#trying to catch a glimpse of a breakdown or something

[wernerherzogs]

.

[passengerprincessblog]

“Lewis, Next Door”~ pt 1 Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: age gap, alcohol?

Summary: Coming home from university, Y/N expects a quiet reunion with family—until she finds herself face-to-face with the enigmatic Lewis Hamilton, her dad’s famous neighbor and friend. What starts as a dull evening soon turns unexpectedly electric when Lewis offers more than just small talk.

I hadn’t been home all semester. Between studying, late-night group projects, and the occasional breakdown, the past few months at uni had been… a lot. I’d pushed through, and even though I’d missed my parents, there was something about finishing this term that made me feel a little invincible. I was finally here, though, bags slung over my shoulder as I hugged my mom in the doorway and let my dad ruffle my hair in that way he always did.

Home sweet home.

After the greetings and settling in, I noticed someone else was around. Our neighbor, Lewis Hamilton, was back too. Usually, he was off racing, so it was a rare sight. I wasn’t someone who followed F1 religiously, but I knew Lewis was a big deal—and the whole “dad’s friend” thing only made it more surreal. The few times we’d run into each other, I’d been struck by how effortlessly confident he was. Attractive? Absolutely. Intimidating? Without a doubt. But, honestly, I’d never thought much beyond that. He was just Lewis, the neighbor.

That night, my dad was throwing a big party to celebrate his latest product launch. Fancy guests, fancy decorations, fancy everything—the whole nine yards. I’d barely unpacked, and here I was, getting ready to play dress-up and smile politely for a parade of strangers. My friends were out clubbing tonight, living it up, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. But I loved my dad, so here I was, hair styled, makeup on point, feeling like I’d stepped into someone else’s life for the night.

As the party got into full swing, I did my best to stay interested, though I kept glancing at my phone, imagining my friends dancing somewhere with loud music and neon lights. Instead, I was here, weaving through clusters of my dad’s colleagues. He was chatting with a group of important-looking men, so I took my chance and approached him, feeling like a little kid again as I asked, “Can I please just have one drink?”

He shot me a disapproving look. “No. You know the answer.”

“Fine,” I muttered, trying not to let my frustration show. I wandered around a bit, catching snippets of adult conversation that were all about business deals and tax write-offs. Glamorous.

Finally, I spotted a lonely champagne glass on a table. I glanced around, and with a little thrill of rebellion, I picked it up, taking a sip. It was cold and crisp, and even though I’d never been a huge fan of champagne, it felt like a tiny slice of freedom. A few more sips, and I was actually starting to relax.

That’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, and there he was—Lewis, giving me a knowing smile.

“I see you like my drink?” he teased, eyes glinting with amusement.

My stomach dropped. Oh god, I’d taken his champagne? “Oh my god. I’m so sorry… I didn’t know… I can get you a new one if you want, I just—”

He chuckled, shaking his head. His laugh was low and warm, and something about it made me relax, just a bit. “Nah, I’m messing with you. It’s fine. I don’t even really drink anyways.” He grinned, flashing a glimpse of a gold grill that made him look both mischievous and effortless, a vibe that seemed distinctly Lewis.

I managed a shy nod, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands. “Oh… good. Thanks.” I couldn’t believe I was so nervous. But he just kept looking at me, his gaze both curious and relaxed.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You bored? I’m so bored. No offense to your dad, of course.”

I let out a laugh, surprised at how blunt he was. “It’s boring,” I admitted, feeling a little guilty, but somehow knowing he understood. He had this whole wild, glamorous life, and a party like this was probably as dull as watching paint dry for him.

“So, what? You’re back from uni, huh? That’s crazy. I remember when you were like, ten,” he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

I feel my cheeks heat up with a pang of embarrassment. Here I was, feeling all cool and grown up, and he still saw me as a kid. Great.

“Yep,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light but failing to hide the faint annoyance.

“Well, you’re better than me,” he shrugs. “I never finished school.” I glance at him, surprised he’s trying to keep this conversation going. Usually, we barely exchanged two words, and now, here we were, alone, talking like… friends? Something more? I didn’t know.

“Well… yeah, but you’re a millionaire,” I say, trying to sound casual, though there’s a little hint of playfulness in my voice. I’m not exactly flirting, but maybe a little. Just testing the waters.

He raises an eyebrow, smiling at me but seeming almost uncomfortable at the mention of his money. He shrugs again. “You’re not exactly struggling either,” he teases back.

Was… that a flirt? Or was I just imagining it? It’s just the way he said it, the way his gaze lingers a moment longer than it should. My pulse quickens, but I try to play it cool.

“No… not exactly,” I say, catching his hint and matching his tone. I glance around, making a point about how dull this party is. “Just right now.”

He chuckles, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe next time, you come to one of my parties,” he says. It sounds more like a command than an invitation, like he’s decided I’ll be there.

I nod softly, trying to hide the thrill in my expression. He’s really inviting me? He seems amused, almost as if my reaction is endearing.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say with a slight shrug, finishing off the champagne. I feel his eyes on me, and when I look up, he’s studying me, like he’s considering something.

Then he breaks into a grin. “I could give you my number,” he says, casual but direct.

I raise an eyebrow, trying to mask the excitement bubbling up. “Oh?”

“So you can tell me next time you’re bored,” he adds, giving me a cheeky wink.

I feel my cheeks flush as I pull out my phone. He takes it from me, putting his number in. My hands are shaking just a bit when he hands it back.

“There,” he says with that familiar grin. “Now you’ll be set.”

“Cool. Thanks,” I say, somehow managing to keep my voice steady. Inside, though, I feel my heart racing.

He glances back at the party, then back at me, giving me one last wink. “I should probably go talk to your dad. See you around, Y/N.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me standing there, still holding the empty champagne glass, my mind spinning. His number. His number. A part of me feels like I’m floating.

———————————

Oo La La 🙈

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[jasmines-library]

batfam with the youngest robin (prob 12-13) who gets kidnapped by the joker during a mission and a year or so later the joker reveals the kid who is now brainwashed to be the joker jr

i was thinking like maybe how they’d react and maybe that they can rescue y/n and un-brainwash them and like comfort them and stuff

if not that’s fine i don’t mind!!! i can also like explain better if needed lol

The Stranger In The Mirror.

Note: You guys literally send in the best requests, I took inspo from Batman Beyond where this happens to Tim but I also added my own little twists as always.

Warnings: Torture (graphic), brainwashing, manipulation, drugging, breakdown basically hurt not comfort (poor reader is going through it all in this one.)

Word count: 2.5k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“Help! Somebody please!”

You heard the cry before you saw what was happening. A female voice begging desperately for help, pleading for mercy as the two men backed her against the wall of the alley. They stalked towards her menacingly and you could see the way her face contorted with a fear that gripped her so tight as she moved feebly in an attempt to get past the two men. But they were large and between them took up most of the alley so that it was nearly impossible for her to slip past, and even if she did they would be on her in a second. 

Using your grappling hook to secure a line on a nearby railing, you propelled yourself down from the rooftop. Before your feet hit the floor, you took the crooks out with a well placed blow that sent them crumpling to the ground like a sack of flour. Resheathing your hook, you turned to the woman. 

“Are you alright, Miss?”

She smiled, looking at you from under the brim of her hat with an all too familiar smile “Much better now you’re here.”

A brief flash of recognition crossed over your face, obscured by your mask as you realised who those brown eyes belonged to but you had no time to act on it before she hit you on the back of the head. Hard. With a manic laugh. 

“Night night, Birdy.”

~

When you awoke, you were laying on something cold. A piece of metal that you had been bound to by ropes that burned against your wrists and feet as you struggled to free yourself. The table was tilted at an angle that allowed you to squint against your throbbing head to take in your surroundings. The room you were in was well lit and seemed surprisingly sterile given the situation. Strange concoctions of colours that made you grimace hung on the walls and bubbled away in tubes on one of the many workbenches across the room. The tools made your stomach churn. But then you saw him. 

Perched all high and mighty in a chair opposite you the Joker had sprawled himself out across a chair, flashing you one of his sickening, signature grins. 

“Hiya, Birdy!” He stood with glee, making his way over to you with a spring in his step-almost like he was skipping. 

“Why the hell am I here, Joker?” You spat at him, baring your teeth. 

“Can’t a guy just hang out with his favourite vigilante?” He mused, turning away from you as he began organising things on the desk that you couldn’t see, you tugged in the restraints to try and catch a glimpse of them.

“Cut the crap.”

“You all really are no fun.” He rolled his eyes “Not to worry that’ll all change soon when I morph you into the perfect weapon. Me.”

“What?” 

“Well, what’s better than one of me? Two of me. And you little bird, know all the ways to destroy your pesky family.”

“I’m not going to tell you shit.”

He shrugged, turning back to you with a pair of jump leads in hand. “We’ll see.”

