting, the middle March digs through the loose scraps of paper until pulling out several ideas all scribbled on with a stick of graphite and colored pencils. Jo leans over to peer at the drawn figures, and the teen boy mirrors her movements. Sketched onto the paper in coagulating shapes, a drawing of a man clad in a puffy nectarine orange jacket in gold trim and forest green waistcoat dawns the garments over a pair of orange slacks in a matching shade and white high collar shirt with a forest green and orange striped cravat.

“Perhaps the costume will make up for the fact that you can’t act,” Jo quips out as the two gaze at the young girl’s sketches. Teddy whips his head around to glare at the elder sister as she begins to leap away. Never does Jo simply “walk”, rather, her spirits carry the heels of her weathered leather boots just an inch above the physical Earth. To Ducky, Jo is beyond what any human can promise to be. After all, no mere human of flesh and blood could survive carrying the weight of tenacity and creativity like her sister does. Jo flings her body around and contorts it like a hanging rag left to dry in the wind, and the taupe skirt of her dress wrings her as she flips around to face Teddy.

“You wound me so,” he replies with a filling smile. Jo’s hand flies up to smack Teddy’s forearm.

“Good, make use of that anguish in scene fourteen,” Jo quickly snips back as she starts to float away with the spirit of genius, her true paramore, “Now, stand here and do whatever Ducky tells you to do without any complaint.”

“What if she stabs me?” Laurie whines while he finds his place where Amy had recently stood before him.

“I don’t want to hear any of it! You most likely deserve it, anyways,” Jo declares before rushing away to join her two other sisters by the mirror. A squeal of delight leaves Amy’s lips as she scampers away, chasing a distant thought that rattles around in her head.

“I’ll paint my shoes to match!” Amy giggles as she rushes off, leaving the two other sisters to follow her in quick pursuit. With a small smile, Ducky attempts to silently apologize for her sisters’ behaviors.

“Never a dull moment, eh?” Teddy eases her with a knowing glance, and she shares the look while flipping to a blank page in her notepad. Grabbing her measuring tape from around her neck, the middle March brushes back a few strands of hair that had escaped from her makeshift updo, kept together only by a single piece of loose, pale pink ribbon. Lightly gripping his forearms, her fingers sink into the billowing fabric of his watery gray shirt.

“I’ll need to take your measurements. If I touch you in any way that’s discomforting, let me know,” she explains to him as she guides his arms up to extend out like a child’s when they’re pretending to be an airplane. The tips of his fingers brush against the fading cream and pink flowers that orner the sage green background of the wallpaper that, over the past years, has been dented and scraped from calloused yet tender fingers of youth. Nodding in reply, he stands stalk still as she wraps the measuring tape around his arm before jotting down the measurements in her small notebook.

“Jo told me that you're some sort of expert seamstress,” Laurie informs her, speaking to try and swallow the silence that the two of them are sinking in. As the tips of her fingers brush against his, a pursed smile tucks itself into her lips.

“I’m nothing close to that, but I do sew,” Ducky corrects him while she slips the tape around his neck, continuing her work.

“Is that your big dream? Jo will be a writer, Meg will act, Amy will paint and Beth plays, and you’ll sew?” he asks with a sense of genuine inquisitiveness, tilting his head back as she leans in to better see the faded numbers, leaving about a hand’s width of space between his face and hers. However, as she’s consumed by her work, she isn’t sent awry by the lack of distance between the two. Whispering the measurement to herself, she ushers back to her notepad and copies down the digits, pausing from the conversation to focus on her craft.

“No, no, that’s Jo’s dream for me,” she admits while shuffling to loop the tape around his bust.

“Well then, what will you be?” Laurie continues as he raises his hands above his head to allow Ducky to reach around him comfortably. She pauses for a moment, both engulfed in her work and unsure how to answer his question. Tendrils of sunlight begin poking through the window as the sky starts to fade to a rusty hue.

“I’m not quite sure,” she begins as she turns to copy more digits before adjusting the tape to next measure his hips, “Far. Free, not depending on any man to live how I want to.” Listing off her floating aspirations, Teddy gazes down and watches her precise fingers whisper a secret against the rippling powder blue, silk fabric of his waistcoat.

“What about you? What’s your dream?” she swings the question back to him, and he’s slightly taken aback by her forwardness. Often entranced by Jo and her wild acclaims of the future, he’s yet to think about what it is that he wants. Pursing his lips, the boy considers several archived visions of an ideal future that he’s contemplated in the past.

“Well, I want to marry a woman. I want to spend my days free from tutoring, content to do whatever I please whenever I’d please. Maybe I’d settle down and put my musical talents to some use, as they’re the only talents my grandfather thinks has worth,” Teddy admits, and, as he discusses his aspirations for his future, a dull ache washes over Ducky, and she’s faced with an answer that’s unfamiliar to her. When her sisters are faced with the question “what do you dream?” every single one of them has a secret truth that is inlaid in the very foundation of their mind. They dream of safety. Of a home that is good enough, and a husband that is kind enough. Of a life that is fulfilling enough. They dream of the brink of enough, of simply a little more than bearable. A man can dream of happiness, but a woman only hopes for enough. Only has Jo honestly strayed from this path, as even Amy, with age, begins to share the three other March’s mindset. Jo continues to strive for greatness, and Ducky can do nothing but admire her for it.

“I sincerely pray for a safe and speedy recovery to any woman who falls for your ‘charms’,” Ducky retorts, and, for a second, her own tone reminds her greatly of Meg. The eldest sister always spoke with a sense of grace and intellect that Ducky found surreal. How could one speak like a bubbling brook flows? For a moment, as the words dribble out from her lips, Ducky is filled with the same rush of ease that she often feels when Meg is teasing Jo. As if called on by a greater divinity, just as Ducky finishes her measurements, Jo and Meg rush back over, with Meg sporting a new, oily black mustache painted onto her face.

“Teddy, come quickly,” Jo commands to her companion, snatching his arm and dragging him along before he has time to digest her words. There’s no goodbye or reply as he follows behind Jo like a puppy on her heel. As he’s hurried away, Ducky’s eyes linger on his stumbling frame as the timid smile from her lips falls. The middle March begins to curl into herself as the eldest ushers across the dining, over to her sister. Meg rests her cheek against the side of Ducky’s head as, with her embrace, she shields Ducky from the world’s eye.

“Ducky, tell me plainly and you mustn't lie. Do you fancy him, Teddy?” she asks her younger sister, but both of them already know the answer without speaking. Closing her notepad, Ducky doesn’t even glance up at her sister as she presses her weight into her older sister’s frame. The younger March curls up into her sister’s embrace and folds herself into the young girl that used to hide in Meg’s nightgowns as shrieking thunderstorms raged through the night.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. He’s already in love with Jo,” she mutters into her sister’s chest as she wallows and wades in her own misery. Of course he loves Jo, who couldn’t fall in love with Jo? When she’s basking in the light of her own flowing talent and erudition, everyone falls in love with her. Jo is everything every mother never wants her daughter to be, and, in that right, she is what every mother prays her daughter becomes. She has never changed and, yet, is constantly born anew with each day. Never a lady, but yet an adult, wise yet naive to the weight of the world, everybody is in love with Jo, and this love holds no romantic intention. Rather, it is a deep well of devotion to a person that fills a lover’s stomach and renders one completely whole. To love someone entirely is to find peace within yourself and be content with one’s nature when in the presence of the one you love. So, in this manner, Ducky is entirely in love with Jo.

“It matters a great deal to me how you feel,” her older sister reminds her while strands of Ducky’s hair begin to curl around and hug Meg’s finger, “I’ll always want to hear about your feelings, no matter how large or pointless they may seem.” Silently, the two of them bask in each other’s embrace, and, without a word, Ducky knows her older sister understands her emotions inside & out. In her arms, she feels protected from everything, come snow or hail. In her arms, she is safe to be a young, scared girl.

Please comment & repost, & check out the whole fic :)). If you want me to add u to a taglist, lmk, & please send any laurie x reader drabble/fic requests my way!! I'd love to hear y'alls ideas! Have a lovely rest of your day, friends! <3

#timothée chalamet #theodore laurence x reader #laurie x reader #little women 2019 #laurie laurence #laurie laurence x reader #louisa may alcott #little women #timothee chalamet fanfiction #little women fanfiction #laurie laurence fanfiction

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skepsiss · 1 year ago

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His People - Eddie Munson

Wrote a small piece for the October 13th prompt "Monster" for Eddie Month! @eddiemonth. This is a short fic about Eddie coming back as some kind of monster after the events of S4. I might explore this idea more if people like it. (If I continue it, I'll probably make it Steddie, lol). Believe it or not, this is fluff. This is extremely soft and a look into Eddie's mind when he himself doesn't know his own mind anymore. He is more like a stray cat than something scary though.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

CW: Descriptions of gore/violence, body horror (minor), discrimination, mention of blood.

For as long as Eddie could remember he had felt like a monster. You were made to feel that way when you grew up poor without parents to rely on. You learned how to shroud yourself in mystery and grow teeth and nails to defend yourself with. How to be a viper and snap at anyone that dared provoke you. They made you feel like a monster, so the only way you could behave was monstrous. The only defense against the venom of humankind was to become something so grotesque they’d leave you alone.

