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jinxs-gf · 3 months ago

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snack thief

the team x spider!reader

summary: someone is stealing your snacks and you’re going to figure out who.

content, warnings: kind of a crack fic, spider cusses a lot? not proofread

word count: 1.8k

a.n. Aunt May mentioned! who cheered?

It was peaceful in the confines of Mount Justice. So peaceful it was almost suspicious to the team. They barely get downtime nowadays, something they used to practically beg for. Now all they want is a break.

It's perfect and quiet and peaceful.

Until they hear their friend scream bloody murder.

Spider.

Everyone jumps up, alarmed and ready to fight.

You're in the kitchen holding an empty container, the refrigerator wide open, and looking more stressed out than they've ever seen you. But there was no threat?

The team is still worried but confused. There was no one else in the kitchen with you so...? Why were you screaming? And there was seemingly no spider on the container you were holding, the only creature that could scare you bad enough for you to freak out like this. (You denied this claim again and again, unfortunately they didn't believe you. How embarrassing was that? Spider had arachnophobia? How damaging to your reputation.)

You continue to stare at the container, and your friends have concluded their near heart attack at your cry for help was all for not.

Their shoulders all sag simultaneously, breaths of relief leaving their mouths.

Kaldur is the first to speak, "What has gotten into you, Spider? You scared us all." He does not sound happy.

And if you took the time to look at the rest of your teammates, the annoyance would be evident.

But no. You continued to stare at your stupid container.

"Hello!" - Artemis

"Earth to Spider!" - Robin

"We're not getting any younger over here." - Wally

Roy only sighs, shaking his head, Conner raising a brow beside him, amused for the most part.

M'gann just stands quietly, wondering if she should read your mind without your permission to figure out the problem or not.

"Which one of your imbeciles did this?" Your voice was eerily calm...it was disturbing.

They all shared the same sentiment. What?

You glare in their direction, eyeing each one of your supposed friends carefully.

"One of you is the cause of this," you hold up your empty container. "Someone ate my cookies. I've had the worst day of my life and the only thing that could help was having my precious cookies. Only I get here and they're gone!" Ah. They get it now.

"I'm going to find out which one of you is responsible. And it won't be pretty."

"Uhh why was it in the fridge anyways?"

"Shut it Robin. They’re leftovers. And you’re at the top of my suspect list. You and your little buddy there," you eye Wally.

He squirms in his spot.

You were grocery shopping for your aunt when you spotted them.

Spider-Person gummies.

You wince, the name Spider-Person did not roll off the tongue correctly. You prefer Spider like the team calls you. Or maybe Arachnid would be cool? Oh well, it's too late now. The name Spider-Person was plastered onto kid's snacks for Pete's sake! There was no coming back from that.

Whatever. You threw it in your basket and immediately opened the box when you got home. Showing off to Aunt May, she was very proud, just like you thought she’d be. Except for when—

"I always thought you'd be known for curing diseases or something, but children’s snacks? This'll do!"

"Hey!" She was joking of course (right?).

And later that day you brought it to the team's kitchen, wanting to show off to them. You didn't want them to eat it of course, it was going to be your post-mission snack. A little pick-me-up.

No one but Red Tornado was there, which was a little weird but it was a rare day off. You'll just come back when everyone is here.

You made sure to stick a post-it on the box of gummies, effectively claiming them yours that shall not be touched.

You hadn't left your snacks alone in the kitchen of Mount Justice since your cookies disappeared a mere week ago.

You still hadn't figured out who the culprit was.

You will. One of these days.

You leave and don't come back until the next day, everyone is there.

"Oh goodie! I have something to show you guys!"

Only you get to the kitchen cabinet, open the box, and...no.

Nonononono

The box of "Spider-Person Gummies" was completely empty.

The box that clearly had your name written with the words "DO NOT EAT!" on the post-it!

You scream like the first time.

"Who did it?!"

The team is a little slower this time around, not trusting your panicked screams after the first incident.

Robin face palms, "Come on spider, it's not that serious."

You gape at him, "Not that serious?! Are you crazy?!" You eye him suspiciously, "it was you, wasn't it?"

"What?! No! I'm just being reasonable here. You can always buy more,” he shrugs, clearly not seeing the bigger picture. Someone is eating your snacks without permission. Deliberately ignoring your name that was written in bold on the post-it stuck to the front. You try a different approach though.

"First of all, I don't exactly come from a background of money. I can't just waste valuable green for some fruit snacks! And second, it was the last box in that section. How do I know they'll be restocked by the time I get back? What if they were there for limited time?!" The thought terrifies you, "oh no."

The team watches you nearly have a breakdown over your gummies "...those snacks are usually less that 10 dollars, Spider."

"And that's too much!"

"You can't be that poor."

"Eh, you'd be surprised."

It’s a full two weeks of the snack thief’s attacks.

Your spidey senses go off at the two week mark and they lead you to the kitchen.

You gasp.

"You!"

Wally is caught mid slice into the chocolate cake you made for the team, he looks petrified at being caught.

His voice cracks, "what?"

"It's been you! I knew it was you!"

"What! No! You made this for the team, right? That's not fair to pin the blame on me when I have permission to eat this!"

Okay, he's got a point.

"Whatever. You're still at the top of my list."

You’re in stealth mode with the rest of the team, waiting for your cue to attack.

You communicate through the mind link to keep yourself from boredom, this is gonna take a while.

You decide to bring up the most recent snack attack.

‘I still need to figure out who this snack thief is. They took my leftover brownies this time! The ones May made for me. Do you know how upsetting it was to see the brownies made by my very precious, hardworking Aunt all gone?’

You hoped to weed the rat out through sympathy.

‘Oh...that was yours?’

‘M'gann!’

‘I'm sorry! I didn't know!’

Just then, Kaldur makes your cue to attack. And before you know it, you’re in battle. However, your mind is elsewhere.

The distraction earns you a kick to the face, your spidey senses were screaming but you couldn't be bothered to really care at the moment, too focused on the fact that M'gann admitted to eating your brownies.

She's the snack thief?! But she was at the bottom of your list...

You regret ignoring your senses immediately, that kick was more powerful that you thought it’d be. Definitely going to bruise later.

‘I'm not the snack thief! I just thought Red Tornado left them! Remember? He said he wanted to be more involved with us outside of missions? I swear I know better! You forgot a post-it with your name this time. I'm really sorry, I should've known.’

You sigh, she sounds too sincere for it to truly be her.

‘It's alright, I forgive you. This time. It was my bad anyways.’

There’s many instances of coincidences as your friends would call it.

Robin caught digging into your chips;

“But you said I could have some!”

“No not those ones! My other chips!”

“Wow, thanks for specifying that.”

Conner caught…eating your candy?!

Conner doesn’t even eat sweets like that, so what changed? Or was that all a ploy? Pretending to not be fond of sweets only to eat yours behind your back…

But his eyes pleaded forgiveness, truth. Damn him.

Roy, Kaldur, and Artemis also had their moments of suspicion.

So who was it?

You only had one more course of action. You beg May to let her borrow your phone.

“It’s an emergency!”

“An emergency that could last all day? Or more?” She lifts a brow, don’t let her intimidate you, Spider.

“Pleeeaaaase,” you bat your lashes at her.

She can’t resist you. The child she’s come to see as her own. You are hers, no one could tell her otherwise. She sighs, “Don’t know why I even try with you.”

“Thanks May!” You plant a kiss on her cheek, “love you!”

“Whatever kid,” trying not to show disappointment in herself for allowing you to get to her.

Set your phone up in the kitchen cabinet of Mount Justice with your snack. Hit FaceTime with Aunt May’s phone and accept on yours.

There’s no way you don’t catch your thief now.

You wait a good 20 minutes before you’re already tired of your plan.

You groan in annoyance, can they hurry up and attempt to take your snack already?!

It takes another three hours before something happens.

Your spidey senses blare, making you jump from your place on the couch with Artemis and Roy. They look at you like you’re crazy, yeah you were getting used to that.

There’s shuffling on the other end of the call.

Whoever is in the kitchen is toast. You look down at May’s phone.

“You!”

“Uh oh.”

“I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it! From the beginning! How could I be so stupid and not listen to my gut?!”

Wally states back at you through the phone screen, eyes wide.

“You lying son of a-”

“Listen, we can talk this out-”

“Put my cookies down! You know damn well my name is written on the box!”

He surrenders, placing the cookies back in its place.

The rest of your team came out to witness this very amusing and long awaited moment.

It was funny, the living room you were in was right next to the kitchen, meaning speaking through the phones was pretty useless. They won’t say anything, lest they catch your attention and get yelled at.

“I’m going to ruin you for what you did, Speedy Bitch.”

Roy hears his code name and it’s enough for him to scare. He holds his hands up, “whoa! What did I do?”

“Not you! Obviously not you!”

You get up from the couch, bolting to your “friend.”

Wally panics, “Someone call Superman! Spider’s gone crazy!” And he books it.

It’s okay. He may be the fastest man alive, but no one messes with a Spider’s food.

so who’s attending Wally’s funeral? definitely not spider.

this is based off a video I saw, someone’s sibling was on FaceTime w a phone in the cabinet to catch who was eating their snacks 💀 I just HAD to use it

#spider & the team #young justice x reader #conner kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x you #superboy x reader #kaldur’ahm x reader #kaldur x reader #wally west x reader #artemis crock x reader #m’gann m’orzz x reader #roy harper x reader #aqualad x reader #red arrow x reader #dick grayson x reader #omg it’s 2am what am I doing #young justice fanfiction

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scribblesofagoonerr · 13 days ago

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pumpkin patch adventures | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

summary: buddy and monkey take a trip to pick out pumpkins with a special guest appearance from @lvnleah Rory

double the trouble masterlist

“Roar!” You’re currently sitting at the breakfast table while you’re eating your pancakes that you have for breakfast, although you are having much more fun dunking your dinosaur figurines in the sugary syrup than actually eating the pancakes yourself.

“Eat it nicely bubba,” Leah grimaces as she watches you coat your beloved dinosaur figurines in your breakfast.

“But Mummy, my Dinos’ want to share me ‘cakes though!” You insist, your eyes wide with excitement before proceeding to attempt to coat them in sugar again.

“Yeah? Well I think Mummy’s going to need to give your Dinos’ a wash at this rate,” Leah jokes, shaking her head as she tries to coax your toys out of your hand to salvage them.

“Sharings’ caring!” You declare proudly, puffing out your chest.

Leah snorts in amusement, “Oh? And who taught you that?”

“Monkey!” You exclaim while beaming a wide smile.

“Of course she did,” Leah murmurs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she stands up from her seat at the table to grab a cloth, “I know you want to share your pancakes with your dinosaurs, but sometimes, things like this aren’t meant to be shared, bubba. You don’t want them to be covered in syrup and be all sticky, do you?” She retorts in a gentle tone of voice.

“No,” You concede, pouting as you spare a glance at said dinosaurs which were already sticky, “Mummy, my dinos’ are sticky” You whine, the reality hitting you while not appreciating the stickiness of them now.

“That’s why Mummy told you to not dunk them, bubba,” Leah can’t help but bite her bottom lip to stifle her laughter, “And that’s why we have to keep them nice and clean, like Mr Bear, remember?” She reminds you, using the cloth to wipe your own sticky fingers before proceeding to clean the dinosaurs.

“But I wan’ share,” You pout in disappointment, not quite understanding the whole concept of it.

“You can share, just not with your dinosaurs,” Leah retorts, playfully poking your nose once she had finished wiping off the syrup, “There we go, all better. No more dunking them now, little miss or they’ll get sticky again.”

“You got it dude,” You tell her, sticking your thumb up in agreement, “Mummy? Whens’ Auntie Wally comin’?”

“She’s on her way now, bubba,” Leah tells you as she disregards the cloth into the washing up bowl, “We’re waiting for her, then we’re going to be meeting Auntie Stephy, Auntie Beffy and Roo. Do you remember where we’re going today?”

You nod enthusiastically, “To the pumpkin farm!”

“That’s right,” Leah replies in agreement as she helps you down from the table so you can get ready for the trip out today, “We’re going to pick out pumpkins so you and Rory can carve them like you did last year with Monkey, remember?” She reminds you as the two of you head upstairs.

“Yeah! I gots’ to make it scary last year!” You exclaim, remembering the way that Monkey drew a scary face on the pumpkin, but the best bit was the gunk in the pumpkin that you loved pulling out, “Monkey didn’ like the gunk though!”

“No she didn’t, did she?” Leah chuckles in amusement as you enter your bedroom, “What do you want to wear today?”

“Can I wear my Rat costume?” You question, hopeful as you plonk yourself on the carpet in favour of playing with your toys instead of getting dressed.

“Oh I should have seen that coming,” Leah murmurs, speaking her thoughts aloud as she opens up the wardrobe in your bedroom, “Bubba, I don’t think it would be a great idea to wear that. How about you choose something else instead?” She suggests in a gentle tone of voice.

“Nuh uh. I wan’ wear me rat costume!” Your little voice insists while still playing with your toys on the carpeted rug that’s the shape of a rainbow.

It’s something that Leah and Jordan decided to have in your nursery before you were born, because apparently you’re a little rainbow baby, but that’s not something you’re all that sure what it exactly means, but you definitely get a lot of hugs and kisses all of the time.

You guess when you transferred to the big bed, it also came along as well although it doesn’t really fit in with the racecar bed that you have now.

Leah purses her lips, debating how this conversation was about to pan out, “Bubba, listen I know you want to wear your rat costume, but don’t you think it’ll be better to save it to wear on Halloween. You wouldn’t want your lovely tail to get covered in mud, would you?” She tries to coax you out of the idea and you don’t miss the sarcasm in her voice when saying certain words.

“No,” You pout at the thought of your Halloween costume being ruined by the mud at the pumpkin place you’re going to.

“Exactly, so how about we choose something else?” Leah continues to suggest as she routes through your wardrobe, “Oh, here’s the hoodie that grandad brought you. What about this?”

You shake your head in disagreement, “Not red!”

“Of course not,” Leah mumbles as she exhales a sigh while remembering that you seem to be going through a phase right now of not wanting to wear anything that isn’t red, “But this colour is close to red, it’s orange, like the pumpkins that we’re going to pick out, yeah?”

“... Fine,” You huff in agreement like it’s such a tedious task to agree to it as you give her your usual sass that you seem to have now, “But red tomorrow, Mummy. Don’ forget!” You tell her, waggling your index finger in front of her face.

“I won’t forget bubba,” Leah has to bite her bottom and stifle her laughter, finding it hard to take her mini me so seriously as she tries to piece together the rest of your outfit without any further protest from you, “Right, let's get you dressed then, bubba.”

With a bit of protest of pulling you away from your toys that you were enjoying, you reluctantly get dressed into the outfit chosen much to your disagreement of it not being red like you want it to be.

“Mummy?” You speak up as Leah helps you thread your arms through the sleeves of the t-shirt before coaxing your new hoodie over your head.

“Yes, bubba?” Leah responds in a gentle tone of voice,

“When we goes’ to the farm will there be a park?” You wonder, curiously because the idea of a park sounds like a lot of fun right now.

“Well I’m not too sure about that one little miss but there might be,” Leah answers while moving to help you with your leggings, but that doesn’t solve all of your questions that you want to know.

“I like the park!” You insist with a beaming smile but that doesn’t last, “... Mummy?” You question again while Leah helps you with the tricky task of putting your socks on.

Leah chuckles in amusement, “Yes, bubba?” She asks, waiting for your next question.

“If there’s a park, will there be a swing… and a slide?” You ponder the thought of the park, you always love the swings and always ask to go higher and higher, “Mummy! Will there be a roundabout?”

“You’re certainly a little chatterbox today, aren’t you? You’re just full of all the questions!” Leah jokes, playfully tickling your sides as you let out a squeal of delight, “I’m not sure what there will be if there is a park, but we’ll see what it’s like when we get there.”

“The swings are fun!” You exclaim in delight, “And that’s cos’ I’m like ‘out! That what Mama says too!” You retort innocently.