Walking towards you with a grin he attached them to the table before reaching towards the dial. You thrashed desperate to break free but the ropes securing you in place allowed no leeway for you to move. When his fingers brushed the dial and the voltage came flooding through the wires, you let out a blood curdling scream. The pain was everywhere as your body arched, twitched and writhed against the rope. It burned at your skin, drawing blood and forming blisters against your wrists and your ankles. When the current finally stopped and you fell slack against the restraints your diaphragm jerked and spluttered against each pain filled gasp. 

“Are you ready to talk now?”

~

They realised very quickly that you were missing. You hadn’t returned home after your patrol. They tried not to let the worry get the best of them, but this was Gotham. They waited, watching the seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, but there was no sign of you. You were gone. 

Everyone was on high alert. For three, agonising weeks they searched every inch of Gotham, using every possible connection they had but no one found any leads. Tim was growing frustrated, hacking into every database he could find as Bruce and the other boys scoured the city. But you were gone without a trace. That was until one tedious Wednesday morning, the batcave received an urgent call. 

~

Your head was fuzzy. Whatever the Joker had dozed you with this time was really taking a toll on you. 

Your head hung low resting against your chest as you breathed slowly, trying to push away the fuzziness in your brain. Your entire body had grown numb; now too used to the pain it had been put through, too weak to hold yourself up as you lay slack against the table and although all dosed up now you may not be able to feel anything, you would never be able to forget the endless torment he had put you through; that would forever be etched into your mind. 

The screams still seemed to ricochet off of the walls, burying themselves into each crack just to resurface once it went quiet. The feeling of your skin being torn apart still lingered, the pinch followed by the burn as the Joker slashed you with his weapons, screaming at you to tell him all that you knew about Batman. Of course, you refused at first. Oh how you were so brave trying to hold your tongue. But you couldn’t help the screams that ripped from your mouth and left your throat raw and soon when they layers of your mind had been peeled away by the cruel hallucinations he put you through with his serums and his words, you soon began to crack; your fragile body unable to take anymore of this torture. 

Your wrists had been burnt red raw; the trails of blood tracked down your arms and mixed with dirt and blood, showing where it had beaded down your forearms as you struggled. Burned with tears your anguish was clear amongst your struggle and you were pretty sure that you had at least three broken ribs and four missing fingernails. Maybe more. 

But you were growing to like the pain somewhat. Because it meant that you were still alive. It meant that your family was on your way…or… had they stopped looking for you. 

The Joker's cruel words rang through your hazy mind. He had told you about the video he had sent to them. How there was no response. They didn’t care. None of them did or you would have been home right now. He had injected you with something as he said it, but you swatted off the prick of the needle as though it were a pesky mosquito bite. 

“Soon,” He told you as the drug settled into the numbness of your body. “You will realise that I am helping you. That I am the only one that cares for you. Not Batman. Not any of those pesky Birds. Me.” he hovered in the doorway just before he left. “I’ll be back, Junior.” Junior.  He had stopped calling you by your name recently. 

And as much as you didn’t want to agree with the man who had put you and your family through so much…you were beginning to believe it. The Joker had dragged you away from a life cycle of patrol and ending crimes. He was giving you a place to stay when your family had so clearly given up on you. The Joker had confided so much in you in your time together that you felt like you almost knew him personally. And it had made you think that… he was misunderstood. Lonely. Much more similar to you than- 

No.

No. No. No. You shook the thoughts from your head. ‘They’re coming.’ you told yourself. ‘But…’

Your mind was fighting itself now, conflicted between what you knew and what you were being told. Fighting between your family and the man who stood constantly before you.  It fought until one side finally inched free and you realised something. 

The Joker. 

The Joker was right. He was helping you. 

When he returned to you that night, you greeted him with a dumb smile. He was  glad to see that his plan had worked. That he had broken you down enough to mould you into exactly what he wants. 

He grinned manically. He could now move onto phase two: training you to kill The Bat. This stage would be considerably easier. You already knew Batman’s weaknesses; you had admitted that during one of the electroshock sessions. He just had to convince you that Batman was the real enemy. The only thing left to do besides that was lure him over to you. Which should’ve been easy enough.

~

Tim shot up from his seat the moment your face flashed up on the screen. Somehow, someone had overridden the computer’s controls and he was now staring at your bloodied and beaten face lolling against a metal table. 

“Bruce!” Tim cried, scrambling to grab the attention of his father. 

Bruce had never moved faster across the cave than he did to reach Tim, his stomach dropping when he saw the screen, with him came the rest of his sons who too were alerted by the shout. 

Tim didn’t have to say anything else as they all gathered around to look queasily at the screen. You weren’t moving as the live stream played and this only worried your family more, but then an all too familiar green hair came into frame walking towards you menacingly. 

Bruce felt sick when he saw you flinch and try to squirm away from the Joker’s touch. 

“Smile for the camera.” He said, gripping your hair so that they could see your face. You blinked slowly permanent tears scarring your face amongst the blood and dirt. 

“I hope you’re watching Batsy. You’re about to see the end of your little bird.”

Dick, who bit his lip anxiously as he observed instinctively gripped Damians shoulders and tried to push him away as the Joker reached for the dial again. They saw your body react despite its weakened state; legs kicking and trying as you tried to scramble away. But Damian refused to leave, especially when his little sibling was in this state. It was horrific, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the screen so he watched shell shocked. That was until your first scream cut through all of them and he turned away. Dick pulled him close as he screwed his eyes shut and Jason clenched his fists. 

“Tim.” Bruce ordered “Turn it off. Find a signal.”

“I’m trying.” He said “But…there is no signal and something is overriding the controls.”

Bruce ran his hands through his hair until after an agonising few minutes, your screams stopped. 

The Joker moved swiftly for a syringe which you didn’t even react to as he injected it into your system. Not good. 

“They’re not coming for you, birdy. They don’t care.” The Joker taunted before turning back towards the camera. With one manic laugh he gave a final bow and the signal fizzled out. 

The five of them stood there in complete silence. All silent. Most angry. Most heartbroken. 

“Suit up. We don’t stop until we find them.”

~

By the time the vigilantes arrived, you were ready. Poised on the top floor of Arkham’s abandoned asylum cafeteria. 

You had seen Batman arrive, sauntering furiously into the open room to where Joker had positioned himself. You had seen the other four sneak in too, wrapping themselves around the room and slinking throughout the asylum in search of you. 

Once Joker had riled up the Bat enough to send him on a chase to him around a loop of the asylum, you jumped down from the bannister with a conniving grin. 

“I know you’re all in here.” You laughed. And soon, one after the other your brothers appeared from the shadows gawping at the stark contrast of your appearance. You were skinnier and clearly injured from head to toe, but what struck them the most was the purple and green that the Joker had donned you in. 

“R…” Red hood warned as he stepped toward you. “We don’t wanna hurt you. We just want to take you home.”’

You raised your weapon. “Liar!”

“No kid. We wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” Red Robin said.

“You left me. You didn’t come back for me and you left me here to rot!” You gritted your teeth.

“That’s not true. That’s the joker talking.” Damian.

“He is helping me! He is helping me reach my full potential- I am already so much more than I was before.”

You raised the pistol. It was loaded and you knew that it would do damage. That was the intention. And that's what you were going to do. You were going to take them out one by one until they get what they deserve-

“R…” Dick said as you raised the gun your finger inching towards the trigger. “You know us Little Wing. We’re your big brothers.”

You moved swiftly, dodging them as they moved closer in sync. One of them reached out to try and grab you, but you gripped his arm and threw him over your shoulder. The five of you tussled until everything paused when Batman burst back into the room. 

Your gun was pointed at him in an instant, locking in on him as you readied your stance and poised your finger on the trigger. no one said anything. No one even dared to breathe. Bruce just looked at you from behind his cowl as you grinned at him, sickeningly mirroring the villain who appeared behind him sending him keeling to the ground. You laughed. 

“Do it.” Joker urged. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Your hand trembled as you looked down at him pleading at you. He looked so…vulnerable. And your mind screamed at you. Wrongwrongwrong. You were torn again. This was Bruce…your father. Your family. Your enemy- 

“Do it, Junior.” He pressed. Your lip trembled. 

Do it. No. Do it-  You wanted to scream. 

“R.” Batman uttered one single letter.

You pulled the trigger. No one moved. A cry of pain rang out across the room. The Joker dropped to the floor.

You let out a sob and dropped to your knees realisation catching up on you. A pair of arms wrapped around you and pulled you to their chest as you completely broke down. 

“It’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. We’ve got you now.”

Everything hurt. Everything was so disgustingly wrong. You had tried to kill Bruce- you had given away your secrets… you let out an unholy sob.

“Shh.” Jason cooed. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean it.”

“Everyone is okay, Little wing.” Damian promised, taking your bloodied hand gently and tracing circles across the back of it. “We can fix this…”

Batfam Taglist:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter VII - Bona Dea

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Spoiler-Free Summary: Set before and during Gladiator II. General Acacius finds himself entranced by a highly valued priestess of Rome – A Vestal Virgin. Both have taken vows that make sure their paths may never cross. Until they do.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 18k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, (Attempted) Sexual Harassment, Smut, First Time, More tags to be added

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

i was supposed to upload this two days ago but silly me decided to have a mental breakdown instead. anyways, enjoy the new chapter ♡

bona dea - a goddess/her festival subligaculum - underwear

Chapter VII

The house is filled with the overpowering scent of strong wine and blooming flowers. Food and drink is being served, the atrium of the roman villa that belongs to the senior magistrate and his wife transformed into a place of worship as much as a place to celebrate.