They’d made him a monster, a creature like from Frankenstein’s lab; just an amalgamation of parts that had never really belonged to him. Animated in the likeness of man, but deemed as cursed and obscene. How he’d been driven from town with pitchforks held high; a monster despite never being asked to be here. Despite never lifting a finger to harm anyone. Despite how little or fragile he really was.

Eddie had always felt like a monster. It was how you grew up to keep yourself safe. My daddy was a demon and my mother was a mutant and they cursed this planet with a boy so terrible that no one would dare love him. That was how he had lived. That was all Eddie had to assume his future held.

How was it then that when Eddie had become a monster–a real one with fangs and claws, whose heart didn’t beat and skin didn’t bleed–how was it that he had found peace? How was it that he felt more loved now than he ever had when he was simply human?

At his return, his mind was a jumble, and scents and thoughts wafted through the air around him as he tried to recall everything to do with his previous life. He could remember things as if he was looking through a foggy window, grasping at the thoughts, but not always truly remembering. It had been hard not to fall silent in a room of people, to feel included, wanted, and safe. But these people–his people–they had celebrated his return.

Eddie had come home to Hawkins stinking of death and polluted with tar. The places he had been wounded were marred with obsidian and tacky like dried blood. It didn’t hurt, but it had been disorienting. He hadn’t remembered anything–he hadn’t remembered anything but feeling like a monster. A freak. A bigger threat than he’d ever been… and he had curled up in his tub until he was found. Until warm water was sprayed on him to wash away the filth and a gentle hand had soothed his confusion.

Scents were the first thing that had helped him remember.

The way people smelled and the grounding odor of cigarettes. How Dustin, and Robin, Mike and Steve all had such specific scents that helped provoke feelings. The memories attached to those feelings came afterward, but he remembered feeling joy, concern, pride, and love. Good things. Good feelings. But even with the goodness he had shrunk in on himself, fearful that he’d frighten these people away even as they stared at him with glassy eyes and quivering lips. But he hadn’t scared them. He hadn’t scared them at all–he was a real monster and he had never had more people rally around him before in his life.

With time the obsidian marks faded and his skin looked unmarred by the events of the Upside Down. He couldn’t fully remember what had happened or how he had crawled out of hell, but there were instincts ingrained into him that hadn’t been there before. Food curled his nose and tasted like water or ash in his mouth; the pleasures of sugar and salt felt like torture when he ate them, but meat had never tasted so good.

Raw, bleeding, hot or cold, muscle and sinew, meat. He had craved it like a starved animal but had cringed away from the idea of killing something to feed his hunger. A fragment of humanity made him shiver and twitch with concern over the prospect. The idea made his mouth water, but it also flooded his guts with anxiety. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even like this. Even as a caged lion.

Eating was what had finally cleared his skin and Eddie had learned that abstaining from food for too long marked his flesh with the black substance once again. It made him look ghastly and Eddie had grimaced at his appearance as his body shifted under his gaze. He ate often and hid his unrest.

Still, the food had not been able to hide the secondary row of teeth that were wedged under his gums. It was as if he was a shark or a leech, but you could only really see the teeth when he curled his lip or smiled wide. They were weapons made for tearing and Eddie tried not to eat around his friends in fear the scene would mark him a beast. It was easy to talk around the fangs so long as he remembered.

The claws were harder to get used to and Eddie had struggled with picking things up and not accidentally destroying everything he touched. They were sharp and he had refrained from touching any of his people in fear that he would wound them. Nothing seemed strong enough to trim his nails, but they didn’t grow either. It was like he had knives attached to his fingers and when he had remembered what his guitars were he had wept over the idea that he’d never be able to play the instrument again.

Nancy had been the one to come up with the idea and Robin had helped implement the plan. Acrylic nails to cover the tips of his fingers–they wouldn’t apply a full nail but the acrylic could be rolled into a bead and then applied to Eddie’s hand to cover the razer points. Eddie hadn’t known to feel foolish at the time, but he felt self-conscious about it now–even if there didn’t seem to be any way around it. Still, the girls had painted his nails black and he’d be free to touch things unbiasedly for a few weeks until the acrylic chipped off. It worked and he had encouraged the girls to make his claws look jagged or imperfect instead of nice and polished. He’d wear them as a costume, even though eventually he hoped he could figure out how to do the work himself.

People had rallied to him and Eddie had felt meek in their wake. He had slunk around the party and shrunk into corners quietly like a scared animal, the onslaught of love and care too foreign and overwhelming to him. He didn’t even have his mind to joke and tease, it had just been too much even if he was inexplicably drawn to the attention still. He wanted it, but he didn’t. He needed it, but it felt like he was dying every time he got it. His energy had shifted eventually and he had learned that he liked compliments, so long as he could joke. He’d fain shyness and squirm, obviously touched but hamming up his reaction.

Before he remembered that it was strange he had warmed up to everyone in quiet, affectionate ways. He had leaned and rested his cheek on Dustin’s head, relishing in the softness of his curls. He had tugged at Nancy’s shirt sleeves and followed her around while she worked, watching everything she did with the utmost interest. He had curled up beside Steve on the couch and slowly stretched across his lap like a cat looking to disrupt their owner, soaking in the warmth his body provided.

Everyone had tolerated his oddities until slowly aspects of his humanity returned to him. Memories and social norms struck him at inopportune times and then flooded him with shame or nervousness. He felt like a toddler or enfeebled at times and it was difficult to keep up with everyone as they chatted around him. Still, whenever someone noticed him struggling they had softly explained in an aside or given him a reassuring touch. It was more than he could ask for and Eddie had fallen in love with every single one of his friends again and again. His people.

It felt like he was bursting at the seams with platonic affection for every single one of them. He was taken care of and adored, not just tolerated. People wanted him for the first time, monster and all.

He had been shamed into submission amongst the horde for his whole life, made to carry the mantle of vandal, plague, and devil whether he wanted it or not. Branded a problem–a defect. Branded a freak. He was everything he had been told he was his whole life but he did not fear it any longer. If being a beast earned him Lucas, and Jeff, Max, and Gareth he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him because he was celebrated for remembering things and he felt safe just lingering close to his friends.

He was grotesque now; built from spare parts and left for scrap, but his people wanted him anyway and Eddie had never felt more loved in his life.

Chapter 2

#I want to snuggle and hold this weird little monster Eddie #he really sounds so fucking adorable to me #Eddie munson #stranger things au #my_writing #eddie month #Eddiemonth #Stranger things #Stranger Things Fic #stranger things fanfic #also I'll pledge my soul to whoever draws Eddie with acrylic nails

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lightrivals · 11 months ago

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I come bearing fic yet again, this type of the zosan (sanzo to be specific) variety! got hit with the one piece bug the past few months and had to get something out from my brain…

here is the instinct to want you, an omegaverse fic between omega sanji and omega zoro! part 1 is uploaded and part 2 should be coming soon~

excerpt below:

Sanji grins widely and leans in toward the other man. “Are you saying you like me, marimo?”

“Huh?” Zoro spits out, leaning away from Sanji as a deep flush takes over his cheeks. “What are you talking about, dumbass? You were stinking up the whole place; it’s a wonder Robin and Luffy didn’t go into rut, too!”

Sanji can’t help but swoon at the idea that Robin could go into rut over him. He’s quickly sobered up at the idea that Zoro could potentially always go into heat whenever he does. Or even worse, vice versa. Sanji stabs his chopsticks in the space between himself and Zoro and squints dangerously. “You can’t go into heat with me ever again, understand? I ban it.”

“Like I want to be in heat with you!” Zoro snaps back, shoving Sanji’s arm away. “Maybe you should figure out what triggered your shitty heat in the first place before getting mad at me!”

“I didn’t even realize it was happening until it got this bad!”

“How can you be so bad at tracking your pack heat cycles, asshole? Chopper said to count at least 90 days since your last mate heat!”

“I’ve never had one!”

