#so it would be foolish to think her passing wouldn’t affect me

[meeda]

is it morbid of me to start making a playlist in advance full of songs about grief and mourning, to prepare myself for the inevitable moment someone in my life passes away

ive been very fortunate so far to not have experienced major loss of someone close to me but the older i get the more im learning to come to terms that it might happen to me sooner than I think

[sicutpuella]

Misery Loves Company. (18+)

Simon Riley, the Lieutenant... is a lonely man, his existence shrouded in a cloak of solitude as harsh as a brutal winter. The closest definition he has to a friend, has succumbed to death after a mission gone horribly wrong.

There are no living family members to confide in or visit during his deployment breaks—no home to return to. It is pathetic, truly; a lieutenant of the special forces, his wallet brimming with wealth, his bank accounts similarly bloated. Yet, he finds no comfort in material possessions. He has never been a large spender. He prefers the minimalistic; purchasing only what he needs.

“You should try it. You won’t regret it, sir,” says a cheeky, younger sergeant, smiling as he passes by Simon; his hands nonchalantly tucked in his pockets. Simon is already familiar with the suggestion.

Perhaps it would help; perhaps it wouldn’t. But it feels—pathetic—to hire a woman solely for emotional company.

He's done it now. For weeks. With the same woman.

She’s kind enough. Kind enough to take care of a pathetic, desperate, lonely man like him.

He pays her well, of course. It’s not as if he’s a man without resources. The lieutenant’s wallet bulges with a hefty stack of pounds, after all. He wouldn’t have hired her otherwise. He’s not a man of charity. There are no women like her waiting in his apartment on the other side of the base. Instead, there is a cold, empty dwelling; the furniture a few pieces of bare essentials, sparsely scattered about. He’s not a man who enjoys frivolous decorations. He pays her to act like a girlfriend, to pretend she cares for him.

“Have a decent day today!” she texts him every day, without fail.

And he knows the kindness is fake. They are words; nothing more. There is no feeling behind them, no meaning. He is not so naïve to think otherwise. She only cares because he is paying her; because he is the customer. That is all. There is nothing else to it.

“I’m off to class today. Hope you have had your breakfast already! 🤍🤍🤍!" She signs off with that. Always with a heart that follows her every message. A silly little emoji to convey affection. It is a gesture that only serves to further grate his nerves.

The lieutenant lets the phone buzz for a few more seconds, the constant ringing loud in the solitude that is his office. He pays no mind.

With a resigned sigh, he finally picks up the phone, his eyes quickly skimming through the text on the screen. He does reply this time. A simple “okay” is all he types. He doesn’t want to get attached.

That’s always his fucking fault. He’s too… paranoid. Distrustful.

He has never been close to anyone in his life. He cannot remember the last time he called anyone a true friend, save for Johnny, or the last time he allowed himself to be open to a relationship. No girlfriend. Not now, or ever before. A man like him can never afford to have something holding him down, not when what he does is too dangerous.

It is why he has been in this miserable arrangement. He cannot afford the emotions that come with a real relationship. What he has now is fine. What he does now is a simple transaction—nothing more and nothing less. But.

He needs something more. He hopes she could be… well… understanding enough.

He knows she doesn’t do sex for pay. But he hopes a few thousand pounds could sway her.

It's been a long time.

It is a desperate attempt. His body has its needs; his hormones raging from all the pent-up sexual aggression. He has been on back-to-back missions since the beginning of the year, with no downtime to relieve himself.

A few thousand pounds is nothing to him. He can afford it. He has the money to spend.

“I have an offer," he pauses, "I'll give you double your usual rate if you let me fuck you," he types, his fingers gliding across the keyboard with a cold precision.

A momentary pause lingers, and a flicker of hesitation crosses his mind. He feels a twinge of foolishness, but it quickly dissipates. Guilt is a foreign concept to him.

She hesitates, unsure of how to respond. The coldness of the situation sends a chill down her spine.

"Uh... what exact number?" she manages to type, her uncertainty palpable.

"5000 pounds," he confidently replies, his fingers dancing across the keys without a hint of hesitation. It means nothing. 5000 pounds. He can’t remember the last he spent on anything that expensive. It is pathetic; to be reduced to such a lowly beast by needs of the flesh; when he can simply relieve himself in the showers like he usually does.

The lieutenant bites his bottom lip. It is an insane gesture. He is crazy to even be willing to spend that much on such a thing..

"I'm not experienced. I'm not a skilled... professional in that regard," she confesses, her texts laced with vulnerability.

“What do you know, then?”

How many men has she been with in the past? His jaw tenses as he waits for her reply. The lieutenant does not know why he feels this sudden bout of jealousy; this sudden sense of possessiveness.

“The basics…”

“What’s the most you’ve done?” The lieutenant is tempted to add that he’s not a gentle man in the bedroom; that he wouldn’t be able to hold back on her if they were to get intimate. But. She would probably think he's insane.

“The usual. Vaginal. Hand and mouth stuff. But… I did it last 2 years ago.”

He is relieved to hear she has not had sex in a long while. His fists are clenched on the table. He hopes it wasn’t with anyone she was in a relationship with. And he’d prefer it if her past partners were nobodies; random men she’d met during a quick night out.

But that’s not the lieutenant’s business, anyway. They are not dating.

“I am… not a gentle man, darling.” He presses send; his fingers hesitating as he waits for her reply. He can feel the muscles on his shoulders tensing.

“It’s fine with me…” She was shitting bricks at the moment.

“Come to the hotel after your class.” He adds.

Now, she finds herself in the dimly lit confines of the hotel bedroom, the air heavy. Tension hangs in the atmosphere, as if the very room itself holds its breath. Her naked form lies before him, vulnerable and exposed.

It's a cheap hotel room, the one they frequent. The kind soldiers use on their leave-out days when they get too frisky with their hired company. The bed is old and creaks with every slight movement, its springs and mattress squeaky and worn. The carpet, once plush, is now threadbare and stained, bearing the marks of countless forgotten nights.

It is an insane gesture. The lieutenant can’t remember the last time he had someone like this in his bed. The last time he got out of a long dry spell. What he has with her is a contract; a business transaction. This is not love. There is no love between them. The lieutenant does not know why he even feels a little guilty. But. He quickly pushes the thoughts away. No need for them.

She nervously toys with her lower lip, her gaze locked on him as he slowly undresses.

He is large. His shoulders are broad and thick. His hands, capable of ripping a man’s head off bare handed. He’s not the gentle type. Or the tender type. He’s far from that.

He is all muscle. And it is obvious he works out. His body is all solid muscle; his body littered with old scars and new bruises from past missions.

“Can… can you be careful at first?”

He nods. “I’ll be careful,” he says. He doesn’t know why he’s going so gentle with her. He doesn’t know why he’s even indulging her now, considering how much he’s paid her to have her tonight. But he cannot stop.

It’s awkward. He is a stranger to her. They are not close like a boyfriend and girlfriend. He doesn't know her—or how much she has let other men do to her.

But it feels like she’s known him for a long time. Maybe it’s the way this connection between them is mutual; how they are both desperate for each other in this twisted little way.

Maybe it’s the thrill of it. The cheapness of it… the fact that they’re strangers doing this to each other. The way the bed creaks under their weight.

She feels his length between her legs, a moment of anticipation that hangs heavy in the air. With closed eyes, she surrenders herself to the sensations, her breath hitching in response. He isn't known for his gentle touch, not even with women. The coldness of his demeanor is unwavering, yet there's a nagging feeling deep within him that defies reason.

She is a stranger, an enigma to him. To treat her as if she were the love of his life would be absurd, and yet, a strange sense of protectiveness tugs at his heart. It compels him to take care of her, to protect her in this moment of vulnerability. Her hands grip the bedsheets tightly, her head tilting back, exposing her delicate neck.

"Relax," he whispers quietly, his voice barely audible. His eyes remain fixed on her, absorbing every detail, every reaction. She appears so small beneath him, a precious creature in his eyes. Her beauty captivates him, fueling his desire to possess her.

"Yeah… I will," she responds, her voice laced with a mix of anticipation and a hint of discomfort. Her body tenses as he slowly enters her, stretching her to accommodate his eager cock. A whispered praise escapes his lips, his grip on her wrists firm as he locks them together, pinning them above her head. His fingers coil around her slender wrists, exerting his dominance. His free hand reaches up, gently brushing strands of hair behind her ear, a tender gesture in contrast to the intensity of their exchange.

Soft cries escape her lips, a symphony of pleasure and surrender. He revels in the tightness that surrounds him, relishing in the sensation of her warmth engulfing him. His lips graze the sensitive skin of her ear, his voice a low rasp against her flesh. "You're so tight around me, darling," he murmurs, his breath tickling her. He buries his face in the curve of her neck, his teeth applying a gentle pressure, marking her as his own.

She sinks her teeth into her lip, the force causing it to split, mingling the taste of metallic blood with the thick, heady air. Every twitch, every subtle movement of her body, sparks a surge of tension coursing through his veins.

"Fuck... you feel so damn incredible, darling," he grunts, his voice dripping with a frigid intensity.

He tucks her legs up to her chest, exposing her throbbing cunt to his hungry gaze. With a primal instinct, he plunges his thick cock deeper inside her, feeling a hitch in his breath as the sensation overwhelms him. It's been far too long since he's felt this level of pleasure, and it ignites a fire within him.

"Sweet lord..." he whispers, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and dark desire. He releases her wrists, wrapping his arms around her petite form, pulling her closer against him.

She curls her fists, her knuckles turning white as she punches the mattress in response to the powerful intrusion. Her body trembles under the force of his relentless thrusts, each one pushing her closer to the edge of ecstasy. The vulgar bulge on her small tummy, sends a shiver of arousal down his spine.

And he should feel shame. He should feel disgusted at the obscene, vulgar display they both have going on right now, the way they’ve lost total control over their senses and instincts, their bodies lost in pleasure and passion.

But he does not feel shame. After making them both come undone, they lay spent on the creaky mattress. The lieutenant stares up at the ceiling, a strange sense of clarity washing over him. He glances at her. She is curled up to his side, her breath still rapid and erratic. She turns her back to him.

She feels dirty. Disgusting. He doesn't know why he feels a sting as he watches her turn away. The lieutenant watches her silently, feeling a protective instinct resurface. The overwhelming desire to reach out and wrap his arms around her, to pull her closer.

She lays there in shock.

She told herself this would never, ever happen. He doesn’t know why he feels such a strong desire to tell her it’s okay, that it’s going to be alright. He tells himself he does not know her, does not feel anything for her. But deep down, he knows it is a lie. He does know her, and he does feel something for her. And for the first time, his instinct and emotions overpower logic and common sense. The lieutenant takes her into his arms.

He hears her deep breathing. "I’m here, darling. I’m here," he whispers as he holds her close, feeling her heart racing against his chest. "I’m here, darling. I’m here," he whispers again, sensing her struggle to hold back tears. "Shh… it’s okay." He runs his fingers through her hair soothingly, holding her tighter. "You’re safe with me, darling. I’ve got you."

[spearsillustration]

Your ult Richtofen head cannons are so good!!!

On the same topic as the last anon, would you make a head canon for a younger woman dating him around valentines like what gifts he may give or how he treats it all. To me he is a workaholic who will stay at work for most of the day but will return to her later and will not make it a waste of time

OMG yay, okay this will be late for Valentine's Day...It is currently 11:58pm now that I'm starting this. I wanted to write something cute for Valentine's Day but I had work. 🥲 Okay I got distracted and didn't finish this till 2:47am. But I hope you can still enjoy. <3

Valentine’s Day would not be something he takes the time to remember. The date would come and go like any other, lost in the blur of more pressing matters. There would be no red hearts drawn in the margins of his notes, no hastily scribbled reminders tucked away in a corner of his mind. It would not be circled on any calendar—if he even bothered to keep one.

To put it briefly, I don’t think he would celebrate most holidays. The significance of such things would feel trivial to him, overshadowed by greater pursuits, and grander ambitions. He was not the type to stop and admire the world’s sentimental traditions, nor would he be the kind to indulge in fleeting, superficial gestures of affection. To him, holidays were simply another day, another rotation of the Earth, nothing more.

Even if someone were to bring it up, to mention it offhandedly in passing, he might scoff, brushing it off with a wave of his hand and a dismissive remark. "Ah, another foolish excuse for people to waste time and money, ja?" he’d say, rolling his eyes as if the entire concept was beneath him. The idea of setting aside a specific day just to express love and devotion would likely amuse him, if not outright annoy him. After all, in his mind, emotions—especially love—were often just distractions.

But perhaps, just perhaps, if someone close to him were to acknowledge the day in an unexpected way, he might pause for a fraction of a second. Maybe he would raise an eyebrow at a small, unexpected gesture. A gift, a card, a simple acknowledgment. He wouldn’t know how to react at first, maybe even scoff at the sentimentality of it all. And yet, he wouldn’t entirely dismiss it either.

Because despite his protests, despite his cold indifference toward the idea of holidays, there was always the possibility that, deep down, in the quiet moments where no one was watching, he might remember. Not because the date itself mattered, but because the person who acknowledged it did.

He might not even realize his oversight until the day was already over, only noticing when someone offhandedly mentioned it or when the world around him had already begun to move on. Ah, was that today? He’d mutter to himself, rubbing his temples in frustration, annoyed at both the oversight and at the fact that he even cared in the first place.

If confronted about it, he’d likely wave it off with some dismissive excuse—“Bah! Foolish traditions, so unnecessary!”—but there would be something else lurking beneath his words. A flicker of something unspoken, perhaps even a touch of guilt, though he’d never admit it outright.

And if—by some miracle—he actually did remember before it was too late, it would likely be in a rushed, last-minute panic, trying to salvage what little time remained. Maybe he’d hastily scribble something down, present a gift that was more practical than romantic, or awkwardly fumble through an attempt at a gesture that didn’t quite come out as intended.

Because while he might not prioritize such things, while he may not intentionally forget, deep down, some part of him would recognize that it mattered—to someone—and that realization alone might be enough to make him almost regret forgetting in the first place.

If he did get you a gift, it wouldn’t be anything extravagant. There would be no grand gestures, no elaborately wrapped boxes adorned with ribbons, no cliché flowers or chocolates. It would be something small—at least, small in the eyes of anyone else. But to you, it would mean everything.

Because whatever he chose, it wouldn’t be random. It wouldn’t be something picked up in passing or something that could be given to just anyone. No, he would put thought into it, whether he admitted it or not. He would get something that only you would appreciate, something tailored so specifically to you that it would be undeniable proof that—despite his aloofness, despite his dismissive attitude toward sentimentality—he noticed things. He noticed you.

Perhaps it would be an old, obscure book he had come across, one he knew you had been searching for but never managed to find. Perhaps it would be something he crafted himself—something small, precise, and uniquely designed just for you. Maybe it would be a trinket tied to an inside joke, something that would make only you smile, something meaningless to the rest of the world but priceless between the two of you.

And, of course, he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. He wouldn’t present it with flowery words or grand declarations. More likely, he’d hand it to you casually, almost offhandedly, as if it were an afterthought.

“Here. Take it. Before I change my mind.”If you expressed any kind of surprise or gratitude, he’d probably wave you off, pretending it wasn’t important, that it was just something he happened to come across.“Don’t make such a fuss. It is nothing.”