Leah gasps in a playful manner, “Oh is that right?”

“Uh huh!” You nod promptly on your decision, “Yeah, and Nana says’ it as well… And Auntie Kei! She says’ we like to y… yap a lot,” You stumble over the word as you tell her.

“Oh you just wait until I see your auntie Kei,” Leah retorts in a joking manner, “Me and her will have words– Agh!”

Right in that minute, your favourite person doesn’t miss the opportunity to sneak up behind Leah and scare her half to death, “Boo! Ha, gotcha!” She exclaims, incredibly pleased with herself.

Leah spins around and playfully bats Monkey’s arm, “You menace,” She chides, recovering from her faint heart attack, “What’re you playin’ at jumping up behind me like that?”

“It was too good of an opportunity to not take it,” Monkey shrugs her shoulders carelessly, “I’m trying to get all the scares in. It’s only another 2 weeks until the big day!”

“So you decide to scare me… Now?” Leah clicks her tongue and shakes her head, less than impressed, “Don’t you have anything better to be doing? Wally will be here soon and you’re not even ready yet!”

“Well, duh!” Monkey remarks while rolling her eyes, “Chill out, I have plenty of time to get ready. What’s the rush?” She wonders.

“Plenty of time?” Leah repeats while scoffing in disagreement, “Monkey, any minute now Wally is going to arrive so we can go out. I told you to be ready an hour ago, what have you been doing this whole time?”

“Uh… TikToks’ addictive,” Monkey murmurs her response while grinning at the blonde who looks about ready to blow a fuse, “There’s a new trend I wanna try with Kyra!”

“Absolutely not, no way!” Leah’s already putting a stop to the idea of mayhem your favourite person plans to cause, considering the last TikTok video attempt made her ankle hurt even more.

“Monkey, ‘ou scared Mummy!” You exclaim while giggling and finding the whole thing funny to watch.

“That’s the best bit about Halloween, Buddy!” Monkey declares excitedly as she grins at you, “Being able to jump out and scare people– Oh, and the trick and treating of course. All the sweets you can eat!”

“Trick or Treat!” You repeat excitedly, bouncing up and down on the balls of your sock covered feet, “Trick or Treat!”

“Exactly, remember that’s just what you say when you walk up to someones’ house and knock on the door,” Monkey reminds you of the typical way to ‘Trick or Treat’ on Halloween, “It’s important you say them words!”

You nod efficiently, “Trick or Treat!” You exclaim once again.

“Yeah, good job!” Monkey holds her hand up to exchange a high-five with you, “You’re going to be a pro in no time, Buddy!” She tells you.

“Trick or Treat,” You continue to shout in excitement.

“You do realise that’s all she’s going to be saying now, huh?” Leah arches her eyebrow and shakes her head, “Bubba…”

“Trick or Treat!” You repeat once more, loud and proud.

Leah chuckles in amusement, “Case in point right there.”

“There’s worse things that she could say though,” Monkey retorts, shrugging her shoulders, “Think about it, she’s just gettin’ into the Halloween spirit, Le!”

“Right, of course,” Leah murmurs, rolling her eyes at your favourite persons’ silliness, “Do you think you can perhaps take your ‘Halloween spirit’ elsewhere, and while you’re at it, get dressed to go out? I don’t think it would look so good going out in your pyjamas now, would it?” She gestures Monkey out of the room in the direction of her own bedroom.

Monkey pouts in disagreement and slumps her shoulders, “Boo, you’re no fun!” She exclaims in a playful manner of tone, “See here Buddy, this is what we call a ‘Grinch’ but of course that’s more relatable to Christmas of course…”

“Grinch!” You repeat while giggling faintly at Monkey’s usual silliness.

“Go. Get ready,” Leah states while pointing her index finger in the direction of the door, “Now.”

“Trick or Treat, Auntie Wally!” You shout aloud the minute that the front door is opened by Leah to reveal Lia on the other side, while holding onto your new trick or treat bucket, and of course you want to show her what you’ve been taught all about now, but you're disappointed with the lack of no sweets, “Why ‘ou no have sweeties?”

“You want sweeties?” Lia chuckles and doesn’t waste the time to scoop you up into her arms, “I think you're a few days too early yet, little miss.”

“That’s not the way you did it, Buddy,” Monkey laughs and shakes her head, “You’re supposed to say it when you go to other peoples’ houses, not ours, silly!” She retorts.

“But I want sweeties though,” You pout in disregard of not having any said sweeties, “Trick or Treat!” You hold your new bucket up in front of her while you’re still in her arms.

Monkey huffs and throws her hands up in the air, “Urgh, I give up!”

“Auntie Wally! We’re gon’ go to the farm,” You ramble excitedly to the woman while you’re still in her arms, “Go pick out pumpkins!”

“What? We’re not goin’ to the farm,” Monkey’s face pales at the news and shakes her head, “I’m not going anywhere where there’s chickens! Nuh uh, no thank you!”

Leah chuckles in amusement as ruffles your favourite person’s hair, “Relax, Menace. It’s a completely chicken free zone,” She tells her.

“Oh, really?” Monkey questions, choosing whether to believe her or not, “Cos’ you said that last time we went to a farm and I swear one of those buggers’ bit me finger!”

“There’ll be no chickens in sight,” Leah answers, really hoping that she’s right about it as she’s somewhat aware there is a petting zoo there.

“Oh, okay. Well in that case then, I guess I’ll go then… If you insist,” Monkey shrugs it off like she wasn’t so petrified just minutes ago, “So, we gonna go now then, or what?”

Leah and Lia laugh in amusement at Monkey antics, both of them knowing what she is like but right now you want to be the centre of attention for a change.

“Auntie Wally, look at my new trick or treat bucket that I got!” You try to shove it directly in her view to show it off.

Lia gasps in faux excitement “Oh I love it, Buddy! Did you get that the other day when you went shopping?”

“Uh huh, Mama brought it for me,” You nod promptly in agreement, “Ans’ we brought Monkey stickers to put on her crutches!”

“I saw them the other day and they are very cool,” Lia replies, listening intently to your chatter as she adjusts you in her grasp, “Does that mean you’re using them now, little one?”

“Meh,” Monkey retorts while shrugging her shoulders carelessly and puts her jacket on what she grabs off the coat rack by the front door.

“Well that was the hope, but I keep having to remind her still,” Leah chimes in as she grabs your denim jacket off the coat rack and coaxes your arms into it while you're still in Lia’s arms, “Right, are we ready to go?” She wonders.

“Can’t help that I forget sometimes when I have a memory like a civ,” Monkey murmurs while fixing the zip on her own jacket.

“Ready when you are,” Lia agrees to Leah’s question, settling you back down on the floor so you can walk out to the car on the driveway.

“Auntie Wally! Auntie Wally!” You squeal in excitement and walk out to the car on the driveway, “Mama brought me my costume as well. ‘Ou have to come and see it!”

“Someone’s excited for Halloween,” Lia says, peering down as you're still vibrating with excitement about the idea of it.

“Duh, she has to be,” Monkey chimes in as she hobbles out to the car, “It’s a great season!”

Lia chuckles in amusement as she turns to look at Leah, “Are we still stuck on the whole rat costume idea?”

“Unfortunately so,” Leah murmurs as she opens the back door of her car and helps you into your seat before buckling you in, “I’ve tried to persuade her differently, but I’m having no luck.”

“Even so, I think you make an adorable rat from the photos I’ve seen,” Lia says as she climbs into the passenger seat of Leah’s car.

“Me go’ be a rat for trick or treating!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air in excitement.

“Buddy the rat,” Monkey snickers to herself as she slides in beside you in the back of the car.

“Oh, is that a new nickname?” Lia jokes, buckling her seatbelt in as she looks towards Leah with an amused expression on her face.

“No, definitely not,” Leah grumbles, shaking her head in disagreement as she climbs into the driver's seat before buckling herself in and starting the ignition on the car.

“Mummy, I can’t wait to see Roo! Where’ she?” You’re full of chatter as you arrive at the pumpkin farm and you’re waiting in anticipation for Steph, Beth and your best friend, Rory, to join you.

“Don’t worry bubba. You’ll see her soon enough,” Leah assures you as she’s given the impossible task to fix the beanie over your head considering the amount you’re moving around so much right now, “Stand still so I can put your hat on please, bubba.” She says.

“Wan’ see Roo!” You whine impatiently, becoming more restless by every minute that passes and you can see your best friend, “Where they?”

“Oh look who I spot!” Lia motions to the three of them exiting Beth’s car as Rory holds onto Beth’s hand with all the busy cars around, as she spots you and attempts to run towards you.

“Roo!” You squeal aloud, your excitement becoming more tangible.

“Buddy!” Rory parrots your excitement, eager to reach you so you two can exchange a hug.

“I think we’ve been forgotten,” Steph jokes, not wasting any time to scoop you up with one arm and tickle you while not missing the opportunity to ruffle Monkey’s hair, “How’re my favourite pair of troublemakers doing?”

“Get off,” Monkey grumbles, trying to swat Steph’s hand away from her hair.

“Me no trouble, Auntie Stephy!” You pout at the older Australian women.

“Hm, I’m not too sure about that one now,” Steph jokes, continuing to tickle you before plonking you back down on the floor.

“Roo!” You shout aloud excitedly, embracing your best friend in a warm hug.

“Who’s ready to go and pick out some pumpkins?” Beth asks in an excited tone of voice.

“Me! Me!” You and Rory both shout at the same time.

“I wish you brought Kyra with you,” Monkey adds into the conversation with her shoulders slumped as you all start to walk through the entrance of the pumpkin patch, “Would be loads more fun then!”

“British menace and Aussie pest, I’m not so convinced myself,” Beth chips in as she finds amusement in the situation, “I think it’s bad enough on your own without your counterpart to cause trouble.”

“Party pooper,” Monkey murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Mummy! Mummy! Can we go and finds’ the pumpkins?” You tug on Leah’s sleeve to find out whether you can run off with your best friend.

“Go for it, bubba,” Leah encourages you to run ahead with Rory.

“Yeah! Mon’ Roo, lets’ go and find them!” Your voice is loud and energetic as you motion your best friend to follow you in the direction of the large pumpkins, “Race you there!”

“I don’t think I’ve seen them this excited before,” Lia retorts as she watches the two you run off squealing.

“I’m gonna chase you–” Monkey begins to speak.

“Ah ah, think again about that one Menace,” Leah interjects, giving Monkey a knowing look.

“Stupid dumb injury,” Monkey murmurs in displeasure.

“You only have yourself to blame, remember?” Leah chuckles, ruffling her hair.

“Chase me, Monkey!” You turn back round to shout at her.

“An me!” Roo adds in through fits of giggles.

“I wish I could kiddos, but I’m stuck for now,” Monkey tells you both while motioning to the boot that’s taken precedence on her foot currently.

“Mon’ Roo, we gots’ to find the pumpkins!” You tell your best friend.

“Lets’ go!” Rory shouts in agreement.

“Don’t run too fast girls, we don’t want either of you to… Fall,” Leahs’ cut off from her own words as you trip and fall right there as you miss your step. The sudden jolt of shock causes you to let out an almighty wail.

“M… Mummy! My knee!” You cry aloud, clutching hold of your knee as your bottom lip trembles, “It… It hurts, Mummy!”

“Oh, bubba,” Leah’s rushing to your side and scooping you up into her arms within seconds, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead while trying to calm you down, “You’re okay, you’re alright. It was just a bit of a shock, weren’t it, hm?”

“Owie, my knee hurts,” You whimper while tears still roll down your cheeks, “My knee! Mummy, it hurts!”

“You’re okay, bubba,” Leah coos, rubbing soothing circles on your back to try and ease your tears, “There’s no cut, see? There’s no blood, you’re fine, my brave bubba!” She exclaims.

“Uh huh,” You sob quietly still while in Leah’s arms.

“This is why we have to watch where we’re going now, remember? We don’t want to end up tripping and falling again, do we?” Leah reminds you in a gentle tone of voice.

“Wan’ to still go and find pumpkins with Roo,” You insist once you’re calm enough again and your tears are subdued.

“Alright, but remember to be careful this time, okay?” Leah reminds you cautiously, settling you back on your feet and adjusting your beanie back on your head properly, “Right, go run free, bubba!”

“Mon’ Roo!” You call after your best friend, running with her as you two are the first to reach the pumpkins, “We gots’ to find a big one!”

“Good luck with that mission, Buddy!” Monkey calls out to you, amusedly.

“But’s not ugly though. It has to be pretty, right, Mummy?” Rory turns to look at Beth for her confirmation.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Beth clarifies while nodding in agreement.

“Can pumpkins be pretty?” Steph furrows her eyebrows and whispers to the rest of the grown ups.

“I mean, I guess so,” Lia murmurs in confusion while shrugging her shoulders.

“Nuh uh, gots’ to find a big one so Monks’ can draw me a scary face on it!” You insist, looking round with wide eyes at the various different sizes of all the pumpkins in the patch.

“Well that sounds like an awesome idea,” Beth joins in on the conversation, “I think we’ll need some wheelbarrows, huh?” She wonders.

You shake your head in disagreement with that idea, “No, don’ need one of them. We carry them!” You declare.

“I don’t think so bubba, it’ll be too heavy,” Leah’s rational with her explanation as she grabs a wheelbarrow on hand, “We’ll pick them, put them in the wheelbarrow that we can carry back to the car instead, okay?”

“If we must,” You exhale a small huff in response, which makes Steph, Lia and Beth all chuckle.

“Where’s this ‘tude 'coming from all of a sudden?” Steph questions, poking your sides which causes you to let out laughter.

“Don’t ask, it’s a sudden thing apparently,” Leah murmurs while shaking her head, “Oh, and we also appear to be going through a phase of only wanting to wear red now.” She adds.

Beth snorts in amusement, “I see, and how’s that going for you?”

“I absolutely love having a sassy 3 year old,” Leah retorts as she resists the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m hoping it’s just a phase of that too, but knowing my luck, probably not.”

“It gets worse as they get older, Le, but you already know that one,” Beth tells Leah, patting her on the shoulder in reassurance.

“Hey, I didn’t do out this time,” Monkey cuts in, looking up from having her head buried in her phone.

“This time,” Lia murmurs in amusement and shakes her head.

“Mummy! Mummy!” You shout aloud in excitement, gaining the attention of all the grown ups, Look how big dis’ one is! It’s huge!”

Leah let out a short gasp, “Wow, that’s massive, isn’t it?”

“Ha, that’s what she said,” Monkey chimes in, earning her a quick smack around the back of her head, “Ow! What was that for?!”

“Uh huh, it’s huge!” You continue to insist, adamant that’s the pumpkin that you want to pick, “I wan’ this one, please!”

“Okay bubba, if that’s the one you want then you can have it,” Leah replies, wasting no time in lifting the pumpkin up and dumping it into the wheelbarrow, “Monkey, are you getting one this year?” She wonders.

“Meh, sure, I’ll take whatever looks good enough to carve,” Monkey responds, shrugging her shoulders as she gestures over to one that looks at least half decent, “But I’m not touching the gunk inside of it, it’s gross!”

“I’m sure one of us can scoop it out for you,” Lia jokes, rolling her eyes as she helps lift the pumpkin up and place it in the wheelbarrow.

“Did you find a good one, Roo?” Beth wonders, taking note of the pumpkin that Rory has found which is slightly smaller than your own.

Rory beams a massive smile on her face, “Yeah, this one is pretty!”

“Pretty’s a distinctive word to use right now,” Monkey murmurs, earning another nudge in the side from Leah who shoots her a look, “Seriously, again? Yeah it’s… uh, it’s very pretty Roo.”

“Thank you,” Rory flashes her a grin, “I want this one please, Mummy!”

“I think we can do that one,” Beth agrees, picking up the pumpkin and placing it in the wheelbarrow.

“Right, so pumpkins are all picked out. How about we check out what else there is round here?” Steph suggests, her eyes gazing around as she spots something that you and Rory were definitely going to like, “Look girls, they have a petting zoo. Shall we go and see what animals they have?”