[x]

#zosan #sanzo #one piece #sanji x zoro #my fics*#I’ll reblog this with part 2 #if I remember to bc I do not use this app anymore whoops 😭

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pinkeoni · 2 years ago

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Idk man I think something that is so exciting is the fact that so many things are possible. Maybe you should theorize about that seemingly unlikely thing or follow that lead that may seem crazy. Maybe it goes nowhere or maybe you’ll accidentally discover the truth

#robin rambles #i will make a million theory posts that all contradict each other #cause at least one of them has to be right #robin stink pieces

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kaziwi · 2 years ago

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What One Piece characters smell like

Character(s): The Strawhats

Note: hiiii this is my first ever post on here lawlll

Luffy

(sweat, the ocean)

ok ok so we all can come to an agreement that Luffy smells like sweat right like this man is always running around there is no way he doesn't stink

but hear me out.....he also smells like the ocean

i mean he's always falling in the sea, so i'd assume the scent would rub off on him at some point

Zoro

(sweat, metal, blood)

sweatiest man alive.

there is literally no way this man doesn't have a sweat ridden stench like

he also def smells like metal since he's always training with weights and his swords

i also think since this man never showers that after a fight he will smell like blood for a few days

Nami

(tangerines)

yeah ok kinda obvious

i think she just naturally has that scent since she spends a lot of time near her tangerine trees, but i'd also like to think that all her soap and lotion and stuff is all tangerine scented

Usopp

(sweat, metal, dirt)

i think he wouldn't sweat AS BAD as luffy and zoro, but it's still there...

the metal smell would come from helping franky out or just working on some of his own inventions

he would also smell like dirt since he tends to his plants a lot (he might smell like fertilizer too -_-)

Sanji

(smoke, cologne)

another very very obvious one

i think he would always buy different colognes to try to cover up the smoke smell, but even if it works for awhile the smoke stench is still there

Chopper

(wet dog)

IM SORRY BUT HE DEF SMELLS LIKE A WET DOG

nami and robin would try to buy him new soap to help the smell but he ends up smelling like a wet dog by the end of the day

Robin

(lavender, vanilla, dust)

i know for a fact that robin smells amazing like

i think she naturally smells like lavender (don't question it), but sometimes will use different lotion or perfume to add a small vanilla scent to it

if she's exploring a ruin or reading old books, she might have a small dust smell to her

Franky

(cola, metal, garage)

with cola basically keeping him alive, there's no doubt that he wouldn't smell like it 24/7

he also smells like metal because....well.....ya know..

i also think he smells like a whole garage, like when you go to get your car repaired and you can smell inside the garage that's franky right there that's franky's scent

Brook

(tea)

ok this is kinda a reach cause i was gonna say he would smell like nothing since he's all bones, but i also think he would smell like tea since he drinks it all the time

Jimbei

(fish, sea-salt)

he would smell like fish

i also think he would smell like sea salt since he's always swimming and stuff

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midnight-raven · 7 months ago

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The Black Phone/Superhero AU Idea

There is a secret government initiative that takes in young adults whose lives have been permanently altered by an accident or catastrophic event, leaving them with abilities outside the normal.

The chosen few are trained to control their abilities, and see if they can become more than who they were before.

(Before you read on, let me apologize now. I stink at coming up with superhero names… I’m open to suggestions for change)

SuperNova/Finney Blake

High amongst the stars, Finney had been outside the ISS to work on repairs when the strike of a stray meteor caused the astronaut to become untethered, launching him straight into the heart of a solar storm. Upon returning to Earth, Finney discovered his body had absorbed the energy of the flare, leaving him with a few unexpected after effects .

Oracle/Gwen Blake

Born with the gift of precognition, Gwen works as a consultant detective, using her visions to help catch criminals, find missing people, and even prevent crimes before they happen. Until one night, when Gwens dream depicts a powerful force hiding in the shadows, threatening millions of people. To stop this threat, she and Finney will have to team up with a team of other young heroes.

Stealth/Griffin Stagg

In a private research campus, Griffin was a young intern eager to prove his abilities to his professors and fellow peers. One day, after being accidentally exposed to the fumes of a chemical mix-up, Griffins’ entire body was rendered invisible. With the help of a private facility, Griffin was given a high-tech bodysuit that would make him visible again, as long as he wears it.

Renegade/Billy Showalter

There is a secret program that turns promising young men into weapons of war. One such success is the The Silver Guard, close & far range skills, deadly in combat, and no identity anywhere outside of the program… except in a missing persons report under the name Billy Showalter. After being detained by Homeland Security, Billy was given a chance to seek atonement for his actions and also find the pieces to his stolen life.

WarPath/Vance Hopper

Many years ago, a pair of gauntlets were sent to Earth from a dying alien planet lightyears away to seek a fighter. ‘The Gauntlets of Ares’ named after the mythology warrior, was designed to only be worn by a chosen one and grant them God-like abilities to defend the innocent. No one was more surprised than Vance when the gauntlets chose him as its wielder.

Titani-Man/Bruce Yamada

Bruce once had a bright future and a promising baseball career ahead of him, but it was all taken away when a hit & run accident left his legs paralyzed. Mr Yamada, a skilled mechanical engineer, constructed a special pair of leg braces to restore his son's ability to walk. On his road to recovery, Bruce discovered a new path for his future after constructing his own special suit.

The Defender/Robin Arellano

Robin always protected those who couldn’t defend themselves, and that didn’t change when he enlisted. During his service, Robin and his team were held prisoner by an unknown enemy for over three months. In the end, only Robin made it out. Discharged from the army, Robin pursued a vigilante life, dedicating himself to protecting others by himself until he was given an offer to join a team.

#The Black Phone #Superhero AU #Finney Blake #Gwen Blake #Robin Arellano #Bruce Yamada #Vance Hopper #Billy Showalter #PaperBoy #Griffin Stagg #I stink at names #sorry!#anyone have any ideas for SuperVillain Grabber?#maybe the mask gives him dark powers?#gives me green goblin vibes #with a bit of the mask #😈#what do you think?

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where-dreamers-go · 1 year ago

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"Emotions And Realizations" Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: Part Four in the soulmate au series with 1960s Robin/Dick Grayson.

Last time we saw a secret spread through the city, trust broken, and soulmates having milkshakes. But wait. The most frustrating and exciting is yet to come!

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Reader has social anxiety? Use of (mx) and (Y/N). Dick Grayson is the sweetest person. Reader’s guardian is a doorknob/something else.

Word Count: 10,031 words)