The annual winter festival of Bona Dea, one of the most important (and as some argue, fun) nights of the year for the women of Rome. A tribute to the goddess that promises fertility along with chastity and healing, in return asking for her worshippers to hold the values of a good, roman wife. Her celebrations allow strong wine and sacrifices led by the Vestals and most importantly–ban all men from the villa and its grounds. Just laying eyes upon the holy celebration and the rites would be enough to condemn a man to a life of blindness.

It is so different from the worship you are used to from Vesta. She is quiet, a prayer whispered into the flames, the crackling noise of the wood, the only company for women who ask for safety and blessing on lonely nights.

You have barely been able to eat, despite the food seeming worthy of the gods. Bona Dea has always made you nervous, the prospect of trying to effortlessly fulfill the rituals that have been passed down from generations of women before you. But the prospect of meeting Acacius in mere hours had you trembling the moment you rose from your bed this morning. The hours seemed to tick by agonizingly slowly all day, making you wonder if the sun would ever set.

But it did. And with the early darkness of the winter night came the loss of appetite. And the later it becomes, the worse you feel. The comfortable anticipation starts mixing with an anxiety you’ve rarely felt before. Nothing can go wrong.

Of course, something goes wrong. When you reach the large front entrance of the atrium, the one you hoped to slip out of unnoticed after fulfilling your duties, is far too busy. The columns are decorated with skillfully woven vines, the entire room alight with candles and torches. A thin layer of smoke still hangs in the air from the rituals you conducted earlier, making the space feel even more sacred.

You settle on making another round, speaking some words here and there, disappearing into a crowd that has evidently already enjoyed the strong wine forbidden to them on other occasions. You catch a glimpse of Severa chatting animatedly with a few other women and duck away just in time to avoid attracting their attention.

It is already late, far later than you meant to leave. You know Acacius will be waiting. He has no rites to attend to tonight. Instead, he will be able to casually stroll out into his–

The gardens. Just like the other houses, there are spacious gardens attached to the villa you are currently trailing through. There has to be a way to slip out into that direction and get up Palatine Hill, which is rather close. Pretending to long for some fresh air, you step into the lush green, plants and trees imported from places where they do not wither in the winter. They lend themselves to your cause perfectly, barely allowing the guests inside to catch a glimpse of your white stola as you tread the small paths, the light around you becoming less and less. You slip past a few trees, fight your way through bushes–and are met with solid stone. Of course. A wall to keep out everyone who tries to sneak into the gardens. Or in your case, sneak out of them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. Heading back inside, finding another way–it will take too long. He could be gone by then. With a small shake of your head, you step forward and let your hands run over the cold stone. The moon is hiding behind clouds, giving you essentially no light to work with. Still, you somehow manage to find two crevices to tuck your fingers into and pull yourself up. Panting slightly once you've heaved yourself up onto the stone wall, you look back for a brief moment, catching a glimpse of the lit up villa through the trees, listening to the voices and music drifting over to you.

Suddenly, it feels like you're looking down upon your whole life, like you are seeing yourself from the perspective of the gods you so worship. You try and think of something to hold you back, any excuse to just jump back into the gardens and have no one ever be the wiser about the ideas in your head. You think about the dishonor you may bring to the Vestals, to your family. To him. The punishment they would settle on. The whispers that would follow you, even after death.

You try and think of a good reason to stay. But not a thought comes to mind.

So, you jump down on the side that leads further down the path and up to the house with the lavender gardens, a path you do not wish to leave now that you’ve started walking it. Even if it leads straight down to hell.

***

Acacius sighs quietly as he gets up from the bench he sat down on what feels like hours ago. His mind is as restless as his body, his head spinning a different direction every time the wind carries the sound of what could be someone sneaking toward him through the night. The statue of Mars stands quietly next to him as he begins to pace back and forth, eventually expanding his rounds onto the stairs. Up. Down. Have you changed your mind? Back. Forth. An invisible tug of war with the thoughts racing through his head.

The small pavilion is lit by only a few candles, providing just enough light to see but not enough to shimmer too far through the trees. On Bona Dea, the whole town below is alight with the celebrations of the women. Song, Chatter and Light travelling through the night air, distractions that lay like a shroud around your meeting. A protection not unlike your veil. An indication that what lays below is not to be touched–an indication he so desperately longs to ignore.

It's not any sound that makes him turn his head. It is an instinct that he cannot name that has him turn towards the path below. And there you are. Looking almost like a ghost, dressed in a festive, white stola that swishes around your body as you hurry the last few steps, the top of your head crowned by the very veil he just saw in his mind. And he suddenly feels like he cannot wait a second longer.

Acacius meets you halfway up the stairs, his arms sliding around your waist like they belong there. Like a child resting its head in their mothers lap, like a soldier returning to his village after the war. Like the most natural homecoming, a nestling of a body against that of its lover.

“Acacius–” You whisper his name, a relief that it can finally fall from your lips again. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

He hums quietly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your side. “I would wait all night for you, Dulcissima.” He cannot see the blush that spreads over your cheeks but he can hear it in the small breath that escapes you. “May I?”

Keeping one arm firm around your waist, he leads you up the stairs, towards Mars who stares into the distance. Unlike the stone eyes of the statue that are forced to stare at one point on the horizon for eternity, Acacius’s eyes never leave you. Even when he leans down to the small tray he brought along earlier, grabbing a glass filled with red wine and handing it to you, he keeps his focus on you. You barely get to whisper a thank you before a frown spreads over his face. “What happened to your dress?”

“I had to climb the garden wall,” you mutter sheepishly, embarrassed that your original plan has so clearly gone awry. He watches as you take a sip of the wine before you continue. “I will clean it in the morning, it is not worth speaking of.”

Acacius doesn't agree. It feels like another thing he's making you do. A visual representation of the way he is soiling you, tainting your beautiful white gown with reminiscents of the dirt and grime that stains his armour after returning from battle. “It is my turn for apologies. You should not have to–”

He is shut up by your lips coming to rest on his. He can taste the red wine he picked out for tonight and by the gods, he does not think there is anything he likes more. Picking out what you taste like for him.

There is a small tremor in your body, an insecurity that he immediately recognizes as inexperience. He sighs into the kiss at that, his taunt muscles finally relaxing as he blindly reaches behind himself, finding the stone bench and lowering both of you onto it, never breaking your kiss. Sweet. You just taste so sweet.

He allows you to dictate the pace, only pulling back when you do, your breath coming in short pants. His forehead rests against yours as he reaches down to take his own glass, nudging you until you toast him, glass against glass creating a light melody that fades as quickly as it has appeared. You both drink in silence, only the distant noises of the celebrations and those of the garden around you reaching your ears. 

“May I ask you something?” He hums, his voice low in his throat as he watches you raise your wine to your lips, the flames of the candles reflecting in the glass and liquid, sending smooth shadows over your face. At your nod, he continues. “Why did you ask to meet tonight? Bona Dea must mean a lot to you.”

You smile softly, though there is still a hint of nervousness present in your eyes. “The gods are busy looking down onto the feasts.” It is the unspoken part of your response that makes Acacius feel almost light-headed. If the goddesses eyes are truly on the feasts happening in the city, they are too busy to see you under the cover of darkness. One of his hands is still supporting your waist and he uses the other to set his glass down again before coming up to caress your ankle. A sliver of skin pokes out from under your stola, giving him a taste of what is waiting below the linen and silk that you are wrapped in. He feels you lean in, a hand gently coming to rest on his shoulder for support as he maneuvers you onto his left leg. In one smooth motion, Acacius runs his calloused hand past the hem of your stola and up your calf. You shiver, shifting slightly. “Acacius–”

It's somewhere between a whisper and a begging command. He forces himself to pause, his hand resting on your knee, the fabric of your dress bunched up around his forearm. “Do you want me to stop?” You shake your head silently. And he decides that maybe, he can push a bit further. “Is this why you wanted to meet?”

He can practically see you pause, your eyes flickering nervously back and forth. He may be completely wrong. It may not even have occurred to you–this. That you could do this. Because technically, you can’t.

“Maybe,” you whisper and he smiles at the subtle hint in your tone that sounds less like a maybe and more like a yes. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't have the same train of thought. He just didn't expect you to want him like this. Hell, he barely expected you to show up. Not with how much you are both risking.

“I’m sure you know–” you whisper as his hand travels further, slowly but surely inching up your thigh. “That Vestals are sworn to celibacy.”

He gives as gentle a squeeze as he can, watching with a smirk as you bite your lip, stopping yourself from letting out a noise. God, how he wants to hear that noise. How he wants all of Rome to hear the noise, wants to hear his name fall from your lips as he gives you the pleasure you've been denied your entire life.