“Animals!” Rory perks up at the instant mentions of animals, “Auntie Stephy, do they have bunnies, like Twix?”

“Like they might do,” Steph nods in agreement.

“They better not have any of them pesky chickens,” Monkey’s apprehensive to go near incase they have them, “Better yet, I’ll stay here out of the way.”

“Menace, relax, they don’t have any chickens,” Leah reassures her while trying hard to stifle her own laughter, “Unless you’re afraid of being attacked by bunny rabbits and ponies, I think you’re safe.”

“Well you know, they can be vicious as well,” Monkey murmurs, showing her reluctance for not wanting to still go near them although as she nears and see’s the different bunnies she changes her tune, “Aw, the bunnies are cute. Can we get one?”

“Bunny rabbits!” You exclaim, making a run towards where they were as you stare at them in awe, “Mummy, I wan’ one of them!”

“Good luck Le,” Lia jokes, wondering how Leah is going to say no to both of you with you looking like that, “How can you say no to those adorable faces?”

Leah inwardly groans and shakes her head, “I’m sorry girls, but… but we already have a dog, remember? We don’t have room for a bunny as well,” she tells you both.

“Dat’ okay, maybe Mama will say yes instead?” You question knowing that Jordan will easily agree to a lot of things that you ask her.

Monkey nods in agreement and runs with your idea, “Good idea, Buddy. I’ll text her!”

“That wasn’t… No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Leah murmurs, pinching her nose and exhaling a sigh, “Monkey, don’t even think about texting Jord to ask for one!”

“Awh, c’mon, you’re no fun,” Monkey huffs and slumps her shoulders, “Sorry Buddy, Mums’ been a killjoy.”

“Look how cute they are, Mummy!” Rory’s eyes are wide as she is eager to pet the bunnies.

“They are cute, aren’t they?” Beth agrees with her daughter, kneeling down to a lower height, “I’m sure if we ask the nice people, they’ll let you pet them.”

“Yeah,” Rory nods along and takes a seat on one of the hay bales as one of the workers places a bunny rabbit on her lap while Rory strokes it’s soft fudge brown fur and Beth makes sure to take lots of snaps to send to Viv who’s back in Manchester currently.

“Mummy, I wan’ pet a bunny as well!” You insist, glancing up at Leah with a small pout on your face.

“Alright well sit down nicely then bubba,” Leah instructs you to sit on the hay bale beside Rory as another worker places a snow white bunny rabbit on your lap.

“Look, Mummy, the bunny looks like the one I have at home!” You declare, beaming a wide smile and you gently stroke the bunny’s soft fur.

Leah smiles and nods in agreement, “Smile, bubba. I’ll take a photo to send it to Mama for her to see,” she tells you, coaxing you to smile nicely while she snaps a quick photo and sends it to Jordan.

Le 🤠 The girls have got it in their head now they want a bunny no thanks to the trip out to pick out their pumpkins!🎃

After spending a bit of time at the petting zoo and having a chance to pet the rest of the animals that were there before moving on to see what else they had to offer.

You’re delighted to be able to get your face painted like a tiger and you take great joy in trying to roar at other people while Rory went for being a butterfly instead.

“I’m a tiger! Roar!” You pretend to growl at people nearby who pass, “I’m scary, Mummy!”

“Oh you are terrifying bubba,” Leah jokes playfully as you walk over to a nearby cafe so you can all sit down and have a bite to eat, and you’re very excited to be able to eat one of the cupcakes because they look delicious to eat while the grown ups all have a drink.

“Alright my little tiger, which one do you want to eat?” Leah questions, hoisting you up into her arms so you can peer over and pick out which cupcake you’d like to eat, going for ones’ got the most chocolate on it.

“Dat’ one, please! Get one for Monks’ as well!” You tell her, pointing her index finger straight at it, eagerly accepting it into your awaiting hands and going to sit down at the table to eat it nicely, “Today’s been fun, Mummy!” You tell her.

“Good, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself bubba,” Leah smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “What about you, Monkey? Have you had fun?”

Monkey shrugs her shoulders while eating her own cupcake in her hand, “Yeah it hasn’t been totally dull, although it would be call if we could get a rabbit though,” She murmurs, hoping that Leah will cave eventually.

However Leah just snorts and shakes her head in disagreement, “Oh no, that is definitely not happening, I’ve already got you two and a dog to take care of… We don’t need a bunny rabbit as well,” She jokes, shaking her head in amusement and trying to ignore the pouts on both of your faces, “I’m not changing my mind on this one, girls.”

#monkey #double the trouble fic #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso one shot #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal women x reader #scribblesofagoonerr #buddy #chaos fc reader #separate reader #beth mead x reader #steph catley x reader #lia wälti x reader #rory #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

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Bury the Years: A Desperate Call

WC: 1880, Masterpost CW: blood, mentions of hallucinations, depression, Jason's death and *waves at everything that means*: buried alive, canon typical violence, etc

Dick rolled over in his bed, dragging the cover up over his head with a groan. There was something sticky on the sheet. Blood, he was sure. Last night… last night had been a rough one. Maybe he should have patched himself up a little better before he had crashed in bed, but butterfly bandages had been all he had the energy for. So much for them holding through sleep.

To top it off, his damn phone was going off.

Why had he picked such an annoying ringtone again?

Right, no, Wally had changed it last time he had seen him in… in way too long now. How had it been so long since he had seen any of the Titans? He should fix that. Maybe after he was healed. They’d just look at him with those big sad eyes they always seemed to have for him these days if he showed up like this.

The phone was still ringing.

Hopefully whoever it was would give up soon or go to voicemail and he could get back to sleep. He knew he should get up and deal with whatever wound had opened up, but he was just so damn tired. He didn’t want to get out of bed. If he got out of bed he would have to clean his wound and if he was cleaning his room he would have to shower and if he was going to shower he should do laundry first so he had clean clothing but he shouldn’t do laundry without his wound fixed up. In short, getting out of bed meant having to do everything— having to face everything. It was much nicer in his sheets, even if they were a little sticky with blood.

The ringing stopped.

Dick let out a soft breath of air and tucked his face a little further into his pillow.

The phone started ringing again. Dick cursed, threw the sheet off of him, and grabbed the phone.

“What?” he snapped.

“Dick?”

No.

No it couldn’t be. He had… the hallucinations had gotten better. And they had never used the phone before. They were always just there. But it… this was… it sounded like…

“Dick? Are… are you there?”

It sounded like…

“Jay?” his voice cracked around the name, around his name. It sounded like Jason, his little brother, the one he had failed.

“Dick,” Jay said, own voice not doing any better. There was something else to it. It sounded deeper and rougher but Dick still knew it. That was still his little brother. “Dick, I… please… I need… I need your help. I can’t save him alone. I need you, Big Bird.”

“Where are you?” Dick asked. He stumbled over discarded escrima sticks and clothing in his rush to the bathroom. His hands shook as he dug around in the first aid kit for some fresh gauze. He could stitch it up later, he had to get to Jay.

“Crime Alley, where else,” Jason said with a bitter laugh that made Dick fumble the box he was holding. Oh how it hurt to hear his little wing laugh like that! Oh how it was so amazing to hear his little wing laugh again, even if it sounded like the laugh was clawing its way out of Jay’s chest. No matter how ugly the sound it was still laughter pushed out by air by lungs by a beating heart. How— “I’m at 3405 Dawson Rd. It’s a… I don’t know, used to be an office building or some shit, but it’s abandoned now. I’m up on the third floor. You have to get in from the outside. Back window is best.”

“Okay. Okay. Can… can you stay on the phone until I get there, okay?” Dick asked, no, pleaded. He couldn’t hang up. If he hung up all of this might not be real and Jay might be gone and Dick… he couldn’t go through that again.

He needed this to be real.

“I, yeah, yeah, sure, I can,” Jason said. There was noise on his side of the call, the rusting of that cheap sort of nylon material.

“Do you… do you need me to bring anything?” Dick asked, hopping towards the door as he dragged on underwear and then jeans that were clean enough. He tugged a shirt on then back off and rushed back to the bathroom to actually stick a new wad of gauze onto his side.

“Yes, no, just… just get here first?”

“Okay, yeah, of course, I’ll be there. I’m heading out of my door right now,” Dick said as he grabbed another shirt from the back of the couch and tugged it on over his head. He dug around for a comm, transferred the call to it, and stuck it in his ear. “You still there Little Wing?”

“Still here.” There was that laugh again that made Dick’s soul soar and sob in equal measure.

“Okay. I’ve got you in my ear now. I’m going to be over as quick as I can. Just… how about you keep talking to me.”

“’Bout what?” Jason rasped.

“Let’s start with a status report, okay? Are you injured?”

Are you still beaten to a pulp?

Is your head still smashed in?

Are you still broken?

“No. I haven’t been injured for… since… no. Just my palms a little scraped up from climbing in and out of this place, didn’t even bleed.”

“Okay.” That was… That was a relief. That was a good start. “You… you said you needed my help to save him? Can you tell me what’s going on with him?”

“Can… can that wait till you’re here?”

“Yeah, okay, sure Little Wing. What do you want to talk about instead?”

“Can you… that’s. Um… I don’t know? How… how about you tell me about Gotham? I guess. Not, I can’t do the family yet. Just… just tell me about the city.”

“Okay, well, let me tell you about the Gotham Knights last season.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse. Way worse,” Dick said and filled the line with worthless, mindless chatter as he raced towards the address that Jason had given him.

The building really did look abandoned. There wasn’t all that much too it anymore. The bottom floor was completely boarded up, but the barricade had been pried away over time. The insides were looted, obviously lived in once, and currently full of trash and mold and all the nasty grime of Gotham. It looked like the stairs were out. That must have been why Jason chose it; not many people could scale up three stories on a mostly gone fire escape.

Dick decided to go up the neighboring building and jump over. “You’re making me get my cardio in today, huh?”

“As if that will get your heart rate up.”

“Yeah, yeah. Become a super skilled gymnast before hitting the double digits and people think you can do everything.”

Jason’s snort buzzed across the line. “Can’t you do everything?”

“I couldn’t save you.” Dick hit the rusted fire escape with a clang. He was half worried Jason had hung up on him. Fuck he shouldn’t have said that. No, he could faintly hear Jason softly reassuring someone. “I’m at the window, can I come in?”

“…yeah. We’re on the room to the right. Just… go slowly, okay?”

“Okay. It’s just me, I’m alone. I’m going through the window now,” Dick said. He slid up the old frame carefully, searching his fingers along it to undo some classic Bat booby traps as he lifted it. Sometimes you really didn’t need more than some thread and something noisy like an empty can.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Not when I’m the one who made the tricks,” Dick said.

The door was right there.

It was already open.

He took a breath and walked through.

That… that was really Jason. Alive. Alive and grown up, big as a tank, but Dick would know those expressive eyes anywhere, that slightly crooked slope of the nose, that furrowed brow. Jason was so big and so grown up, but still just a kid, hardly an adult at only nineteen. He was sitting on a pile of sleeping bags and ratty blankets on the floor with another kid his age curled up on his lap; a kid that looked like a touch would shatter him.

Dick crouched down, keeping his hands visible as he was very aware of another set of blue-green eyes watching him.

“Hey, Jay,” he said after clearing his throat.

God he wanted to rush over there and pull Jason into his arms. He wanted to touch, to have that last bit of assurance that this was real.

“Hey, Dick,” Jason said, the words echoing through the earpiece before Jason ended the call.

Jason let the phone fall, like he couldn’t hold up his arm any longer. It thumped loudly as it hit the sleeping bags and the guy in Jason’s lap flinched so hard that Dick was worried he had hurt something.

“Sorry, sorry lily-loo. Didn’t mean to let it fall that hard,” Jason said. He raised his arm (it looked like it weighed a million pounds) and carded gentle fingers through the other’s messy black and white hair.

Black and white just like Jason’s was, only all of the stranger’s white was on the lower part, like an under dye. Jason’s was right at his hairline, just slightly off center. Dick’s eyes flicked between the two.

“This is just my brother,” Jason murmured. “I told you about him, remember? Dick? He won’t hurt you. He’s going to help us.”

“That’s right,” Dick said in a soft tone. He crept a few feet closer before he fluidly folded his legs under him and took a seat on the grimy floor. “I’m here to help. I’d do anything for my brother.”

“Yeah,” Jason croaked after a moment. He took a shuddering breath and pressed a kiss to the other guy’s temple. “Yeah.”

“I mean it, Jay. What do you need? Other than, you know… the obvious?” Dick said as he motioned to the room around them.

Jason laughed that bitter laugh again. “Mostly… mostly the obvious to start. Somewhere safe to be. Something better to sleep on. Food. Food is the most important. Pillbug here… he’s not doing well. I’ve been trying to get his weight up, but I just can’t… I can’t do enough or do it fast enough. He doesn’t like it when I leave, but I’m afraid to take him out there…”

“Okay, okay Jay. We can work on all of that. Malnourished then? And hand injuries?” Dick asked, glancing over the bandaged fingers. “What else? What happened to him, little wing?”

What happened to you, Dick wanted to ask.

Jason glanced back up at Dick. His eyes were greener than before, Dick swore it. It couldn’t just be the lighting. Jason’s green gaze seemed to pin him to the spot, not that Dick was going anywhere, not with Jason back. He wouldn’t leave his little brother when he needed him again.

“He was alive, Dick. He was alive inside his own coffin. He was alive and screaming and trying to claw his way out of it… just like I did.”

---

AN: So! You all voted for me to make you cry. And it's Trauma Tuesday! Not sure if I managed it, but hopefully at least tugged at some heart strings! This whole fic is an OOF, ngl.

Not sure if this will be how it starts or if it starts with Jason visiting the graveyard he was buried in, freshly back to Gotham, and hearing screaming. :3 I'll have to see when I can next get back to it! Which likely won't be quickly, having a really hard time of it with my hands right at the moment. Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe on the master post. I don't know when this one will next be updated! This was a Trauma Tuesday Special.

#dp x dc #dead on main #bury the years

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magics-neptunes-things · 7 months ago

Text

Ready, Aim, Shoot (3)

Hi guys!

This is a little longer that what I was thinking, but it's the last part of the Ready, Aim, Shoot 's serie. Thanks to @holly-wallis for her ideas and advice ♥

Please enjoy ♥

I had to repost it, sorry if you already saw it ♥

TW : Blood, trauma, scare, creepy therapist.

PART 1 | PART 2

______________________________________________________________

Blood. There is blood everywhere. The more you look, the more there is. You look at your shaking hands, cover in red too. You don’t know whose blood is it though. The room you are in is only white, adding to the contrast with the blood color. Breathing quickly, you look around and that’s when you finally see her.

Alexia.

Alexia is on her back in the middle of the room, her body surrounded by red too. Panicking, you kneel next to her, shaking her to try to wake her. But she doesn’t. She stays still in your hand, not moving. Not breathing. This is when you scream.

You scream so much that it wakes you up suddenly. Heavily breathing, you sit on your bed, blindly trying to find the button on your bedside lamp. You finally managed to find it, but when you put the light on, Alexia isn’t next to you in your bed.

It’s only when you left your room to look for her that you remember. She’s not here tonight, she’s sleeping in Tenerife, where she played today. Or yesterday, because it’s actually three in the morning. It’s the first time she leaves you alone for all the night since you came back.

Alexia is not here, but it’s your fault really. You assured her that you will be ok, almost pushing her out of your shared flat. She made you swear to call her if you need her, no matter what time it is. She asked Mapi to come to look for you last night, so you watched the game with the blonde before she went home. You fell asleep quickly actually, you were far to imagine a wake up like that.

You should really call her; she will be disappointed with you if she learns the state of panic you are in without calling her. But you hate the idea to wake her up at this time of the night. She played yesterday, she’s coming home today. She needs to rest.

You find refuge on your couch, putting the TV on. But you can’t forget the picture of Alexia and the blood everywhere. You feel like it’s still on your body, no matter how many times you look at your hands to be sure that you don’t have a little red on you. Thirty minutes after you wake up, you decided to go take a shower.