<- previous

~~~

A quiet Sunday morning in Gotham City and all appeared to be normal. Weekend activities went as planned. The weather was beautiful. Birds chirped happily.

This stinks. You thought with a low huff.

In the study, the open history book on the desk hardly had your attention. A scratch piece of paper had more ink marks than your list of assignment answers.

An ‘attitude’? Are they serious? I’ve barely said anything to them since Monday. I’ve been neutral. Civil.

As of returning home on Saturday from the Wayne Manor, you were officially grounded.

You were in trouble. For what? What wrong had you done?

According to your guardian, you were in trouble for the next week. Reasonings being: of how you acted on Monday, your attitude for the past week, for not letting them know ahead of time you were going to see Dick Grayson, and missing a lunch they had planned with a friend on Saturday.

They didn’t exactly tell me about the lunch yesterday. Oh, but they’re disappointed. ‘You embarrassed me’. Sorry. Didn’t meant to. I’m not perfect.

You leaned back in the chair, glad you were alone in the room. Comfortable clothes gave you emotional support.

And then the whole: ‘Your punishment will be longer if you don’t do well on those quizzes coming up.’ Really? As if I don’t do my best every day? School isn’t easy. How much more well-behaved do I have to be? I don’t talk and it’s good, but if I don’t talk it’s bad?

Tapping the chair, you did your best to get out the energy fueled by frustration. Quietly. Always quietly.

No phone, you thought over the restrictions, and no desserts!

Four months ago it would had been a punishment in your favor. But, as of late, you had your soulmate physically in your life. Plus no desserts was unusual punishment.

You couldn’t even call to let Dick know. You were afraid to ask.

And Saturday had been so wonderful.

Attempting to return to the textbook failed. Again.

They’re just upset I wasn’t at the lunch. I’m not going to be home every second or available whenever. I don’t overhear every phone call they have. I’m bound to forget at least one thing.

Being grounded days after ‘offenses’ seemed to be reaching for more reasons to justify it all.

I’m not the one who broke a promise — spreading a secret that wasn’t theirs! People kept questioning me and—

Frustrations were high. Tension rekindling at home.

Knuckles popped and shoulders squared.

You huffed again.

Did you ever forgive your guardian for pushing you towards the Penguin or telling your secret? No. Definitely no in the near future either.

You figured the pushing towards a criminal was just really bad judgement. What else could it be?

The breaking a promise was something you would not forget and you’d be careful what you shared in the future with them.

To think, in contrast, you were becoming more comfortable sharing thoughts with Dick. He was a fantastic listener. A gosh darn good conversationalist too.

We don’t even have to talk. You thought and rolled the pen around with your fingers. Your thoughts going back to Saturday. He was so tired. If we were anywhere else, would he put his head down?

Exhaling, soon your shoulders relaxed. Thoughts of you soulmate playing in your mind.

Music played throughout the room. Just enough to keep the study from being so empty of sound.

Your textbook remained on the desk forgotten. It would have its time. Whenever you decided upon it.

Keeping your attention elsewhere was much more satisfying. Right where you wanted it.

In turn, the desk chair had been moved to the front of the loveseat where Dick was laying down.

“Tired?” You asked and brushed back a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“No.”

“No?” You rested your forearms on your thighs as you leaned forward.

Dick cracked a smile.

“Then what are you doing here laying down? Testing the cushions?”

“I was waiting for you to finish with homework.”

“Well, I’m finished for now.”

“For now?” He questioned, tilting his head to see you better.

“Uh-huh.”

You watched on as Dick took ahold of your hands and brought them to his chest. Comfortable.

“You work too much.”

“So do you.” You poked his sweater-covered chest.

Bringing your hands up, he kissed your finger.

A familiar warmth flooded your chest.

You blinked and flexed your hands.

The textbook was still in front of you. Waiting. Your hands were no where near anyone else’s.

Okay, you thought. Aware of time spent being unproductive.

That word could ruin any mood.

Unproductive. You scoffed. I’m not a machine. If I want to think about my soulmate kissing— Wait…um.

His lips touched your fingertip. Softly and soon smiling.

Sitting there, you wondered and searched your mind to see if this was the first time you had thought of Dick in that way. Surely it wasn’t out of no where.

Did it matter if you didn’t know?

Thinking of playing with Dick’s hair and having soft domestic moments felt natural. As if that calmness could be a vacation of its own.

Why wouldn’t you daydream of that? It was cute.

Imagining kicking the Penguin’s butt was one thing, but picturing a casual day was really nice. It could happen.

I mean…I never thought I’d be comfortable kissing someone’s cheek without being awkward. And he’s definitely okay with it. You smiled at the thought. Feeling his emotions is a bonus then.

You smiled down into your textbook.

The assignment still incomplete and waiting.

Hearing a voice muffled in another room, your hands tensed.

Your guardian was probably on the phone again.

Just finish here, you thought.

The lightness in your chest seemed to fold in on itself and dissolve. It made your stomach feel heavy.

Dick and I are friends. That’s better than anything I could ask for. We get to see each other and talk when we can. Kissing his cheek is…common in cultures and holding hands—that’s just what we do. We trust each other. You pressed your lips together and thought, we’re soulmates. And he’s literally Robin.

Slouching in the chair, you fought the urge to kick the desk.

“I really need to focus.” You muttered.

The assignment involved vocabulary from history.

Forcing yourself to sit upright, you looked at the text.

Huh. This would put even Dick to sleep, you mused. It’s just copying down the definition. It’s boring, but easy. If only the definitions weren’t so long.

Your hand took up the pen and jotted down the correct words. Such a mundane and mind numbing task with the copying.

Each word hardly left an echo in your mind. Sounds of the pen scrawling over paper only made you more aware of how quiet it was in the study. How alone you were when for once you did not want to be.

You desired good, genuine company. Even in the tiniest amount. Something positive to outweigh the rest.

You could almost hear Dick. His voice memorized and unforgettable in your mind.

Dick had a book in his hand as he sat comfortably on the loveseat.

“I think your favorite part is next,” he said with his nose buried in the book’s pages.

Muscles in your hand cramped, but your wrote on. Writing faster meant it would be finished before you declared it stupid and overly boring.

“I can read it to you, if you’d like?”

“You would do that?” You asked.

“Sure.”

Your hand stilled after you set down the pen. Aches slowly leaving your muscles.

Assignment complete.

You sat back and inhaled slowly.

Hopping onto the cushion beside Dick, you snuggled into his side.

“Holy racing car, you’re fast.”

“My hand hurts a little, but it’ll be fine.”

Expecting him to read out loud, you were surprised by Dick drawing an invisible smiley face on your forehead.

A cozy feeling blossomed in your chest.

“What was that for?” You questioned and wrapped your arms around his middle.

“To keep your frown away.”

“I think it worked,” you said with a smile.

Imagination could only get so far if it remained in your mind.

Beautiful words and fanciful thoughts could remain hidden with emotions if you wanted or you could put them to use. Learn from them.

A new project? Was it a good time to start one?

It wasn’t as if your guardian would know.

✧ ✧ ✧

Monday afternoon at the Wayne Manor was business as usual. Bruce Wayne read quietly as his youthful ward, Dick Grayson, completed homework.

Smiling to himself, Dick closed his textbook.

“All finished?” Bruce asked.

“Yup. The equations weren’t so tough today.” Dick gathered his belongings.

“That’s good to hear.”

Heading out of the room, Dick announced, “I’ll be right back.”

Taking the steps in quick succession, he cleared the stairs on his way to his bedroom.

I bet (Y/N) can finish homework faster, he thought. Maybe not as fast as them guessing books.

On Saturday, they all had done just that in the manor. Teaming up and guessing stories by describing characters made time fly by. Almost too quickly for Dick.

All the happiness of Saturday made Sunday feel off. Dick presumed it was from your absence. With only your emotions to accompany him, he still missed you. Perhaps more so if he couldn’t sense anything.

Yet there was not phone call that night to soothe him.

He lost track of time and he figured you were watching a movie. One you were eager to see. He didn’t want to bother or interrupt.

Dick only hoped that your many emotions were the results of watching the television and nothing more.

Wishing the best for you was what he’d always done. Even prior to meeting you.

Knowing you made him want to share the best with you.

Dick Grayson’s smile returned.

Yes, his schoolwork was put away, but that only freed up space in his mind to think of his soulmate.

He knew why.

Holding hands and drinking milkshakes answered questions he didn’t know he had.

Dick Grayson had a crush on his soulmate. He’d had a crush for a while.

Being together on Saturday only solidified his realization. Holding hands more consciously than reflexively. You were closer, more open with each other.

To contain that knowledge and excitement was near impossible.

Dick was on the verge of telling Bruce.

Why not? He was so happy. He couldn’t keep that to himself. He shouldn’t have to.

I wonder what Bruce will think. The youth thought as he exited his room. I forgot to tell him. Gosh. How busy can we get?

Descending the stairs took him seconds.

Getting Bruce Wayne’s attention took less.

“Hey, Bruce?” The ward called as he returned to the sitting room.

“Yes? What is it, Dick?”

“(Y/N) is really swell.”

Bruce smirked as if he knew what was on the young man’s mind.

“And their smile is the brightest I’ve ever seen.” He sat down on the nearest armchair. “If you could mashup beautiful and handsome in one word—that’d be a word I’d use for them.”

“Both words can be used in exchange for the other depending on context.”

“Gosh, Bruce, I didn’t think of that, but…there should be another word that multiplies the meaning.”

“And why is that?”

“Because saying they’re good-looking after saying how intelligent they are doesn’t sound right..” Dick rested his chin on his hand. “I mean—they are lovely too.”

“Yes. You said as much yesterday and after they left on Saturday.” He smirked again.

“Oh.” His hands folded in his lap. “I guess, I did.”

“It’s alright, Dick.” Bruce reassured him. “It makes me wonder if I’m the only person you should be telling this to.”

His eyes widened. It hadn’t occurred to Dick to consider telling you how wonderful of a person you were. Well, in the right situation anyway. That was only half of it.