“There are other ways,” he muses, his thumb trailing over the edge of what he assumes to be a subligaculum covering your most private area. “Other ways of pleasure.” He cocks an eyebrow at you, his hand gently rubbing over the soft skin of your inner thigh, not quite crossing the invisible threshold yet. “Dont tell me you have not discovered any of them?”

This time, he can watch as the blush spreads over your cheeks and down toward your throat. His gaze softens slightly. “You do not have to tell me, if you do not wish to.” Acacius sighs quietly, his eyes watchful, trying to gauge if he's gone too far. If he should retreat. “Does this feel good? We do not have to–” He can feel himself stumbling over his words. “I do not wish to force myself upon you. We do not have to do anything if you are not ready.”

“What if I'm never ready?” You whisper before you can stop yourself, resting your head against his shoulder and he tuts as he looks down at you.

“Then we will never do anything.”

“Go on.” It is a whispered plea. And Acacius gently obliges. He knows how to give commands that demand to be followed. But he also knows how to take them.

His fingers sneak under the delicate cloth that forms your underwear, his index finger finding the space between your legs already deliciously wet. He can feel himself getting hard at just this. The thought that merely sitting on his lap, kissing him, feeling his hands on your leg, is enough to arouse you to this point. He swipes his thick index fingers through your folds, making you clutch onto his shoulder and whimper in surprise. A low chuckle leaves his lips as he stills his hand again, not wanting to overstimulate you right away. He is keeping that trick up his sleeve for later.

“Your body does not know of your vows, dulcissima,” he rasps, his beard scratching against your skin as he places soft kisses against your neck. He feels you shiver and while he is sure some of it can be attributed to the excitement, he has a feeling the cold is also doing its part. He has a sudden urge to pick you up and carry you inside. If you truly want him to see you, to bare yourself before him–the first man to ever touch you like this–it cannot be on a cold stone bench.

“Let me take you inside.”

(art by art by Gökberk Kaya)

notes: okay, i know, i know, bad moment to stop. i promise the next chapter is in the works! ♡

[kelppsstuff]

Can you perhaps write an Adam x reader where the reader is extremely insecure about their looks and thinks they'll never be truly attractive and he comforts them after catching them in the middle of a breakdown ....... Thank you so much I love your work ♥️♥️

Divine

Summary: when your insecurities get the best of you Adam is there

F!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: depression, depressive thoughts, making love, panic attack

Taglist: @fandomsbookclub @adamsfavoritesinner @leathesimp @mmichelleszn @sashaphantomhive @ladyninggs @sirenetheblogger @jawline-of-steel

You always were one to never feel confident in your own body. Even when you were alive. You were beyond surprised when the first man told you he wanted you, and even more surprised when you started dating.

You were a relatively high ranking angel, most people respected you. You were kind, compassionate, caring, and most of all, you were down to earth, or well heaven.

However even in your after life those thoughts followed you. Making you question everything about yourself.

The questions started small.

Were you too tall? Were you too short? Should you have long or short hair?

Then they began to form into something more.

Were you eat too much? Too less? Were your boobs big enough? Was your ass too big? What made you deserve Adam? Why are you even here?

You never told anyone about said thoughts. Heaven wasn’t a place of insecurity. Everyone was “hot” as saint peter like to put it, so no one really talked about their problems.

You tired hard to appear perfect. Always going the extra mile for something, for someone.

—

You walked around your home, glass of wine in your hand. You made a sudden stop however as you caught a glimpse of your reflection in one of the mirrors in your home.

You took another sip to try and stop the incoming thoughts, however it did no good.

Do you really think Adam wants you? It’s all a joke to him. You don’t deserve him, look at you.

Tears started to form in your eyes, tears of sadness filling eyes of rage.

You screamed out in frustration and threw the wine glass to the mirror. The glass shattered and red stained your white walls.

The thoughts stopped, finally a moment of peace, but it did not last. The came back stronger than before.

You grabbed one of your fire pokers and started to hit your glass cabinets. Throwing every thing you could find against the walls.

You didn’t find clarity though.

You slid down the walls while the tears slid down your face. “Just leave me alone!” You cried out to the empty room.

Now you’re throwing a fit? Get over yourself, god you’re pathetic.

You didn’t hear the door open, you couldn’t get out of your head. You didn’t hear footsteps crunching on the glass around you, it was blocked out by your crying.

You only focused back when Adam placed his arms around you and slightly shook the two of you.

“What’s the matter baby?” His voice was unusually soft, and it was delicate.

“I want the mirrors gone.” You begged to him. He pulled your head away from his chest and made you look up at him. “Then how would you see your beautiful face?”

You scoff out, “what a funny joke.” Your voice was bitter, and your throat was raw. The tears had finally stopped, but they still stained your face and your lashes were soaking.

“Funny of you to think I’m joking. Talk to me baby.” He noticed your insecurities to an extent. Adam wasn’t one to be too aware of mental struggles — even if he has some of his own — but he noticed things about you.

He would notice how you would always try and hide your stomach. How you would sometimes get lost in though while grabbing your thighs. He would notice how you never wanted him to go down on you even though you would blow him off. He would notice your long looks in the mirror and the distance face you had.

He would try and help. Telling how how hot he found you every time he saw you. He would always praise you. It wasn’t enough, he knew that but he wanted you to come to him about this first.

He didn’t want to upset you more with confrontation.

“I’m so ugly! I don’t know why you’re still with me! I’m an embarrassment for you. You’re too good for me.”

Adam brushed away your tears with his lips. Silently listening. This was your moment to get everything off your chest.

“I’m not smart, I’m not even that pretty.” You scoffed and looked away from Adam, “Lute would be a better partner than me.”

Adam pulled your face back to him. “You have no idea just how wrong you are. You are heaven itself. This place was hell until you.”

“You’re not an embarrassment, I’m so proud to have you on my arm. You’re so intelligent that you make god look stupid. Don’t even get me started on your beauty.”

“I love every part of you. I love every inch of skin you have. You’re so pretty baby and I love you so much it hurts that I can’t express how much I truly do. And I cannot wait until the day that I see you walking down that isle in white.”

You smiled at Adam, it would take time to fully believe him, but right now he made you happy. It had been a long time since the thoughts were gone and it was just the two of you.

“Thank you, Adam.”

Adam placed a kiss your lips and reluctantly backed away. “Don’t thank me baby. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go out have a spa day, go shopping, get all dolled up and when you get back I’ll have a surprise for you.”

You nodded your head and Adam kissed you all over your face leaving giggles to flea from your mouth. God you drive him crazy, in the best way.

—

You got your nails done, even gotten your hair styled, and you went to the mall to get new jewelry and a dress.

By the time you got home and walked brought the door all the glass and everything was cleaned up.

Another thing you noticed was the rose petals making a path to your room while music played out. The closer your got to the room the louder you heard the song.

You opened the door and there Adam stood. In a suit, maskless, while holding up a rose to you.

Adam could feel his heart stop. He looked you up and down and he knew that he would love you for the rest of his immortal life.

“You look…” and felt like he couldn’t breathe, you were simply, “divine.”

Red rushed to your cheeks as you walked closer to him, taking the rose. You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked around.

Candles were lit all over the room and you noticed he put a table in here that had your favorite food and wine. You looked to the left and noticed the bed was filled with rose petals just like the table.

The candles reflected against your skin and Adam knew that this was the moment, he couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Marry me.”

You snapped your head up to him, “what?”

Adam dropped your arms to his hands and he started to get onto hid knee. “I’ve lived in Heaven longer than I can remember, but it wasn’t Heaven until you. I have had two wives and yet it was you who taught me how to love.”

Adam pulled out a ring box from his jacket and opened revealing your dream ring. It was breathtaking.

“I was trapped in a marriage twice, and I don’t want you to think of this as a trap. When I ask you to marry me I’m asking for you to let me worship you. Let me wake up beside you every single day. Let me try and show just how deep my love for you goes, even though it’s impossible because I simply have too much of it to show. So I ask you. Will you marry me?”

A smile broke on your face and you dropped to you knees bringing him to a kiss. You put your hand to his cheek while he wrapped his arms around you.

You kissed all over his face saying yes a million times. Adam face was full of love and happiness as he placed the ring onto your finger.

You looked at him and placed your forehead against his, “never let me go.” You whispered.

“Never.” He promised.

He picked you up and carried you to the bed, kissing you along the way.

When he dropped you to the edge of the bed you immediately went to his belt but he pushed your hands away.

He dropped to his knees and pushed your back to the bed. “This night is all about you, honey.”

You were nervous yet excited.

He undid your heels, slightly rubbing your sore feet before his hands trailed up your thighs. “Lift your hips baby.”

You flushed pink, Adam said Vulgar things all the time but that would play a repeat in your head for days, hell eternity to come.

You did as he said and he pushed your dress up while pulling down your panties, stuffing them in his pockets.

He brought his lips to your own, and gave your heat a little kiss. Your little moan let him knew just how eager you truly are, along with the slickness along your folds.