You pass a long time under it, water burning, washing your body again and again. You ignore the scare that your accident left on your body. You hate them. No matter how many times Alexia kissed them, telling you that you are strong and even more beautiful than before.

You feel guilty as hell when you think about your girlfriend. She is amazing with you, so patient and so loving. You don’t feel like you deserve her. You don’t make any progress with your mental health and it’s disturbing. You even think about breaking up with Alexia one time, disgusting by yourself. She deserves so much more than you. But right after, you had a panic attack, because how can you live without her? She’s your whole world.

You are not even strong enough to make the things right for her.

When the feeling of the hot water and the strength with which you rubbed your skin became too much to handle, you stop the water and get out of the shower. This time your skin is red, but you know why.

You pick a hoodie from Alexia and one of her old Barcelona’s short. If you can’t have your girlfriend’s arms, at least you can have her smell. And, after some hesitation, you even take her pillow to go with you to the couch of your living room. You take snack and watch some stupid things on TV while scrolling on your phone.

You are still tired, but you don’t want to take the risk to fall asleep again. You’re terrified to have this dream again. Every time the images came back in your brain, you try to hug Alexia’s pillow harder. It kind of work, but it has nothing to do with Alexia’s comfort.

You fall asleep after 8 o’clock, after your girlfriend told you that they are boarding and that she will be home soon.

You are still asleep when Alexia comes home. She smiles seeing you laying on the couch, cuddle against her pillow, in her clothes. You are watching YouTube now, from her account, and you choose the playlist where she puts all the games she finds interesting. Only putting her suitcase on the ground, she comes to sit next to you, softly stroking your hair.

“Alexia?” you mumble, opening your eyes with difficulty.

“Hi sleepy head”

Her smile is affectionate, and you get up on one elbow to rub your eyes and have a better look at her. Her hairs are down and she seems fine. She seems happy, maybe to see you? The plan was that she takes a taxi with Jana to come back home, Alexia didn’t want you to drive because some noises sometimes make you jump.

“How are you?” Alexia asks softly.

“Can I have a hug?”

She smiles and passes her arms around you to hug you. But you lay on the couch again, taking her with you on it. She giggles and you smile, forgetting for the first time your nightmare.

“I’m glad you’re here” you whisper after some minutes.

“I’m glad to be back to you too.”

You hum, turning a little to pass a leg around her knees and cuddle tighter against her. She’s stroking your back lovingly, sometimes kissing your head. You started to wonder how much mental pressure you are putting on her when she talks again.

“You remember Marta? From the media team?”

“I think I do” you answer, frowning. “Why?”

“She just left for her maternity leave, and she doesn’t know for now if she will come back.”

“Ok?”

You are still frowning when you look at your girlfriend, not understanding where she wants to go. I mean you are happy that people have baby and all. But what does it make a change for you?

It looks like Alexia’s idea was that you apply for the job. You try to escape that idea, not really happy about the idea of meeting tons of people who will know about your story and look at you with pity in their eyes. But Alexia assures you that it won’t happen, adding that you just can go for the interview without saying yes after.

Long story short, you are now sitting on your desk for your first day.

Your job is basically to find idea of activities to anime the games, a little more marketing than journalism to be honest. But it looks fun and like Alexia said before, when Marta will come back, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.

********

“Hi, I’d like a meeting with the new media manager?”

A voice in front of you make you raise your head, even if you recognize it immediately. Alexia is smirking at you from the door of your office, looking like she just finishes her shower. Which she probably did, given the time.

“I’m sorry, but you have to talk to my assistant first, she will give you my time schedule” you smirk back.

Alexia frown slightly, closing the door behind her before coming for you.

“You have an assistant?”

You know that frown and you roll your eyes while standing up to great her like she deserves it.

“Yes, I have” you answer, letting yourself go against her when she takes you in her arms.

She hums, her lips against your hair, trying to look discreetly in the open office by the window. The gesture makes you chuckle and you raise your head to have a better look at her.

“What? I was just looking to know if you knew her, that’s all.”

“Sure, mi Amor.”

She pouts and you kiss it better, just to see the smile she has right after. You weren’t really happy to start to work again to be honest, but you have to admit that it’s a good thing for you to keep your head busy with something. Alexia was right, once again.

“Are you ready to leave? I’m taking you home.”

“I am.”

You take your stuff with you, before letting Alexia passes her arm around your waist to take you with her. You don’t know if it’s only the jealousy talking right now, but you have to admit that she is way more openly affective with you since your accident. Not that you have a problem with it, obviously. But the way her gaze is scanning the room when you left after saying goodbye to your colleagues, it makes you think that there is at least a little part of jealousy in it.

Which is totally stupid, you only see her.

“You seems happier” Alexia says cautiously over her plate that night.

You look at her for some seconds before nodding. You are, but you are scared to mention it in case that it makes your nightmares coming back.

“I am. Thanks to you” you smile softly.

“Are you really? Or are you hiding something from me like when I was away for the game to Tenerife?”

You blush and almost chock on your tomato, but you somehow are able to keep some dignity. You don’t take the time to try to deny her statement though, you know that she knows. Of course she does. She reads you like an open book. Alexia has the decency to not point anything else, waiting patiently for your answer.

“I really am better. You were right, I really needed to get out from here even if it was difficult at first. It’s great to have something to do, not that cooking for you wasn’t entertaining. But going out… It’s great.”

She nods softly, without leaving your face with her eyes. You know immediately that there is something else in her mind, but you don’t push, letting her carry the conversation.

“Do you think I was too suffocating with you? Maybe if I…”

“No!” you cut her after some seconds of incredulity. “Alexia how could you…? Are you joking? You are the reason that I’m still here and mentally good. You are the reason that I keep fighting to be fine again. I couldn’t have done it without you. I forbid you to think of anything like that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s some insecurities and I shouldn’t have told you that” she frowns again, playing with her forks and some pasta left in her plate.

“Alexia, don’t please.”

She looks at you again when you stand up, just to come sit on her lap. She welcomes you by taking you close against her with her arms. You pass your arms around your neck, one of your fingers playing with the baby hair on her neck.

“You are so perfect to me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to thank you enough one day for it. You were always right and done nothing wrong all those days. A lot of people would have abandoned, but you are still here with me.”

“I’ll never abandon you” she mumbles, looking right into your eyes.

You can see how much she means those worlds and you have to take all your strength not to start crying like a baby. You’re pretty sure that your eyes are shining from tears but you busy yourself by stroking her cheek tenderly.

“You said one time that my come back is a miracle, do you remember? Well, you are my miracle.” you add, after she nods.

She kisses you and the way she did makes your head turned. She only let you breath for several seconds when you need air, before kissing you again with even more intensity. You had sex again after some weeks of rehab from your part, but not like you did before your departure. And it’s hard to see Alexia restrain her gestures, scared as hell to hurt you. Tonight though, you feel like that maybe it will come back.

********

It came back.

You are laying on your bed, lovingly enveloped in your girlfriend’s arms. Her skin is so soft against yours, your face hiding in her neck. You are lull by Alexia’s deep and slow breathing and you are starting to wonder if she’s falling asleep when she talks quietly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Great. Safe. Warm.”

“Perfect” Alexia sighs softly, moving a little to be more comfortable on the mattress.

You look up at her, admiring the shape of her jaw, her perfect nose, her beautiful eyes, and her so kissable lips.

“What?” she asks when she sees you staring.

“Nothing” you giggle. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes before closing them, tightening you harder against her. You don’t need anything than her body to keep you warm and you love it.

“Would you be angry if I stopped working there?”

The sudden question makes her open her eyes again to look at you. She seems to be thinking for several seconds before answering.

“Of course not. Why do you want to stop anyway? Is someone nasty with you?”

“Not at all” you deny, already imagine her hunting the person who would do that to you. “I was thinking that… maybe I could finish one of my book projects?”

“You mean one of your thousand amazing scenario who are desperately waiting on your computer?”

“Exactly that” you answer, rolling your eyes.

She teased you way to much about it already.

“If it’s what you want, of course I’ll support you. But what about going out to meet people?”

You see the worried already and you answer, kissing her cheek.

“I’ll go write into a Café or something. Maybe seeing people, crowd and streets will help me to get idea.”

********

That’s exactly what you did, after finishing your job with the media. The first days, you weren’t really effective, more focused on what’s going on around you and which story you want to choose. After some debate with yourself and help asking to your mother and Alexia, you choose to mix two stories and start writing again. It made you start from the beginning, but it’s maybe better like this.

You still get to your psychiatrist to your session twice a week, always a little more scared to go without Alexia. Your psychiatrist told both of you that it could be good for you to come without your girlfriend. Alexia accepted immediately, always being interested in everything that can make you feel better. So on Mondays would go without Alexia and on Fridays you go with her.

You always have a strange feeling without Alexia’s halo, and it’s only happened when you come here. You don’t have trouble to go grocery shopping without Alexia or go to the Café to write.

It’s particularly hard to come today, you talked to Alexia by the phone before your appointment to ease your stress. She seems to realize that something is wrong, because she talks a lot about her day. She only does that to change your mind, and you love her for that.

“Good Morning, Y/N.” your therapist greats you.

You great her back and start talking about your new occupation, your activities since the last time and the travel Alexia proposed to you last night. It was something you can’t stop to think about since she mentioned it, eager to go away for some days in the sun with the woman you love.

“Don’t you think it will be too soon?” the doctor asks sceptically, only looking at her notepad.

You are taken aback. You would never have thought that she can be thinking that it’s a bad idea. She never stops to tell you to go ahead and try new things since the beginning.

“Taking a plane, going to an airport, in a place that might remind you of your trauma? What would you do if you have one of your panic attacks there?”

You don’t know what to answer to that. Alexia mentioned Canary Islands and a private hotel with a private beach, which seems far away from the Middle East.

“No, I mean… I’m going better now. And I’ll be with Ale. Everything will be ok.”

She looks at you this time, raising an eyebrow. Her look is sharp, almost mean and you have trouble swallow your saliva. You feel like a schoolgirl getting bullied by her teacher.

“Don’t you think you already lean too much on the poor girl? Maybe she suggests the holidays to have some rest, are you sure she wants you to go with her?”

You don’t really remember the end of the appointment, but it keeps getting worse. And you don’t know how you managed to find yourself in the Barcelona’s facilities either after it. You can’t think straight anymore, it’s like this woman knew all your insecurities and tell you that you are right to have them. One after the other.

What if she’s right? What if Alexia can’t stand your presence, your toxics dreams and mental health? You already knew that you weren’t good enough for her and that she deserved better. You can’t believe that you let her makes you believe that she can love you. How can she? How can anyone?

You were turning around to go home when you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N?”

You recognize Mariona through your tears, but you can’t say anything. She doesn’t seem to mind though, carefully taking your arm in her hand.

“What are you doing here? Are you looking for Alexia?”

You try to scream at her to let Alexia alone and not to get you to her, but you can’t. When you don’t say a word, Mariona decides to take you to Alexia. Luckily the Majorcan woman came late today and she knows exactly where to find your girlfriend.

You let Mariona drags you around, hearing her soothing voice without being able to understand what she’s saying. Sweets, encouraging words, for sur. You can’t figure out really what happens next, but after several minutes of walk, you hear Mariona calling your girlfriend’s name. And more seconds after, you are surrounded by her arms, her perfume, everything that is her.

Everything that you don’t deserve.

When Alexia realizes that she’s facing a wall and that you won’t say a word, she takes you home. You are like anesthetized at this point, letting her do what she wants with you. It’s only when you are laying on the bed you retake some reality and stare at Alexia who seems to be choosing clothes to put on you after taking a shower.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

The words were lifeless, but you see Alexia froze. She turns in your direction, with eyes wide and the most chocked face ever.

“What?”

“I’m breaking up with you” you repeat, looking at her straight in her eyes.

A silence pass and you see Alexia watching at you, probably waiting for you to say something else. Maybe to explain yourself, but you don’t say another word. Plus, the reasons are obvious, no?

“Are you- don’t you love me anymore?”

She seems broken. That doesn’t make any sense, she is supposed to be relieved, not sad. You don’t understand her reaction, so you shrug before answering.

“That’s not the point, Alexia. You are free. I’m giving you your liberty back.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk? Did someone give you something to you?”

She seems angry now, almost shouting with her eyebrows frown. You frown too, because why the hell won’t she understand? You sit in the bed while she’s still standing in front of you.

“No! I just… Why won’t you…”

Why is your brain suddenly transformed in pudding?

You look at Alexia when she comes to you and takes your face between her hands. She does it with so much care that you want to cry again.

“Why don’t you let me break up with you?” you whisper.

“Because I love you. I told you; I’ll fight for us every day if I have to.”

There we are, you are crying again. But this time Alexia is here, she can take you against her, rock you will you cry and whispers sweets nothing in your ears. She waits for your sobbing to stop, holding you tightly. Only when you can breathe normally again, she speaks.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

You don’t know really where to start, so you just shake your head without answering anything. But she waits, again and again. So, after some minutes, you talk too.

“I just want you to be happy. I know you’ll be happier without me.”

“You are wrong.”

Her voice is gentle, but as the same time strong enough to let you know that you don’t have to try to deny it. It’s her truth and that’s enough.

“Well you need to take some time apart from me so it’s not –“

“Where the hell does that idea comes from?”

She’s lost. You were good when you end up your call some hours later. Stressed but good. And then you appeared crying during her training, only to say her when you come home that you want to break up with her. But you frown again, lost too. And tired, to be honest.

“My therapist said that I’m leaning on you too much. And that’s way you wanted to go on holidays without me.”

You explain that like it’s the more logical thing in the world, but for Alexia it doesn’t make any sense. She starts to understand where it comes from however, even if she doesn’t understand why.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, what the point to have holidays if you’re not with me?” she answers, looking right into your eyes. “Did your therapist say other things?”

You nod and start to explain everything happened and everything she told you. The more you talk, the more Alexia seems to be furious. Her jaw is clenched, her eyes are literally throwing lightning and she so tense that you are really concerned that she can have a cramp somewhere. But when she talks to you again, her voice is infinitively soft.

“Nothing of that is true. I love you. I will do everything to help you to make you feel better. I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. I’m not going to give up on us.”

You look at her, almost desperately. But she has the same gaze that she has when says things like this. Her eyes are soft, caring and so loving that you can’t do otherwise than believe her.

“I don’t feel like I’m better, Ale” you whisper. “I don’t think I will be one day.”

“You are. You are working, you are getting out, you are smiling again. It’s ok to have bad days, like everyone else. Yours are a little more complicated because you had to go through horrible things. But you have the right to not feel good or needing help a little more some days. And what she said was wrong.”

You are lost, honestly. Alexia can see that you are coming back at yourself again though. Like if you are waking up. You seem always a little desperate and she takes you carefully against her. You let her, sighing of relief when you find the comfort of her arms.

“What if she’s right and you haven’t realized for now?”

“She’s wrong. And she will know it.”

You don’t question what she was implying, too tired to realize what her words may imply. You let Alexia taking you in a bath and more generally taking care of you. You look at her through the mirror when she does your hair.

“When I get better, it will be me who will take care of you” you inform her.

She smiles and finish to undo a knot in your hair before answering, looking at you through the mirror too.

“Okay Cariño.”

She’s smiling but doesn’t seem to make fun of you. You relax, letting your shoulder go down a little bit. That’s mean that she really believes that you will be better.

********

Alexia keeps her promise, going to your therapist’s office in the early hours to talk to her. You don’t know what she told her, but now you don’t have to go to your appointments, and you even have a new psychiatrist, advised by someone from Alexia’s staff.

Rumour has it that Alexia’s shouts still resonate in the psychiatrist’s office.

You don’t know if it’s your breakdown of the change of therapist, but some days after this episode, you feel better than ever. You wake up with your head and your body feeling lighter and Alexia is surprised to see you coming in the kitchen when she’s taking her breakfast. Usually, you stay way longer in bed.

“Is everything alright?” she asks nervously.

You nod, rubbing your eyes before coming behind her to pass your arms around her waist.

“Just wanted to be with you a little bit before you leave.”