He’d never complimented you at that level in full.

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell (Y/N) how I feel—I know that sounds ridiculous. We sense each other’s emotions, for crying out loud!” He sighed, “The problem is: I don’t know where I’d start. They’re practically my best friend.”

“That’s not the worst problem to have.”

“I know. Having a soulmate is the complete opposite of a problem.”

Bruce smiled and stated, “You two get along very well.”

“And (Y/N) knows more about me than other students at school.” Dick chuckled to himself and added, “At the student council meeting today, I imagined what it’d be like with (Y/N) there. They’d have great ideas. I could take a good guess what their responses would have been too.”

Not many people had mentioned the word ‘soulmates’ at school, but Dick knew they would if you were there with him. He was confident he could handle it.

But what about you?

How would you feel about it?

How would you react to Dick’s developing emotions?

“Is it too soon to tell them? I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.”

“There is no set time frame,” said Bruce. “Your concern for them shows how much you care for their well-being. Keep that in mind as you move forward.”

“That’s just it,” Dick sighed. “I don’t know when, but I’d love to now.”

“Don’t stress too much on the subject, old chum. Trust in the connection you two have and let the rest come naturally.”

Sitting up straight, Dick said, “Gosh, you’re right, Bruce. I’m worrying about something that hasn’t happened. It’s silly.”

“But you care.”

Dick nodded.

Of course Dick Grayson cared about his soulmate. He cared deeply.

If he felt a fluctuation of negative emotions from you, he wanted to know the cause. To be there with you would surely allow him to offer help or support.

Glancing up at the time, he figured you were definitely working on something. Not that the time was his main clue, however your undulating feeling of frustration. Either way, he could only suppose.

Would it be alright to call now? Dick wondered as he yearned to hear from you. It’s not late. Heck, it’s early!

He wrung his hands together.

“May I use the phone?” Dick asked, arms posed and ready to move.

“You may.”

Dick didn’t need to be told twice.

Leaning over to the side table, he picked up the phone and dialed your number.

I should ask what they watched last night.

The phone rang on the other end.

Or if anything interesting happened in class. Or if that spider came back. It had a name—

“Hello?” Your guardian’s voice sounded.

“Hello. It’s Dick Grayson. Is—?”

“Hello! How are you?” They interrupted with enthusiasm.

“I’m well. Thank you. How—?”

“I haven’t heard from you in so long. You must all be so busy in that manor. I can only imagine how many charities are planned. My friend and I — we met in college — we’ve been trying to talk their sister into hosting an event later in the summer. I’d love it sooner, but those things take forever to plan. Don’t they?”

“I believe so.”

Dick sat down and wondered how he became reeled into the conversation.

“I feel as if it’s been too long since I’ve been to a dinner party. The one my neighbor held was more of a night out. We weren’t at her place long. They have a fabulous music room. Even a harp.” They sighed longingly. “I always wanted a music room, but we have the study instead. At this rate it’ll turn into a library.”

“(Y/N) loves to read,” Dick piped up, “and they love music.”

“Very true.” Their tone was flat, but attentive.

He took his chance, “Is (Y/N) there? May I speak to them?”

“They’re here.”

He smiled.

“But they can not use the phone—.”

“What? Why? Are they all right?” Dick gripped the phone tightly.

“Their phone privileges are suspended and they can not go out until their punishment is over.” They stated calmly; adding nothing further.

It was too calm for Dick’s liking.

“Alright, I understand.” He swallowed down his rising emotions. “Can you let them know I called, please?”

“Sure. Don’t be a stranger.”

Dick could picture their smile with their chirper voice. It irritated him as he hung up the phone.

“What is it, Dick?” Bruce asked, giving his ward his full attention.

“(Y/N) isn’t allowed to use the phone because they’re in trouble,” Dick wiped his palms on his trousers, “but I don’t know what they did.” Confusion and shock lingered in his voice.

“Oh.” He said softly. “You spoke with their guardian.”

“They didn’t even sound angry or…concerned. They were too busy talking about planning a party.”

“This is unexpected news.”

“You’re telling me.” He sat back with a huff.

“Dick, this maybe a good time to practice patience. Their punishment will not last forever.”

“But they’re innocent.” He leaned forward, fist hitting the chair. “I can’t—I won’t believe they did anything wrong.”

Bruce only nodded. There was not much else to say if they weren’t given even half a story for explanation.

It was out of their hands.

Dick didn’t know when he’d hear from you or see you next. He could only feel your emotions. He couldn’t do anything else. Again, he was powerless. Back to the beginning.

But they’re innocent. What could they have possibly done? Dick thought woefully. Now Aunt Harriet will have something else against their guardian. Not just spreading our secret. … How long do punishments last?

✧ ✧ ✧

Gotham City, peaceful and busy as usual. The end of the work week was approaching and most were thrilled for the upcoming weekend.

For you, the week was going by slowly at school and quick at home. A real drag, really. Not much in your favor. It was only Thursday and your to-do list grew.

I’m going to need to rewrite the to-do list, you thought, already picturing the side notes and scratch marks on the paper. Nearing the end of the semester and it’s a mess. Kind of like this week.

Stepping lively, you were well on your way to the Gotham City Library. The second stop on your search for a book. Your friend Lucy had recommended it the day before.

The end of year essay wasn’t going to write itself and what you needed wasn’t even in your school’s shelves. Even the book store near home was lacking, but you had checked first—just in case.

It was up to you to make it happen.

Too bad it had to include asking your guardian’s permission in the morning. In any other situation it would be fine, but there was the punishment clinging to your every move. Making you second guess yourself and your actions.

So you walked on. With the huge library in sight, you grew impatient, wanting the week to be over. Again.

How ridiculously repetitive.

At least the topic of your paper would ease away from that. It would give you something interesting to focus on.

For once, you just really needed to be anywhere but at home. A breather. Time to decompress and just be.

The trip to the library was a small piece of that. A library had much to offer to citizens after all.

✧ ✧ ✧

Just outside of Gotham City, inside the Wayne Manor, young Dick Grayson worked diligently on his school essay. Ever the prudent student.

Not many things could distract him from a goal. He was well versed in work ethic.

Yet there was for certain one thing that could make Dick rush out of a room.

“Excuse me, Master Dick.”

The youth peered up from his papers.

“A phone call from a certain soulmate.” Alfred smiled.

He leapt to his feet, shouting, “Holy rule breaking!”

“So it seems.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick said before tearing through the house to reach the phone. One of them at least.

Bruce Wayne was already pointing in the right direction as Dick peeled around the corner.

“Thank you!” Dick called over his shoulder.

Coming to a halt by a small table, Dick brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello? (Y/N)?” He did his best not to shout in his excitement. Dick was ever so eager to hear from you.

“Dick, hey,” your voice greeted him warmly.

A smile spread across the youth’s face.

“How are you? Your guardian said you weren’t allowed to use the phone. Are you not in trouble any more?”

“I’m okay,” you answered. “I…uh, I’m at the Gotham City Library—the big one. And technically, I shouldn’t be calling you.”

“You’re still in trouble? Why?”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. My guardian hadn’t told anyone on the phone, so I figured that included you.”

“They told you that I called?”

“Only that you called.” You clarified. “They’re upset I missed a lunch with them and a friend of theirs on Saturday, that I hadn’t talked to them that week, and other ridiculous stuff that they chose now to pin against me.” You huffed, irritated.

“That’s terrible. They’re the one who couldn’t keep a secret. For a day.”

“It’ll be fine. They’re just embarrassed, I guess, that they had to make an excuse why I wasn’t with them for lunch. They’ll forget about it eventually or get over it.”

Dick held the phone closer.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine.” You said. “Just need to grab a book for the essay.”

Hmm. They don’t seem fine.

“What were you writing for your paper?” He asked, his mind coming up with a plan.

“Edgar Allan Poe writings.”

“Oh.”

“I’m hoping the book isn’t checked out here too.”

“Alright. You should go find it before someone else does.” He advised and checked the clock.

I’ve got time.

“True.”

It’s a huge library.

“Hopefully, we can talk again soon. I just wanted to call and not leave you with so any questions without answers.”

“Thanks.” Dick said. “I really appreciate it. I’ve been running in circles trying to figure out why you, of all people in the world, were in trouble.”

“Bad luck?”

“You don’t have bad luck.”

“Not with you.”

His shoulders relaxed and his smile softened.

“Anyway. I should go. I’ll miss you. Take care, okay?”

“I will. I hope you find everything.”

“Me too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Hanging up the phone, Dick Grayson felt no ill feelings for not saying how he’d miss you.

No, because Dick had decided on going to the same library.

“Hey, Bruce,” he said as he raced upstairs, “I have to go to the library.”

Practically flying through the manor, Dick retrieved his car keys, and headed back downstairs.

“Dick.”

The youth stopped in his tracks.

“We can not do anything about (Y/N)’s punishment because it is a personal household matter.”

“I know,” he replied despairingly. His whole body seemed to weigh down with the knowledge.

“Good and I trust you’ll help them the best of your ability without breaking the guidelines of their punishment.”

“I promise, Bruce,” he urged, “and I promise I’ll be back soon to work more on my paper.”

So Dick Grayson was on a solo mission. His goals were formed with good intentions.

Could he make it to the library in time to see you?

✧ ✧ ✧

Shelves of knowledge stood proud and ready for the minds of Gotham City. Its largest library had much to offer.

Peering around at the next aisle, you hoped you were in the correct section.

This makes my school’s library look like a forgotten storage room, you thought. At least it’s organized. No wonder Lucy told me I’d like it here. You snuck a peek at the spines of some books. And I also know why Lucy had to save Elliot—he’d get lost in a one-room apartment. You shook your head.

Your friends really were something else. Charming, full of personality, and very much a bunch of teenagers.