He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulder, slightly angling your hips upwards.

He gave you a long lick, loving the taste of you. He wanted more, no needed more, he needed to taste you more.

He gave you more licks and suck before rubbing your clit while putting his tongue to use but pushing it past your folds and into your walls.

You could feel pressure in your stomach begging to be release, you were quite familiar of this feeling.

“Adam, I’m oh god, I’m going to cum.”

Adam paced quicken, desperate to have you gush on his tongue and gush you did. You poured onto him, crying out in pleasure. Adam didn’t let a single drop past him.

When you finally were finished riding out your high Adam climbed over you. A sight it was.

He ran a hand down his hair, his tie loose, your fluids over his face and a hungry look in his eyes. You made sure to engrave that memory in your head. You pushed off his suit jacket while he worked on his belt and shoes.

Adam ripped open your dress causing you to whine, “that was expensive!”

Adam started to kiss up your neck and to your ear, his low raspy voice right over it. “I’ll buy you ten more.” His breath blew over the curvature of your ear making your yearn for him.

You ripped open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as you gave him begging eyes with a sweet voice to accompany it. “Please my love.”

“How can I refuse someone as pretty as you.”

You believe him, you felt pretty, you felt loved, you felt worshipped, you felt enough.

Adam pushed down his pants and lined himself up to your entrance. He slowly started to push into your slick walls, leaning down over you breathing heavy, matching yours.

When he finally bottomed out he had to take a moment to stop. You were so tight and you were squeezing him so nice.

In the very low of your stomach you could feel a tiny bulge.

He took you hand hand placed it over your lower stomach. “You feel me baby? You feel what you do to me? Only you could make me like this.”

“I love you Adam.” He placed a soft kiss on your soft lips, “not as much as I love you.”

Before you could deny it he thrusted up into you. Suddenly your ‘impossible’ turned into “don’t stop.”

“I won’t baby.”

He kept his word. He kept it slow and you didn’t ask for him to go faster. His thrust was hard and it his the exactly spot that he knew would make you tick.

He started to rub your clit, whispering praises in your ear and then suddenly you could feel yourself pulsing around him.

With you tightening Adam’s own release pushed deep into. Painting your walls white.

When you both came down from your highs he pulled out and made you two a bath.

While the two of you soak and nipped your ear and joke, “looks like I skipped dinner and went straight to dessert.” You giggled and splashed him.

The two of you went silent for a moment, just admiring the other. “I love you.” You both said.

Adam was truly happy.

You were truly happy.

Any problems that would happen you two would face them, together.

AHHHHH

Okay so let’s talk!

I’m so happy I wrote this! You have no idea, while writing this it felt like a piece of me healing.

If anyone is struggling I want you to know you’re not alone! There are others out there and I don’t mean that as a way to down play you, I mean that in a way they people understand and people will listen.

Don’t struggle alone there is always a door open and each and every person alive is beautiful and truly amazing and there is always someone something that loves you!

[theemporium]

Could you maybe write something with Carlos and his wife who's shy and more quiet despite working for the social media team of Ferrari and when fans get a bit handsy Carlos steps in when he notices her discomfort?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You always preferred to stay behind the camera.

It had always been the case, even since you were a kid. You were shy, a little introverted. You didn’t like it at home when your parents tried to film a few home videos, you didn’t like it at school, you just didn’t really like it at all.

Your fascination came from being behind the camera. In being the one to capture all the moments around you so you could share it with the world. And with a growing love for motorsports ever since you were a young girl, it only made sense that your career and line of work would follow your dreams.

You joined the Scuderia Ferrari team the same year Carlos Sainz was signed on as their new driver, and it felt like fate that you two crossed paths.

It was difficult not to fall for the Spaniard. He lived true to his name and you were practically wrapped around his finger after you two first spoke. Carlos was sweet and kind and romantic, and despite having his undivided attention, you never felt like you were under a spotlight like you tended to feel with others.

Carlos always made you feel safe. He helped you grow, just as you did with him. And it was no surprise to anyone that after a few years of dating, Carlos finally put the ring on your finger.

The irony was never lost on you that despite your shy and reserved nature, the man you married ended up being one of the most photographed and sought out people in the world. He was constantly in front of a camera, and you were more than happy to be the one behind it. And all in all, fans were mostly respectful of your wishes to stay in the shadows.

But sometimes that wasn’t always the case.

Monza was a big race for the Ferrari team, one marked on the calendar and anticipated throughout the season. It was their home race. It was where the fans were the wildest, craziest, most passionate. And the boys were at the middle of it all, the hopes for a good race in front of their most loyal fans.

Carlos had one hand perched on your lower back as you made your way towards the paddock entrance. Both your paddock passes were in your hands as Carlos used his free hand to sign as many photos and caps and shirts as he could.

“Careful, mi amor,” Carlos murmured, his arm winding around your waist to keep you upright as more fans flooded your husband.

“You don’t need to rush,” you told him with a soft smile. “We still have another fifteen minutes before the meeting.”

He raised his brows. “Are you sure?”

“They are here for your, Carlos,” you assured him as you squeezed his hand, before letting him step away and give his full attention to the fans.

However, before you could step away from the crowd like you planned to do, an influx of more fans started pushing forwards to try and catch a glimpse of your husband. They were yelling and shoving and you started to feel hands all over you, and it made you want to crawl into yourself.

Your breathing quickened and your eyes darted around the group to try and find an escape, but it was useless. You tried to ignore the way your throat closed up, a sense of panic and dread bubbling inside of you as more people pushed and more hands touched you, and for a second you were concerned you were about to have a breakdown in front of everyone.

“AY! AY! MOVE AWAY, LET HER BREATHE!”

The crowd around you started to dissipate and soon enough the sight of your husband was no longer obstructed. Carlos quickly moved towards you, his hands cupping your face the second he was close enough.

“Mi amor,” he murmured breathlessly before he wound an arm around your shoulder protectively and began to guide you away from the crowds.

“Carlos,” you murmured as you sunk into his embrace. “The fans—”

“Can wait,” he finished for you. “I’ll go back later. You’re my priority.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry.”

He paused, looking down at you with a frown on his face. “Do not apologise, amor,” he murmured with a shake of his head. “You’re my wife, you’re my world. Nothing will ever be important to me as you are.”

Your lips twitched. “Many years later and you still make me swoon, Mr Sainz.”

“I like to remind you why you said I do, Mrs Sainz,” he replied with a cheeky grin as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before guiding you towards the Ferrari motorhome where you’d be safe from the onslaught of crowds.

.

[cherryredstars]

Here's some angst, Miguel reacting to reader who shaved off all their hair. Like, reader had a nervous breakdown one night and did it without thinking it through, and not has to deal with the fallout. Maybe reader just has mental health issues in general.

Anyways, love your writing!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: Reader is constantly crying, Angst (???), SFW

A/N: I finished writing this and then Tumblr decided to refresh the page while I was adding the tags so I had to rewrite it.

Unedited

You sob the second you look at yourself the next morning.

You don't know what you were expecting to see, but the sight of your shaved head would never be something you were prepared for. It's done horribly, splotchy due to your tear-blurred vision the night before. What used to be strands of your longer hair still lay in the sink and on the bathroom floor, and it makes you cry harder. You have to spend the next hour crying as you fix the mess on your head, cutting it even shorter to make it even. Even after that's done, you end up three hours late for work because every time you catch a glimpse of yourself in a reflective surface you begin to cry. It doesn't help that you've missed a meeting, and you know Miguel will be pissed the second you walk into his office to apologize. You'll have to swing yourself into the nearest bathroom stall after you meet with him if you miraculously don't end up sobbing in front of him.

When you compose yourself to finally get to the Spider Society, you just begin to wish you stayed at home. It seems that everyone in the overpopulated halls stops what they're doing to look at you, throwing astonished faces your way as they turn to follow you. If you could, you would throw your mask over your head, but you found that the material is too baggy now that you don't have the hair to fill it. You promised yourself you would cry over that after you send in your suit altercation request and go to the supermarket to buy enough chocolate and ice cream to eat your weight and more.

You're slightly grateful when you enter Miguel's office, his back turned to you and now shielded away from the eyes of the other spiderman variants. You hope it stays this way, but life is never on your side. Miguel turns slightly, lingering to look at his screens before throwing a glance at you over his shoulder once he's heard you enter. He moves to turn around again, before stiffening when he registers what he just saw. You fidget as you imagine the look on his face, brows scrunched as he tries to decipher if what he saw was an illusion from the harsh glow of his screens. He turns around quickly, his staring blatant and insecurity-inducing. You want to yell and scream at him for making it so obvious, but you've cried all your energy out today.

"Are you trying something new with your hair?"

You consider Miguel lucky that everything in his office is too heavy to pick up. Otherwise, you would be throwing everything in your vicinity at his face. Instead, your bottom lip quivers and a pained noise fumbles from your mouth. If you weren't having your hundredth breakdown of the day, you would laugh at the wide eyed look Miguel gives you.