But you’d see it—the way he avoided eye contact for just a second too long, the way his fingers lingered when he handed it over, the way his usual smirk softened, just a fraction.

Because while others might not understand the significance of his gift, you would. And that was all that really mattered.

[princelylove]

Synopsis: In which Enrico Pucci has some thoughts on his situation.

Warnings: Directly quoting the bible, general yandere content, spoilers for part three + six

Enrico tapped his finger on his own arm, unsure of what to do.

Ever since he met you, he’s been distracted.

Two.

He thought of what was written for him- what could only be written with the intent for him to see- and only grew more frustrated with himself. What was he doing here? What was his plan? What was his goal?

“He must be someone who can control his desires. Someone without a lust for power, honor, wealth, or sexual gratification. He must be someone who puts the laws of God before the laws of humans. Will I, DIO, meet someone like this one day?”

‘What a disgusting display,’ he thought to himself. Everything he was doing in this moment, every single one of his feelings, was a plague. It was a disease upon his very nature, the man he must be, yet he persisted. His mind turned traitor. 

Three.

Enrico often wondered what you were doing instead of handling the task at hand. He never understood Perla in his youth, despite supporting and loving most of her decisions. He had never been in love before. It seemed… silly. Frivolous. Like it was just something to pass the time, or something to keep humans from going extinct.

He would just say his feelings are fond. Affection is different from love. So is adoration, so is admiration. Enrico doesn’t know how to place his feelings for you. 

Perhaps it was best to leave them unspoken.

Five.

He made a promise, once. A vow. His feelings on the matter are insignificant. He was to continue DIO’s plan- at all costs. He wasn’t feeling love, he was feeling lust- and he is no sinner. 

Oh, if only he were that type of man. That isn’t the truth. Truthfully, he’s fine with sinning. Using the argument of sin against his wants was futile. It’s all just a means to an end. He would sin if he truly needed to- he has and Enrico will, again. His morals aren’t a part of this equation and, to be honest, they never will be.

He would have to find something else to discourage his thoughts of you.

Seven.

He thought of Psalm 23. 

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

DIO was all he needed. It’s asinine to think otherwise. 

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps this is what DIO wanted- to test him.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

DIO has never led him astray. DIO has never failed him. Even in death. 

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”

Or perhaps this is exactly what his lord wanted for him. Something for good behavior- a reward for his loyalty. For his continuous struggle. 

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” 

Yes- that’s exactly it. Of course it is. This is the little bit of indulgence Enrico will ever get in his entire life. It’s just puppy love. It’ll go away. Surely he just needs to embrace it, and it’ll leave him. His obsession-, no, his infatuation would eventually pass, as all infatuations do. He’s merely fixated on your beauty like any other would be. You’re like something in the Louvre- something to be admired from afar and never to really touch. 

Eleven.

Love is not an option for Enrico Pucci. He only has one calling, and he loves Him like he loves God.

He will not have another- he cannot have another, regardless of the type of love, and the intensity. He has no family, as far as he’s concerned. He’s too old to have a crush.

He’s a failure to his Lord if he cannot meet the prerequisites set by Him. It was right there DIO’s diary- DIO needed someone who wouldn’t succumb to foolish urges such as love. 

With DIO’s death, it’s too late for Him to bet on another player. Enrico must do what he has to do. In Heaven, he’ll find love. He’ll find you again in eternal paradise. 

But admiration is not a hindrance. Appreciation isn’t going to get in his way. 

Thirteen.

“Do you believe that I am able to do this?” He mutters, to no one in particular. The person it’s intended for has long since passed, but it’s almost as if the universe laughs in His place.

The thought does not comfort Enrico in the slightest.

Seventeen.

The sound of a disc being ejected from a cd player is the only sound you can make sense of. Your head feels as if it’s splitting in two, and your vision is getting blurry. 

Enrico shushes you, both of his hands firm on your shoulders, slowly trailing down to your upper arms.

“Be not afraid.”

The whirr of the disc being ejected plays again, and you feel yourself losing consciousness. 

“The thought to harm you hasn’t even crossed my mind.”

Nineteen.

[chaiandtakkar]

Whispers beneath the stars

Chapter 27

Early June 1999, Bangalore

The cybercafé was quieter than usual, the rain outside murmuring against the windows in a soothing rhythm. Khushi sat at her usual booth, a corner seat where she could see the doorway and the row of computers reflecting the monsoon light. Her eyes flickered between the screen and the entrance, an endless cycle of waiting. She drummed her fingers on the table, her foot tapping restlessly beneath the booth. Four days without the familiar warmth of his words, and the anticipation was slowly gnawing away at her calm.

She’d been foolish to think that a few days without him wouldn’t affect her, but now, every minute felt stretched, taut like a string about to snap. She’d paced from the door to the counter, thumb pressed into her palm in worry, only to return to the same booth. Four days—four visits to the café, four silent prayers that today would be the day. Each time she’d entered, a familiar heat rushed to her cheeks, and she held her breath as she watched the screen, hoping.

The first day, she’d come with the confidence that he’d be there, and when he wasn’t, she’d laughed to herself, brushing it off. But the second day was harder. She’d come to sit at her booth as usual, fidgeting with her pen and doodling on a napkin, her gaze darting to the clock on the wall. Hours passed, and when she left, her heart was weighed down with a quiet ache.

By the third day, she’d barely slept. She hadn’t realized how much her world revolved around those stolen moments with him until he wasn’t there. The silence on the screen mirrored the emptiness that she refused to admit was creeping in. She sat at her booth longer than she should have, watching the rain drip down the windows and thinking of the power cuts, the news she’d heard about disruptions in Punjab. She tried to push away the worry, to remind herself that he’d always returned to her, that he would be here soon.

But today was different. Today, something in her heart told her that this was the day, and so she sat there, hands folded in her lap, waiting, her mind running through every memory they’d shared. The monsoon light was soft, bathing the café in a dreamy glow, and the air smelled of damp earth, like a promise of renewal. She looked out the window, seeing her own reflection, her eyes wide with longing. She bit her lip, a habit she’d long thought she’d outgrown, and glanced at the computer screen. Nothing.

A small flicker of doubt crept into her mind. What if…?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting herself drift into the memories of their last conversation.

“If I disappear one day, really disappear, will you look for me?” he had asked.

And she had promised, laughing, that she would look for him everywhere.

The hours ticked by, and her patience was wearing thin. She drummed her fingers on the desk, watching the cursor blink on the empty chat screen, counting each blink like seconds passing. The café owner gave her a friendly nod, used to her by now, as if he understood her waiting in a way she couldn’t explain.

Just as she was about to gather her things and leave, the screen lit up with a soft ping, and there it was—Skybound. She blinked, hardly daring to believe it, her heart hammering in her chest as her fingers flew over the keyboard in an anxious rush.

Oceanbreeze: You’re here! Do you know how long I’ve waited?

There was a pause, and the tension in her chest tightened, but soon enough, his response appeared.

Skybound: Four days, huh? Feels like you might have missed me.

Her heart melted at his teasing, and a laugh escaped her, light and relieved. She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand, feeling as though he were right there beside her, their voices filling the quiet café.

Oceanbreeze: Missed you? I nearly declared a state of emergency! I thought you were… I don’t know, just… gone.

Another pause. She imagined him smiling, maybe leaning back in his chair, a grin that matched the warmth of his words when they appeared.

Skybound: Gone? And miss the chance to drive you crazy? No way.

She rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed, and typed quickly, eager to close the distance that those four days had stretched between them.

Oceanbreeze: Don’t you dare pull a disappearing act like that again. I came here every day, you know. Waiting.

Her heart thrummed with an intensity she hadn’t expected. How had he come to mean so much, to feel like a part of her very breath?

Skybound: I’m sorry, Kishmish. There was no power here, but I never forgot. I kept thinking, ‘She’s waiting.’ And… that made it harder to stay away.

Her eyes softened, a warmth spreading from her chest, soothing the ache of the past days. She felt a wave of tenderness toward this boy she’d never met, this friend who felt like more than a friend, who felt like a part of her soul.

Oceanbreeze: Then promise me you’ll never just vanish, okay? I don’t know if I could bear it.

She held her breath, eyes fixed on the screen, feeling the gravity of her words. There was a quiet intimacy in the way they spoke, a connection that was so much more than just words on a screen.

His reply came slowly, the words appearing like whispered promises.

Skybound: Kishmish, even if I vanish one day, really vanish, I’ll always come back to you. You’re like the shore I can’t help but return to.I’m bound to this place, to our conversations.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten with emotion. She stared at the words, letting them sink in, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed her reply.

Oceanbreeze: Then I’ll always be here, waiting. Just like I was these past four days.

She could feel his presence, as tangible as the rain-soaked breeze filtering through the open café window. She glanced outside, watching the wet cobblestones gleam under the dull, golden glow of the streetlights. It was dusk, and the sky was painted in shades of deep purple and pink, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

When she looked back, his message was there.

Skybound: Did you  really think I’d just disappear for good?

His question felt so raw, so vulnerable, revealing the fears that lingered beneath their playful banter. She rested her fingers on the keyboard, the moment heavy with unspoken feelings, then typed slowly, choosing her words with care.

Oceanbreeze: Yes… but deep down, I always believed you would find your way back to me, just as you always have.

Her words were a confession, and she sensed the weight of them settle into the space between them. The world outside grew darker, and the rain began to fall harder, tapping softly on the window beside her. She glanced at the beads of rain, their tiny reflections flickering like stars. She glanced around, at the familiar café and the soft glow of the screens, feeling as though they were bound together, tethered by invisible strings stretching across time and space.

Skybound: Then let’s promise. No matter where we are, we’ll always find each other, even if we’re just stars in the sky.

She closed her eyes, a quiet smile playing on her lips. Outside, the rain poured down in sheets, but in her heart, she felt a warmth that nothing could touch. A broken star flickered in the sky, its light a tender reminder of wishes made and dreams whispered, wrapping her in the promise that those very wishes were beginning to unfold into reality.

Oceanbreeze: Promise.

She released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, her hand coming up to rest against her cheek, her smile soft and content. Every doubt she’d harbored these past days faded away, leaving only the simple joy of connection, of knowing he was out there, tied to her by a bond she couldn’t explain.

Oceanbreeze: I was so afraid I’d never see you again.

Skybound: And leave my Kishmish waiting? Never.

His words felt like an embrace, a reassurance that softened every doubt that had haunted her. She felt a strange surge of love—not the kind she’d read in novels, not the kind you spoke aloud, but a deep, quiet affection that filled the silence between each of their words. She knew now, without a doubt, that she’d always come, as long as he was there, waiting with her.

@arshifiesta

Also on blog here

[ash24xo]

THE BLOOD MOON

It’s December when the nights are longest and coldest. I’m in my sweater, but it’s still so fucking cold. It’s almost midnight, and just like birds reaching their nests when it gets dark, my feelings reach out for her every night. I can’t sleep, so I go outside. The streets are dark and calm, unlike during the day. Things change when it’s dark. I look at the distant moon, beautiful yet lonely.

I recall the time when I was in love. We were in a long-distance relationship, living in the same country but different cities. From the beginning, I sensed it wasn’t her first time navigating love across miles. She had been in love with the moon since she was a kid. Her affection for the moon was evident everywhere—through her phone, her posts, and the crescent pendant on her neck. She romanticized everything with the moon, making it a silent witness to our love.

I thought we would end up like the moon and the earth, bound to each other. I believed it was eternal, but it wasn’t.

I read in books that the moon is moving away from the earth by 3.5 cm every year. As time passed, I saw our communication fade, much like the moon drifting away. Our conversations were all in blue, and our call history was in red. Everything seemed to fall apart, and I could sense she was moving away from me.

On those late summer evenings, when the moon came early, other kids and I would play outside. We would run across the ground, and I told my friend the moon was running with me. He said, “No, it’s running with me.” We were just kids, too young to know it was an illusion. Similarly, when I was in love, I was foolish enough to think I was the only person she loved. She was far away, and I had no clue.

When I was a child, I became fond of the moon. I would come out at midnight to watch it, and my mother would warn me by telling there will be ghosts in the dark, so I wouldn’t dare to go outside. But when I fell in love, everyone told me it would be beautiful. Maybe it is, but no one warned me that it could cause eternal trauma and unbearable pain.

One night, under the blood moon, the realization hit me hard. The moon, which once symbolized our connection, now mirrored my heartbreak. Its red hue reminded me of the pain, the nights spent longing for her, and the messages left unanswered. She’ll always be my moon, but now she’s a “BLOOD MOON.”

[fuckzachariah]

Zach watched her eyes dance, magnetic and reserved all at once, and though he was unable to deduce the precise nature of her response to him he could at least assume it was not negative. Perhaps he kept things so flagrant, so sporadic, to skirt around matters that might leave a darker mark than the surface knicks he so enjoyed from her. He smirked, glancing at her sidelong. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he commented coyly, scrolling through song titles. “You can talk to me however you want. I think you earned that.” in truth, her boldness threw him off a little, but it turned over in his stomach like a shot of adrenaline. It was easy to flirt when their history graced him with candor. Once he was faced with these songs, it dawned on him exactly how exposed most of them would leave him feeling. Even the ones that weren’t about her; the ones about himself, or Kylie, would be like stripping him down to the bone waiting for her to pluck the meat off. But Alex laughed, adopting a saccharine stickiness to her tone that made his stomach clench. He chewed the inside of his cheek to repress his response. “Stop it,” he warned lightly, laughing through his nose as he refused to look her in the eye, shaking his head and continuing to pay attention to his screen. He was a hypocrite; teasing her was a pleasure, being suggestive with her lit him up, but when she turned that blade back on him he panicked. He did not have her resolve; this was evident in the way she had permeated his dreamscape once again ever since their reunion months ago. 

It was a curious notion, that his lyrical honesty might squeeze stale blood from her healthy heart. It was not the first time she had indicated to him that her affection was still aflame, if shrouded, within her. This wouldn’t be my first heartbreak at the hands of Zach Winthrop. Her sentiments in Angelo King’s study had run amuck in his mind until they’d conjured into a half-song he’d have to wait years to put out into the world, for all their emotional safeties. Still he wasn’t sure whether to put his faith into their honesty, or simply pass them off as her romantic way of speaking; it had always caught him so off-guard, even back when they’d first met. It felt too dangerous to consider that it might be true. His physical attraction to her, and hers to him, was a flare gun that could not be ignored. They’d be foolish to try. To consider there might be something deeper lingering, however, was a damning feat. He began flicking through songs that had not made the album cut, searching for something that might be less difficult to listen through. Or perhaps he could distract her and get away with not playing anything at all. The corner of his mouth curled upward as she answered. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he muttered amusedly, leaning lackadaisically in his chair and swiveling to face her. His eyes rolled rapidly over her figure, prim and perched; from her patent red pumps to the sleek bloom of her ponytail. She looked so put together; it was impossible not to imagine her coming apart. “I can’t imagine you’d accuse me of being a flight risk.” Zach kissed his teeth, playful. “Must be the house hunting that’s got you stressed.”