The same teenagers who thought you were pranking them when you mentioned your punishment. Too bad their laughter ended, you missed the sound. Yet their sudden change to rage may have added fuel to your inner rebellion. Perhaps a little.

In such a large library, you were definitely calmer than you would had been at home with your guardian.

Calm was soft within you, however there was a bubbling delight from Dick. Through your soulmate bond, it was feeling less muffled as it increased rapidly.

What is he doing? You wondered and read a few more spines of books, still searching. It might be on the other bookcase. This is still the beginning of the authors alphabetically.

You sighed.

Quietly, someone walked up beside you on your left.

“Jane Austen, huh?”

Your confusion hit you like a wall. You knew that voice.

Turning, you were instantly met with familiar bright blue eyes and a wide smile.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Dick beamed. His excitement shining through.

“Are you crazy? I’m in trouble. If my guardian finds out you were here too, I’ll be worse off.”

“Are they here?” He glanced around rapidly.

“No.”

“They won’t find out.”

It scared you to think if otherwise they did.

Closing your eyes, you exhaled slowly.

Breathe. We’re fine. We’re okay.

“Are you upset I came?” He asked.

Your eyes snapped open and your shoulders dropped.

“No. Of course not.” You ducked your head. “I’m sorry. I’m just on edge because of everything at home and I’m tired. I don’t mean to push anything at you.”

Gently, Dick brought you into a hug. Keeping you close.

An almost reset to the scratchy emotions that plagued you happened. Setting you both back to calm. At ease in one another’s presence.

Pulling out of the hug, Dick suggested, “How about I help you find the right book?”

“That’d be great and much appreciated.”

The search was on.

It was the largest library in Gotham City. Where better to find the sources you needed?

“The Odyssey?” Dick read aloud.

“Not quite.” You smiled and continued searching the shelf below. “If we find any Shakespeare, we’ve gone too far. So no Othello either.”

“Hmph.”

“My friend Elliot was writing his essay about the creatures in The Odyssey, I think. Either that or the physics of the bow.” You shrugged. “Our teacher wouldn’t let Charlotte write about her treasure theories.”

“Treasure theories?”

“Hidden treasures, ancient texts, and stuff like that.”

“Cool.”

“I know. Too cool for the teacher, I guess.”

Both of you finished checking a whole bookcase before skipping over to the one further along the wall. Being thorough was an unspoken deal.

With Dick there, you could search twice as fast. Not that it was a race, however being as you both went left to right looking through two shelves—it mirrored a carnival game.

Your soulmate was solely focused on helping you find the right back. It was endearing.

Having gone through another week of unforeseen obstacles, you didn’t scold yourself from sneaking glances at him. You were curious of how he reacted to the world and its stories.

Dick Grayson was different than your other friends and those you spoke to at school. Super excitable and incredibly polite. He wasn’t one to gossip about other people to keep you in the know. There was a sincere gentleness instead of a bluntness with a hint of humor to soften the words.

Being around Dick, you were less inclined to feel out of place if you said something ‘weird’ or if you expressed how you had never done something. With him, you felt comfortable. As if the chance of looking or sounding odd was extremely low, so there was no need to second guess how you presented yourself.

Out of everyone in your life, your soulmate was the most unlikely person to ever make fun of you. No being the butt of a joke. No unnecessary comments because someone twisted your words. There was Dick’s unique personality and caring nature. And so much more.

I’m lucky we even met, you thought. He’s also The Boy Wonder in his spare time. Don’t know the odds of that.

Your fingers brushed passed the last book of that row.

“Still nothing. No Poe.”

“Ancient structures?” Dick read aloud before his gaze searched for you. There was a humorous lilt to his tone.

Shaking your head, you offered him a smile.

“What’s that doing here?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe next year I’ll write about those arches that stand against gravity with the power of math,” you mused and kneeled down to check more books.

“I don’t think that narrows it down. Which one?” He asked as he knelt down with you.

“The ones with all the same small rectangles except the top center piece. That one keeps it from moving or falling.”

“Oh. That would be much different than the one you’re writing now.”

“True, but my decision isn’t set in stone.”

Full grin appearing, Dick shook his head. It was hardly a disapproval.

“Did you set me up for that?” Inquired Dick.

“It was a last minute thought. If I preplanned it, you’d hopefully be laughing.”

“I would.”

“Alright.” You continued smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Why’s he so smiley today? We’ve barely done anything.

Remaining in the fiction section, there was almost an endless amount of stories to dive into. Adventures, mysteries, romances, thrillers, and poetry.

Only one was on your list.

We already passed Austen and Homer. Come on. Where is it? You thought.

That was when you saw it: Edgar Allan Poe.

Ah ha!

Dick’s attention was on your before you made a move for the book. No doubt sensing your thrill of finally finding what you were after.

“I was beginning to get worried,” you muttered.

Grabbing the book from the shelf, you flipped through to the table of contents and stood up.

“Oh, good. It has all of his works. I mean, obviously.”

You offered Dick to flip through it.

“The Complete Tales And Poems of Edgar Allan Poe,” he read. “Aren’t some of these stories sad?” He stood beside you.

“In a way, but mostly a darker tone than reading a theatrical tragedy. It’s the mood.”

He turned a few pages.

“Poe did have a lot of….sad times in his life.”

Closing the book and handing it back to you, Dick asked, “Why did you choose his works?”

“How about I give you a copy of my paper when I’m finished and you can get a different view?”

His blue eyes seemed to sparkle with his eagerness.

“Gee, really? I’d love to read it.”

Dick’s eagerness felt as if it collided and twisted with your own. Merging into a warmth that had you both smiling.

“Alright, but I have to write it first.” You said and walked around the bookcase.

Movement across the room made you freeze.

Someone was stuffing an old bust statue into their jacket. Two others nearby had shifting gazes.

Someone was up to no good in the library!

A criminal?

Retreating, you grabbed Dick’s arm and pulled him back behind the bookcase with you. You put a finger to your lips before pointing.

Dick peered between the shelf. As his eyes widened, so did his mouth. The first word forming.

No.

Acting swiftly, you covered his mouth before he could exclaim. You gave him a warning look.

He nodded as you lowered your hand.

“We need to warn someone,” you whispered.

Again, he nodded. Blue eyes watching the people’s every move. Taking in details.

Grabbing his hand, you gave a tug.

Come on. You can play crime-fighting later.

Thankfully, Dick took the hint.

With hands held tightly together and quiet steps, you both snuck your way to another area of the library. Watching your back, you both made sure you weren’t caught.

Surely two teenagers holding hands couldn’t be an alarming sight to the criminal lookouts. Nothing to raise suspicion.

Your actions did, however, catch the attention of a librarian. Dick was quick to lead you to their desk.

“Can I help you?” The librarian asked. Their expression softening when they saw the book in your hand.

“Yes, please.” You placed the book on the surface. “May I check out this book, please? And…uh…”

The librarian leaned closer, waiting.

“We saw someone stash one of the statues in their jacket.” Dick proclaimed with urgency. “There were three of them.”

“Oh my—three of them?” The librarian inquired.

“No.” Both Dick and yourself urged, hands gripping the edge of the desk.

“People. Long jackets on.” You clarified.

“They were stealing.” Dick insisted.

Alarm lit in the adult’s eyes.

“Oh dear.” Fumbling and stamping, the librarian handed you back the book before picking up a telephone. Their eyes were trained somewhere behind you.

Before you could turn around, Dick had taken your hand and was leading you through another doorway. The two of you kept a hurried pace. Finished with business at the library, it was time to scurry away from any possible danger.

What are the odds? You wondered. Is it more from living in Gotham or him being Robin? Our timing? Day of the week?

Stepping out doors shook you from your thoughts with the afternoon light. Still hand in hand, you and Dick went down the library’s steps with practiced ease.

“Everything’s a surprise today, I guess.” You muttered.

“Hopefully that was all.” Said Dick as he lead you down the sidewalk at a slower pace. “I can drive you home.”

“What?” You looked to him baffled.

“If you want, I can dri—?”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“(Y/N),” Dick said gently and turned to you, “I want to make sure you get home safe. Driving you home isn’t a problem or a bother. It never will be.”

You knew that. For some reason your first response was never an answer.

The grip you had on his hand tightened.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m always glad to be with you.”

His words struck a cord in your chest. An area left alone to its own devices, quietly always wishing for something. Deep in that space in your heart, his words stretched and made themselves at home. Settling in warmly. Coating the area with something akin to recognition and affection.

What were you to do with that? No one had ever told you words so earnestly. None having to do with being in your company.

Always glad to be with me.

Finding your soulmate’s red car parked, he opened the passenger side door and let you sit before he made his way to the driver’s side.

He drove all the way here just to help me find this book. He got us away. He…he’s always there for me.

A burning threat of tears stung your eyes and you repressed them. You didn’t want to worry Dick.

Everything’s fine. You mentally told yourself while incoherent and fumbled feelings tried supplying unwanted thoughts into your head. It was not the right time to decipher those fully. Thoughts of how perhaps you weren’t doing enough.

Clicks of the seatbelts caught your attention enough to quiet subconscious worries.

Enjoy your time with him. Darn the punishment a little longer. You exhaled slowly.

“Are you alright?” Dick asked, worry lining his eyebrows.

You peered over to him and decided to answer in full. “I’m better. Just…calming down.”

“You can listen to the radio if you’d like.” He turned the key in the ignition.

“Mmm. It’s been a few days.”

“Since what?”

“Since I’ve listened to the radio or a vinyl.” Seeing his confused gaze, you quickly added, “Because I feel like I shouldn’t because I’m grounded.”

Dick stared at you for a moment, car still parked. Not really speechless, no matter how silent he was then, but concerned. Blue eyes searching for an answer. No questions brought up.

Softly, you patted your thighs.

“Yup.” You muttered.