"I-I didn't mean it in a bad way, I was just asking a question. I think it looks good!"

You cry harder at his words, shaking you head, "It's horrible!"

Miguel is at a loss of words, knowing that whether he agreed or disagreed with you, it would end in you crying even harder. He makes his way to you hesitantly, gently pulling you to his chest and his hand cradles the back of your head. The short hairs prickle against this skin, and he whispers reassuring words to you as you sob and sniffle into his chest.

"You're okay, it's all good now. Give it some time and it'll all grow back."

You stay glued to his chest until your sobs die down to weak sniffling. Miguel pulls away from you, giving you space as you wipe away the tears on your face with a shuddering breath. It takes a moment for your airways to clear up, breathing returning to normal and your inhales losing its noisy quality. Miguel seems to take pity on you today, allowing you to stay with him in his office as he works silently. You're grateful for it, not having to do anything or face the rest of the society any more than you have. Miguel doesn't even bring up the meeting you missed, but you're sure that once your psyche could handle it he'll tell you off. But for now, you get a short break from your rough life.

You'll have to find a way to thank him later.

[save-the-horse]

Was he that desperate? Yes. Donovan had been between bad relationships for so long and now he had the tiniest spark of a decent relationship. The depravity after was an accident. An older gentleman with a lovely tenor and hands that had wandered over his waist before. First dreaming of the mechanics hands on his hips, no barriers between them. Then more followed, night after night. Harlens hands slipping further down, disappearing further across his body before the dreams end. Forcing him awake with the low drawl of Harlens voice trailing out of his ears. “Just relax darlin’.”

A week had passed since brunch with his mother and the breakdown of his car. Donovan still saw him on Saturday classes, demoing each step with him and letting Harlen lead him through each motion. Heavy hands on his hips and thighs when they move into a lift low enough that he has to excuse himself half way through class and recompose his manners.

Late that night, only 8pm when he gives in. There was something he’d felt between them, Harlen willing to come to him in the middle of the night when his car broke down and meeting his mother the next day. A few unfortunate years have told him that the romantics weren’t open to him. Donovan had forgotten what it was like to be romanced and wooed, going off of what everyone else had wanted in him. Sex, body, form. A half hour of taking painstakingly angled photos later, he thinks he’s ready. Nothing too provocative, just a few shots from his thighs and a few glimpses of his ass.

[Harley: Loved having your hands on me again tonight.]

@murdersinthemaking

Harlen's barely been able to stop thinking about Donovan all week, almost obsessing over him and how sweet he is despite his best efforts not to.

Brunch had gone super well, at least he thinks so — Colette seemed to live him and they all had a pretty good time. A win is a win.

And dance classes have sprouted some interesting thoughts, mostly centred around Donovan's thighs and other contexts where he could touch them.

God, he's never been more embarrassed by his own mind before. Well, not recently.

The pictures catch Harlen very off-guard in the best way possible. He's been trying to work up the courage to ask Donovan out to dinner and he still wants to do that but holy shit. Apparently, now is not the time for romance just yet.

Harlen sends a picture back — his chest being the main thing, his shirt partly unbuttoned and pulled aside slightly by his nicer hand to display the top half of his pecs ,muscular and lightly hairy.

[Absolute sweetheart: Happy to hear it, baby.]

[soombee]

ଳ⋆｡˚𖦹 caught in the current of you — 01 , fish facts & a lil chemistry

warnings ! none

wordcount ; 573 / 0.5k words

‘thoughts’ -> “out loud”

7:30 am — chemistry

you didn’t expect to be particularly THIS nervous to present in today’s class, but then, your fine shyt, leehan, steps up to the front of the room and, all of a sudden, all your worries faded away just from the sight of his face

your heart beats raises, beating out of your chest as you remember last night’s venture through his twitter feed. he’s looking as fine as ever — in front of you, wearing a grey sweater with his tousled hair. he’s so effortlessly handsome.

‘thank god i decided to sit infront.’ you think to yourself, feeling blood flush your face

i mean, sure he’s in your chem lab, but you’re pretty sure he’s never really noticed you beyond the few shared glances when you’re stationed nearby each other and it’s killing you. but right now, standing at the front of the classroom, leehan looks so different — focused frown and tired eyes, presumably from the night before, trying to memorize the material he researched. he chose to present on the chemistry of ocean ecosystems and, judging by the look in his eyes, you can just tell that this isn’t just a topic to him

leehan starts to babble, giving the class a basic breakdown of marine life chemistry, but within seconds, he’s diving deeper, animatedly describing the ocean’s ecosystem as if it’s a living, breathing puzzle he’s trying to solve. his hands gestures excitedly when he talks about the bonds between organisms and how they rely on each other to thrive in the depths of the ocean. there’s something captivating in the way he speaks — like he’s not just presenting but inviting the whole class into his world. and slowly, you find yourself leaning forward, totally hooked, oh, on the presentation too i guess!

“and then there’s the corydoras catfish,” he says, smiling a little as he describes its contribution to the ocean system, “they’re very social fish so they’re barely alone!” the whole class might just hear a random fact, but you catch something else; a glimpse of leehan’s dedication to understanding even the smallest details about marine life, making your attraction towards him grow deeper

“i’m such a fool for u..” you confess under your breath, perchance wanting him to know how you felt about him

he dives into a ramble about coral reefs, the chemistry of their growth, and how they’re as fragile as they are beautiful. his face lights up with every word, not even glancing at his notes. it’s clear his passion isn’t just shallow—his dedication being your newfound obsession

by the time he wraps up, you’re practically just staring at him; not even in a “focused” way, you were ogling at him. this wasn’t just a class presentation; it was like getting to peek into a hidden part of his mind, one filled with excitement for something he loves. you can’t help but smile a little bigger, heart pounding in a way you didn’t see coming—even if he was fine shyt

for a brief second, leehan glances your way, as if noticing you’re there—you quickly drop your gaze, hoping he doesn’t catch the blush creeping onto your face

‘this is crazy,’ you think, ‘who tf falls for someone because of a lecture on fish!?’ but as soon as he sits down, you steal another glance, you’re definitely in too deep

“okay next up!” stupid chem professor distracting you from admiring fine shyt. 🫤

if u dont get the pineapple reference click here 🍍🍍🍍

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taglist (open) ! @saintriots @yourmyst4r @sftsohee @httpenhoon @alisonyus

[lucagray813]

Knock 'Em Dead - Chapter 1

Rating: T

Word Count: 6,577

Main Characters: Macaque, Wukong, MK

Minor Characters: Táng Sānzàng (Tripitaka), Shā Wùjìng, Zhū Bājiè, Áo Liè

Relationships: Macaque & Wukong (Could be interpreted as Shadowpeach)

Summary: MK learns what happened between the Six-Eared Macaque and Monkey King. He's going to wish he hadn't.

Additional Tags: Angst, Canonical Character Death

Chapter: 1/3

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3

CW: Heavily implied torture, emotional manipulation

Link to AO3 Version

----

In the aftermath of the Azure situation, MK had promised himself two things. First and foremost, he was never going to be careless with another mystical artefact for as long as he lived. From now on, everything was handled with the utmost care and put straight into the vault with absolutely no exceptions - skeleton keys and memory scrolls had scarred him for life.

And secondly, he was going to commit every detail of Monkey King's life to memory. Mostly because chances were high that the next big bad was another person that Monkey King had pissed off but if he was being honest it was also at least a tiny bit because of Macaque's dig at him for not knowing his Monkey King lore.

Now, he was aware that the various recountings of Monkey King's life didn't have all the details - no book he could find ever mentioned Macaque for example - and so he had decided he would hear it all straight from the monkey's mouth.

It actually became something of a group event, all of them getting together at least once a week to listen to Monkey King's dramatic retellings of his life. Mr. Tang practically hung off every word that was said, while Mei and Pigsy didn't hesitate to start heckling if they felt he was embellishing too much.

MK was somewhere in the middle - part of him still unable to shake the childlike wonder he felt at the fact that he was hearing stories about the Monkey King from the Monkey King and part of him well accustomed to his many, many eccentricities by now.

It had been educational and entertaining and while he'd learned much about details missing from the book - there was still one glaring admission and so far no amount of begging or needling could get Monkey King to talk about his history with Macaque. Despite the fact the two seemed to be on better terms these days.

Macaque frequently invited himself to be a part of MK's training and after some token protests Monkey King usually allowed it rather quickly. His argument being if Macaque was here then he wasn't off scheming so he'd heroically put up with the other to ensure he wasn't causing trouble.

It was a weak excuse, but while the two could be unbelievably snarky and petty, they actually worked together pretty well and MK felt his training was coming on leaps and bounds as a result.

Macaque generally wasn't one for socialising however, and he rarely graced MK with his presence outside of training. But that's not to say MK didn't occasionally catch a glimpse of him around the island and today he was determined he was going to find him and get him to spill all the details Monkey King was holding out on him.