Alex was taken aback as Ryan prepared to depart from the recording studio sooner than expected, casually wandering around to gather his belongings. She had imagined he would linger a bit longer, basking in the comforting embrace of nostalgia. Memories flooded her mind of their time together in Zach’s cozy home studio. There, amidst the clutter of creative paraphernalia, they would exchange sparks of inspiration, jot down lyrics on weathered notebook pages, and toy with various chord progressions. Though she often felt like a silent observer, finding solace on the worn couch, Zach’s melodic voice would envelop her, gently lulling her to sleep more times than she could count. In those moments, she cherished not only the chance to share quality time with Zach but also the opportunity to witness him immersed in his craft in such an intimate setting. And, of course, she relished the joy of sharing laughter until her stomach ached, a privilege often reserved for moments in which Ryan was included. Yet tonight, it seemed she would have to postpone such experiences. Ryan had commitments elsewhere, someone else awaiting his witty banter — her best friend, who eagerly anticipated his return home. Glancing towards Zach, Alex attempted to gauge his reaction to Ryan’s imminent departure. The last time that they had been alone together had been uneasy to say the least. Angelo King’s lavish study was suffused with an intoxicating tension that seemed to swirl around them like a heady perfume. In the midst of it all, Alex couldn’t decipher Zach’s intentions then. Would his hand reach out to caress her neck, drawing her into a kiss? Or in a surge of frustration, would he tighten his grip, leaving her gasping for air? If it were the latter, she thought, she might have understood, perhaps even welcomed it. After all, they found themselves entangled in an impossible situation, their emotions teetering on the precipice of desire and restraint.

Her resolve to keep her distance stemmed from the overwhelming tension, a fear of succumbing to regrettable actions driven by the potent atmosphere they found themselves in. Even now, she still could not read him. He exuded an air of calm and collectedness. If she had sensed even a flicker of uncertainty in him, Alex would have swiftly made her exit. She would have concocted a plausible excuse, citing a need to attend to wedding preparations demanding her immediate attention or an issue back at their hotel suite. Though she loathed the idea of lying to him, she would do so if it meant safeguarding his well-being. Alex continued to internally mull it over. Zach appeared to take her joke well, responding with a clever quip of her own. A faint smile tugged at her lips. Therapy had granted her the space to navigate her own emotions and thoughts regarding their separation, yet it offered no insight into Zach’s inner workings. She could only speculate about his coping mechanisms and the motivations driving his actions. It struck her as curious how, at times, she felt an undeniable connection to him, as if she were intricately woven into the very fabric of his existence. But, there were moments when he remained an enigma, his thoughts and intentions shrouded in mystery, leaving her grappling with a sense of disconnect. It would always be their greatest flaw. She thought to say something clever back, agreeing and reminding him just how well she had handled him in the past with such ease. Before she could utter a word, Ryan preempted her, conveying everything with a silent, penetrating gaze. Zach’s response was a burst of childish laughter, prompting an eye roll from Alex. “Whatever,” she remarked, brushing off the implication with a dismissive tone.

Ryan’s candid excuse for departing left Alex feeling disgusted, her features contorting to convey her displeasure as he spoke so openly about Eden. “A simple ‘I’ve got to get home to my girlfriend’ would have sufficed, but thank you for the visual,” she commented sarcastically. As Ryan approached, Alex subtly shifted to the side, granting him passage to the door. His narrowed gaze seemed to serve as a silent warning, a reminder of boundaries now that he was leaving. It made her slightly uncomfortable, knowing that Ryan could sense something beneath the surface, despite her best attempts to maintain a facade of normalcy, or a normal as she could considering their circumstances. It was no easy task trying to ignore their past and become friendly with one and other. “What?” Alex asked defensively, her guard up as Ryan offered no response, merely shaking his head before exiting the room, leaving her alone with Zach. With a soft sigh, she pondered her next move, her gaze wandering around the room as she weighed her options. Should she stay or would it be wiser to leave? Zach’s sudden movement drew her full attention as he rose from his seat, instantly causing her muscles to tense, instinctively protective in the face of uncertainty. His eyes locked onto hers as he neared, gently knocking his shoulder into hers on his way to the mixing console. Somehow, it helped to easy her anxiety. Her lips parted in feigned injury, a hand delicately cupping her shoulder, “Enlighten me, please.” She observed as he settled back into his seat, fingers poised over the keyboard as he began to click away on his computer.

Her brows furrowed, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “That was not me talking shit. That was me being completely honest. I figured after knowing you for so long, I could speak freely around you, but if it’s the sweet, sticky, sugar-coated version of me you prefer, that can be easily arranged.” Clearing her throat, she straightened her posture, slipping into a mockingly saccharine persona. “Please, Zach. I am dying to hear every song you wrote. It won’t devastate me at all,” she teased, shooting him a mischievous glance as laughter bubbled from her lips. Making her way to the couch, she settled into the space he had vacated, crossing her legs casually. “If you’re going to do it, you could at least go easy on me. Maybe not rip my heart out on the first one,” she added with a playful smile, her gaze lingering on the contours of his profile. Her heart fluttered. It was as if she were reliving those moments of teenage infatuation, a small but undeniable crush beginning to take root once again. She lifted her hands, idly toying with the edge of her fingernail to distract herself. Returning his warm welcome, she mused, “For now, at least. We’ll see just how welcome it remains…”

[witch-hazels-musings]

Until you are safe

Warning: Vision Hunt Decree still in effect, kidnapped themes, reader grabbed by hair (Thoma), possessive themes (scara)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Albedo, Scara, Thoma, Zhongli

Albedo

The frosty chill of the mountain side was more than you could bear. Every time you thought you gained warmth it was ripped from your body by icy hands threatening to drive you insane. You shivered and wrapped your coat further around your body while you scowled against the frigid cold. 

Ahead of you stood Albedo who seemed indifferent to the temperature and while you were impressed that he knew how to handle this without any complaints, you were also irritated by the fact. He was barely wearing anything and here you were shivering under countless layers of cloth. 

He turned to tell you something but with the turbulent winds and nibbling frost against your ears, you didn’t understand a single word he said. Quickly, you forced your legs to move as you made your way to his side.

“W-w-what di-did you s-say?” Your chattering teeth made it hard, and painful, to speak but you did your best anyway. 

“We are nearly there, can you keep going?” He narrowed his eyes at you but you knew that was a common thing he did. It was unlikely to have any additional meaning behind it. 

“H-how f-f-f-ar?” 

“Just around the bend.” He rested the back of his hand against your cheek and somehow that made you shiver even more than the touch of frost. When you nodded and began to walk forward, he took up position behind you and directed you toward the camp. 

With the cave blocking out the wind, and several warming mechanisms already glowing, you stumbled your way in between them an the fire. Trembling hands extended toward the orange and yellow light while you watched the snow drip from your clothes. 

“I always h-hat-te this p-p-part.” You complained, shaking your head and shoulders to warm up the muscles. This wasn’t the first time you traveled to Dragonspine with Albedo, but each time you braved the conditions you recalled the promise you made yourself last time. Never again, well ... I guess that promise was made to be broken. 

“Here, this will help warm you.” He handed you a cup and immediately you caught the scent of fresh and soothing tea. The aroma itself perked you up and even though your fingers were still stiff, you graciously took the offering. Warmth seeped into your throat as the liquid carved a path down your esophagus and into the pit of your baron stomach. With a refreshing hum you smiled through the steam.  

“P-p-perfect. Thank-k y-you.” Another sip warmed your lips and tickled your nose but you didn’t dare stop. 

“This trip should be less strenuous than last time.” Albedo began, his back turned to you as he rummaged through the stacks of books. “Where did I place that ... perhaps it got caught in the wind, that would be unfortunate.” 

You giggled, eyes watching him meander and speak to himself all at the same time. He had a habit of doing it but it never bothered you, in fact it was comforting to hear his voice, stabilizing, grounding. 

“You ca-can head out. I’ll b-be fine here after I w-warm up-p.” The shivering had eased, but you still succumbed to the residual affects as your body began to shift from frozen to thawed. 

“No need, I can wait here for a while.” 

“Haha, that’s silly, g-go on ahead.” You took another sip of the cup and found yourself sad at the emptiness of it. That’s when a hand entered your field of vision and you watched Albedo walk toward a table, refill your drink, and return to your side. He offered it to you and when your fingers found the circumference his nestled against them.

“Until I know you are safe, I will be here.” His eyes held your own for a while as if waiting for your reaction, your response, and when you nodded he mimicked your action before slipping back toward the bookshelves and research table. 

You were glad he left you, because if he hadn’t you were sure the only way to cool down was to step beyond the barrier of the cave and into the never-ending snowstorm that protected Dragonspine. 

Scara

Being at the side of a Harbinger had it’s own trials. If it wasn’t the constant movement between assignments or the threats against your life, it was the loneliness which creeped in every single day. There were some Harbingers who left the life of love far outside of their reach: Signora, who vowed to never love again and instead put all her attention into fulfilling her duty, Childe, found love a difficult thing to ignore and did his best to keep what he cherished hidden behind closed doors. 

Scara, he never understood the meaning of the word until it crashed around him like a house crumbles into itself, and the way he kept his belongings safe was to have them near him at all times. It was far better to be under the watchful eyes of his competence than leave something so valuable in the hands of another. So, here you were, following him around and staying hidden until he called for you. 

-- 

The room was empty, absent of all the things you would have normally kept to make this place more homey. If you could get away with it, you’d have made some changes to the décor, but the problem with never settling in one place for long made this desire of yours difficult to accomplish. It wasn’t feasible, you thought to yourself  but that didn’t stop you from adding a bit of comfort when you could. 

The night came and went without issue and after you prepared yourself for bed you wondered where your lover was. Was he succeeding, was he accomplishing his goals, would he return to you tonight or would you wake up alone yet again. Luckily for you, you had learn to be patient. 

Your dreams kept you occupied but there seemed to be something about them that pulled you toward consciousness, a subtle wish drifting across your imagines to wake up. 

Something brushed across your cheek, but was it the dream or reality, you couldn’t tell. Gravity pulled you close to something sturdy, but was it a creation of your imagination or the real thing - why was this so challenging. When your eyes finally opened and adjusted to the light of the room, you realized what had been calling to you. 

“Scara?” You pulled your hand down from behind the pillow, the muscles tense from being locked into that position for so long. “What has-” 

“Go back to sleep.” He spoke and the sound of his voice pulled you closer to him. 

“Is everything okay?” You continued your question as if what he said was never uttered, your eyes trying to find the outline of his frame while your skin adjusted to his touch. 

“Nothing to concern yourself with, just sleep.” 

“But, why are you here?

“I don’t recall needing your permission to do anything.” His words may have been direct, but you could sense there was something else behind them. 

“... would you ... like to come to bed?” 

“I can’t.” He adjusted and you felt the warmth of the blankets cover more of your exposed skin. The chill of the evening became blocked by the sheets and you hummed in response. You were confused, but the feeling of his hand running along your neck, your jaw, and into your hair made all the questions you had disappear. Moments like these brought out something completely different in the Harbinger and you wondered why he treated you so differently. 

With a yawn, you turned into his touch, lips finding the palm of his hand easily and placing a tender kiss against his skin. “You don’t need to stay if you have work to do. I’ll be fine.” You hummed again as he thumb ran over your lips and the gentle pull of sleep began to find you. It was quiet for a while and you focused on the warmth, the closeness, the comfort he provided until you practically melted into the bed. 

“I can’t do that either.” Scara whispered, hand pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer to your face. “Not until you are safe,” He breathed in your scent, gazing down at your trusting form beneath him. “Even from me.” He spoke as his fingers curled into the sheets and before he lost himself in you, he slipped from your bedroom and made his way down the hall. 

Thoma

He ran so fast as soon as the news reached him. The weight of his feet as he dashed through the countryside grew with every passing second but there was nothing more painful than his clenching heart and anxious thoughts. 

What have they done, am I to late, please don’t be too late. He wracked his brain over and over again, blamed himself for the stupidity of leaving you. If he had been there would the outcome be different? If he had stayed, would he have been able to fend off their attack enough to get you to safety. How foolish of him for thinking they wouldn’t use dirty tricks like this to accomplish their goals. 

Rumors and intel began to swirl like wildfire and at this point he couldn’t differentiate the accuracy of it all. There was one thing he knew for certain, the vision hunters had you and he was going to get you back. 

-- 

Their campsite was simple and you wondered if they would really be able to escort all of these prisoners back to the city on their own. They were intimidating enough to keep most insurrection at bay, but you were not about to let them get away with this. After a quick analysis of your surroundings, you found a few potential options worth trying, now it was only a matter of timing. 

“You won’t get away with this!” Someone shouted next to you and you patiently waited for an opportunity. 

“Shut up.” A soldier barked, his dismissive attitude apparent from the lack of eye contact and the wave of his hand. 

“This is wrong and you know it! Do you think you’re immune to the decree, when the day come to hand over your vision will you?!” 

The soldier turned and made his way through the trembling captured, you used the scuffling of those trying to get out of his way as an excuse to move closer to your escape. The dirt scraped against your bound hands and pulled at your clothes, but you didn’t care because each inch you gained the closer you got to freedom. 

You watched the soldier lift the woman from the ground, his impressive height apparent as she dangled above the well worn soil. “I will do what is necessary for the Raiden Shogun. I am bound by honor, unlike the resistance.” 

“Honor! You know nothing of it. Put me down you brute.” She spat in his face and he reacted in kind. You hated the fact that you were using her as your distraction, but hopefully if this all worked out in the end freedom would be enough compensation for her bruised face. Your fingers brushed against a metal handle, the sword you were aiming for had been reached and you quickly worked to get yourself free from the bindings.

The loosening rope told you of your success but when your hand wrapped around the hilt of the weapon and you moved to stand, a sudden pain against your head made your vision go blurry. 

“What do you think you are doing?!” Shouted a voice near your ear. They were so loud that you shrunk away from it only to be yanked right back. “You think you could take on all of us? Are you stupid.” 

“I didn’t think so.” You wheezed, blinking harshly to try and bring your vision back to clarity. 

“Well let me help you understand.” He drug you away from the group but before you could take but a few steps, an intense groan blasted it’s way near you and the hand that held your hair fell away in an instant. 

“Are you alright?” A familiar voice asked, hands finding your waist to steady you. It was like your eyes snapped back on because as soon as you turned your head, you found Thoma standing their with an expression you’d never seen before: fury. 

“I’m - ouch - okay.” You whispered and then you realized the implications of him being there. Turning, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed against him, your voice turned tense as you shouted. “Ge-get out of here! What if they catch you!?” 

“I’m not leaving.” 

“Thoma!” 

He looked down at you, his arm tightening around you and you swore the world shifted red and the screaming soldiers shouts became muffled. “Until I know you are safe, I’m not leaving.” He looked forward and the glint of his polearm caught your attention. “Now hold on, okay.” 

The dry landscape turned into a wildfire until only what Thoma wanted to remain, remained. 

Zhongli

“This is very kind of you, Zhongli. To walk me home.” You chuckled, gazing up at him as you made your way down the path and toward the city. It wasn’t uncommon for Zhongli to escort you from place to place, but tonight you would have assumed he would stay on the Pearl and continue his lively conversation. 

“It is no trouble at all, to allow you to walk by yourself would not sit well with me.” Zhongli commented matter-of-factly, his eyes closing as he nodded his head and gazed up toward the stars. 