Alexia hums when you kiss her neck. You can feel a gaze studying you while you are making yourself coffee, before coming to sit next to her.

“Are you sure that you’re ok Cari?” she asks, almost shyly while you stole a strawberry from her bowl.

“I’m sure baby” you smile at her.

Alexia is looking at you suspiciously during several seconds. She red things about people being “high” before getting down and of course she is scared. But you seem really good today and she can’t help but smile when you kiss her cheek.

“Uhu” she said, taping her lips with expectation.

You giggle but kiss her anyway, smiling against her lips. You are still smiling when she strokes your cheek with her fingertips and when she puts her forehead against yours.

“I love you so much” she whispers before kissing you again.

“I love you more” you smiles.

Alexia does no with her head and put a finger on your mouth when you want to talk again.

“Would you like to come with me to training today?”

You hesitate for several seconds before answering. It’s been a while since you came to see Alexia in training. You can’t remember who you saw some days before, only Mariona. But you hope that they weren’t a lot.

“You can say no if you don’t want to.” Alexia adds after seeing you hesitate.

“No, I want to come. But… Who were here, the other day? You know…”

“Only Mariona. And I’m sure that she doesn’t say anything to anyone.”

You are relieved to learn that, even if you don’t know how Alexia can know.

“Did you treat her?” you smirk.

“No” Alexia laughs. “I know the girl, she’s one of the most loyal, sweet and discreet that I’ve ever met.”

She was right. Mariona didn’t told anyone about what happened and after several minutes you realize that Alexia was right once again. You hug the Majorcan woman a little longer than Alexia’s other teammates when you met them, silently thanking her. She seems to understand because she smiles at you before taping your cheek affectionately.

And today, as you watch Alexia training and laughing on the pitch with the teammates that she considered like her family, you’re starting to have hope again. Alexia was right every time, so maybe she will be right this time again. You will be better.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia x reader

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b-o-e · 2 years ago

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paint me like one of your french girls

Wally Darling x Reader

Warnings: you aren’t very good at painting lol

although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #2 :)

You weren’t the best painter, nor were you the best at picking up hints…

“... this is atrocious.”

You were not a painter. You were finding that much out right now.

“Well, don’t say that. It has me in it, so it can't be that bad, ha ha.” Wally jested.

Ehhh…

“Are you almost finished with it, neighbour?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m finished, but I’m almost ready to give up, yes,” you grumbled, the bristles of your brush carefully swiping some more paint onto the canvas. Yikes! Not carefully enough, it seems.

Wally noticed your grimace, laughing lightly. “It’s going to look good, I know it,” he claimed.

“You’re easily pleased, though,” you huffed, eyes flickering to him in a half-hearted glare. He giggled, shaking his head.

“I am honest,” he grinned, raising his right hand to swear on it. “Cross my heart, always and forever,” he promised, drawing the ‘x’ over his chest with a happy smile.

“At least I think I did Home some justice,” you snickered with a shrug. “You, not so much, Wally. I think you can still tell it’s you, though?”

“I’m sure I look amazing. Handsome!”

“I wouldn’t use that word for it, but the real you is?” You offered.

“Why, you’ll make me blush.”

You laughed lightly as you continued to paint, Wally remaining as still as a statue in his chosen position in front of home. His eyes never left you.

He loved the expressions you made. He just adored the twitch of your brow when you don’t quite approve of a detail, the silly grimace you wear when you’ve made a ‘mistake’, the way your tongue poked out a little when you were extra focussed... You were so entrancing!

“... going to start being a bit less uptight now,”

Wally hadn’t caught the first part, but figured out what you were saying.

“I guess I should probably give myself a little more credit than I am.” A little smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Oh! He enjoyed that expression most!

“I’m happy you say that,” Wally said, “I do mean it when I say I believe I will like it. Everyone has their own unique style. It’s nothing less than that,” he added, “plus, it’s made by you. That gives it extra special points!”

“Special, alright,” you joked quietly to yourself. It was definitely a unique piece, your painting.

“I just need to remind myself I don’t have much experience with this,” you sighed, “I need to cut myself some slack. I know practice is necessary to be as good as someone like you at this, and I haven’t put much of that in,”

“And if you were ever interested in such, I would always be around to offer my help if you so desire,” Wally assured.

“Thanks, Wally,” you tore your eyes away from your work, looking over at him. “I appreciate you. Always so sweet to me,” you sighed out dramatically. Unfortunately, your gaze didn't stick on him long enough to notice the redness growing on his cheeks from your compliments.

“Alas, I think I’m all done now,” you giggled, stepping back from your work. Now that you look it over, it really wasn’t too shabby, especially with your limited skill!

Wally stood up from his spot, starting his way over, as you turned the easel around so that he and Home could both see it. When Wally was close enough, he leaned forward a little, examining the painted canvas. Despite the knowledge that Wally would never judge you, your nerves twisted a little in your stomach as you watched his eyes study it with such intensity.

It was silent. He’s observed it for at least a minute now, not a word said.

…

“I know it’s-”

“It’s wonderful,” Wally cut you off, straightening his posture, his smile growing. “The absolute most, as is its creator,” he added as he looked at you. “Can I have it?” he asked, head tipping to the side.

“You… Want it?” you giggled sheepishly, peering over at your goofy little creation. Was it really nice enough for him to want to keep it?

“I love it, so of course I would like to have it. If you allow me to, of course,”

Your painting wasn’t much. To you, at least. To Wally on the other hand, it truly was extravagant.

It was cute. He and Home were nicely depicted together, Home painted quite well, and in his opinion, he himself had not looked nearly as bad as you’d been letting on.

His face had a cute, simple little smiley on it, as did the sun in the sky, two silly little features among others that you had added when you decided not to care so much anymore. It made him giggle. Overall, it was just yours, and that’s what really sealed the deal on his love for it.

“Hmm… where should I hang it, though? Maybe by the couch?” He wondered aloud, tapping his chin. “What do you think, Home?” He turned to face it, receiving quick excited waves and squeaks from the door. “Ha ha. I think that, too.”

“You actually want it?” You questioned,

“Of course,” Wally nodded. “Oh no! How impolite of me. I should be offering some sort of payment,” he realized.

“For this?” You laughed, looking back at the artwork. “I dont think it’s worth a whole lo–”

“Mwah!”

…

Huh?

You gaped at Wally, hand on your flushed cheek, right where his lips had been moments prior.

“Will that do?” He smiled.

You could only stare in disbelief, mind working overtime to process what had just happened.

“Neighbour?”

You laughed. You laughed, and you shook your head, hands covering your face. Oh, those silly little thoughts of yours!

“Oh my goodness, Wally,” you snickered. “Be careful with that! Someone might take it the wrong way,” you warned, a little giggle following.

“What do you mean, neighbour?” Wally questioned, brows furrowed. “Is kissing not a good thing?”

“I mean, it is, but there's two ways it can be perceived: platonically, or romantically,” you explained, rubbing at your face in an attempt to get rid of your blush with a cheeky smile.

“Think of it like this. Eddie and Frank kiss as a way to show their romantic love for each other. That's because they’re a couple,” you continued. “Are they who you learned it from?”

Wally stared at you for a moment, trying to comprehend all that you’ve said. Finally, his shoulders slumped slightly as he answered.

“... Yes,” he admitted, a bashful smile on his features.

“I figured,” you sniggered. “I mean, I’m not saying I didn’t like it or anything, but just keep what I said in mind,” you joked lightly with a playful wink, “but, we should find a place for this painting, shouldn’t we?” You placed your hands on your hips, looking between him and the piece.

“That sounds like a good idea, neighbour,” he agreed, carefully picking up the dried painting, grabbing the easel in his other hand.

“Let’s do that, then,”

…

“So, how did it go?” Eddie asked, placing a toasty mug of hot cocoa in front of a sulking Wally. “Not that great, I presume..?” He smiled sympathetically.

“They said to ‘be careful’ because ‘someone might get the wrong idea’...” he gave a gloomy smile. “But they also said they ‘didn’t dislike’ it?” He offered.

“So they thought the right idea, but brushed it off as being wrong,” Frank snickered, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the situation while he sipped on a mug of his own.

Eddie sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck with a chuckle. This was harder than the couple originally anticipated…

You two would be the death of this neighbourhood if you didn’t perceive your feelings for each other soon.

yyyello!! I hope you enjoyed reading this!

here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me! likes and reblogs are very much so appreciated B) (again, gimme dopamine boost, RAHHHHH) until next time <3

Posted Tuesday, April 25, 2023 at 11:29 AM

#welcome home #wally x reader #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home x reader #if you’re reading this ily and drink some water bruh #listen to two best friends by bb bean it’s good ragghhhh #also to those two people who replied to snorrrk mimimi bro y’all had me cackling I don’t think you’ll know who you are but yuhhh

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chronicbeans · 2 years ago

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Wally and a Puppeteer Reader

I was just kinda thinking to myself... What would happen if he somehow got into contact with one of the puppeteers working on the show? Idk I just like to write what I find interesting. Lol.

TW: Obsessive Behaviors, Mentions of Stalking, Idol Worshipping

🍎 The first time Wally realized what is going on, he's going to panic. Yes, Wally has been aware of the fact that he is a puppet, but he never really understood what that meant. He has always just seen it as a name for what species he is. Kind of like how humans are called humans and that caterpillars are called caterpillars. Just a word that had no implications on his free will.

🍎 However, when he sees the outside of his world... the bright lights setting the stage, the crowd of people all running around and setting things up, he is terrified. These... creatures... look so similar to his neighbor that he has seen every now and again. The only difference is that they are usually smaller and, compared to some of these versions he now sees, have no fluff on their face.

🍎 Then, he sees YOU. He recognizes you. He's seen you in the background, behind one of the smaller creatures he calls his neighbor. You sometimes even come by to check on them. What are you doing here? He doesn't know, but you are an immediate comfort amongst the strange, unfamiliar faces... Even if he doesn't know you.

🍎 Next thing he knows, you are picking him up in your warm arms and carrying him somewhere. He watches as his neighborhood slips away from him, the horrifying realization that his world is just a small little stage in it of itself. His neighbors all being taken by their own strange creatures to their own little areas.

🍎 On your way to wherever you are taking him, someone happens to pop in. Complimenting you on your love for the little puppet in your arms, the excellent care you give him when handling him, and telling you that you are surprisingly good at puppeteering for a newbie on the set. You're going to make an amazing replacement for the last guy.

🍎 Wally cannot believe his ears. What's a puppeteer? This is the first time he's heard of that word. It isn't until the odd fellow asks you to make Wally say his iconic line that he realizes what is happening. You suddenly maneuver him, making a poor impression of his voice as you force him to say "You think I'm the absolute most? You're the most to me, neighbor!"

🍎 Yes... the situation is all coming together in his mind. You must be the one behind everything! All that he does and all that he says is in your hands. All that his friends do and say should be in your hands too, right? It would make sense... If you can control him, then you can control the others!

🍎 Soon enough, you've brought Wally to a room with a little tote box near the corner. You begin checking him over, looking for rips or tears, before wrapping him in a plastic bag. Then, you place him in the box, making sure he isn't squished at all.

🍎 Left alone with his thoughts, Wally thinks about everything that has happened. This all feels too real to be a dream, as much as he sort of wishes it was. In fact, it feels more real than his life before this. He must do something, anything, but he doesn't know why. He just has to do something other than sitting in this bag inside a tote.

🍎 So, after a few hours of trying to move, he finally succeeds. He's gotten himself out of the plastic bag... Then, after a few more minutes, he hears someone return to the room. Lying limp, he watches as you open the box. Your eyes grow wide as you look down at him. You turn your head to look around the room, before crying out "Hey... Dave... Did you mess with Wally?" "Nah, (Y/N)! Why? Is something wrong?" With that, you leave to go talk to this... "Dave".

🍎 Of course, he follows. Very slowly, since he isn't used to walking in this... odd way. His legs feel weak. Like they are filled with stuffing. It is a strange feeling. He is also so incredibly cold. Why is he cold, yet, you are so warm?

🍎 He find you talking to another one of your kind. You and the other strange creatures that make up your species seem so frightened by him moving. Why is it okay for you to make him move, but not for him to move on his own? Why are they assuming someone tampered with him?

🍎 You seem most worried. How... introguing. You seem so kind compared to the rest of these odd creatures! So benevolent in your worries. The others talk about him like some sort of object, but you seem to genuinely have an attachment to him!

🍎 He wants to learn more about your kind - no... YOU in specific. He could care less about the others. You are all that really matters at the moment. If he is wrong about his assumption that you control all in his world, be it that others of your kind control his friends or whatnot, he will deal with that. For now, he can watch from a distance. When you all go, he'll be sure to learn the layout of this new land he is in. When he does, he can find you wherever you are in here. He can find out what you love and hate, what makes you tick, what makes you sad.

🍎 That sounds like a wonderful thought to him... maybe, if he leaves little gifts for you, you'll be sure to make everyday of his good. Happy parties with all of his friends, no bumps or bruises on himself or his friends, no rainy days that makes Home sad and cold... If it takes giving gifts, he'll gladly do so! You are so warm and benevolent, he would do so even if it never became fruitful for making his world perfect.

#welcome home #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home arg

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 11 months ago

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#384

“Fucking hell. If it ain’t Wallace McGrew’s oldest boy!… Ryan, you did good. Fuck yeah you did. I can’t think of anything else that I would enjoy more for my 65th birthday....

“TJ, did you know about this?... I’m surprised you two kept this secret so well. So is he a true faggot or one that you made?... Well I’ll be damned, Wallace raised himself a screaming sperm burper, and that knob gobbler is standing before us, bound spread eagled, collared, gagged,… plugged too. All for me. Fucking hell Ryan, you couldn’t have done any better with this year’s birthday cunt….

“…So you are the son of Wally?... Just nod…. Good. Do you know who I am?... I would have been surprised that you hadn’t. What about my ranch manager TJ?... No. Did you know Ryan was my boy?... No. Good.

“Ryan, why isn’t his pecker caged? That’s one hell of a raging hard-on…. This faggot’s pecker is like steel…. It’s a good five- or six-incher. It doesn’t look like he’s on any hard-on medication. That’s all natural. Goddamn! This boy is leaking up a storm. Now I understand why you didn’t put a cage on him.

“Why don’t you two bring the fuck table over and secure him bent over. Nice body. Ryan, you did a good job shaving him…. What? You didn’t shave him?... Well that’s interesting.

“Look at that ass. See those purple marks on his left cheek. Those are scars from a savage whipping. His back has healed up, but I can still see some marks.

“Faggot, you have played before, haven’t you? It’s obvious you are a faggot. But you have been beat before, right? I mean a man has inflicted pain on you for his own enjoyment?... Did your daddy do this to you?... No? Too bad. You would have been a lot more interesting if he did.

“Fucking hell. This changes things.

“Ryan, TJ, fuck him. TJ you go first. Be quick about it. Ryan, yank out the plug and let me see it…. It’s spotless. Did you clean him out?... So the faggot was prepared…. Actually that doesn’t surprise me. TJ, just shove it in and go to town. Be rough on the fag’s cunt. I want you to cum quick.

“Ryan, show me the video of him…. Wow, the faggot knows how to service your fat pud. Look at him go. That’s one hungry fag boy.

“Hey faggot, have you seen this?... Look at how you throat Ryan’s sausage with ease. I’m actually impressed here. I know it’s hard to focus on the video with TJ plowing your twat. He’ll be done soon. He’s already started picking up the pace.

“Look at your face here. That is the face of a true faggot. You are in ecstasy slobbering on Ryan’s cock…. You seem to have no trouble with his fat pud. Most faggots struggle with throating him.

“Oh fuck here goes TJ!... Damn! He really came hard.

“TJ! Pull out so Ryan can take over.

“Ryan, go in hard and don’t let up. Get your nut quick then you and TJ can get out of here. I want to spend some alone time with my birthday present.

“Hey faggot, the cock filling your mouth in the video is plowing your cunt. You are kinda getting it from both ends from the same dick….