Macaque, of course, quickly cottoned on to the fact that he was trying to talk to him and seemed to take immense pleasure in playing keep away. His laughter rang out after every failed attempt to catch up with him, and it took a small frustrated breakdown for MK to realise that he was getting nowhere.

There was no catching Macaque if he didn't want to be caught and he was probably delighted by MK's growing frustration.

Time to stop and rethink things.

He'd have to make coming and talking to him more appealing than playing games. The solution was obvious in hindsight, and pretty confident that Monkey King was out of earshot, he shouted, "Macaque! I need your help dealing with Monkey King!"

For several long moments there was no response but just as he made to call again, Macaque's lazy drawl could be heard behind him, "Monkey King's beloved successor needs my help? And dealing with the Great Sage himself? My, oh my, who could have ever seen this coming?"

He turned around quickly to see, Macaque reclining on a branch grinning down at him, "What's that idiot done now?"

MK was quick to defend his mentor, "He's not done anything!" The fire left him quickly, "Look, Monkey King has been teaching me about his past but he's not telling me everything."

Macaque hummed thoughtfully, "Not surprising, as if he'd want you knowing the truth. Let me guess, it's me that you can't get any answers on, right?"

"Yes! I saw you both in the Scroll of Memory - I know you were important to him but you aren't in any version of Journey to the West I can find and Monkey King just refuses to talk about it!"

"I'm flattered, kid. But I'm afraid you're not entitled to my life story."

"What! Since when do you pass up on the chance to do something to annoy Monkey King!"

"Ah, but it's no fun if I just straight up tell you."

"Ugh! Well make it fun then! I don't care - I just want answers!"

Macaque titled his head, "That desperate to know you're willing to let me do as I please? That's a dangerous lack of foresight."

MK quickly backpedaled, "Tell me what you want in exchange for answers then - let's make a deal."

Macaque wasn't impressed and he sighed heavily before bringing a hand to rub at his temples, "Kid, don't go around making deals with shady demons."

A little offended he argued, "I'm not just going to agree to anything! C'mon, give me something reasonable to work with!"

"This naïvety is exactly why I stick around to help train you. We're not making a deal but I'll give you a chance to convince me why I should tell you anything."

With a wave of his hand darkness surrounded them - only leaving a cone of light surrounding MK. It was no brighter than it had been but he had to resist the urge to shade his eyes with his hand as he turned this way and that trying to find where Macaque had gone.

Macaque's voice echoed around him, "Stage is yours, kiddo. Knock 'em dead." He then chuckled at his own words, as if he'd said something funny.

He took a moment to try and centre himself and make a game plan. Somehow, "I want to know." didn't feel like it was going to cut it. In fact, that would probably have the surrounding shadows spit him out into the ocean or something.

He tried, "Look, it's not hard to see the pattern here. There's not one enemy I've come across that didn't have some tie to Monkey King, if not an outright grudge with him. I want to be prepared for whatever comes next - whoever comes next. I need to know the whole story."

Macaque hummed, "Not bad. But I'd say it's a little too late for this story to do you any good. Try again."

He hesitated for a moment, before silently asking Monkey King for his forgiveness, "Well, you've told me countless times why I shouldn't trust Monkey King but you've never actually properly explained to me why I shouldn't."

Macaque laughed a little meanly, "Do I really have to? Surely you've figured that out on your own by now. Or should we reminisce on all the ways he's let you down?"

"He's let me down, sure but he's also always come through for me in the end. And he's getting better! He's making a real effort to be open and honest - which is more than I can say for you!"

"Ooh. Ouch. Let me remind you why you're here. For information, the oh so open and honest Monkey King won't share with you."

MK resisted the urge to stamp his foot and instead crossed his arms as he took a moment to really think on what he could say to convince him. He thought back on the shadow play and what Macaque had been trying to teach him.

He took a breath, "I don't want to make the same mistakes that Monkey King did. I don't want to hurt the people I care about. Because that's what happened, right? He hurt you. He hurt you so badly you were willing to do anything to make him feel the same way."

The silence he received in return spoke volumes and he sincerely asked the shadows, "Please, help me stop that from happening again. Don't let me make those same mistakes. Help me to be better. That's why you're teaching me, right?"

The shadows swirl around him and suddenly he was sat front and centre before a dilapidated stage with Macaque standing in the middle, the shadows swirling around his peripherals.

"Not bad, MK. Your showmanship is lacking but we can work on that. Now, let me demonstrate how to really put on a show."

He moved with flair, hand flung out to the wall behind him as the shadows morphed to take the shape of five very familiar figures walking along a road.

Macaque grinned, "Our story starts with our hero and his companions travelling west. They've been on this journey for some time, overcoming every obstacle and defeating every demon that threatened their holy mission. Today's demon of the week is a little different from most though, he has no interest in immortality gained from feasting on monk flesh nor does he have a desire for revenge. He is here for one reason and that is to free the hero from his enslavement."

----

Macaque stared at the rubble that had once been Wukong's prison. For one terrifying moment he thought that Wukong was trapped beneath the carnage, dead or dying. But his ears quickly told him there was no-one alive underneath and when his brain finally started to function again he remembered Wukong's death was an impossibility.

Still, after shaking himself out of his stupor, he had his shadows investigate every nook and cranny and they confirmed that there was no trace of Wukong, which only led to more questions.

What had happened here? When had it happened? It surely hadn't been that long since his last visit? He racked his brain and felt dread bubble up as he realised it had been at least half a decade since he'd been here.

He tried to justify his absence - he'd been busy, between various threats to Flower Fruit Mountain and his research into the seals that kept Wukong imprisoned here he'd had little time for anything else.

Besides five years was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

And yet guilt still made itself known, he never let Wukong know he was here but that didn't mean he didn't try and offer him some comfort - a gentle breeze through his fur, droplets of water against his skin, a rock breaking away to land perfectly in his hand.

On occasion, he took the form of an animal that had somehow found their way into the cave or he would disguise his voice and pretend to be travellers that were unknowingly hiking above the Monkey King.

There was little he could do to break up the monotony of Wukong's punishment but he knew that these small acts were desperately received by him. If he had revealed himself he could have done more but there was only so much abuse he could take.

He understood that the mountain was driving Wukong mad but what good would bearing the brunt of that madness do for either of them?

He had been gone for too long regardless and now to make matters worse he had no idea where Wukong was.

He steadied himself, and searched for somewhere safe that he could Listen. Beneath the shattered mountain there were still caves that would serve as a safe spot. He moved through the shadows and once he reached a deep enough cave, he emerged and got to work setting up some protective seals.

Listening for anything further back than a couple of minutes left him defenseless and he might have to go back years to find out what had happened to Wukong. He was going to have one hell of a migraine after this but he had no other choice.

----

The recovery from the extended use of his Listening took longer than he would have liked, but as he lay there and processed everything he'd Heard he knew his fury at what had occurred in his absence would never be made peace with.

Wukong had been freed only to be chained like a dog expected to meekly obey the whims of an insignificant little human. He felt humiliation and injustice burn through him on Wukong's behalf.

Wukong's pained screams at that cursed circlet echoed in his ears, it haunted his nightmares. He wouldn't be able to rest until Wukong was free of it.

To that end he chased after Wukong and this monk as fast as he could. Forcing himself to stop only to Listen - he needed to know which path they had taken, he needed information on how Wukong was, and most importantly he needed to know how much this monk deserved to suffer for what he'd done.

It took some time to catch up and in that time his resolve and his anger had only gotten sharper.

When they finally came into sight he had to resist the urge to tear the monk and his little disciples to shreds there and then. He needed at least the monk alive in order to figure out how to remove the circlet. But the urge to kill was forgotten momentarily as he laid eyes on Wukong for the first time in almost a decade.

He wasn't truly free but he was freer than he had been - able to move as he pleased, able to bask in the world that existed outside of the mountain. Macaque forgot to breathe for a long moment as he took all of him in for the first time in five hundred years.

All his mind could focus on was how desperately he had missed him and with little thought behind his actions he opened a portal beneath Wukong and brought them both a safe distance away from his captors.

Wukong's surprise at being spirited away quickly turned to disbelief as he realised what had happened. Macaque grinned, and started to move towards him, "Wukong! You have no idea how glad I am that I finally found you!"

His elation was short lived and he stopped short as Wukong glared at him, "Wukong...?"

He got a growl in return, "Finally found me? You've known where I was for five hundred years! You think I want to see you now? After you left me to rot?"

Indignant he responded, "Left you to rot? I've done nothing but try and find ways to free you!"

He sneered, "Oh yeah, great job you did with that. Really appreciate you freeing me, bud. Wouldn't be here now without you." His eyes glowed dangerously, "You couldn't have spared a single moment to see me in five hundred years?"

In the face of his anger, Macaque felt his own rise in kind, "You think it's easy trying to break a seal made by the fucking Buddha? Maybe I would have figured it out by now if I wasn't still trying to tidy up your mess! Every demon and their mother wants a piece of Flower Fruit Mountain because of you!"

None of that seemed to matter as Wukong took an impassioned step forward, "You abandoned me! We were supposed to be in this together but when I needed you most you weren't there! You haven't been there for five hundred years!"