“You were having such a nice time, know that I didn’t mean to bring that too a close.” You scratched your forehead and adjusted your clothes after climbing the stairs from the docks. It was a rather pleasant night, but it usually was in Liyue this time of year. 

“I would never insinuate you had ill intentions. I made this decision on my own, to escort you is no trouble at all.” 

“Yes, well, that’s very kind of you Zhongli.” The lights of the festival swayed in the wind. To you they looked like fireflies in the sky, but that was such a silly thought you kept it to yourself. “I think I can manage on my own, if you want to go back?” 

“Nonsense, I will stay until I know you are safe.” He glanced down at you and offered you a smile, one that spoke true and gave you the impression of ‘I will not be swayed.’ 

“Well, thank you.” You turned away from him in hopes that he wouldn’t notice the embarrassment you were sure shined in your eyes and flashed across your expression. How can someone so regal find your company enjoyable at all - but Zhongli was so kind to anyone you fought against your better judgement to believe this gesture was more than common courtesy of a gentleman.

“It is my pleasure. Did you have an enjoyable time?” He asked, head examining the city streets and decorations as you had earlier. 

“Oh yes! Thank you for inviting me, I’ve never attended something so high class.” You fussed at your outfit again, it was apparent you weren’t used to wearing something like this but you did your best to fit in and not insult the guest who invited you to join him. 

“I am delighted to hear. It is far better to enjoy ones time when in company you relish, don’t you agree?” 

“Absolutely!” For a while, the two of you discussed the highlights and lowlights of the gathering. The sound of your laughter and excitement caught the attention of late night patrons, but you didn’t mind because it also caught the attention of the one you wanted the most. 

It wasn’t until you neared your home that the conversation began to drift. Your heart was sad that the night was coming to a close but responsibilities held you to a tight schedule, even if you felt the itch to break them. 

“Thank you again, Zhongli. This night will be one I remember for a while.” Your nails had received a break all evening, but, now that you were about to be alone, they felt the dig of your nervous habits once again. 

“It was my pleasure, it is always a gift to spend the evening with you.” He bowed, his long hair slipping over his shoulder at the motion. 

“I tend to agree with you.” Chuckling, you moved to unlock your door and when you looked back to Zhongli, his face was illuminated by the sparkling lanterns and yellow glow of the city. No matter what he did he radiated colors you’d never fully understand. 

“Liyue has many festivals,” He began, his tone wistful, “though I must say the ones where lanterns adorn the city are my favorite. Do you not think they look like fireflies in the distance?” He asked, gazing up at a few that dangled across the bridges and walkways that lined the city. 

“Yeah, actually I do.” You whispered as your eyes fell onto the man you loved so much it hurt to look at him, but, if it meant you could capture even a hint of his existence in your memory, you would happily suffer this pain. 

[visionofhope04]

Hii I was lowkey wondering if you would do something maybe like a one shot of neglected where reader is older (18-20) and dipped out of the house and became a singer and one of her songs basically exposed them for how they treated reader and in like an interview she full on tells them how she doesn’t even talk to them and like only Jason

This is literally perfect. I love this idea! I was planning on making a singer batsis reader anyway so here you go! I'll be making this part 4 of the series instead of a one shot. There’s a bit of angst. Btw, thanks so much for your support everyone! I'm glad you enjoy this series! Feel free to request anything you'd like besides smut as well!

This is the longest thing I have ever written so there will be a part 5. I planned on this being the last part but it's just so much. It’s not proofread and neither are all of the other parts because I post at 1 am most of the time lol. Hope you like it!

f/n = friend name

Y/G/N = your group name

N/S = news station

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Current) Part 5

---

You were sick of it. Sick of how even after confronting them about how you felt and almost dying because of it, they still neglected you. You couldn't wait to move out at the age of 18, even if it proved to be a struggle. You had taken mini jobs since you turned 15 and saved up since then. You just couldn't see them anymore as it would remind you of how they treated you that day at that hospital. None of them apologized either. They just pretended it never happened and continued to ignore you. The media had a field day with speculation of what had happened but eventually stopped because Bruce had claimed it was “just a bad case of the flu” which they believed.

Jason was always the only one that would talk to you. He was the only one that actually cared enough to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself and that you wouldn't have a repeat of what happened. He took you places, spent time with you and gave you advice. You even had a tradition where you'd always meet up at the manor's library every week at the same time that same day every week and just have a mini book club together. He always made time for you and never bailed on you.

So on your 18th birthday, he helped you move out. You managed to rent a small apartment in Star City with the money you had saved up. It wasn’t that close to the manor which was a good thing. The neighborhood wasn’t good but it wasn’t as bad as Gotham’s neighborhoods so you would be fine. You could handle yourself with your assassin training if needed. You also managed to get hired at a cafe which was about a five minutes walking distance from your apartment.

It had taken a while but eventually, you had packed all of your belongings into color coded containers and moved them into Jason’s car with his help. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone as you had no friends to say bye to and you knew that your so called “family” couldn’t care less about what you did with your life. ‘This is it, hopefully the last time I’ll ever be near this place.’ You thought. You didn’t plan on stepping foot in Gotham ever again after you left. It would bring back too many memories you prefer to keep buried away deep inside your mind.

The car ride to Star City was entertaining. You and Jason conversed the whole time, telling jokes and listening to his funny tales with the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually, a song you both loved came on and you both started yell-singing along to the lyrics. You wished those moments could be permanent. You were both so carefree and nothing else mattered besides having fun and enjoying yourselves.

You now stood in the doorway of your new apartment, admiring your new home. Jason and yourself had just finished unpacking all of your belongings. You really liked how it looked and thought you both did an amazing job at designing the place perfectly according to your style. Jason, unfortunately, had to leave in order to avoid raising suspicions. Once you both said your byes, he left you to your apartment.

Jason drove back home in silence. He hated to admit it but he would miss you dearly. You were always there for him and helped him with anything. You tried your best to always comfort him and make him feel better on his darkest days and it would always work. Somehow you seemed to always have the right words to say or knew exactly what to do to help him. Out of everyone he was closest to you. He assumed it was because he could relate to you the most. More so how you felt. He’d felt like the black sheep of the family before you came, and he was. When you came, you took that role from him. It pained him to see how much their insults would affect you, even if you were good at hiding it. He could just tell.

Jason made it back to the manor after a while and went straight to the library. He didn't want to deal with the others. After the whole hospital situation, he'd never really bother interacting with them. He hated how they treated you as if you didn’t exist and hated how much pain they had caused you and that they didn’t even care. He guessed that they'd probably be doing something for Damian's birthday and forgot that you were his twin. They probably couldn’t even remember that Damian had a twin.

He made it to the library and pulled out one of his favorite books. He’d read it so many times you’d often joke that he could probably recite the whole book by heart at this point. Sitting down in a chair, he started to read. However, he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about what it would’ve been like if they treated you how they did Damian. The both of you were Bruce’s real children. You both even looked like clones of him! At first, Jason thought you would’ve been the favorite twin due to your personality. Even though you were twins, your personalities were polar opposites. You even refused to kill! You were trained by the League so why didn’t you kill as Damian did?

Jason knew you would benefit them greatly if you joined. You had self control, didn’t kill, could act perfectly, lie perfectly, do well under pressure, and not to mention your skills. Being raised by the League may have been torture, but you managed to gain incredible skills out of it. You could take on at least ten guys who doubled you in size and beat them within five minutes. You even bested Damian in spars and he was supposedly dubbed the “better twin” by Talia, so why hadn’t they let you join their nightly crusades like they had let Damian when the both of you first arrived?

Damian passed by your room but noticed something was off. He decided to take a look. He twisted the doorknob and pushed. The room which was once occupied by you now looked extremely plain and bare, stripped of all of its accessories. The only things left were the bed itself, multiple dressers, and a vanity. It looked as if it had been vacant the whole time. It might as well have been. Damian couldn’t really remember what it had looked like since he’s never paid much mind to it but he could tell there was a drastic difference. He knew that you disliked just leaving your room plain unlike himself and wanted at least something to make it look less boring.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had you finally been kicked out by Bruce? Did you get shipped off to a boarding school like he had been suggesting to your father for years? He decided to go ask. He exited the room and closed the door behind him, taking off for Bruce’s office. Walking down the hall, he suddenly remembered that he had seen you leave with Jason. This meant that you were not at a boarding school like he had originally thought. But then why was your room vacant?

Instead of going to see Bruce, he decided to go see Jason and bring up the matter with him instead. He changed directions and headed to the library where he knew he’d find Jason. It was no secret that Jason was a book worm so Damian had a fifty percent chance of finding him there.

He entered the library and was immediately greeted with the sight of Jason sitting comfortably on a chair, legs crossed with a book opened in his hands. Jason didn’t bother to look up from his book as he spoke.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?”

“I’ve come to obtain the whereabouts of my sister.”

“You mean my sister?”

“She’s not your sister!” Damian exclaimed.

“Well I act more like a brother than you do.”

“Where is Y/N? Her whole room is bare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Just tell me, you imbecile!” Damian said, growing increasingly frustrated by Jason’s blunt answers.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Just tell me already Todd, I have no time for your foolish games!”

“She moved out.” Jason said, giving in.

“What?! Where.” Damian demanded.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I demand to know!”

“Okay and?”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Because you don’t even care.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, I actually do Damian! I’m there for her when she needs me the most. I’m there for her while she’s watching you live the perfect life that she’s just a background character in! While you and the others ignore that she even exists! I’m there for her when she breaks down and has panic attacks! And what were you all doing to try and help her? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Jason snapped.

“Y/N’s fine, I know my twin!” Damian screamed.

“Do you even know what her favorite color is?” Jason questioned in a harsh tone.

“...” Was Damian’s reply.

“Exactly! You don’t! You and the others have never cared about her, so why all of a sudden do you care now? You don’t know anything about her so don’t act like you do!” Jason then stood up and walked out of the room in a fit of rage.

Damian stood there, shocked. Had Jason just refused to answer his question? He was about to follow him but decided against it. Why was Damian going to chase Jason down just for her? She was just an annoyance, a mistake, imperfect. He had been wanting to get rid of her for so long, so why doesn’t he feel relieved? Why does he feel guilty? He decided to stop dwelling on it and get on with life. He figured it would happen eventually if it hadn’t happened then.

---

It had been a year since that day. The day you left your old life behind and started a new life, a better one. One where you weren’t constantly ignored. One where you actually had more than one person care about you. Instead of seeing yourself as a failure and disappointment, you now saw yourself as an amazing person (which you always were). You had been going to a community college in Star City. You made many friends there and started up a music career with three of them.

Their names were f/n, f/n and f/n. You all started off by taking random gigs anywhere you could. You performed covers of songs and would receive standing ovations all the time. Seeing as your group was well liked, you decided to write and produce your own songs. At the age of 19, Y/G/N released their first album. It went viral within a day and everyone was talking about it. After a week, several articles were posted, praising your work. News Stations talked about all the records Y/G/N managed to break. People started to stream it like crazy, and you couldn’t be happier with all the positive feedback you were receiving.

You had been a Wayne once, meaning you had experience in dealing with the media. Since you had already been used to it, you knew you’d all eventually be invited to interviews. So, when you had received an email stating how N/S wanted a one on one interview with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. You weren’t looking forward to interviews with your whole group, let alone one where you would be alone. You knew how unfiltered interviewers could be and didn’t feel comfortable with it.

However, you decided it would be best to go. So here you were, sitting in front of the interviewer in an uncomfortable chair preparing for the interview to start. You had somehow managed to keep a smile plastered on your face the entire time while you were a nervous wreck on the inside. You hoped none of the questions would be sexist as they usually were towards women. However, you had no more time to think about that. You heard clicking, signaling that you were about to go live. Once you heard the last click, you knew you were live and the interview had begun.

“Hello everyone, welcome back to N/S. My name is Jerald Tangleberry and I’m here today with songwriter, singer, and celebrity, Y/N Wayne! How are you?”

You waved to the camera and then answered, “Hello everyone! I’m doing good, how about you?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking! So by now I’d assume everyone knows that you’ve released an album with your group. How does it feel to gain more fame?”

“It doesn’t feel any different. Fame wasn’t our goal when we released the album. It was to express ourselves.”

“Mhm, well Ms. Wayne, what inspired you to write songs?”

“Well we know people may be in a tough spot in their life right now and want them to know they aren’t alone.”

“That’s so true. Some fans have been speculating that every member has three songs that specifically relate to them since there are twelve songs in total and three of the songs have the same group member as the introduction part of the song. Is this true?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“So all three of your songs relate to family issues of some sort. Is that hinting that you have family issues?”

“Yes, actually. My family isn’t the best. They ignored me all the time, even when they weren't busy. The only person who didn’t was Jason.”

“You’re saying it in the past tense.”

“I moved out about a year ago. When I was around 14, I suffered from anorexia. My family would always ignore me since they were either busy doing work or hanging out with each other. The only family member that acknowledged me was Jason. I assumed it was because there was something wrong with me. I started to hate myself so much to the point of starvation. One day, I passed out right before a gala and my oldest brother Dick found me passed out on the floor. They took me to the hospital and when I woke up, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian started fussing about how I’d ruin their image if the media knew what actually happened. They started to yell at me and told me how I was a useless burden. I started to have a panic attack so I kicked them out. Jason stayed behind with me and comforted me. Ever since then I made a planed to save enough money so I could move out when I turned 18, which I did.”

“Oh, wow. So Jason was the only one who interacted with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like the Wayne family isn’t as perfect as they seem.”

“No family is actually perfect.”

“Did your family try contacting you at all after they found out about Y/G/N?”

“Not yet. They’re probably too busy or don’t care.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, I got over it. What’s the next question.”

“Oh-” He cleared his throat and continued the interview. (So basically I don’t wanna bore you all lol)

---

Jason had woken up late into the afternoon that day. Patrol that morning had exhausted him. There was a huge breakout at Arkham they had assisted with. They successfully locked up every escapee, so today, Jason just wanted to relax until it would be time for patrol again. Even though he was exhausted, he knew he couldn’t take a break. The others wouldn’t and it would be unfair to them if he did.

He headed over to his couch with his phone and a bowl of popcorn in hand, ready to watch random movies the entirety of the day. He set down his phone on the coffee tables and grabbed the TV remote. When he turned on the TV, he almost dropped the popcorn and remote. You were sitting on a chair, giving an award winning smile while you politely answered the man’s questions. He was baffled. He didn’t know why you were being interviewed, let alone on TV at all! You made it clear you didn’t want to have any relations with your family any longer and you couldn’t stand publicity, so what were you doing?

He placed the bowl down and snatched his phone off the table. Unlocking his phone, he quickly dialed your phone number. However, he realized that the interview was live and that he would be interrupting it if he called you then. Deciding to wait, he placed his phone back down, picked up the bowl, and then got comfortable.

---

Tag list: @fake-id-69 @pepelachanel @loxbbg @what-0-life @yoongi-holland @omnivorousfangirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @sexysamsungl @iceddonuts @buginetye @portrait-ninja @azazel-nyx @alculai

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

A Sister's Love

Pairing: Platonic Damian Wayne x Al Ghul!Reader

Warnings: Injuries and blood. Drugging, Trafficking and sexual assult but these are not the main themes.