“Ryan, you should see his face right now. He’s not struggling like the others. It appears that Wally McGrew’s son is a seasoned cum dump whore. I take it that he’s loose?... Typical.

“Faggot. When a man, a real man, is going to fuck you, you need to provide a hole that will provide him pleasure. So tighten up that cunt…. Well, that got a smile out of Ryan…. He’s picking up his pile driving. Hear that? That’s the sound of a two hundred fifty-pound man grunting as he’s slamming into your loose cunt. No better sound in the world.

“Shoot! Shoot! Flood this faggot’s guts��. Atta boy! Fuck yeah.

“Faggot, clamp down as Ryan pulls out. I want your cunt full of spunk. Ryan is known for two things, his big dick and his huge loads….

“What’s that Ryan?... Finish watching the video? OK. And I want to be alone with the faggot. Plug up the faggot’s cunt, then go wait for me in TJ’s house. Don’t get dressed, and don’t wipe your cock. The fag will suck clean whatever dried slime flakes remain on it in a bit. Now go.

“…So here we are faggot, just you and me. I have to admit, I was truly surprised. Not that Ryan snagged Wallace McGrew’s son as my birthday present, although that did surprise me a little. No, what shocked me is that Wally’s son has experience, lots of it, as a slave.

“From the scars on your ass and back to your worked over nips, to the fact that you didn’t even flinch when Ryan shoved his beer can cock into your cunt, and to the compliance I saw as they were resecuring your bonds, I can tell you have done this before. It’s more than that. The look of ecstasy on your face as this was going on, wasn’t a look of ‘this-feels-so-good,’ but rather one of being in a submissive headspace. I can tell that no matter what I do to you, what pain I will cause, you are suffering for my desires, and it naturally centers your mind.

“Am I right? Nod yes or no…. Yeah, I see you. You are clear to me. I knew you weren’t a pain pig—a fag that is into receiving pain for pain sake. Pain pigs bore me beyond the first few minutes I’m with them. Yeah, if I need to get off, they serve their function. But you need to connect on a much deeper level, craving to offer your pain and suffering for a higher purpose.

“You understand what I am saying. Knowing that I—a naturally superior man—am getting my primal needs met by your service,… your submission,… your sacrifice,… and your suffering is all the motivation you need to continue. You don’t want the pain, but knowing it’s getting me to leak, makes you want it more. It may be confusing to many, but to you it makes all the sense in the world.

“I’m always looking for a faggot with this mindset. I have found a few in my time, never would have guessed that Wally’s boy would be one of them.

“Let me take my cock out…. Look down. I am rock hard and leaking. And I see you are too. So it is safe to say that even though we never really met before, I know you. I really know you.

“Let me ask you faggot, you want to serve me?...

“Submit to me?...

“Sacrifice for me?...

“Suffer for me?...

“Good. Faggots like you are hard to find. I thought Ryan was one when I met him eleven years ago. It was clear that he did not have that mindset. But he connected with me so well on so many other things, that we developed into something else.

“He still serves me and helps me satisfy my cruel sadistic side. He’s definitely my beta boy. That’s what’s his groove is. He likes to bring me objects like yourself so that I can enjoy the way I want to, that I need to.

“Hell, he’s the one who set up this birthday tradition of offering faggots like you. He goes to Denver, and he takes his time to find the victim. When my day arrives, I make the trek here to PJ’s ranch outside the city for the reveal.

“He doesn’t go into much detail with me because it’s my birthday present after all. But I do know that this is a long process for him. And I have to say the slave cunts he offers me has been perfect, yourself included.

“The one thing that he does with each faggot he offers is to make a video of the fag willingly sucking him off to completion. He told me that he uses the fag’s phone to record it leading the fag to agree to the filming. And he always manages to send himself a copy for me to view later.

“Like this video of you expertly throating Ryan’s mammoth cock. You are a true world class cocksucker.

“These videos are great. They provide the motivation for the faggot’s entire time here. Oh, I forgot to mention, every birthday present is closeted, just like yourself. If the faggot does not perform to my satisfaction at any time, that video is sent off to where it will have the biggest impact: boss, wife, girlfriend, or—in your case—dad.

“Yes, the intention was to coerce you into submitting to me. But that all changed in the few minutes when I recognized your true nature. I don’t feel like coercion is possible; your hunger has been visible all this time.

“But don’t worry. I will be outing you to your dad. There is no way in hell that I am not going to pass up that opportunity. Regardless of whether you make my cut, he’s going to receive a video.

“A word of caution: don’t even think of begging me not to. Begging is a form of selfishness, and I do not deal with selfish slaves, faggots, or cunts. You understand?

“No don’t try to say ‘Yes Sir’ around a gag. The primary reason why I gag faggots like you is that I don’t want to hear the shit that comes out of your mouth.

“A sharp nod ‘Yes’ is all that’s needed. It needs to be a quick down then up, and it’s in that order. Show me…. Good. Remember that. A sharp ‘No’ shake would be used in the rare occasion I allow a ‘No’ from you. If your head is secured, then nod with your eyes. If you are blindfolded, fuck it, I don’t need to hear from you.

“You will be staying with me for the weekend. I can see your mind is where it needs to be. I will be testing out your body’s response. You will be filmed doing some extreme kink. I’ll figure what I will use to show your dad. The ability to fuck over Wally McGrew is the best birthday present I could get.

“Did you know he outed me to the whole town once he caught me plowing one of his farm hands? That cost me a lot of business. The worst part was his smug demeanor he had about town; being all righteous looking down at me. Now I get to tell him his son is a piss drinking, sperm farting, ass eating, cum dump faggot. It won’t be just him, our little town will know.

“Oh I got it. I will show your video to Dwight Smith the barber. You dad goes in once a week on Thursday for a beard trim like clockwork. I’ll make sure to be showing Dwight as your dad comes in. Fuck yeah.

“This will happen. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will prevent me from outing you.

“I’m so fucking horny now. First things first, let me unsecure you. I want you to stand in the center. Don’t try to run. I don’t believe for one bit you are going to try to bail, but one thing I have learned over the years is never—and I mean never—trust a faggot slave. And I don’t you. Trust is something earned over a long time serving.

“You have no shoes, and there’s lots of rocks on the ground; you won’t get very far. Besides, these ankle and wrist cuffs that are padlocked on you have a tracking device. So does that shock collar locked around your neck.

“Get over here and help me take my boots off…. That brought a smile to your face. Just set them aside. I’m going back in them once I take off my jeans and boxers. Here, smell my foot. Inhale deeply. Better than any poppers out there. Now my pants.

“I see you eyeing my bulge. Faggot, that is the center of your world from now on. Go on and touch it; I know you want to. But only briefly. Now pull down my boxers. Look at my cock. It’s not as thick as Ryan’s, but mine is a bit longer. It stays hard longer, and I can cum multiple times.

“Sniff my shorts, especially the tiny skid mark. You are going to intimately know my shithole going forward. Now help me put my boots back on….

“…Don’t worry, your tongue will be exploring my boots later. But now, hand me my belt from my jeans. Good. Now go stand in the middle over there.

“Raise both arms above your head. Keep them up there. Today is my 65th birthday. It is a birthday tradition that there needs to be birthday beatings. Spankings are so pointless. A good ol’ fashioned ass lickin’ is more in line with what is needed. And there is no way that my ass is going to receive an ass lickin’ of any type other than with your tongue. So that means you are the one who will be on the receiving end of said beatings. 65 of them. I want you to count. Make sure those numbers are clearly announced around that gag.

“I would ask if you were ready, but your dick is leaking harder than I have seen it before. Look at my cock. It too is leaking. We are both ready to do this. Let’s get some active welts going.

“Now don’t fucking move from that spot. No matter what I do to you, remain there.

“One! Holy shit! That one was perfect across your ass. You will learn, I don’t ramp up my intensity. The first is as cruel as the last. But this one landed perfectly across both cheeks. Oh fuck, I already broke skin.

“Cry all you need to boy. I’ve only just begun. Oh look! There’s some blood. Fuck yeah. “And know this faggot, you are making me one happy man.”

338 notes · View notes

mirnilop · 1 year ago

Text

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

#🐇 penned #🌈🖼️ wh #feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #reader-insert #yandere x reader #i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine #cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like #so he can be whatever i need him to be #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #welcome home mob au #clownsuu

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under-the-cherrytree · 2 years ago

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A Proud Artists Work❣︎

Wally Darling x reader

Summary: looking at Wally’s art work, you feel slightly discouraged about your own. However, Wally quickly finds a way to cheer you up!

Warnings: starts off fluffy but ends a bit yandere-ish

A/n: I HAD TO WRITE A WALLY DARLING SMALL FIC I COULDNT HELP MYSELF!! I LOVE THIS MAN

Well i do hope all the welcome home fans like this!! Enjoy<3

You felt the wind brush up against your cheek as you looked down at your sketchbook in your hand. Your grip on it tightened as you looked around. The neighborhood was surprisingly calming this afternoon. Normally the neighbors would be outside playing but today they didn’t seem to come out of their homes. You watched as the leaves fell from the tree you were sitting under. You leaned up against the wood, taking a breath in.

You turned your head to look at your boyfriend, Wally Darling. He stared at his canvas intensely, focused on every paint stroke he made. His canvas faced you so you couldn’t see what he was painting. He wouldn’t allow you to see what he was creating just yet.

You admired him for his artwork. He was so diligent and his art was breath taking. You wished you were able to draw and paint like he did.

“Darling?” Wally looked over to you, noticing your dull expression. “What’s the matter?”

You sat up, looking away for him and down to the blank paper in your lap.

“Do you really think I’m a good artist?” You asked. He complimented things you have drawn before but a part of you felt like it was forced. Did he just compliment you out of pity?

Wally’s smile dropped slightly as he placed his paintbrush down. You looked up at him as he walked over to you and sat on the grass.

“Of course I do. Why would you question that?” He looked at your sketchbook, noticing it was empty.

“I can’t think of anything impressive to draw”

“Anything you draw will be impressive!” He grabbed a pencil out of pocket “Let’s draw something together!” He leaned in closer to you, starting to sketch an apple on the upper right corner of the paper. You just watched his hand move as he finished up the stem. He just spent a few seconds an apple and it looks amazing. What could you possible draw to impress him?

“Come on! What do you want to draw?” He looked to you. “Draw anything that comes to mind”

You looked up for a moment, trying to get some inspiration. You suddenly noticed a pretty pink flower growing in the grass.

“A flower?” You turned to him.

“Draw it!” He encouraged you. You gripped your pencil as you drew a circle for the base and petals around it.

“It looks great!” He began to add some grass around the flower “You should add a sun” You nodded and smiled softly. This felt nice.

An hour had passed and you two laid on the grass, doodling on the now full page. You two drew different things in nature, different animals, the neighbors, and even Home. You laughed softly seeing how the page was now full with the random doodles from you and your boyfriend.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Wally always knew how to make you feel better when you needed it.

“See, now that wasn’t so hard, was it~?” He gave you a grin “The page is full now”

“Yeah it is” You leaned on his shoulder “Thank you, Wally”

“Anything for you, darling”

Suddenly realization took over you and you remembered there was somewhere you needed to be.

“Oh I have to go!” You stood up, brushing your clothes off “I promised Sally I would meet her at her house to practice a play with her!” You quickly picked up your things, shoving them in your bag.

“Well you better run off, don’t want to leave her waiting” He stood up, holding his hands behind his back.

“See you later!” You waved at him and he blew you a kiss goodbye. He began to pack up his stuff knowing it was time for him to go home too. He carefully picked up the panting he was painting earlier, not wanting to ruin his work. He chuckled softly as he walked back to Home. Home opened the door for him, seeing that Wally’s hands were full.

“Thank you, Home” The puppet placed his paint supplies on the ground. The house squeaked as a way of saying you’re welcome.

“I drew another painting of them…~” He looked down at the colorful canvas. It looked exactly like you. You were leaning up against the tree you two were at, holding your sketchbook. He painted exactly what you looked like in the moment.

He walked down the halls, entering a room of Home. The room was filled with painting of you. Just painting of you.

Each painting you were doing normal activities, not even noticing that a certain painter was using you as his muse.

“This piece would look perfect… here” He hung the painting on an empty spot on the wall. “I like it. What do you think Home?” The house squeaked again.

“Maybe one day I can show them these paintings. I would love to see their reaction. After all, why shouldn’t an artist be proud of their work?”

#welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally x reader #wally darling #wally darling x reader #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #wally my beloved

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psychovigilantewrites · 10 months ago

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Sunshine's Shadow

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader, Dick Grayson/Reader Genre: Slow burn smut? Porn with plot? Like eventually??? Word Count: 7,600 Read on Ao3 Part 1 of 2. Summary: You had powers of darkness that made you feel unwanted your whole life. Jason Todd was the first person to convince you that your darkness was sunshine. After his death, you went to Dick for comfort and started a relationship with him. And then, Jason came back. A/N:

I'm practicing writing again to prepare myself for the last chapter of Red Who? I'm not too happy with how I wrote this, but I'm hoping to start improving again along the way as I write and learn all over again. Also, I am not familiar with Titans! I know Jason never really joined? I just winged it I'm so sorry. I also aged up Jason's death here. I think the timeline is a bit messy pls forgive me.

Jason knocked on your door.

“Come in,” he heard your soft, muffled voice.

You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. You had soft instrumental music playing in your room. The table lamp was switched on on your bedside table, but the room was still dark.

“We’re getting ready for a spooky movie tonight,” Jason said, closing the door behind him and approaching you. “Care to join us this time?”

Your eyes darted from your phone to his, and you pursed your lips in hesitation.

“No thank you, I’m fine here,” you said and brought your attention back to your phone.

Jason sighed loudly and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Why don’t you ever join us?” he asked, “We’re the Teen Titans. We’re a team. You should join us for more team stuff besides official missions.”

You simply stared at Jason. He sensed that you had more to say but was hesitating opening up. So he got up and sat next to you. “You can tell me.”

“The room is dark, isn’t it?” you asked.

The question surprised Jason. “I mean, I guess? So what?”

“That’s me, Jason. You know how my powers work. This- this curse. The shadow I emit makes everything dark and gloomy, even if it’s a sunny day outside. And no one likes someone who brings darkness in a room,” you avoided his eyes and started picking at a hangnail on your finger.

“That’s why you won’t hang out with us?” he couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you hated us or something.”

“What?” you looked at him incredulously, “How could I? I was afraid that you all hate me for being so depressing.”

“Has anyone told you that before?” Jason asked. He didn’t know much about where you came from, but he knew that you went to a lot of different schools and orphanages. An outsider, not unlike himself.

“The kids were always scared of me,” you confessed quietly, “They refused to play with me. That was fine, but then soon after they would bully me. Make fun of me, push me down, kick me. Reminded me again and again that I was a freak.”

For some reason, Jason always had the urge to protect you, even though you were slightly older than he was. Now that urge was stronger and he wanted to hurt anyone who hurt you, to shield you from all that negativity.

“Well,” he began, “I don’t know about those assholes, but whenever I see you, I never saw darkness.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Really!” he insisted, “I see a girl who likes to read, and who likes music. I see you smile whenever Roy and Jackson bicker. And when Wally does that thing where he starts vibrating when he eats? And on the field? The way you protect everyone, the way we can all trust that you have our backs.”

Jason held your eyes. “I don’t see any darkness. In fact, I see sunshine! Because whenever you’re around, it makes us all feel warm and safe.”

He saw the way you were trying hard to not let the tears brimming your eyes fall. “You’re not lying.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“Of course I’m not,” he confirmed. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“I guess not,” you sniffled, “I can tell when people lie. And you have never lied to me.”

“What do you mean you can tell when people lie?”

“I don’t know. It’s sort of always been a thing I could do,” you shrugged, “I don’t join in conversations, so I just observe people, and I can sort of tell what they’re thinking or when they’re lying.”

“Ah, I think I know a thing or two about that,” Jason smiled fondly.

“Thank you, Jason,” you expressed.

“No problem, Sunny,” he grinned, “I’ll call you that from now on. To remind you.”