It’s just the radio. Should I just turn music on? You snuck a peek at the controls. Should I say something?

“Are you afraid you’ll be in more trouble or are you,” he swallowed and continued, “afraid something might happen at home?”

Heat filled your body uncomfortably. A fear you didn’t want to face head on.

“I’m just trying to make as little disturbance at home as possible. Blend in to the furniture, I guess.”

With a new frown, Dick sank further into his seat. “I’m sorry you have to do that. And I’m more sorry that I can’t do anything.” His voice dropped, “I wish I could.”

Your heart ached at his words.

How do I keep worrying him?

“You do more than enough. More than I could think of asking. I never know how to express how much that means to me.” You leaned closer, placing your hand on his arm. “But I’ll gladly think of a million ways on the ride home.”

A tiny smile curled his lips.

“I’ll be okay at home. I promise.”

Sighing with a short nod, Dick put the car in drive and safely pulled out onto the street.

A lift home from a caring soulmate. Gratitude passed around with smiles. The radio’s volume loud enough to combat the air rushing by.

How lucky could you two be?

About two blocks away from your destination, you felt your anxiety and worry growing.

“Dick.”

“(Y/N)?” He smiled. Mood lifted enough to not register yours as easily.

“Can you drop me off a block away? Please?”

Dark eyebrows shifting from surprise to concern, he asked, “A block? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to chance it. What if they’re home? What if a neighbor sees too and tells them?”

“Alright.”

There was no argument. No brushing off your list of concerns. It was refreshing and highly appreciated by yourself.

“Thank you.” You said as the car was stopped in a safe area.

I’m going to hug him like there’s no tomorrow.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you reached across the center console as Dick did. A hug was shared tightly. Your chin on his shoulder as he did the same to you in return.

There was much joy radiated between, regardless of how bittersweet the situation. All accompanied by a hope that neither of you would be separated without communication for too long.

I feel bad that he’s the friend I want to see the most. But, you thought and slowly pulled away, he’s my soulmate.

You had missed him so much already with his genuine smiles and you were both a little too close to another criminal encounter. Being lucky and grateful, you thought of something. You could express a little more gratitude for him going into the city to help you. Something sweet. An action he would be okay with.

“Also.” You gently held his jawline between your hands. “If I may?”

His eyes widened, but he nodded. Keeping his arms on the center console.

“Thank you,” you kissed his right cheek, “and thank you.” You pressed a kiss to his other cheek.

Dick’s lips pulled into a wide smile.

Sparks and rolls of warm emotions informed you just how much your gesture affected him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Now get yourself home, okay?”

“I will.” He reached up and gave your hands a squeeze. “I’ll wait here until I see you’re going inside.”

“I’ll be quick.”

After eventually letting each other go, you gathered your belongings and stepped out of the car.

“Tell everyone I said ‘hi’, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“See yah,” you waved.

“Hopefully soon.” Dick waved back, still smiling.

✧ ✧ ✧

A busy afternoon led the young ward to return to the stately Wayne Manor.

Much work was to be done. The essay!

Flutters and waves of conflicting emotion left Dick Grayson in an odd state of contentment. Between his soulmate’s punishment, spending time with you, the criminal in the library, and the two kisses he received — Dick was a little dizzy. Happily so given the latter.

“Dick,” Bruce set down a book, “are you all right? You look lost in thought.”

“I’m fine.” Dick did a quick check, looking for his aunt. Walking to stand close to Bruce, he informed him of what he witnessed at the library.

They were both hushed in their exchange.

Thankfully, the police could handle it. They were fully capable of handling the criminals.

The youth leaned on the furniture. A little forlorn that he wouldn’t be suiting up as Robin, however content to remain home. His thoughts were still on his soulmate after all.

Dick smiled to himself.

Images of you searching books, holding his hand, and being close all ran through his mind like a movie he wanted on repeat. He enjoyed every moment.

If only they weren’t in trouble with their guardian, Dick thought with a pout. It’s ridiculous. He crossed his arms.

Peering over at his ward, Bruce inquired, “Did you help (Y/N) find what they were looking for prior to…seeing the pieces of art?”

The mere sound of your name lit a happy hum in the youth’s mood.

Perhaps that was Bruce’s purpose for mentioning you. He did know his ward well enough.

“I did. They chose to write about Edgar Allan Poe’s writings for their paper.”

“Intriguing choice.”

“I know.” Dick chuckled and added, “They’re going to let me read it when they’re finished.”

“Then it looks like you’ll be adding an essay to your summer reading list.”

“Sure will.”

Dick was more curious to read your essay. To read your thoughts and see how your words flowed across a page.

What would he learn? How would he feel? Should he give you something in return?

“Before you an read (Y/N)’s essay, you better work on your own.” Bruce advised.

Blue eyes widened in realization.

“I almost forgot. Thanks, Bruce.” He said bashfully. “Oh! And (Y/N) says ‘hi’.”

The man smiled. “Hopefully we can all greet each other in person.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking.” Dick exclaimed as he strode out of the room.

“Be patient, Dick.”

Patience. What’s patience going to do if their guardian decides to pick and choose when (Y/N) has been ‘bad’? What do they even tell (Y/N)? Are they mean or worse? Is it calm? And they were talking about parties instead of asking if I wanted to talk to (Y/N) or give me a chance to ask!

Trudging up the stairs didn’t last long as Dick made his way back to his room. A paper needed completing.

It was clear that Dick wasn’t happy with how your guardian had decided to handle things, but that was something he could not get involved in. No matter how desperately he wanted to. He wanted to ask why. He wanted to defend you. To find reason to it all. But he had to hold that in. If anything, it would add some fuel to any future punches as Robin. Relieve frustration.

Not the most healthy choice, but the thought might be present then. That and how you knew he was Robin. A completely different thought he was not ready to add to any time soon.

He’d save you from a day of stress and panic if he could. The last thing he wanted was to be the cause of it, again. That, he could control if it was only his words.

You two were separated and it felt different, tainted.

Dick just had to wait. Trusting you could take care of yourself. You had done so this long. The least he could do was be patient.

He saw on his bed with a soft sigh.

(Y/N) want to blend in to the furniture at home. What…what would (Y/N)’s guardian say if (Y/N) acted more…? He frowned. What have they told (Y/N) in the past?

The thoughts and images they produced made him feel uncomfortable. He was still unsure how to process your words from earlier. It only made him realize how little he knew of your home life.

But they promised they would be okay at home.

Sat with wondering thoughts, Dick Grayson knew he would pay even more attention to his soulmate’s guardian. Perhaps answers to his growing questions could be found without asking.

Who said he had to be dressed as Robin to find answers?

✧ ✧ ✧

Home. A place of rest, shelter, and essentials.

In Gotham City, a Friday evening could hold promises of fun and entertainment. The end of the work week.

Or the continuation of schoolwork for some.

Sitting on your bed beside your beloved Sir Hopps, you wrote something down onto the extra papers. Schoolwork off to the side. Writing your thoughts and more seemed to help. All of them kept in their own small keepsake box. Dated and filled with your inner most thoughts, feelings, and dreams. To get them out of yourself. All were addressed to your soulmate, however none were to leave the box. Not any time soon. You had wondered if you should stick them in a journal, easier to read through.

It helped when you only had your plush bunny to confide in. He was easier to talk to than most. Never told a secret in his blue fluffy life.

Sir Hopps and yourself were the only ones in the household who knew your trip to the library included more than finding a book.

Not that my guardian really cared. You thought. I don’t think they know who Poe is. Maybe I’m wrong. Who knows?

No more trouble befell you at home. No added punishment.

You were left to your own activities.

That was good news as much as having the outline for your essay almost finished. Marking down where the sources from the book were to be placed practically made it a guide—easier. Added that you wrote snippets around them.

Holed up in your bedroom made writing and taking breaks feel more natural. You didn’t have to physically pretend it was difficult or that your hand cramped to justify your actions. There was no one to judge with eyes or words.

Sir Hopps certainly wasn’t going to voice criticism.

You were certainly calm in your room. So much so that you could sense Dick’s contentment.

He could be doing anything right now. Well…not anything. Writing or reading maybe.

Placing another note into the keepsake box, you closed it and hid it underneath your bed.

“I can’t wait until summer,” you murmured to Sir Hopps.

I shouldn’t be grounded for too much longer. Another week maybe. I’m still doing well in school. I haven’t even looked at ingredients for cookies.

You flicked at a piece of paper.

Maybe it’s a good thing Dick doesn’t visit here. You thought bitterly. My guardian isn’t always as fun s they sound. And Dick is…fun. He’s a close friend, trustworthy, caring—so caring—and so many other things. My soulmate. A warmth tickled your chest at the word. You smiled. He’s brave too. Generous. Intelligent.

What fun you two could have if given the chance?

You returned to lounging on your bed.

Tired from a day of school and more, you groaned at the sound of the phone ringing in another room.

No. You dropped your head onto the mattress. Are they playing phone tag or something?

It only rang once more.

A relief to you as well as an itching suspicion.

Hopefully it’s nothing.

In a matter of minutes, there was a knock on your door before it opened. Your guardian stepped in.

Sitting up, your heart leaped, all your senses on alert.

“That was Lauren. She invited us to see a movie.”

Charlotte’s mom. She’d been talking about convincing her mom to go.

Your guardian looked at you expectantly.

“Anyone home?” They asked.

“I’m allowed to go?” You questioned hesitantly.

“Yes, why?”

“I am grounded.”

There was a pause in their movements. A crease between their brows.

Are they serious?

They shrugged and replied, “And now it’s done with.” Heading out of your room, they left the door wide open. “Get ready for the movie, if you’re going.”

“I’m going.” You responded and rushed to your closet.

A punishment over?

An outing with others to watch a movie?