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: You realize you have a lot to learn about yourself outside of your little brother, Damian's, shadow.

A/N: Was originally gonna make this a Dick Grayson x Reader but realized it would be weird cuz of mixed families and stuff. And I don't wanna be pushing the boundaries of incest.

Growing up in the League of Assassins meant a lot of things for you. It meant that you were raised to be powerful and commanding. It meant you knew how to kill a man in 47 different ways and counting. It meant that you were raised to rightfully think that you were the best.

Although for every good thing there was always cons. Your schedule was rigid and your peers were unfeeling. Your mother most of all, but that didn't stop you from trying to win her affection. It was the reason why when your little brother was born you felt threatened.

That was until you met little Damian. Your mother had handed him to you with a smile of pride that she never showed you and you hated him. But then you saw his precious little face, a nose tinier than a button and adorable lips that were curled into a pout. He was so beautiful.

Since then, you put any differences you might have had with your mother behind you. According to Ra’s it would have been a mistake to show Damian such tenderness, to teach him about loyalty to your heart, instead of without it.

But Talia couldn't ignore the tug she felt in her heart seeing you and Damian together. You still worked hard, harder than she had ever seen before, now determined not to show that you were weak and have them take your brother from you. Damian followed your example, training to her approval, however taxing it was for him.

And more importantly, Damian loved you. You were the first woman he had ever loved and he was smart enough to know that would never be a mistake. You were his shelter in a storm, his fire in the cold. You were the best sibling that anyone could ever even dream of.

But then you had to part. At age 10, Damian went to live with his father, Bruce Wayne. You had never met the man when he was with your mother and you assumed you wouldn't need to, he wasn't your father.

Both you and Damian didn't want to leave each other. You'd miss your little brother and you'd miss the feeling in your chest whenever you'd look at him. Damian would miss home; he would miss your presence and he would miss the familiarity. But he couldn't stay.

That's something you learnt at the League. Damian couldn't stay, with you. He was meant for bigger things than you.

Another thing you learnt was that you didn't have to stay either. You wanted to see the world, see what everything else had in store for you. And your mother, bless her, gave you her blessing.

Of all the things the league taught you, there were things they missed out on. And a part of you was thankful for that. Because you enjoyed the feeling of wide-eyed wonderment when you stepped into a train station for the first time ever.

You had never tasted a chocolate muffin before, you realized as you stuffed your face at a local bakery. Coffee and chocolate muffins went well together. You liked sweet things better than spicy things, you noted when you didn't enjoy the tteokbokki you bought at a Korean food stall.

People were kind, not foolish. They smiled at you when you came in and genuinely asked you where you were headed. Like the woman you met on the tram who was heading to Washington DC. Even through the short ride, the two of you had bonded and she had left you with her phone number and a promise that if you were ever in DC, you would ring her up. Diana was trusting, too trusting. You could have assumed it was because she was stupid, but you wanted to believe it was because she was smarter than even you.

Some people were kind like her but of course, some were impolite and pig-headed. You of course didn't waste any time putting them in their place. Maybe that was why you shouldn't have any faith in humanity.

But isn't humanity just the thing you should be putting faith in?

It was fun at first, discovering new things, seeing how people really lived outside of books and things taught to you back at the League. You knew everything, you weren't naive enough to be oblivious but reading about something was miles apart from actually experiencing it.

After a while however, you got lonely, it was a huge world with people constantly moving and you've come to realize that unless you're with somebody, you can't really move from your place. Instead, you'd be stuck watching all of them. So, you sought after your brother.

It was easy enough to track Bruce Wayne, he lived in a house large enough to be seen from outer space. Getting to Gotham took longer than you expected. Time passed so easily when you didn't have a purpose but now that you had somewhere you needed to be, the train couldn't go any slower.

Gotham City was less gloomy than people made it out to be. The sun was shining and the city was bustling. In some ways, it seemed a little homey. Maybe that was because you didn't have to worry about someone hurting you. If anything, they should pray that they don't choose you as their next victim.

Of course, you could've gone to Wayne Manor and introduced yourself civilly but you wanted to see Damian more than anything and didn't want to delay it any longer. And more than that, you wanted to see Damian is his cute little school uniform.

That's what led you to wait outside of the well-reputed Gotham University, waiting patiently for the bell to ring and students to file out of it. You already knew that they wouldn't come out singing like in the movies but a very small fraction of you still hoped.

Your heartrate increased with every passing minute, excited to meet your brother after nearly a year of being apart. Eventually, the bell did ring and students began trickling out of the doors, looking like bumble bees, excitedly zipping around and talking to their friends.

'Would this have been my life if I was never born in the League?' You wondered, looking at a girl who was animatedly chatting with her friend, arms interlocked as they moved towards the parking lot where their parents were waiting.

When you finally saw Damian, you suddenly felt out of place. Like an outsider watching someone else's brother when you saw his eyes lock onto someone in the commons. Even though you weren't on the school campus, you could still recognize who it was.

Richard Grayson, oldest son of Bruce Wayne, waiting to pick up your little brother on a motor cycle.

And for the first time in your life, you experienced insecurity, watching them greet each other like brothers. The feeling was sour and you wondered if it was a mistake coming here, thinking that you still had a place here.

It was true, people didn't move from their place unless they had someone to go with. You hadn't felt fulfilled like that since your brother stopped being at your side. He was everything you knew. It was just your mistake for thinking that in the year apart your brother wouldn't have found anyone either.

***

"Drake, pull up the security cameras from today at my school parking lot." Damian ordered, stepping into the Batcave.

"No 'Hello', no 'How you doing?', it's always 'Tim, do this' 'Drake, do that'," Tim commented sarcastically but still pulled up whatever he needed, "And then as soon as I give you what I want, you're going to forget me again. And not even visit the kids."

Dick spared him a laugh at his dramatic scene, ruffling his hair as greeting and then turned his attention to the screen. The footage was played at double the speed until Damian's eyes locked onto just what he wanted to find.

It was just for a second, when Dick's motorcycle had zoomed past but that was all he needed. Damian had seen your face and it wasn't any mistake, he'd know you even if he was blind. Even though he was so sure it had been you, he still couldn't hide the way his body froze, eyes wide when he saw your face.

It was the same face he'd see every night before he went to bed and the very first person he wanted to see every time he woke up. Your image was what came into his mind when he thought of being nurtured, when he thought of being safe.

There was a time when he was younger, too young, there was a thunder storm. He doesn't remember much from the night, just hiding his face against your chest and you wrapping a blanket around him. His mother trained him even harder the next day, until he almost dropped but he'd never forget curling up to your warmth. Not even now, when he knew that thunder storms were the least of his fears.

It was as simple as that. With his father and brothers, he didn't have to worry about looking weak, he didn't think of love as a weakness, rather he considered it as the fuel behind strength. Yes, his father taught him well. And now he would show you just how much he's grown. So, you can be proud of him.

"We need to find her."

"Why? Who is she?"

"My sister."

***

Of all the things you wanted to experience, visiting a bar was one of them. Was the air really enough to intoxicate you? Were you really going to lose all sense when you stepped into it? Would be able to drink your troubles away?

You were sorely disappointed. The alcohol didn't taste good, it burned when you swallowed it and made your tongue feel fuzzy. The music was so loud that your brain began throbbing against your skull to the beat of the song.

Men were picking fights and women were having fun but even then, you couldn't find it in yourself to get up and actually have fun. I mean, how were you supposed to? How was cosying up against a drunk man supposed to make you feel better? How was getting lost in throngs of sweaty people who didn't know what personal space was meant to improve your mood?

If anything, it just reminded you of just how pathetic your life was.

You were realizing you had no purpose. Damian was all you had known for years now, knowing only to protect him with your life and love him with your heart. Who were you without him? What did you like? What made you happy outside from your duty at the league?

A man knocking into you brought you out of your thoughts, which had been happening all night. Except this man stopped in front of you and gave you a smile that turned your stomach upside down.

"Sorry about that pretty lady, let me buy you a drink to make up for it." He spoke with a voice that was trying to be smooth but instead sounded like metal scraping over each other.

"No, thank you." You said sharply, not yet done with your Manhattan anyway. You were barely enjoying your time here as it was and you were sure another drink wouldn't change your mind.

"Not a fan?"

You shook your head at him, choosing to humour the man.

"Then let me buy you another one, if you don't like it then you have nothing to lose."

You pretended to giggle at him and he swelled with pride. Did he think he was winning?

"One Boulevardier." He told the bartender who nodded and began preparing the drink. Until it was ready, you indulged the man in front of you who reeked of cigarettes and alcohol.

He placed the drink in front of you and if you hadn't known that it would burn going down and turn you into a shell of yourself, you might have been curious to what it tasted like.

"You see that dude over there?" He nodded to a man standing in the other corner of the bar and you turned to look at him. Another man, covered in tattoos who didn't look any different than the one standing behind you.

"He's my pal, owns the bar. Ask him and he'll hook you up with free drinks tonight. For a price, of course."

You turned back around to face the man and out of the corner of your eye saw something dissolve into your drink. It was only for a second but you saw the last remaining grains turn invisible and you definitely noticed the way the once steady drink was now swirling into a vortex in the middle.

"Drink up, princess."

You smirked. Tonight, might be fun after all.

***

This was boring.

You had been pretending to be unconscious for about 40 minutes while these men drove you to some undisclosed location. Their conversations were unbelievably dry and it's not like you had anyone else to talk to. Everyone else who might have been even mildly interesting were knocked unconscious.

Eventually they pulled up to some sort of holding facility and if your assumptions were correct then this would be a midpoint before they sold all the girls here to some sort of pimp.

Once they lugged you off the truck and threw you into a room with so many other people, you could hear their breathing did you open your eyes. It seemed like this was some sort of abandoned butcher or meat factory, judging by the ominous hooks hanging above your head and the metal walls. The door had been bolted shut, the only way to look through it was a small glass window.

Only after you finished taking in your surroundings did you even look at the other women who had been trapped in the room along with you. Your stomach turned.

There were so many unsuspecting faces who looked like they didn't sign up for this. Half of them looked under the influence of something, sweating profusely even in their sleep, faces scrunched up in pain. The other looked like they were forcibly taken, bruises covering their skin, hair and clothes in disarray and more than half of them had either a black eye or a swollen lip.

Maybe it was their fault for not being trained, that's what someone at the league would've said. But isn't it their captors’ fault for misusing their training, their strength, for something as vile as this?

You decided to wait, you couldn't assume that this small group of girls was the only one in the confines of the building. How many more were here?

You weren't feeling overwhelmed, not at all, not with the weapons that were littering you. A kunai hidden is either of your boots, throwing stars in your pockets hidden underneath your vest and a war fan in your pocket. You could handle these clowns without even looking up.

But it wasn't your life you were concerned about. It was the lives of these underaged, vulnerable girls who had fallen prey to these monsters.

While you were waiting a couple of the girls started to wake up. Some were still heavily drugged, still groggy when their eyes fluttered open and unable to focus onto anything. Others shot up straight as an arrow and began crying, screaming, begging for them to let them out.

They were ignored, by both their captors and you. Why try and reassure then when you weren't sure what was going to happen. More importantly, why throw off the monsters lurking outside the door that there was one woman who hadn't been phased.

Instead, you just stared blankly, trying to get comfortable and hear anything through the walls. Eventually, you heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the room. You covered the lower half of your face with a scarf, making sure that anyone who left here alive today, wouldn't be able to remember your face. Whether it be as a saviour or their punisher.

The girls whimpered and curled into one another, crying quietly and you felt sympathy. There was no way they'd be able to move forward from this without having fear stab at their heart with every step they took. You could only hope they had something in their life that would make them feel safe.

For tonight, you'd be that for them.

A few men opened the door with a cruel smile, stepping inside for a second before bolting it shut. They flaunted guns and other weapons to the girls, finding pleasure where there should be compassion and worry. You were disgusted watching their smirks twist maniacally when the girls cried harder seeing them brandish their weapons.

One of the men stepped forward and grabbed the girl closest to him who begged and cried to spare her. His disgusting hand might as well be made of acid because you almost felt the sick burn when it snaked between her legs and copped a feel while she sobbed and screamed, trying to fight him off.

You grabbed one of your weapons and returned their sick grins with one of your own.

It was going to be hard to cop a feel when he can't feel anything.

You were going to break each and every bone in his hand to ensure that.

***

"Can I borrow your phone please?" You asked the bloody and broken man by your feet. He glared at you and spat blood on your boots, unable to do anything else. You sighed and faked a pout.

"Is it here?" You wondered, holding the dirtied boot over his ribs and his eyes widened, catching drift of what you were about to do. You rammed your foot into his broken ribs, courtesy of yourself, and he screamed bloody murder. Music to your ears.

"Apparently not. Want me to check your pants?" You asked, raising a brow and he frantically shook his head, using whatever strength left to pull out his phone from his pocket and you smiled, thanking him quietly.

"Now, let's hope that one blow is enough to put you out of my misery." You sang, punching him right in the face and he passed out. Lightweight.

You took a look around the place, seeing bodies littered over the place like confetti. Blood was scattered on the ground and you're sure if people looked hard enough, they'd find someone's teeth. You on the other hand looked fine.

You sat on the floor, crossing your legs comfortably, tired after the fight and dialled a number onto the phone.

"Hello, police?"

"Yes, how can we help you?"

"Well, there's a sex trafficking scam going on at my location. Quite shoddy but they have a number of women trapped here and it would be nice if you could send backup to have them escorted home safely."

"A sex trafficking scam?"

"Well, it could be just a regular trafficking scam but I'm not too sure."

"All right, I'll have someone check it out."

"Good, and I realize you might get a lot of calls like this but please don't talk to me like I'm an idiot. Tell your people to send a couple of ambulances as well, you'll need them."

"Of course."

You could only hope the person on the other end of the line would eat their words when it was on the front of the newspaper. For now, your work was done.

In the meantime, how were you going to get anywhere from here? Where even were you? Was there anyone even conscious here who could give you directions? Or would you have to call the police again to find out where to go?

Not that you'd wait long enough for them actually arrive here. You'd return to the bar way before that for another drink. Maybe now you'd actually be able to enjoy one.

Just as you were about to leave, you heard a creak coming from the other end of the warehouse. It echoed through the halls and you leapt to your feet, soundless moving to hide in the shadows and pulling out a kunai.

The footsteps that followed it were light and airy, barely even touching the ground. They were trained, whoever they were. You kept your ears open in order to hear something.

"Whoever was here was trained." You heard someone comment.

"Are you really that stupid, Nightwing? It's obvious that my sister was the one who took out this ring and reported it." Came the snappy reply back and your breath caught in your chest. Make no mistake, that was your brother's voice.

"We must find her."

He was actually looking for you? He knows you're here? You're not entirely surprised, you haven't exactly been careful or stealthy when it came to concealing your face around Gotham. A mistake on your part but you couldn't have been more relieved.

You still remained quiet, not wanting to disturb the flow, not wanting to interrupt. You had the mind of a soldier but when there was no one to follow you seemed more like a sheep. It made you feel slight shame, that you were unable to stick up for yourself despite being so many things.

Maybe, the league wasn't the best thing for you.