Jason thought that he saw you blush in the dim light. “So what do you think? Wanna join us for spooky night? I mean, your shadow would even be helpful. It’ll create the spooky ambience we’re all looking for.”

“Is there popcorn?” you grinned.

***

You dumbass, you thought.

The rain had you soaked and shivering.

Jason Todd, you absolute asshole.

The smell of wet dirt was overpowering. Your team stood with you despite your shadow engulfing them in darkness. Roy had his hand on your shoulder.

The white petals stuck to the polished wooden casket as it was lowered into the ground. Your heart had already broke, and you had gone through the stages of breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably, not being able to sleep for a week after they told you the news. Right now, you felt nothing but emptiness.

The casket hit the ground with a dull thud, and you heard the wet footsteps of others leaving the grave. You looked up at the crowd. Dressed in black, you saw some familiar faces. Clark Kent and Diana Prince were with Bruce Wayne, standing in solidarity. A fiery red color caught your eyes, and you saw whom you knew as Starfire. Tall, confident, and radiating with a soft warm glow- everything that you wished you were. She was next to Dick Grayson, and your eyes made contact with blue ones, ones that reminded you of Jason.

Dick gave you a sad smile.

“I heard you’re not going to continue with the Titans anymore,” Dick broke the silence. The rain was still pouring, pounding on the glass window of the car. “Where do I drop you off?”

“East End, along Murphy Avenue,” you replied. You watched two droplets on the window fall down, racing against each other. “I have some boxes left in the Tower, but I don’t feel like seeing them today.”

“Are you going to be okay on your own? You’re not even 18 yet.”

“I’m turning 18 in three months,” you rolled your eyes. “And I already got a job.”

“Oh? That was quick. What job?”

“Private investigator,” you responded, “Lot’s of scandals in Gotham. It’s quite easy to get a job if you’re half decent.”

“Pay well?”

“Well enough.”

Silence again. Dick made a turn.

No word was said until he stopped in front of the apartment complex. Unknown to you, Dick made a mental note to check the apartment out.

“Thanks, Dick.” Something stopped you from leaving the car. Something warm. Ah, it was Dick’s hand on yours.

You looked over and stared into his bright blue eyes. “I’m here for you. Anytime of the day or night. Text me, call me, whatever. You’re not alone.”

It was his expression. The pain and grief and sincerity in his eyes. A hint of desperation, even. By now, your talent for reading people had developed, and you could tell more than just basic emotions. Dick didn’t want you to leave him alone.

Your pulse quickened.

“Would you… Like to come in?” you asked.

Dick was surprised. His eyes darted downwards in a look of… guilt? And then- “No, it’s alright. You said you wanted some alone time. Go settle down first, then maybe you can give me a house tour sometime.”

Then he gave you the grin. Dick Grayson’s charming, heart-stopping grin.

You left the car.

THREE MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

You spent your birthday alone, ignoring the invitations from your ex team members. They all wished you happy birthday, and sent you voice notes of them singing. They said they wished you were there with them, and that they hoped you were well. You replied with a simple thank you.

The apartment you made yours was bare. The walls had no art, and the TV was unplugged. What was the point? Your darkness would have made the art on the walls difficult to see and it was not like you were planning to invite anyone over.

A couple of case files sat neatly on the dining room table, where you did your work. Your name had spread by word of mouth after your first client three months ago, and now you occasionally received texts from unknown numbers, asking for discretion and offering a few hundred dollars a day for a week of work.

Your phone buzzed. It wasn’t an unknown number this time.

Dick had sent you a text. Happy Birthday! Still waiting for that house tour.

You sent a quick thank you and ignored the rest of the message.

SIX MONTHS after the death of Jason Todd

You arrived late on purpose. “Sorry I’m late.”

You sat down in the booth seat opposite Dick and saw the way his eyes lit up when you announced your arrival.

“No worries,” he brushed it off. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah,” you grabbed the dirty menu from the table. Anything to fill up the awkwardness you were expecting. “What do you usually have here?”

“Waffles with ice cream.”

“For dinner?”

“Why not?”

Dick Grayson gave you his Dick Grayson Grin.

You told the aging waitress your order- “I’ll have what he’s having.”

“So how have you been doing? You seem quite busy now, since this dinner was postponed to two months later,” he teased.

“My work isn’t exactly nine to five, five days a week,” you replied curtly. You had avoided this dinner on purpose.

“No, no, I get it. Mine is the same,” he said. “It’s good that you have been getting lots of clients lately. You seem to be high in demand now.”

“Yeah, I am, actually,” you smiled softly to yourself, “I didn’t expect for business to move this fast. I’m mostly investigating cheating spouses and party daughters now, though. Hoping to move on to the more serious stuff.”

“Careful,” Dick warned you, frowning slightly, “Try not to get involved with the politics here. It’s messy, and dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself, Dick,” you assured him.

He paused. “Yeah, I noticed,” his expression quickly changed, “You’ve been controlling your shadow.”

Indeed, you have been working on pulling in your shadow while you were out in public, making it seem as normal as possible so you don’t engulf rooms with darkness, especially with your current state of mind.

Soon after Jason died, you found out that your shadow had grown larger and larger, directly linked to your moods. Then you noticed that it shrank when you were concentrating on your cases, leaving the room bright. So you meditated and practiced, day and night, to keep your shadow and your emotions in check. However, it was tiring to constantly shrink it for long periods of time.

“Practice makes perfect,” you replied bitterly.

“Jason used to talk about you all the time, you know?” he suddenly brought up.

This came as a surprise for you.

“Really?” you cocked your head to the side, “What about?”

“Lots of stuff,” Dick elaborated, “But mainly about how to make you feel more welcomed. How to get you to open up. What stuff to talk to you about. He considered you his best-friend.”

You had considered Jason the same. He was the first person you had truly bonded with, but you never knew that Jason had communicated with Dick about you. True enough, he always tried his best to make sure you never felt left out. You felt your throat tightened and gulped.

Your waffles arrived, and Dick immediately dug in.

“He said that he called you something,” he continued in between bites, “Sunny, right? Said it was short for Sunshine.”

You hadn’t heard that in six months.

Dick looked up at you and panic took over his face. “Shit- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your eyes this time. You quickly wiped them away and stabbed the waffle with your fork.

“No- no, it’s fine,” you insisted, “I just hadn’t heard that name in a while. And I didn’t know he talked to you about me.”

Dick looked at you with concern. “Pretty sure he had a crush on you, with the way he was always talking about you.”

You were pretty sure, too. You could read people well after all.

“What made you choose this diner?” you asked, changing the subject. “We used to come here all the time.”

“Yeah, I haven’t stepped in here since that day,” he avoided saying Jason’s name now.

For the first time since you sat down, you actually studied him, beyond the basic emotions that you instinctively saw in everyone. The slight frown, the dark circles under his eyes, the short chewed up nails, the five o’ clock shadow that was rare for Dick Grayson.

He was grieving alone.

“Whenever Jason faced a problem when he was with us, out in the field, or anything, he would always ask himself- ‘What would Dick Grayson do?’” you told him.

His eyes softened, and you could see tears start to well up too.

“He really looked up to you,” you went on, wanting to give Dick the same comfort he gave you. “His older brother. Though, he kept it quiet. He didn’t want people to notice how much he cared. You know, the whole tough guy act.”

Dick chuckled at that. “But you noticed, of course.”

“Of course,” you smiled fondly at the memory. When asked if his injuries hurt, Jason would always reply with Only when I laugh.

But he accepted the cold compresses and paracetamol you gave him.

12 MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

The camera shutter clicked. You checked the quality of the photo on your digital SLR. Even from across the street and in the darkness of the night, your camera caught the couple entering the motel, hand-in-hand, perfectly. This would be sufficient evidence for your client. The classic case of Cheating Spouse was going to earn you a couple thousand dollars. Frankly, you had considered rejecting the case. You only went for high-profile scandals now. But the client was desperate, and offered a large sum of money for something so easy and simple. It was difficult to refuse.

You contemplated on whether you should go the extra mile to catch them in the act. Or maybe you should just stake out in your car and catch them coming out of the motel. You took pride in how detailed your reports always were, and that was how you managed to build your clientele.

You took a sip of the bad, black coffee, already gone cold.

Peering through the zoom lens, you angled the camera up to the rooms facing the street. The movement you caught, however, was not the lights of a room switching on. Instead, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow hanging about the fire-escape in the narrow alley next to the building. You zoomed in more, and saw a familiar blue and black spandex, white eyes, and a familiar grin.

“Fuck,” you swore to yourself. Of all the places to bump into him.

You had gotten close to him since that dinner. The both of you had been texting regularly, getting to know each other and sharing stories about Jason. It helped you with your grief, and you knew it helped him too. You found out that Dick Grayson was voluntarily very expressive with his emotions, unlike his late younger brother who always needed an extra nudge.

Despite all that, you had been trying your best to avoid Dick for the past few weeks and had been giving him the excuse that you were busy. The truth was, you were scared. You knew how close you were getting to him, and right now you were lonely. So lonely that you were afraid of doing something you would both regret.

Knock, knock, knock. The glass rapped three times.

You looked over at the passenger side and saw that grin. Sighing, you unlocked the door.

“What a nice surprise,” Dick greeted you as he shut the door. “Didn’t think I would see a beautiful lady when I left home tonight.”

You rolled your eyes at his usual flirting. “I’m on a job, Dick.”

“I can see that,” he shamelessly went through your case file that was sitting on the passenger seat before he entered. “I thought you don’t take these cases anymore?”

“The poor guy was desperate, and he offered a lot of money for a simple, menial task,” you explained. “I don’t get why he doesn’t ask someone cheaper. Literally anyone could do this.”

“But they can’t do it as well as you do,” Dick booped your nose with his gloved finger.

“What about you? What brings you to this side of town?”

“Tim needed help with some training. And patrol brings me everywhere, sweetheart,” he smirked.

You noticed that your body had subconsciously turned towards him. His eyes were not visible then, covered by the whites of his mask. He was slightly damp due to the drizzle outside.

You cleared your throat. “I’m going to stake out here until they come out. Note how long they were together.”

“That could be until the sun rises.”

“Yep.”

“Need company?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I thought you needed to patrol, and help Tim.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he sighed dramatically, “I’d much rather be in this steamy car with you, though.”

“Go and help your Robin, Dick,” you chuckled, unable to resist him. “Your mentee needs his mentor, Gotham needs its hero and you’re here cozying up with a PI.”

“How irresponsible of me,” he muttered. You hadn’t realized that both of you had moved closer.

You risked a quick glance to his slightly parted lips before tearing your eyes away. He was right, it had suddenly got steamy in the car.

“Text me when you’re back? It’s dangerous to be alone at this hour,” he said before stepping out and flying off in the most flamboyant, Dick Grayson way.

I can take care of myself.

You took deep breaths to calm down and slow your heartbeat.

Maybe you were scared that you were so lonely. But a part of you knew that starting something with Dick wouldn’t be too bad.

You were just scared of being judged by Dick’s dead, younger brother.

The next weekend, you found yourself on your balcony. It was 3 AM, and you were slightly tipsy from the cocktail you made yourself. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of the wind, the cars, the occasional police siren. You made your decision.

Need you. you texted Dick, knowing he was out on patrol.

15 minutes. he replied.

Jason was dead. There was no one else who understood and accepted you almost as well as Dick did.

You waited out there in the cold for his arrival. When he did land straight on your balcony, his hair was a mess and he was panting slightly. You grabbed his face and kissed him roughly.

It didn’t matter anymore because Jason was dead.

SIX MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD.

It was more difficult to control your shadow, but you tried your best. Moving in with Dick helped a bit more as compared to when you were alone, but you were constantly on edge.

He was alive, and what would he think of this? You and Dick? Would he see it as a betrayal?

Dick was having sleepless nights and was gone most of the time to help Bruce with Jason’s tantrum. Six months since Jason had appeared alive, and God knows how long before he crawled out of his grave, but he had not contacted you even once.

And you knew, you knew he was angry at you. That this whole villain arc had at least something to do with you. Even though it didn’t make sense, that you were never together, that you were nothing more than just best friends.

Somehow you felt that the rage and destruction was directed towards you.

For as long as you got together with Dick two years ago, and a whole year of playing cat and mouse with him ever since that kiss, you never had radio silence from him for this long. Two or three days was the maximum, and he would reassure you that everything was fine while you continued on with your PI business. A week long was unheard of.

Then, your phone buzzed.

I’m fine. He’s fine. Everyone’s fine.

You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Is he back? you asked.

He’s gonna take some time off. Need to go. See you soon.

And so you didn’t sleep until Dick came back home the next morning.

“He’s so… broken,” Dick whispered above your head as he hugged you tightly.

You frowned. You didn’t like that word used to describe Jason. A person couldn’t be broken. People weren’t objects. You knew what Dick meant, that Jason was traumatized- but it didn’t mean that he was broken. Broken meant that you needed to be fixed before someone accepted you, that you needed to be functional or useful.

Broken meant that there was a state where people were whole, and you knew too well that there’s no such thing as a whole person. People just existed in different states, and each state was just as important as the other.

Jason told you all of that when you opened up to him about your past. One day many years ago, you fucked up during a mission. Your shadow had hurt someone a little too badly.

“I don’t even know how it works, Jay,” you had cried, “Sometimes it has a mind of its own and it just reacts outside of my control.”

“You saved me in the end,” Jason tried comforting you, putting his arm around your shoulder as you sat on the carpet of the empty living room.

“But I could have hurt you too,” you argued, “It could have attacked your shadow and killed you, the same way I killed my parents.”

You hadn’t told anyone about that. Only the Justice League knew.

“It was an accident,” Jason insisted.

“I’m just a broken person,” you choked. “No one should be near me.”

That was when he took his arm away and held your shoulders in both his hands, forcing you to face him, to stare into his piercing, fierce gaze.

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that about yourself ever again, got it?” he scolded you, “You are not broken. You’re like- like water. Or air. You exist in different states of matter, and each state you’re in is no less broken than the rest. You’re not broken, okay? You’re Sunny, you’re sunshine. You’re just sunshine…”

NINE MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD

“Cheating spouse, undercover at Harvard, cheating spouse again…” you muttered to yourself as you browsed your cases in the living room, illuminated by a single warm light above your head. Dick would complain about the mess in the morning when he eats his cereal.

If he even comes back by tomorrow. you finished your own thought.

The blackmail material requests sounded interesting, but you always hesitated to accept the morally gray ones. You usually would go for missing or runaway children, the evidence of corruption, and the occasional journalist request for an inside scoop.

In fact, your eyes caught one such request. An anonymous journalist from the Gotham Gazelle. You received a text from a disposable two days ago, detailing a locker combination and an address. The contents of the locker were documents within a crisp and new light brown folder- a typical case file, along with a thousand dollars in cash and a promise of another two thousand after completion.

Journalists were not usually this cautious, but if they were investigating someone high profile, it was better to remain anonymous. Especially in Gotham.

You took a sip of your dark roast Arabica coffee, engrossed by what your anonymous client wanted you to get. It was already 11 PM.

Then, you heard the bell ring.

You frowned. Dick wouldn’t ring the bell to his own apartment.

Concentrating on pulling your shadow back, you walked barefoot to the door and looked through the peephole.

Your heartbeat quickened at who you saw standing on the other side of the door.

Calm down, calm down, calm down. Deep breaths.

The door clicked when you unlocked it, and creaked when you pulled it open.

You couldn’t remember when you had stopped counting the amount of days since you saw those piercing blue eyes that were so similar, yet so different from Dicks’. Now they were even more different from what you remembered. They were like battleworn armor standing in an enclosed case.

“There’s my sunshine,” Jason smiled weakly at you.

There was no chance of stopping your tears from falling down your face, so you didn’t even try. You let them flow freely as you speechlessly embraced him and felt his warm arms snake around you. The warmth of an embrace you thought you were never going to feel ever again.