A wonder how fast your night could change by one person’s decision.

. . .

Movie theater seating to a soiree. A group of friends sat waiting for the show to begin. It was debatable who talked more: the teenagers or the adults.

You sat between your friends. Your guardian, Charlotte’s mom, and Nathaniel were on your left. On your right sat Charlotte, Lucy, and Lucy’s younger brother Roger.

All of which chatted amongst themselves. Each keen in their own right about the weekend ahead.

I guess I can be excited too, you thought. I’m not in trouble any more. Officially. I can have dessert again, watch the television on Sunday night, maybe bake something, and I can call Dick. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. Maybe more than me. Probably.

“You’re free now.” Charlotte rejoiced and squeezed your arm for a moment.

Reflectively, you stilled, however said, “Let’s not jinx it.”

“I won’t jinx anything.”

“Right. And who can’t write about their theories on hidden treasures?” Nathaniel leaned forward to question.

“Coincidence.”

“You shouldn’t have started writing it before it was approved,” you said. “But you could turn it into a book one day. Don’t waste it.”

“It would make a good story.” Lucy added.

“No. It was suppose to be my essay.” Charlotte whined and sat back in the seat.

“It’s okay.”

Charlotte sighed dramatically and turned to you.

You rose an eyebrow.

“How come you’re not writing yours about soulmates? I’m sure it would’ve been approved.”

“What? No.” Your quick response caught your friends’ attention.

“Why not? It could be a journey of how you and Grayson met and how your relationship blossomed. How the city found out. The drama. The secret dates—.”

“Dates? We’re not dating.”

“Really?”

“Well, do you consider doing homework and practicing different languages a date?” You laughed.

Beside you, Nathaniel chuckled.

“It would depend on what you’re whispering in the other languages.” Charlotte teased, snickering.

The others joined in. Perhaps not fully able to imagine you doing so.

“Hey, now.” You defended yourself. “It’s strictly what’s in the books…and Mister Wayne would know what we’re saying. But we’d probably say something silly.” A small laugh escaped you.

The thought of saying something in another language to Dick in the manor and it being purposely funny made you smile. But to say something flirtatious? What Charlotte was hinting at? That thought sent more uneasiness than butterflies in your stomach.

I couldn’t do that, you thought. That wouldn’t be right when Mister Wayne is usually right there. Or Mrs. Cooper! No, no, no. Absolutely not. Woo. And I’m pretty sure Dick would flush for a week straight. You slouched in the seat. Heck! I’d hide for a week straight! That wouldn’t be appropriate. We’re not like that.

Charlotte leaned over and added, “I did say ‘whisper’, you know.”

“Do you like like him?” Lucy asked.

Your hands wrung themselves into your sweater.

“He’s great. I just… We’re still getting to know one another. We’re friends.”

“It’s been more than two months. How much time do you need?” Charlotte inquired seriously.

“We’re not rushing anything,” you informed them. Heat rose to your neck uncomfortably. “We’re not expiring fruit. We don’t need to date or anything.”

“(Y/N) likes him.” Nathaniel declared.

Hushed laughter surrounded you and you sunk further into the seat.

Of course I like him. Just…not how they’re seeing it, you thought. He’s my best friend. He’s really great and sweet. I don’t… I’m still getting used to having someone like him in my life. Knowing he’s my soulmate is still something I have to tell myself is real.

You inwardly sighed in relief as the room’s lights dimmed low.

Just enjoy the movie. Listen to Nathaniel’s critique and we should all head home. Nothing has changed with Dick. Everything’s fine. You thought as you calmed yourself. He’s probably writing his essay though.

The film reel started and all talk in the theater dissipated. Audience members were treated to entertainment of screen and sound.

You were granted over an hour of doing absolutely nothing. A well needed break where all attention was focused elsewhere.

What a delight. A relief!

Hopefully the start of a much calmer week to come.

✧ ✧ ✧

A beautiful Sunday afternoon. Inside the Wayne Manor, young Dick Grayson was surrounded by notes and paper.

Having written in his room the days prior, he had decided to work on his end of term paper in the sitting room.

Open space, a couch, and a well appreciated plate of cookies. All the comforts a youth needed.

Once I finish this paper, it’s a huge step to spending summer break with (Y/N), thought Dick as he chewed a cookie. We could do so much. Swimming at the beach, visiting a museum, or going somewhere to eat or playing games.

Before he knew it, another school year would be over.

If he was this busy, he could rightly guess you were as well.

What else do they do whey they’re not busy? Do they read during the summer? He wondered. Maybe I can ask them to go somewhere over the summer. Just the two of us again. They seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. I hope. That milkshake was really good.

Reaching for his glass of milk, he took a long sip.

It was a rather easy day. Easy weekend overall. No unexpected visitors. No cases to solve. No charities to attend.

Dick set the glass of milk down as the phone rang on a side table.

Nearby, Alfred walked over to answer the phone. His voice hushed.

In his chest, Dick felt a tingling of excitement. Muffled and not his own, which only made him hope you had done something for yourself. For once.

Alfred directed his attention to the wide-eyed and hopeful youth.

“I’ll let him know.” The butler smiled. “It’s good to hear from you as well, (mx) (Y/N).”

Dick leapt to his feet before the older man could set the phone on the table’s surface or even say any more.

Chuckling, Alfred handed Dick the phone and walked away.

“Hello?” Dick asked, barely holding in his enthusiasm.

“Hey, Dick.” Your voice had a chipper tone. “How are you?”

How was he?

“I’m great. How are you? Are you home?” He rushed out his words.

The sound of your light laughter entered his ear and sent a grin to his face.

“I’m pretty good. Sitting in the study and eating some cookies.”

“Me too. The cookies, I mean.”

“Oh and,” you drew out the word. “I am officially no longer in trouble.”

“Holy relief!”

“Yeah. It was ridiculous, but it is what it is.” Your voice then raised suddenly for a second as you added, “And apparently it wasn’t all that important enough for my guardian to remember when getting an invitation.”

Dick shifted his weight on his feet.

“What do you mean? They forgot?”

“I think so… Doubt it. At least when they were on the phone Friday, they forgot. Charlotte’s mom called asking if we’d like to go see a movie. They basically brushed the whole punishment off when I reminded them.”

“That’s—.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Yes.” He gestured with his free hand sharply.

Good, he thought, they know, but I can’t believe it ended like that. Wait.

“Is your guardian there?” He asked.

“They’re still rummaging through their closet.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “You’re alright?”

“Yes. I told you that I would.”

“I know. I…” He frowned.

What did he think? What had he been feeling about the situation? Was it appropriate to tell you?

Breathing in, Dick decided it was not the time. Bruce had already told him Thursday that he couldn’t be involved in others’ household matter. I wasn’t his place. H was a teenager. Yet he was also your soulmate and friend.

“Dick?”

“I needed to know if you were all right.”

His voice was small. He feared you could sense the breaking in his heart at the very thought of you being fearful of attracting more punishment at home and of his fear of what the punishments could turn into.

Holding the phone with both hands, it was a struggle to hold back a wave of words.

Change the subject.

He swallowed as he sensed your warm emotions spreading up his throat from his chest. They were good feelings, but he could not name them then. Muffled, but there.

“We need a day without school related anything and do something together.” You said, interrupting the quiet. “Something fun. Simple maybe.”

“You could come over here.”

He was relieved by the sound of your suggestion.

“We can do whatever you want.”

At his words, Dick could almost feel Bruce’s gaze on the side of his head.

A short laugh greeted his ear from the phone. It eased a smile onto his lips.

“Sure.” You said. “I’ll think of something after I revise my paper. Can’t distract myself too much. The last week of school shouldn’t be too bad and I’m ready for it to be over.”

“If neither of us are busy the last week of school, we might be able to see each other.”

Dick, honestly, could hardly wait much longer to see you again. No school, no secrecy, and no necessary work. He’d take hours of a party or charity dinner if it meant spending real time with you.

You hummed, “That could work. I’ll be sure to ask my guardian ahead of time. Better yet, mention it and get them onboard with the idea before asking. They’re always weird about me��not going out.”

He shook his head.

The guardian is like a multi-dimensional puzzle. Not the fun kind by the sounds of it. Only some times, hopefully.

“We’ll make a plan, then?” You inquired cheerfully.

“We will.”

“Cool. Okay, um. I have to get back to my paper and cookies.”

Dick snickered. He couldn’t help it. You helped bring it out of him.

“And so do you.” You added with an air of humor. “Then the next time we see each other I can catch you up on the spider drama at school and what happened to my friend Lucy after we saw a movie.”

“It’s a drama now?”

What could’ve happened? It was a spider!

“Yup. But you have to wait for the details.”

“Can the days go by any faster?”

“Cross your fingers and tell everyone I said ‘hi’.”

“I will. Talk to you soon.” He was practically bouncing on his feet.

“I’m just a phone call away.”

“Bye.” He held the phone a little longer.

“Bye, Dick.”

The call ended and the young ward felt like he swam through a river of different emotions. Overwhelming joy from hearing your voice, relief from knowing you were no longer under restrictions from punishment, frustration from hearing anything about your guardian in the past two weeks, worry form knowing you feared getting in more trouble from mundane actions, and building excitement knowing he could see you again soon.

It was a bit much, however conversations had the opportunity to be pushed anywhere. If it was with you, he’d gladly go.

Having already hung up the phone and sat back down, Dick Grayson faced the questioning gaze of Bruce Wayne.

“Everything is well with (Y/N), I hope?” Bruce’s question was punctuated with a tiny smile.

“Yes and they say ‘hi’ again.”

“Goodness me,” Aunt Harriet walked into the room, having overheard them. “It’s been far too long since they’ve came around here. Poor dear has been cooped up at home.”

“Yeah,” Dick sighed. “Just them and Sir Hopps.”

His aunt’s eyebrows pinched together. “Who’s Sir Hopps?”

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

~~~

Part 5 -> "A Walk Amongst Emotions"

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Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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