Immediately you scraped the thought from your mind, berating yourself for even thinking that. The league had given you everything, everything you were today was because of them. You were strong and calculating, the leagues proud soldier.

You were proud of your roots, thankful that you grew up to be the person you were. They had given you everything, and your brother was just one of the gifts that you had been blessed with in your life.

"Damian." You spoke softly, stepping out of the shadows. His head snapped towards you, eyes widening when he took in your form. It really was you. His sister.

Damian wasted no time in bounding towards you and you knelt down to meet his eye level, catching him with open arms. A part of your heart sang when you realized he was still small enough to fit in your arms. He still held you close. He still loved you.

"I've missed you, Ya Amar." You spoke softly, cradling his head that was buried in the junction of your neck.

"I as well, Okhti."

***

Damian was ecstatic that you were in Gotham. Of course, it didn't look like it to anyone but everyone who knew him well could tell that he was happy that his sister was home with him. He didn't wait for even two seconds when you got to the Batcave (much to Bruce's surprise) to show you all his pets.

The next few days would be considered the best of his life.

Damian wanted to be as close to you as possible, sitting near you during meals, training with you, talking with you, even going as far to sneak into your temporary bedroom at night for cuddles. He certainly got more comfortable showing affection since the last time you were around.

He showed you his hobbies like painting and sketching and you were impressed. He had the skills to be doing something like this? Damian had picked up many new talents and many new stories since you last saw him and he was eager to share them all with you.

The next few days would be considered the worst of your life.

You had found Damian now, so why didn't you still feel fulfilled? Why did you feel like something was missing? Like this wasn't meant for you? Why weren't you satisfied?

Why did you feel envious that Damian got to experience so many things? Why did you feel resentment against him when you realized you never got the same things he has?

Your life felt like it amounted to nothing.

You loved your brother but so far you had just been living for him. And now that you realized there were parts of the world that you wanted to see. There were thoughts in your mind that were of your own and desires that you didn't have to explain to anyone. As long as it made sense to yourself.

And you realize one thing with an aching heart.

You couldn't stay here in Gotham.

"Does Damian know?" Bruce asked you one day when you had asked him a favour. Bruce so far had been a little cold and unfeeling ever since you had met him in the Batcave uninvited. His feelings towards you got more negative when you gave an offhanded comment about how you thought he was taller. But he was the only one you could ask for a favour. He was the father to your beloved brother and you could only hope he would offer you the same consideration.

You had asked him for a flight to Washington, to see if Diana really meant what she said. To take a leap of faith for the first time in your life.

You shook your head no, "Not yet. I'm hoping he will take the news well. It's not like I'm leaving forever. I just—I need to—" You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Bruce nodded, "I understand. Just tell him before you go. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy before."

"It makes me feel worse." You admitted, feeling a little guilty. How could you not feel happy at your brother’s happiness?

"You need some time to figure out that your world is yours. No one else should determine how you feel about yourself."

"You are very wise," You said softly, "Thank you."

***

"I love you dearly, Damian." You tried to coerce him from his room where he had locked himself in only 5 minutes ago. No doubt he was sulking since he found out that you would be leaving for DC in two days’ time.

"If you did, you wouldn't be leaving!" His voice was muffled, as if his face was buried in his pillow or even Titus. You had been trying to coax him into open the door for 20 minutes now and had multiple offers from Grayson, which you turned down.

"Oh, for the love of—Damian Wayne, you open this door right now!" It was silent for a moment before you heard the lock click open and took that as the indication from him to step into his room.

It was large and from the moment you stepped in, it was easy to tell the space was his. There were swords mounted on the wall, paintings on the wall adjacent to it. His desk was tidy and in the corner of his room, there were multiple easels and sketch pads.

Damian was sulking on his bed and you sighed, feeling guilty. You sat beside him and ran your fingers through his hair. Even though he was upset with you, he still sank into your touch, feeling comforted by mere contact.

"It's not forever, Damian. Wherever I'm going, I'm going to come back. I just need some time to myself." You tried to explain.

"But why!"

"The league taught me well, Damian. But it taught me to live like a soldier, but not as a person. There are so many things that I don't know about myself. What do I like? What do I want to do with my life? And I need to figure it out for myself."

"Why can't you do that here?"

You gave him a pained look and realization dawned on him, "Because of me."

"Damian, in the time we spent apart you learnt so many things about yourself. That you like animals, that you like art. There are so many blanks in my life and I need the distance to figure it out. I need to understand myself." You explained wistfully.

It was true, there were so many blanks in your life. You didn't even know what food you liked better, what hobbies you enjoyed. You wanted to experience new things, without the influence of Damian, without relying on him. And more importantly, you were scared you would put Damian above yourself time and time again.

It was all you knew. Damian was worth more than your life, worth more than your heart. But if that was true, you wanted to know at least what your heart was worth to you. If you didn't hold any value to yourself, it would be foolish to think you would to anyone else.

You needed the distance. You needed something new. You wanted to dive into uncharted waters and figure out the magic for yourself, without anyone to help you.

"It's not forever," You reminded gently, "I'm going to come back, I can promise you that."

Damian began leaning until his head was settled in your lap and you chuckled, gently scratching his scalp and he nestled into your belly. Hard to believe this was the same boy who left only a year ago. You wondered if you would change as much as he did or if you were stuck in your ways now.

"Okay," He said, voice muffled and you smiled, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you for your blessing, Ya Amar. It means the world to me. I love you; you know that."

"I do." He said, now wrapping his arms around your waist, "I love you too."

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[thebatfamfanatic]

Six Times He Met Her

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, guy taking advantage of a minor in first chap, mention of underage smut in fourth chap, making out?, violence, mentions of blood/injury, main character death, adult language, angst

A/N: First thing I’ve written on Tumblr!! Tell me if anybody likes it, or if I broke your heart. And yes, I know I’m evil.

1-

The first time he saw you was around 2:30 in the morning. Jason was squatting on the edge of a rooftop in Gotham, surveying the dark scenery below him.

Somehow, there was still plenty of traffic on the dirty streets, plenty of cars honking and driving around. Jason always wondered who the fuck needed to be somewhere at 2 am.

He fiddled with a loose seam on the Robin uniform he sported each night, hunting down the assholes of Gotham (pretty much 70% of the city) and putting them in jail, where they belonged.

At 16, Jason Todd technically should have been in bed, maintaining a healthy sleep schedule and doing some rich kid shit during the day. Of course, his adoptive (long story) father, Bruce Wayne, richest playboy in Gotham, employed him to be his little tweety bird sidekick at night, so here he was, at the rendezvous watching the streets. yay. A scream came from an alley nearby. Jason stood, stretched his legs, and leaped down from the roof onto the ground. He pinpointed the alleyway where the noise was coming from and raced into it. A girl, about his age, had been cornered by some bitch dude who thought he could take advantage of this girl. Not on Robin’s watch.

Before the girl could scream again, the guy was on the ground and Jason was helping her up. She shakily took the hand he offered her and looked him in the eye. Shit, she had gorgeous eyes. Jason froze for a second, lost in her beauty, before clearing in his throat.

“Hi. I’m Robin, uh, you probably knew that. Are you okay, ma’am?”

He hated the squeak that came out of his mouth. He sounded like a fucking 5 year old. The girl raised her eyebrow. She had recovered rather quickly. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m not some rich-ass royal whatever from Britain.” Jason liked this one. Sassy, but just so. He inquired where she lived, and she gave him the address. With his grappling hook at the ready, Jason pulled her closer to him. She jumped at the sudden closeness, but seemed to enjoy it. Maybe? He didn’t know shit about girls.

Jason shot the hook, propelling them up in the air, and landed on a rooftop. They continued this routine until he got in front of her house. It was still several seconds before he released her waist.

She started to walk towards her door, before stopping.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Jason blinked.

“I thought you were smart, Robin. Its my name, dumb ass.”

Then Y/N disappeared into her house. Jason stood there foolishly outside on her front lawn for a while, thinking about the girl he had just met. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he realized 10 minutes later that he had forgotten to ask about where her family was and everything.

Oh well. Bruce would be expecting him anyways. Jason shot his grappling hook and started home, still dazed from the encounter.

2-

The second time you guys met was two weeks later. Jason was just Jason Todd, a normal 10th grader living in the shadow of his (adopted) older brother Dick Grayson. Nobody paid much attention to him, and he didn’t really mind. Mostly Jason focused on getting A’s in class and then retreating into the library until Golden Boy’s after school clubs were over.

That is, until you walked in. It sounded as if you had just moved here, and for a minute, Jason felt a little sorry for you. I mean, Gotham wasn’t the greatest place to spend high school, or any grade, in his opinion.

You looked at your schedule from across the hall and then up at the locker next to him. For a second, your eyes met his and Jason was content. Lost in those brilliant colors. And then you looked away and started walking towards him. He realized just in time maybe he should stop leaning over your locker as you stopped next to him.

“Hi. Y/N. Just moved here. Looks like we’re locker neighbors.”

Jason was about to reply with “I know” but restrained himself. “Jason. Nice to meet you. Congrats on moving to this shitshow.”

He managed to not grin like an idiot as you laughed. The sound was music to his ears, like beautiful bells. God, he was being sappy.

“It’s not much of a shitshow when you’re here.” Ooh, she flirts too. Jason smirked as you opened your locker and dumped your stuff inside, pulling out the things you needed for your first class.

The first bell shrieked just as you closed your locker. “See you around, Jason.”

The small smile you gave him made his day, and he almost forgot to get to class. Yes, you were certainly one of a kind, and yes, Jason wanted you. The question was how to get to that point.

3-

You guys had a couple classes together, and frequently sat at the same table during lunch, so it wasn’t long before you were quick friends with Jason. However, the next notable time you met was a little while after he got your number.

Jason was laying on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr as he thought about ways to ask you out.

Y/N, would you grant me the honor of going out with me? No, too Romeo and Juliet.

Hey, want to grab ice cream? He had to make it clear what his intentions were. Then it wouldn’t be weird if he kissed you, right?

Oh, god, if he fucking kissed you….what would that be like? Before Jason could start fantasizing, his fingers were flying across the keyboard and he had sent a text to you. What did he do, what did he-

Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend. It seems like something you would enjoy.

Hm. That was actually pretty good. Where did he come up with that?

Jason had just started inspecting his fingers for some kind of sign of being possessed by smooth-with-girls-syndrome when you responded. He looked up and read it quickly.

Sure, I’d love that! Thanks for thinking of me ❤️

A heart. You had put a heart at the end of it. Did that mean you knew it was a date?

Jason sighed. He certainly hoped so.

4-

The weekend date went good. By the end of it, Jason was sure you knew it was a date. The second one passed, and then the third. The third one was when you hesitantly pecked him on the cheek. The fourth was when he kissed you actually. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was just enough for him to take you on a fourth date. An actual “will you go out with me on a date” kind of thing.

He took you to a restaurant in the fancy part of things. You two ate food that two broke 16 year olds technically shouldn’t have been able to afford, but Bruce helped Jason out.

Jason drove you home afterwards and discussed the topic of the upcoming summer during the car ride. What you were doing, where he was going. The entire time, Jason had butterflies in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to act. Was he messing it all up, or were you actually into him?

Once he parked in front of your house and walked you up to the stoop, you looked at him. He noticed you were biting your lip nervously, and god, why did he think that was so hot? “My parents aren’t home.” It was the softest Jason had ever heard you speak, but he knew what you meant. He smiled gently, and kissed you again. This one was destined to last longer, and before either of you realized it, you had opened your door and you were leading him to your bedroom.

That night was one neither of you would forget, and by the end of it, Jason had officially asked out successfully.

5-

You and Jason spent a lot of time together after that. You met his older brother, Dick (who was very happy for Jason, too happy in his opinion) and his dad, Bruce Wayne. Bruce was cool, but very busy all the time.

By two months, Jason still hadn’t told you his identity as Robin, and he was running out of excuses. One day, you confronted him, assuming he was cheating on you. He tried everything, but he had to go out on patrol.

Jason left that night assuming you were broken up. The entire patrol, he wasn’t himself. Truth was, he loved you so much he was afraid of losing you. That had become his greatest fear. It was that night everything went wrong.

6-

You were out taking a late night walk. Down by the pier, a cold wind was blowing, and as you walked past warehouse after warehouse, you pulled your coat tighter.

You were affected as well, and confused about where you and your boyfriend stood. Did you guys just breakup? Did he love you? Did–

A scream echoed from one of the warehouses. You turned, afraid of stepping closer but afraid of leaving the person. Eventually, your curiosity won over and you climbed up several crates to peer into the window.

What you saw inside almost made you scream yourself. Robin, the hero everybody talked about, lay defenseless and bloody on the ground as a tall man-the Joker- whacked him over and over again with a crowbar.

You gasped, wanting to help, but you knew that would be foolish. You would just get in the way for a minute. Tears started to form in your eyes as Robin weakly cried out from the pain. He looked so…helpless.

Joker relentlessly beat him with the crowbar, and Robin’s mask began to come off. You rubbed the tears from your eyes just as the mask fell to the ground.

“No.” was the only thing that you could muster. Jason lay on the ground in the bloody Robin suit. Jason fucking Todd. There was your boyfriend, being beaten to death by the asshole of all assholes. That was why he kept disappearing at night, because he fucking protected the city!

You were mad at yourself for being so cruel to Jason without knowing what was really going on. You barely paid attention as Batman and Nightwing suddenly burst through the windows.

Joker laughed, and said something you couldn’t hear from the outside. Probably taunting Batman as he watched his apprentice get beat to death.

A fight broke out, Batman lunging at Joker as Nightwing rushed to Jason, laying broken on the ground. You had just enough time to duck as a Batarang came swooping out of the hands of the Caped Crusader and straight through the window you were looking through.

It was then you realized how close Jason was to death, and what you needed to do. The window pricked your jacket as you jumped through it, but you didn’t care. Gymnastics back in 6th grade helped when you landed awkwardly. Nightwing spun around, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that was Dick, which meant Bruce was Batman.

However, none of that mattered when Jason was half dead in front of you. Nightwing- Dick- made no effort to stop you as you knelt in front of Jason. “No, no, no.” You cradled his head in your hands, trying hard not to recognize how limp his body was, and how his chest barely moved as he struggled to breathe.

Jason’s eyes were closed, tears running down his face silently. You were crying as well, mumbling curses and things that made no sense.

“Please, don’t be dead. Please, I-I love you.”

You watched Jason make no acknowledgement he could hear you, watched him breathe once more. His chest rose and never fell.

You screamed and buried your head in his costume, not caring about getting blood on your face. Dick pulled you away wordlessly, out of the warehouse. You barely registered that the warehouse exploded behind you a few seconds later.

Dick let you sob into his shoulder for what seemed like hours. Him and Bruce exchanged a short conversation, both riddled with grief.

Six times you and Jason had met, and that was the last.