He grew much taller than you. He was 16 when he died, and you were just turning 18. You had stopped growing a year or two before that, but boys kept on growing, didn’t they? He was the same height as you were the last time you saw him, but now he was at least a couple of feet taller. Did that mean he was back long before he started going as Red Hood? What did he do for two and a half years? Who-

“Don’t mean to be rude, but can I come in? I’m freezing my tits off out here,” he said. Even his voice was much, much deeper.

You chuckled and nodded, taking a step away to let him in.

You closed the door behind Jason and watched as he walked in slowly, looking around at Dick’s apartment. You noticed he paused at the dining table where you were working, and then strided to the sofa in the living room before taking a seat. You followed suit and sat next to him, not yet trusting your voice to make a sound.

“So,” he began, “You and Grayson, huh?”

Looking so intently, taking him all in, you almost missed the question.

“You’re bigger than him,” you blurted, before widening your eyes in horror at what you were implying.

Jason raised a scarred eyebrow.

“I mean- you- your build,” you quickly explained, “Your frame. Shoulders. Length. Big.”

“Length?” he smirked.

“Height!” you almost yelled.

Jason leaned closer to you and frowned. “Am I making you nervous?”

You couldn’t bear his piercing eyes, so you looked down at your hands.

“I thought maybe you never wanted to see me again,” you confessed, “I thought maybe you were angry at me, and hated me.”

“I was,” he simply stated.

You looked at him in question.

“Angry at you. For a bit,” he sighed and leaned back against the couch, “But I was angry at everyone. You were no exception. I was just mad everyone had forgotten me. Especially those I cared about.”

“I never forgot you, Jason,” you vowed, “How could I ever?”

“Then why did you-” he cut himself off, “Nevermind. I just wanted to say that I’m not mad anymore. I get it. I was dead, and everyone moved on.”

He crossed his arms and again, you noticed how large his arms were. His face was more mature, jawline more defined and square, eyes now more deep set with extra dark circles underneath them. As if your body had a mind of its own, you reached out to his face and caressed the scar across his cheek.

Jason jumped slightly in surprise at the sudden contact, but then closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.

“You have more scars now,” you pointed out, “What happened?”

You felt his breath down your wrist.

“Another story for another day,” he smiled and opened his eyes. You took your hand away, blushing at how intimate that must have seemed to an onlooker. “Where’s Boy Wonder?”

“No idea,” you shrugged. “You want something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Aw, come on, Sunny!” he got up and walked to the kitchen, “It’s a Welcome Back, Jason party. Where are the fun drinks?”

He started opening your cabinets.

“Wow, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” you shook your head and went to join him.

“Mi casa es su casa,” he sang, “At least, that’s what Grayson told me when he gave me the address. Aha!”

He found the cabinet of liquors. “Wow, I’m quite impressed by his collection.”

“That’s my collection,” you corrected him, “Dick couldn’t tell the difference between tequila and rum even if his life depended on it. I have a variety. What do you feel like?”

“You’re the bartender,” he teased, “Surprise me.”

You nodded and proceeded to make him a drink. Jason sat down at the dining table and nosily looked through your files. That was one thing he and Dick had in common, at least.

You set down a whisky sour for him and yourself before clearing your paperwork to the side, giving him the side eye as you snatched a folder from his hands.

Taking a seat across from him, the both of you dinked glasses together and took a sip.

“Strong,” he commented, “That’s good.”

You accepted the compliment silently.

“So, you don’t know where Grayson’s at?” he inquired.

“Nope,” you replied, “I know he has missions sometimes. Helps out here and there. He’s gone for two or three days before he comes back home with a new bruise or cut. I don’t ask for details unless he starts to tell me about it.”

Your chest made an involuntary squeeze that you tried to hide. There were times when you had asked Dick, and he lied to you. You had arguments over where he was, and who he was with before.

Jason studied your poker face intently, and for a second, you felt as though he was interrogating you.

He took another sip.

“How’s business going?” he changed the subject, “I heard you never went back to the team.”

“I couldn’t,” you answered simply.

“Why not?”

“Everything reminded me of you. It hurt too much.”

A deafening silence. A look of guilt. A looming darkness that grew.

“Business is great, actually,” you went on. “And I enjoy the slower-paced nature of the work.”

“Ugh, even stake outs?” he made a face, not commenting on how your shadow became slightly bigger.

“Stake outs can be nice sometimes,” you argued, “Crank down the window, put the radio on, snack on some fries. Sometimes I read, as well. I’m used to spending long hours by myself.”

“Sounds like you haven’t changed much,” he smiled endearingly at you.

“Not even physically?” you pouted, “I’ve been going to the gym.”

He laughed at that. “Yes, I’ve noticed. You look much more… Mature?”

“Are you saying I look old, Todd?” you huffed.

“So fucking old. A hag.”

You stuck out your tongue at him and laughed together, as if nothing ever changed. As if he never died, as if you never grieved for him and longed for him.

“I’m kidding,” he conceded, “You look good. Really good. Dick’s a lucky guy.”

You frowned at the last comment. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? Me and Dick?”

Another pause. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jason knew you well, so he knew how to answer you. His statement wasn’t a lie.

You heard the jingle of keys in the distance.

“Speak of the fucking devil,” Jason whispered into his drink before taking a big gulp.

“Honey, I’m ho- oh. Jason, I didn’t expect to find you here,” Dick stood in the doorway, stunned.

“Welcome back, babe,” you walked over and greeted your boyfriend with a kiss. For the first time, Dick looked slightly uncomfortable with your display of affection.

“You guys have been hanging out without me!” Dick whined, his child-like persona immediately taking over.

That was how Dick was. You noticed it after a few times with him, how he would mask his emotions or awkwardness with his happy, warm personality. He was a people person, charming his way anywhere and everywhere regardless of any situation.

Yet, you could see through it all. The grief, the aching fatigue, and the countless battle scars.

“Was just leaving,” Jason announced curtly.

“Ngaw, don’t be like that,” Dick tried to persuade him, “Stay a little while. We can catch up.”

“There’s nothing to catch up on,” Jason insisted, “Bye.”

He glanced once at you, and then left without saying a word.

There was a stark difference between the way he was with you and the way he was with Dick. In the short future, you would come to realize that it wasn’t that he was different with everyone else. Jason treated everyone else with the cold, rough demeanor you witnessed- but never you. You were the only one who knew him as though that Jason never died.

You saw Dick’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “How long was he here for?”

“About an hour?” you answered nonchalantly, going back to your case files.

“He has never spoken to me for more than 15 minutes,” Dick informed you, “Even then he would give non-committal answers.”

“Really?” you asked, frowning to yourself. It took just a little while for the both of you to go back to how things used to be. “Maybe he’s more upset at you since you’re his brother.”

“Nah, don’t think that’s it,” Dick came up behind you and nuzzled his face in your neck. “You smell good. Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you hummed, “How was… Your mission?”

“Tiring,” he complained, “You choose a case already?”

“Maybe,” you replied, “Who was there?”

You heard Dick gulp. “Donna. Kon. Wally.”

“And?”

“Kori.”

You felt your chest tighten again. “Okay. I’m tired too. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

“You just drank coffee,” he pointed out, “You’re going to sleep now?”

“Or just lie in bed,” you responded, “Seeing Jason was… emotional.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair.

“You coming?”

“I have to patrol,” he looked at you guiltily.

“But you just got back,” you argued.

“They can cover more ground when I’m around,” he explained. “Sorry. I’ll spend time with you tomorrow, okay?”

You smiled at him and reached a hand to press on his chest. He was so committed, and that’s what you loved about him. He really, truly cared.

“Just stay safe,” you gave him a deep kiss, tasting the cola chapstick he stole from you months ago.

“I’ll see you in the morning, darling,” he breathed.

That night you lay awake in bed, staring at darkness. You let your shadow go at night, allowing it to take over the room. A buzz came from your phone all of a sudden. Another unknown number.

You tapped it open.

This is my number if you need me. J.

It had been a while since you smiled whenever you lay alone, unable to sleep.

And how did you get mine?

You didn’t actually care. You were just so happy to be texting your best friend again.

I’m just a genius, Sunny. You staying up late to work?

You contemplated your answer.

No. Just couldn’t sleep. What do you do now, anyway? Do you patrol with the rest?

Sometimes. I mostly do my own thing now.

What thing?

Another story for another time, sunshine.

I’m glad you’re back, Jay. Thank you for seeing me today. Can we hang out soon?

We can hang out whenever you want.

You were typing a reply, but was interrupted by another message from him.

I missed you lots.

I missed you too, Jason. We have to get caught up with all the slumber parties we missed.

Don’t think Grayson would be too happy with that though.

My best friend is back from the dead. He can suck it up.

I’ll see you soon then?

You contemplated again.

What are you doing tomorrow? I got an interesting case. Wanna tag along?

***

Jason’s heart broke when he found out that you were with Dick. It was a large reason why he was so angry, and why he became so destructive. But he tried to stay angry at you, tried to hate you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. The years without you were lonely, and he tried to fill up the emptiness with rage.

It took him so long after Bruce brought him back to his senses to finally see you because he was practicing. He knew he couldn’t bear to look at you and Dick while you were together, so he practiced controlling his emotions so he wouldn’t snap and scare you away.

But when you opened the door and he saw your face for the first time in years, everything dissipated. He didn’t need to control any anger because all he felt was longing. It didn’t matter if you were in love with Dick, all that mattered was that you were there next to him.

“Okay, so,” you began as you pulled the car to a stop in a street at Diamond District. “Rupert Thorne.”

“The guy who is running for mayor?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, browsing through the documents, “He allegedly backed Hill in the previous elections, but now he is running against Hill. My client wants me to find evidence of corruption and find out who his sponsors are.”

Jason saw the way your brows stitched together as you read through the file.

It was difficult to be in the same car as you. Even though he was in the passenger seat, he felt like it was a small closet, being suffocated by your demanding presence.

“Why doesn’t he sponsor himself? Isn’t he some sort of closeted crime lord too?” Jason asked.

“I guess that’s the mystery,” you hummed, “He must have been promised something, or he must have promised something- if he wins.”

You smelled like warm cinnamon and vanilla. All Jason wanted to do was to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. The pull he felt towards you was almost physical. He needed to stop himself from touching you, from claiming you.

“So what’s the first step?” he tried to focus on the case.

“He works in that building there,” you looked outside across the street to the tall mirrored tower. “COO of Trident Shipping Company. He’s doing quite well in popularity lately… Articles say he is modest and humble, charming, thoughtful, charitable… The list goes on. Must have a great PR team.”

Jason smiled to himself. You were starting to think out loud, a habit of yours he noticed one night during a strategy meeting with the team. So many years ago.

“Anyway, we want to see where he goes, who he meets, what he does-”

“Oh no,” Jason groaned, “You scammed me into a stakeout!”

He really didn’t mind if it meant spending long hours with you in your cozy car.

“It’ll be fun!” you tried to convince him, “We can catch up in the meantime! Plus, I do also need to bug his phone. Might need your help with that. I also have some metka, so maybe we can pollinate some lead suspects once we narrow them down and-”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Jason started chuckling in disbelief, “First of all- one step at a time, please. Let’s make a structured flowchart first before you start rambling off fifty-seven steps ahead. Second of all- metka, are you fucking with me right now? How did you get your hands on Soviet Cold War tech?”

Metka or spy dust- chemically known as nitrophenyl pentadienal or NPPD- was an old and outdated, yet still effective, Russian method of marking or tagging suspected CIA agents during the Cold War by the KGB. It was a discreet powder that stuck to everything. They would tag the agents at the airport, and then anything the agent touched would have traces of the dust. Including Russian assets- spies or informants working for the CIA. They would be able to identify the traitors.

“I’m a PI,” you said smugly, “I’m resourceful.”

Yes, you were. Jason beamed proudly at you. But he said, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, how about the bug?”

“I have this-” you rummaged through your messenger bag and took out a small silver card the size of a hotel matchbox. It had the Bat sigil.

“So I assume you have Batman’s NFC card because you’re resourceful?” Jason teased. He knew the gadget well. The near field communication device allowed hijacking into another electronic device with NFC just by near contact. It could allow for cloning the device, or installing spyware.

You stuck your tongue at him childishly.

“I wonder what Batman would think of you stealing his gadgets for personal use,” Jason jested.

“Okay, I borrowed it from DIck, and it’s not like I’m using it for personal reasons. This is a highly professional operation,” you huffed, “Anyway, if you could let me finish telling you my plan. It says that Thorne is into French girls and he usually comes out for a smoke break around this time.”

“And?”

“I will be bumping into him. The NFC needs about 30 seconds of contact. I’ll slip the card in the pocket where he keeps his phone. But in case I can’t stick around to take it out, you will have to come walking behind me to pickpocket it from him.”

“Sounds good. What if he’s using his phone?”

“I’ll bump it out of his hand and apologize profusely,” you grinned. “Okay I need to get ready.”

You unbuttoned your weathered leather jacket to reveal a white top with a low neckline, giving Jason a good view of your cleavage.

“Uhhh,” he started awkwardly.

You ignored him and looked in the mirror, smearing lipstick on your lips and smacking them. Then, you ruffled your hair to give it more volume before turning to face him with a “How do I look?”

The red you chose for your lipstick matched your skin tone perfectly. And he never noticed you had a tiny cute mole on the top of your left breast. The way your hair was effortlessly messy made Jason imagine that was how you would look like in the mornings, or when he takes a handful of it while kissing you rough-

“G-great,” he complimented weakly.

If he hadn’t already died, then you were going to be the death of him.

“Oh shit, there he is,” you opened the car. “Quick, hang around a few feet behind me.”

Jason saw you strut as you approached Thorne. He was tall and handsome, and looked good for a man his age. Jason could tell that his suit was expensive. His coat was probably cashmere. He could see why Thorne was so popular. He definitely looked the part. He was talking on his phone, and he was now curious as to what you had in mind.

From down the block and in the crowd, Jason saw you pretend to talk on your phone in perfect French, rushing somewhere unknown. He didn’t notice the cup you were carrying before.

“Ah, putain! I am zo zorr’y, Monsieur!” you bumped hard into Thorne, spilling liquid all over his coat and yourself.

Thorne looked surprised, and then pocketed his phone in his coat. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, no, pleez. Let me ‘elp you,” you made a fuss. You took out a handkerchief from your bag and simultaneously shrugged off your jacket. Jason smirked to himself. No hot-blooded male would be able to resist the sight of you in a wet white low neckline t-shirt.

“Let me pay for your dry cleaning,” you worried, “Oh, putain it speeled down here too.”

You got on your knees and started dabbing the hem of his coat.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Thorne smiled and held your shoulder in a gesture to help you up.

“I am really zo zorr’y,” you looked up at him.

A flash of lust sparked Thornes’ eyes, and Jason knew you were batting your eyelashes at him from that angle. It made him want to punch Thorne square in the jaw.

“It’s really alright, madam,” he insisted, “It was my fault for standing in the middle of a busy pedestrian walkway.”

“I should ‘ave watched where I was walking,” you bit your lip and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well, let’s just both move on from this. Please don’t worry, I can get my assistants to get me another coat,” he rested his hand on your lower back as he walked you towards the street. “Here is my business card. Feel free to contact me if you need any help navigating the city. I would love to show you all the fine restaurants in Gotham.”

“Monsieur, you are too kind,” you pouted.

“I should thank you for bumping into me,” he winked, “It’s not everyday I get to see a beautiful lady.”

You pretended to blush.

“I have to go now,” he announced, “Please give me a call.”

And with that, he entered the building.

You walked towards Jason with the look of a kid who scored his first goal.

But then, facing him now, Jason swore under his breath. No wonder you managed to bewitch Thorne so easily.

Your shirt was practically see through, and everyone was turning their heads at you. He could see your black lacy bra, and how your tits bounced as you jogged towards him.

“Hells to the yes!” you celebrated, “That was more than thirty seconds. I got the card back and- what are you doing?”

Jason had grabbed your jacket and forcefully put it over your shoulders. “Let’s hurry back to the car.”

Yeah, you were going to be the death of him.

#jason todd #dc comics #batman #red hood #dick grayson #jason todd/reader #dick grayson/reader

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