[amor-immortalem]

An Alternate Path

Genre: Angst

A/N: Originally this was supposed to be a two-part mini fic but people asked about a part three. I wasn’t sure where else to exactly go from there since the end of the second part felt so final for me. But then, inspired by a comment on the 2nd part, I began to think about how it would have gone if Arella hadn’t been revived with Mammon’s blood. Think of this as the bad end to the AU. This is the final part.

obviously spoilers for the lesson 16 incident and for lesson 50 (i think… correct me if Im wrong)

Replaced part 1

The Good/True End

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He sits in his room starting at the dried blood on his hands, heart aching from the loss of his mate. It had only been mere hours since Barbatos had taken her body to prepare for funeral rites but to the Avatar of Greed, it had felt like centuries. Why? He’s asked himself this question over and over. Why didn’t you check on her sooner? Why didn’t you call or text? Why didn’t you notice? Why didn’t you feel something was wrong through your pact?

As much as he wants to, Mammon has no more tears left to cry. His human is gone, never to return and it was the fault of him and his brother. He should have been there sooner. Should have reminded her how much he cared. Should have done a lot of things. He had every opportunity to, but he squandered all of it.

He rakes his hands through his hair as they whys replay in his head. The demon doesn’t have an answer for them- none that would satisfy them, at least. He lets out a yell as grief turns to rage and nothing of value is spared from his violence. Items and trinkets knock from their shelves, furniture overturned, by time the second-born was done, his room looked like a war zone.

It’s only then that Mammon collapses to his knees and lets out a broken wail as he can hear the restless cawing of his crows outside.

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Levi is alone in his room, having shut himself away hours ago. Laying in his bathtub bed, the Avatar of Envy loses himself to his thoughts and the view of the water above him. He can’t help but think about what would have happened if he had put his foot down when Asmo approached him to recruit him in helping his little matchmaking plan for Melissa and Satan.

And then his thoughts focus in on the other human. If she had never come, if they had never welcomed her into their lives through the exchange programme... Arella would still be alive. She’d still be sitting here, playing video games and helping him decide which anime he should choose to watch when there was a conflict of time slots. They’d still be talking about their Husbandos and Waifus just as they always had. But she’s not here. She never will be anymore. All because he didn’t have the spine to act like the older brother and tell Asmo no. Because he allowed his younger brother to monopolize his time.

His best friend is gone and he was part of the problem that led up to that. Levi has never felt so much self-hatred before and, just like with Lilith, he doesn’t know how to come to terms with the loss of another person so dear to him. For now, he’ll just lay here and waste away like the filthy, yucky otaku he is, wishing there was a way he could go back and undo it all or hoping that this was all just some horrible nightmare that his brain has conjured up.

“She’ll be back in the morning... right? She’s just sleeping over at the castle, right?!”

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Beel just eats. He eats and eats and eats to make the pain go away but just like his endless hunger, the pain never stops. He feels so empty inside that the only other option is to gorge himself until he physically can’t hold it anymore and vomits before he goes back for more until the cycle repeats and he runs out of food. The loss of their favorite human is killing him now- the grief of it squeezing his heart like an anaconda.

If he would have just gone to invite her to that new café she had wanted to visit with him only an hour sooner, this could have been stopped. But he didn’t. He didn’t and that’s what cuts deepest. He should have noticed when she stopped coming to dinner, or skipping breakfast, or not joining the student council for lunch day after day. He should have realized something was wrong then. But he chose to ignore it, thinking it was just one of those ‘moods’ Arella had told him about human women experiencing at certain times of the month. He thought he was helping by giving her space these last few weeks but Beel knows now that he was dead wrong.

Who would be his food buddy now? Who would let him drag them all over town in order to try out restaurant after restaurant, café and café? Sure, he had Belphie to take with him but his younger twin never really showed the same excitement when it came to trying out all the different food and drink options on the menu. The demon doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tear drops hit his hands. She only needed one of them to take a moment to see her and none of them could be bothered do just that.

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Belphegor only wants to sleep. He wants to sleep and never wake up again. In his dreams is where Arella is, happy, smiling, laughing. That laugh will haunt his waking moments forever as he realizes that for the second time, the Avatar of Sloth has caused her death. Belphie was only one of two brothers who rejected Asmo when they asked him to help with that damn plan of his. It had been too long since he and Arella had napped together after school or plotted something with Satan as part of the Anti-Lucifer league. How he missed those days.

He can feel the tears pool in his eyes as he curls up into a ball on the bed in the attic. He wonders if he had just stayed up here forever instead of trying to trick Arella into setting him free, would this hole in his chest disappear? As he buries his face into the body pillow Arella had gifted him for his birthday this year, he cries himself to sleep- indulges himself in all the good memories they had made together after she had forgiven him for everything he had done to her.

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Asmodeus is lost. They stare and stare at their skincare products trying to will themself to start their nightly skincare routine. How could they have been so foolish? The passage of time is so different to humans than it is to demons. They had only meant to take a month to match Satan and Melissa up so how had it turned to eleven already?! The Avatar of Lust wants to scream. Both at themself and no one at all. Hot tears still sting their eyes as they shapeshift. They change and they change and they change forms- any number of features forming and then shifting away as they try to find a look that they won’t recognize themself in but it doesn’t work. Asmo’s not able to look themself in the mirror for the rest of the night as they just crash down on their bed. They want to mark up their beautiful body into some hideous to match the feelings crushing their heart. Asmo wants to do something- anything- to themself to experience even a fraction of the pain Arella must have felt but all the demon feels now is just hollowness.

Their phone is vibrating on the bed next to them- a call from Solomon. No doubt he could feel Asmo’s distress through the pact they share but the Avatar of Lust is too tired from hours of ugly crying and most certainly not in the mood to speak to anyone- pact master or otherwise. The phone goes unanswered.

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Satan has his head buried in the books. He’s been at this for hours- there must be a way to bring her back to them! Melissa is with him, bringing whatever books he asks for in his search as she too is eager to bring the lost human back to this plane of existence. There was so much they wanted to do with her. From watching cheesy mystery dramas together to forming a small book club consisting of just the three of them, none of that would come to pass now.

As book after book turns up dead ends, the demon just buries his head in his hands. It feels pointless now. Who was he to play God with life and death? The thought of never seeing his friend alive once more is enough to break the Avatar of Wrath as his shoulders shake with violent sobs. He wants to go on a rampage- destroy the whole city but what would that fix? It certainly wouldn’t bring her back.

As the demon continues to cry, Melissa only wraps her arms around him and he returns the gesture. She runs her fingers through his blonde hair in an effort to calm him and it seems to work, if only for a little while. She pulls a chair up to sit next to him as she holds his hand in hers.

“Tell me about your favorite memories with her,” They girl begins, “We can’t undo what was done, but we can keep her memory alive by sharing the good times.”

And so, they talk late into the night, Satan smiling at all the memories of Arella that he holds close to his heart.

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“Hi this is Arella! I’m sorry I can’t get to the phone right now but leave a message after the beep.... Beeeeeeeeeep”

The sound of his brother’s laughter followed by Mammon calling Arella a dork in the background can be heard at the end of the greeting on her D.D.D.’s voicemail. The Avatar of Pride can only smile with tear-stained cheeks. He was beyond intoxicated, having just finished his fourth bottle of demonus for the night. He can feel the anguish his brothers have been going through all night and it only makes his sorrow deeper.

When Arella first arrived, all Lucifer cared about was keeping her alive long enough to make it through the year. She was unimportant to him outside of the viability of the exchange programme. Back then, he would have laughed at himself for the state he was in currently. She was just a human. Why did it matter if she lived or died if it didn’t affect the exchange programme?

But she wasn’t just a human. She was their human. She was special to him. And now she was gone. There was no second chance. There would be no merging of timelines to keep her alive. Fate was cruel, but sometimes Diavolo could be crueler.

Lucifer knew his longtime friend had a reason for this. He was teaching the brothers a lesson with her death. As much as it hurt now to lose another part of this family, things would get easier as the years went on regardless of how horribly they all would miss her. This was a lesson he and his brothers would not soon forget.

Cracking open his fifth bottle of demonus, the first-born scrolls through devilgram, saving pictures on her profile to be used in the memorial service. One of Arella with each of his brothers and himself and multiple pictures she’d taken with all eight of them from their adventures throughout the years that they’d all been together.

He lets his mind wander back over the last eleven months. All the red flags he had missed with his rose-colored glasses. They all made sense to him now. All the time she spent isolating herself from them, skipping meals, leaving either incredibly early for school or incredibly late for school. She was trying to get them to notice her over Melissa. He regrets their last interaction from a few months back. The way there had clearly been something wrong, yet he chose to lecture her about attending RAD on time as to not disgrace Diavolo. How he wishes he could take it back.

As the only brother save for Belphegor not conscripted to help Asmo in his ridiculous plan, Lucifer should have been the first to reach out to her. He may have been buried under paperwork, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t just sit and talk while he worked. He regrets not calling or checking up on her.

A video plays on her devilgram. It was from one of the nights they had spent up in the human world last summer.

“Awww, come one, Lucifer. It won’t be that bad. We’ll have those flowers from the fairy rings and make it back in one piece. I promise to keep Mammon under control so we won’t cause any trouble.”

The Avatar of Pride clicks out of the app as he feels more tears gather in his eyes. He can’t do this right now. Not tonight.

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Her service was beautiful- Or at least that’s what Lucifer tells Mammon as he and the rest of their brothers return home. Mammon wanted to go, he really did, but with it only being a few days removed from her death, the second-born couldn’t bring himself to go. It wasn’t because he didn’t love her or didn’t want to celebrate his mate’s life but it was still far too painful for him.

Part of him was still in denial over it too. Somehow, he’d managed to convince himself that she wasn’t gone. She was just stuck up in the human world and had forgotten her D.D.D here so he couldn’t call her. The logical side of him knew it wasn’t the case and every time he was reminded of it, it threw the Avatar of Greed into a deeper pit of despair. He’d spent some nights since she’d passed alone, crying himself to sleep begging for his human to come back to him others he would just lie awake, tracing over where her mark from their pact had been etched into his chest, set right over his heart.

Suddenly years have gone by now. His brothers have made peace with her passing but Mammon cannot. Visiting her grave never helps to ease the pain either, but still he goes. If Arella’s spirit still lingers, no doubt she would be upset if he didn’t go. It would only serve to prove her dying thoughts true when they couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Hey, Treasure... Miss me?” There’s no one here but Mammon and a tombstone. “I miss you... everyday... So much changes every year... Both Asmo, Levi, ‘n Satan got kids now... little girls for them and Levi has a boy...” He pauses to take a shuddering breath as the cold wind blows. “Can ya believe it? The first kids born ta this family and their both girls and then we got a boy... sweet little things too- alla ‘em.  I wish ya coulda been there ta meet them... Actually, looking at my brothers with their kids, it makes me wonder what ours woulda been like, ya know? And I wish none of this woulda happened... you deserved so much better than me ‘n I knew that. We all knew that. But ya chose me anyway and look where it got ya... Six feet under... If I could go back and do it all over again I would. I woulda told ya what was goin’ on. I woulda spent more time with ya. I woulda... woulda proposed... made sure you knew how much I loved ya everyday... I know ya probably can’t hear me, but I’m so sorry... for everything! I love you so much that I can’t move on and I won’t. If I die single then that’s fine by me.”

As he cries, thinking he’s alone, Arella watches from her seat on her tombstone. None of the brothers knew it but she’d been watching all this time. It wasn’t until she passed that she realized how deep their feelings ran and part of her wishes she would have waited just a bit longer before leaving for the human world that night.

She tries her best to let them know she’s there- that she loves them and is watching over them with Lilith, but she’s not strong enough to do more than move small objects around. She hopes that they’d notice but they never do.

As she hops off of her tombstone, Arella crouches down next to her mate. The best she can do for him is conjure a warm breeze as her spirit leans over to press a kiss that he’ll never feel to his cheek. Upon the breeze, he can hear a soft whisper of a reply.

“I love you too.”

And it's that reply that reassures him she’s there and she always will be. He hopes maybe in another life they’ll meet again and get to have the happy ending they never got to have in this one.

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taglist: @gayassfuckinghomosexual @joyvlee

find more on my masterlist

[ttuesday]

How would the VDL gang members be around their pregnant SO?

hello my dear anon who won’t tell me who they are, I hope you are having a blessed day <3 if you aren’t having a good day then I will gladly give you another slice of bread

Arthur

Arthur is absolutely shocked when you first tell him. He can barely look after himself, how the hell's he suppose to help you look after a baby now too? He doubts himself and his ability to be a good father a lot.

Although the baby's not even born yet (and it'll be a few years before they even learn how to read and write properly) Arthur buys a new journal and keeps it in a chest under your bed. He says he's gonna give it to the baby someday.

He likes spending time with you away from camp. Arthur brings you to many different places but always makes sure there's a good view for the both of you to enjoy. He loves it because it's spending quality time with both you and the baby.

Arthur will ramble on about how ye should both enjoy sleeping throughout the night and not having to change dirty diapers just yet. He'll keep talking about how challenging but fun life's going to be once the baby arrives.

Dutch 

Dutch has always been very hot and cold with his affection. Some times he's all over you and other times he's too preoccupied planning all different types of robberies. 

When you get pregnant, Dutch tries his best to be there for you... Maybe he becomes a little over-bearing but he's doing it because he wants to make sure you and the baby are happy and healthy.

Throughout your pregnancy, Dutch will keep buying new things for the baby. By the time the baby arrives, he's bought 2 prams (Dutch said ye can use one in the summer and the other in the winter), a cot that's full of blankets, a lot of toys and of course, he especially bought the baby it's own designer outfits. 

... yes, he bought all of this with the money from the donations box

Charles

Charles has everything sorted. He stays cool, calm and collected for your entire pregnancy. Even in moments when you freak out, he keeps his composure and helps calm you down.

Charles holds back your hair when you get morning sickness and happily gets you a glass of water and some crackers for you to cautiously nibble on.

If that baby ever starts to kick too hard or decide it'll do a couple of somersaults in your stomach, Charles will hold you and soothe you through it.

A month before you're due to give birth, Charles surprises you with a wooden cot he's made for the baby. It has intricate and detailed carvings of animals out in a grassy meadows and flowers going up the side.

John

John really wants to help. The only problem is, John is terrified of messing things up. When you're pregnant, John sees you as being as delicate as a flower.

Sometimes he'll actually get scared to touch you in case he hurts you. John knows that it sounds foolish but he's still scared.

If you mention that you’re in any pain, John will presume you’re going into labor. One time when this happened, John ran out of the tent to go get help and before you could tell him you were fine, John fainted.

You wouldn’t think John is the type of person to faint a lot but the second he thinks the baby’s coming, he gets so overwhelmed that he just blacks out. He finds it amazing that you don’t pass out at the thought of it and he genuinely believes you’re one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

Micah 

Micah becomes so SO protective of you after you tell him you're pregnant. He was protective of you before, always starting bar fights if a drunk tries to flirt with you but now he reached a new level of protectiveness.

Micah will try his best to convince you not to go out on jobs, saying they're too risky. Yes, You've broken Micah Bell. He now actually thinks about how dangerous a job is.

He doesn't even want you to do chores around camp in case they tire you out. Literally, Micah just wants you to sit there and not do anything for 9 months. And if Grimshaw says anything about you not doing any work, Micah will snap at her to mind her own damn business.

And if you want to go into town for supplies, Micah will insist on joining you. If you talk to Micah about how protective he's being and tell him to back off a little, then he might. He's actually very scared something will go wrong so he'll only back off if you give him a lot of reassurance.

Bill

Bill has absolutely no idea what he's doing. At the start of your pregnancy he was clueless and didn't know what to do or how to help you. And even months into your pregnancy, Bill's still clueless.

When your bump started to show, reality hit Bill. He realized that this was actually happening and he loved every second of it.

He comes up to you at random times during the day and starts talking to the bump, not to you, but to the bump.

When you both go to bed, Bill will keep on of his hands gently wrapped around your stomach. One night while he had his hand resting there, the baby kicked. Bill got so excited he started to cry. 

Sean

When the due date started to near, Sean suggested ye do a practice run of what to expect during labor... but in this situation, Sean wanted to be the one giving birth while you showed him what he’s supposed to do and how he has to help 

Sean also decided to carry around a watermelon for a day to practice being gentle... yes, Sean really did compare your baby to a goddamn watermelon. He tried his best and surprisingly, Sean only broke 4 watermelons in the day.

He broke the watermelons because he kept throwing them up in the air and failed miserably at catching them. On the bright side, at least Sean now knows it's a bad idea to do that with the actual baby.

Some times when he thinks you're asleep, he'll start talking to the baby. He woke you up doing it one time because he was singing to the baby but was completely out of tune.

[bugging-robot]

This is a short story that I never picked back up to write on, and that was months ago, so I’m assuming it’s finished. It’s an exploration on what THK might be like in the Everyone Lives AU, as well as the relationship Hornet has with them. 

Hornet never spent much time observing the Hollow Knight. By the time she could leave the cocooned labyrinth of Deepnest, the Hollow Knight was nearly ready to go into the Black Egg Temple. At the time, she held much resentment for the Hollow Knight—it was hurrying upon her the responsibility of a kingdom, and the loss of a mother. (Not that it would be able to empathize with those things, she thought at the time.) Those feelings would later move on, and she would think of the Hollow Knight as nothing but an unpleasant and out-of-sight reminder of her role to protect the kingdom.

Until it wasn’t out of sight. Or, rather, they weren’t out of sight.

Hornet had to deal with several new things all at once: the kingdom of Hallownest was going to change, the omnipresent infection was no longer a threat, and the Hollow Knight was, in fact, not quite as hollow as she’d been taught. The latter presented a whole new set of issues to deal with, which Hornet would find she could create a whole separate list for.

Which brings us to the present.

Hornet stands in front of a tapestry hung on the wall. It’s simple, obviously done by someone new to the craft, but it’s recognizably of the late king with a few words of praise written around him. The craftsbug is likely dead by now. What a waste of the time they had.

A few paces away from her stands the Knight, as tall and regal as they can manage. Hornet steps aside from the tapestry to give them a better view.

“This is the best I can do with the materials I have on hand,” she says. “The purpose of this whole arrangement is for you to release any frustrations you have in regards to the Wyrm. He may no longer be present, but the feelings that linger can affect your judgement and impede your growth. It was effective for me when I was much younger, perhaps it will work for you, as well.”

She receives a blank stare in reply (as though they could stare any other way).

“You may begin at your discretion.” Hopefully, they understand everything she’s telling them. She doubts this is a situation that often came up in the palace.

The Knight takes a step forward with one leg, and then half-collapses into a kneeling position. They extend their arm toward the tapestry and slowly, carefully, touch the space just to the left of the Pale King’s image. Hornet gets the sense that the Knight is doing this with tenderness.

“I believe there was a misunderstanding,” she says. The Knight turns their head to her. “You are allowed to do anything you want to this tapestry. It is hardly unique and will not be missed; your gentleness is not needed.”

The Knight looks again at the image. Though it is the barest change, the sharp ends of their fingers dig into the threads ever so slightly.

Hornet sighs. “Perhaps I was the one who misunderstood. You do not see the Wyrm as the cause of your suffering, do you?”

The Knight retracts their hand with much consideration, and with the slowness of someone who isn’t used to using their hands for delicate motions, signs, “My King.”

Fear of being a traitor, then? “Your loyalty means nothing to a ruler who has long since passed. You may act without consequence.”

A little more assertively, they repeat their statement. “My King.”

“I should have seen this coming,” Hornet says, more to herself than anyone. “You were raised as a tool with no allowance for opinion or expression, of course you wouldn’t go against everything you knew.” She looks up at the Knight again. “It was foolish of me to decide on this activity with such little insight. I will leave this here with you, since you seem to be fond of it.”

She leaves the Knight alone. They have enough independence to decide whether to follow her or not. The Knight watches her leave, and then turns their attention back to the tapestry. They stare for a long time before reaching up and carefully pulling it off the wall. They set it on the ground in a small pile, folding it in on top of itself.

[bandaged-writer]

Hello, can i request headcanons for dazai, chuuya, fyodor and mori with a civillian f!s/o where they notice that she has a big cut on her leg, she try's to hide? They where maybe thinking that she got into a fight, but she just cut herself by shaving and is a bit embressed about it? (It just happends to me and it hurts so bad) I hope you are doing good and i'm happy that you are back :)

ugh, shaving cuts are fucking horrible and hurt like a bitch 😭 i forgot the fight part, but i still hope it's okay sjgkgs

warnings: mentions of blood

Dazai Osamu

➤ When the cut re-opens and some blood dribbles on the cushion of your chair, Dazai notices and his first thought is that you got your period.

➤ You know about the misunderstanding when Dazai puts on his trench coat and asks you if you needed pads or tampons or food or literally anything and then it clicks. 

➤ Blushing, you rub the nape of your neck and sigh softly. It was embarrassing to admit, but you couldn't let Dazai run off to the drug store for nothing. "Ah..you know..I just..cut my leg while shaving, you know?" Gosh, if only that damn cut hadn't re-opened, you wouldn't feel so hot from embarrassment at that moment. 

➤ So that's why Dazai wasn't allowed to touch your leg during lunch.You always put his hand back on the table and were a bit fidgety, although you never minded Dazai's touchy nature, but your little confession certainly cleared a few things. 

➤ "My precious belladonna got hurt! How foolish of me not to notice such felony!" Dazai exclaims loudly and is totally on his way to bandage the cut up, because hey! ㅡ he gets to match with you! 

➤ Offers to shave your leg for you the next time and it takes some time until you convince him not to do that, cause lbr, Dazai would probably cause more damage than you ever could. 

Chuuya Nakahara

➤ Chuuya notices you're trying to hide something when you wear jeans instead of shorts or a skirt, although the weather outside is pretty damn close to be considered suffocating and you never passed up on the chance to show off your legs. 

➤ Won't push the subject though, because hey, it's your body, your choice, none of his business. 

➤ "Ahhh, it's way too hot!" You complain and pull at the fabric of your jeans which is sticking to your skin like glue. It's pretty much disgusting, but the cut was a pretty ugly one, so.. 

➤ "Just take those jeans off and change into something more comfortable?" Chuuya deadpans and raises a fine eyebrow at your half-hearted resistance and the weak arguments you bring up. "Cut the act, what're you hiding?" 

➤ "I..got an ugly cut on my leg when I was shaving this morning and it's..embarrassing." You rush through the sentence with heated cheeks and avoid eye contact. Who was so stupid to cut their leg while shaving? Of course, it was your dumbass. 

➤ Chuuya tosses you a skirt ㅡ you don't know where that came from, but you're not complaining. It's free clothing. "It's a battle wound."

➤ "But it's not even a big cuㅡ" 

➤ "Battle wound."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

➤ If you think you can hide shit from that man, then you're dead wrong. Don't even try to hide it, it's useless. He notices something is off once you get out of the shower with a somewhat sour expression on your face. 

➤ "Did anything upset you, my dear?" Fyodor knows about your frequent struggle with the razor blade which you had declared war on. Honestly, he just wants to see your embarrassed face, maybe make you squirm in your spot, because he knows it makes you a bit uneasy. 

➤ "Absolutely not. Everything's peachy." You lie through your teeth, but it doesn't last long. Fyodor's gaze is pretty intense and you know you won't get out of this until you tell him the full truth, and so you surrender. 

➤ "Fine. I-I cut my leg while shaving, okay?" Hesitantly, you show him the cut which is only slightly bleeding. 

➤ To your surprise, Fyodor actually tends to it by disinfecting the small cut and putting a bandaid on it to stop the bleeding as soon as possible. It's rare for Fyodor to show such affection, so you do 8 question it and appreciate the small action. 

Mori Ougai

➤ You successfully hid your cut until you visited Mori in his office and Elise wanted your attention. By tapping and gently smacking your thighs which caused you to hiss in pain. Never underestimate a shaving cut, okay. 

➤ Mori demands answers right away. After all, you're the girlfriend of a mafia boss and an easy target given that you have no ability and lead an ordinary life with a simple routine. It'd be easy for an enemy to hurt you. 

➤ You beat around the bush for a while and Mori's patience wears thinner and thinner with each word that leaves your lips. "Tell me what happened or I'll have to strip you to see for myself." Mori is a doc, so it's normal for him to say such things, but when it comes to you, he might be a bit more..self-indulgent. 

➤ The thought of Mori stripping you in front of Elise actually terrifies you and you know Mori would 100/10 do it, so you tell him about the little fight you had with your razor blade which cut you in return to you cussing the object out. 

➤ Unlike Dazai, his statement of shaving your leg can't be denied. He'll deadass shave your leg for you the next few times to show you how it's done properly.

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Always wanted to ask for : Wesker x his SO in first few months of relationship at Umbrella (trying to hide work romance because of Albert's dumb work rules, but fails miserably) :D

Note: I gotta admit, it did occur in my mind at some point but never put it on paper. Thank you so much for being patient💜 It would also help me a lot if you can drop a comment or reblog 🤗

Pairing: Albert Wesker x F!Reader

Warnings: none.

-> Wesker is a calculated man who prefers logical thinking over feelings, so he doesn’t believe in romance or in the concept of relationship. For him, a partner is that person who you rely on to satisfy your needs and then move on with your life and goals. When they first met, his soon-to-be partner was aware of his ways, yet it was a surprise for both when things evolved into a separate direction, one that seemed like a traditional relationship. They would often meet after work, with Wesker coming to check on y/n for foolish reasons or y/n coming to ask Wesker silly questions. They yearned for each other attention and y/n was the first to initiate a serious talk about their feelings. Wesker enjoyed her company and he didn’t lie to himself when admitting that there was a slight sense of competition between them. Not that it bothered him, in fact, he liked a more competitive partner because it would push him to work harder on his skills.

-> And so they began dating, a weird territory for both of them since they have a deeper connection with their work rather than their personal life. Since Wesker is a strict and organized man, he’ll try to set boundaries between them so things won’t get out of control. He’ll focus more on what the outside world sees, meaning he won’t be comfortable expressing their affection in public. Mostly he will be the now to push her away every time she wants to be affectionate with him. Albert doesn’t want useless rumors circulating around. Not that he cares about what others think, he just doesn’t like people barging into his personal life or make assumptions about it. He tries to keep it professional and he can’t with y/n beside him because he melts the second that woman touches him. Because of this calming effect, he cannot think straight and he can’t risk mixing the wrong chemicals. So, the fewer interactions, the better. In their privacy, they both act like normal couples with no trouble expressing themselves.

->Speaking of public, one of his greatest fear is Annette, William’s wife, because she won’t hesitate to tease the poor man. She knows him as an incurable bachelor and finally having someone will be a premier of her mocking show. She has a liking for mocking Albert and it's not due to some hidden friendship, but more to an antipathy between them. She claims to be a bad influence on her family, but she doesn’t realize is that the only bad influence in William’s life is his own work. Next in line would be his sister, Alex, who has great satisfaction in teasing him due to their sibling rivalry. She is a mean queen and will show no mercy to her adoptive brother. His significant other is no exception. Alex would gladly run to her and tell her all these embarrassing secrets about Wesker, like his emo phase, the time he dreamed to be in a band and practice his growl ending up woking an entire institution one night, and the list goes on. What she enjoys the most is the picture she has of him from when he was in the army and was forced to have a crew cut. William wouldn’t care as he is too preoccupied with his research. How many juicy secrets slipped through William’s ear, secrets many would die to know (literally). He would just nod and keep starring throughout the small lenses of the microscope. It’s not the first time Wesker tells him about his amorous life, so his brain switches to autopilot mode. Sherry would be the most awkward and she will ask if y/n is her new aunt.

-> It works great. Wesker managed to keep the situation under control until he started to lose control over himself. He feels so better and confident in this relationship with y/n that he can’t resist not praising this woman for the good she makes him feel. So, he will kiss her while gently whispering a “thank you” whenever she would help him with his work. He will hold her hand in the cafeteria and leave small presents on her desk whenever he would arrive earlier (chocolate, flowers, samples).

-> It’s obvious he had plenty relationship in the past, some in the traditional way, some modern ones, wither were visible for the public eye or not.

-> One of the main reasons he was afraid of opening up at the beginning was to protect himself. He can’t possibly tell how it will evolve so it’s easier to set boundaries. He has enough experience to know that everything is sweet at the beginning, that both fake it, and that it can turn out very bad. He wants to get to know his s/o before displaying their affection to the public or to get more emotionally involved. However, Y/N doesn’t seem to be bothered by this. She wants to take it slow as well, even if she wants to jump on him whenever she sees him. What can’t you love at him? He’s smart, handsome, responsible, and had a stable job. Sure he can be weird but y/n can see past that.

Wesker was meticulously watching the cells moving through the microscope lenses. It was a normal human blood sample that was about to be infected with the T-virus. Without moving from his position, he greeted his s/o who just made her way in the lab searching for some samples as well. He can’t get enough of her. He’s been breaking his stupid rules for weeks now. First, he held her hand in the cafeteria while waiting in line, then subtle hugs or shoulder massages while she was working, then small kisses that he didn’t care they turned out to be more passionate for the public eye. The relationship turned out to be better than expected and he sees it as a success. Besides, as the relationship advanced, Wesker became more aware of the other male coworkers who flirted with y/n (unaware of their relationship at that time), so he had to mark his belongings. Everyone knows about them, yet they know better than to be intrusive. As expected, Annette and Alex had their fun in teasing the couple and y/n had her fun in seeing Albert in a crew cut. He was adorable.

Once she got her samples, she went next to Albert without disturbing him.

Her fingers gently slid between his large ones while the other hand put down the samples and grabbed his arm. He squeezed gently her hand not taking his eyes from the microscope.

“Can you pass me the T-virus sample?”

“The blue one?”

“Mhm” he nodded.

Without breaking the hold, she passed him what he asked for.

Once the substance made contact with the blood Albert muttered under his breath “It’s working.” He said as the cell rapidly moved.

“What’s working?”

“The virus becomes more efficient.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Albert couldn’t tell. He didn’t understand Spencer’s intentions so he couldn’t really have a proper reaction.

“I guess.” He stood up taking y/n in a proper hug. Her head was resting on his chest and she could hear his racing heartbeat. Something troubled him but she didn’t know why.

“You know can talk to me.” She lifted her head so she can look at him but he looked down at her with a worried gaze.

“It’s nothing, relax.” His hands moved to her shoulder and he pressed his lips on her forehead staying like that for a few seconds. The sound his lips made when he pulled away echoed in the room. They’ve been sitting in silence for a couple of minutes in each other’s embrace until Albert finally calmed down. He really needs to learn how to express his feelings.