Macaque took his own angry step closer, "I was there! You think animals just wandered in of their own accord? Do you really think you could hear travellers talking above you when you couldn't hear anything else from outside? I was there!"

Wukong looked far from comforted, if anything he was enraged, "You think any of that makes up for the fact that you didn't even show yourself once? Do you have any idea how much I've suffered? You could have done something! If it had been you trapped there I would have been there every day!"

He was so full of it - Macaque would have given it a week before Wukong ran off looking for something to entertain himself with. Wukong couldn't even spend a full month on the island without getting bored and he thought he'd be able to tough it out when Macaque had no way to entertain him?

"Why would I show up every day just to be screamed at? Because that's what happened Wukong - I came to see you every week and you made sure I suffered every second of it! You should be grateful I tried to help you at all after that!"

"Oh I'm sorry! Did being trapped under a mountain make me a little short tempered? Did I hurt your feelings? I'm sure that must have been just so terrible for you. So terrible that even hundreds of years later you couldn't get over it! Five hundred years, Macaque! Is that getting through yet? Five hundred years and you weren't there!"

He felt his anger war with his guilt.

Was he just expected to suffer alongside Wukong? This punishment was the direct consequence of his actions - actions Macaque had tried to talk him out of multiple times. Was he expected to still disregard himself just to be by Wukong's side? Everything he had done in the last five hundred years had been for Wukong and it still wasn't enough.

But then he thought of Wukong alone and agonised under that mountain, the entire crux of Wukong's argument was that all he had wanted was to see him, and his weak heart couldn't take it.

His anger faltered, his entire body letting go of his tension as he conceded, "You're right. I wasn't there and I should have been..." He rallied somewhat desperately, "But I'm here now! I'm here to bring you home! I'm here to free you from this monk!"

Coldly Wukong replied, "I don't need you now. I don't need you to bring me home. I don't need you to "free" me from my master. All I need is for you to leave."

"You can't mean that..."

A loud voice cut across them, "Brother! Where are you?"

The water demon.

Wukong looked in the direction of his voice before he steeled himself and looked Macaque dead in the eye, "Go home. Once I'm done with my mission maybe then I'll be able to stand the sight of you. Until then, I don't want to see you again."

Macaque couldn't comprehend his words. He had Heard what this monk had done to him, Wukong needed him now more than ever.

He shook his head, "No. I know that you're being forced to do this. I've Heard the agony that circlet causes you. You need my help."

Irritation found its way back to Wukong's face, "You're the last person I need help from. My master is the only one who can help me. With this circlet, he's teaching me to be better."

Macaque could only stare. He thought a human that leashed him and forced him to comply with his orders and hurt him when he didn't was helping him? Had he missed the signs when he was Listening of some wicked spell this monk had cast on him. Or perhaps the mountain had finally caused Wukong to go truly mad.

"Brother! You're making our master worry for no good reason!"

The pig demon.

Wukong turned and walked away from him, towards the voices calling for him. He stopped only to look back and warn, "Go home. Don't let me see you again before I return to the island."

Macaque could only watch as he willingly chose to return to his captors.

----

Macaque did not go home.

It was even clearer now that Wukong needed his help - he had been bewitched by this human.

He stayed where he was and he Listened to Wukong as he reassured the demons that all was well, although it was clear to them that whatever had happened Wukong was not at all pleased about it. The pig simply mocked him for being taken off guard.

When they returned to the monk, Wukong was apologetic, "Sorry about that, master. A demon. Just the usual. They've been dealt with."

Macaque seethed.

The monk sounded wary, "Dealt with?"

"Yeah, I gave them a good talking to. We shouldn't be seeing them again."

The pig demon was in disbelief, "You talked to them? Why waste your breath?"

The monk's reprimand was sharp, "Zhū Bājiè!" He got a grumbled apology in return before he addressed Wukong, "Wukong, please tell me what happened. I am exceptionally pleased to hear you handled this situation without resorting to violence."

"Ah, there's nothing really to tell. Just some demon trying to tempt me away from our mission. But rest assured nothing could ever be enough to convince me to abandon you all."

He knew he was Listening.

The water demon spoke up, "What did they try and tempt you with? Don't tell me some poor soul thought they could seduce you?"

The pig snorted, "As if anyone would want the likes of him."

"Please, they don't call me the Handsome Monkey King for nothing but that's besides the point. They just thought mentions of my home would be enough to have me leave my post. As if it won't still be there once we've finished our journey."

The water demon replied, "Compared to most other ploys to steal our master from us this was a pretty weak attempt."

"Eh. It was a different take if nothing else."

The monk was not fooled, "I do not feel you are being honest with us. As much as I would like to believe you have finally learned to heed my words about abstaining from violence I doubt this was the case."

Very begrudgingly Wukong admitted, "Well, it was actually a demon I used to know. He wasn't interested in eating you at all, master. He... Just didn't understand what I was doing here. No need for a fight over that, right?"

The pig was derisive, "A demon's a demon, you should have sent him packing."

"You're a demon, you little idiot! I should send you packing!"

The monk cut in, "Enough. Wukong, it sounds like you handled the situation admirably. Zhū Bājiè, everyone is deserving of compassion, even a demon."

Wukong was tight-lipped about this demon he had known and deflected any questions regarding him. And eventually they let him be and continued to travel westward.

Wukong's submissive pandering to this mortal was almost unbearable to listen to. Had he forgotten who he was? What he was capable of? The circlet was no doubt keeping him in line but to be so subservient was surely beyond what was needed of him.

He supposed pain was a rare thing for Wukong to feel though- perhaps it truly had rattled him enough to hang off the monks every word.

A plan was slowly coming together but unfortunately any plan involving Wukong made his future Hearing all but useless. He created his own destiny, he always had. But it didn't matter, the monk was the key to all of this.

He could work with that.

----

Stealing away the monk in the dead of the night and taking his place had been laughably easy. And while it had been tempting to stay with the monk and torture him until he finally choked up the truth on how to free Wukong from the circlet, he couldn't risk anyone discovering he was missing so soon.

Leaving him in the dark with some sharp shadows however should be a nice warm up. Humans were fragile things after all, so easily frightened. Let him stew there until Macaque had the time to properly deal with him.

It made him both sick and elated to see Wukong look at him with eyes filled with love and devotion. Had he ever truly looked at him in such a way? Love perhaps but devotion?

It was best not to dwell on the answer.

Neither Wukong or his fellow demons had any suspicions. His performance was flawless - between his Listening and being exceptionally well read it was not a difficult role to play.

Eventually they stopped for a break and as the horse slept he sent the other demons away to find food and then he bid Wukong to take a short walk with him.

"Is everything alright, master? Why send away both Shā Wùjìng and Zhū Bājiè for food? One would have been enough surely?"

"You are quite right but I was hoping to have a moment to speak with you alone about this demon you encountered. You were reluctant to share any details the other day and I wanted to offer you the opportunity to speak more on the matter should you so wish."

Wukong deflated, "Ah. There really isn't anything to say. Just someone from back home that had tracked me down and wanted me to go back with him."

"I see. If I may ask, do you miss your home, Wukong? It has been sometime since you were last there, has it not?"

"Well, sure I do. You should see it, master! It's the most wonderful place in the world! I hope once we've received the scriptures you'll let me show it to you!"

He brought a hand to his heart and bowed his head ever so slightly, "I would be honoured. But I am pleased by your commitment, I could understand the temptation to visit your home."

"Of course! I'm a monkey of my word! And like I said, my home will still be waiting for me when we're done - what's a few more years away?"

"I must admit I am curious about this demon that sought you out. He travelled all the way from your home to find you? That is not an easy feat. Why did you send him away? He could have rested with us for a while, could he not?"

Wukong's face was a picture of forced neutrality, "If I'm being honest, he's not someone I was happy to see. Last time we saw each other was a long time ago and it ended badly."

"Yet he came all this way to find you? To bring you home? It does not sound as if he holds the same grudge."

Wukong's tail flicked irritably and he muttered, "He's not the one that was wronged."

Macaque feigned surprise, "He wronged you? And still you handled the situation with civility? I have underestimated you."

Wukong preened under his praise before admitting somewhat bashfully, "Well, I suppose I wasn't totally innocent in how it all went down..." He then looked away, "And he was someone I once considered a friend."

"Ah, it sounds like this is not a straightforward matter. A grievance between friends can be particularly painful. Know that should you wish for my guidance on this you need only ask."

Wukong smiled, "I appreciate that. I'd like some more time to think of it first but I've no doubt I will seek your wisdom."

"Of course. Take your time to reflect on this matter."

----

Macaque was a patient demon, but while he could play this role for some time without issue. The monk could not survive long without food or water so it was with great reluctance that he brought these necessities to him. He of course had to overcome painfully sharp shadows to reach them and that at least brought him some comfort.

His plan was simple - he needed to convince Wukong to go back to the island. Once he was there he could dedicate his time to the monk proper. He could chance it and slip away during the night but if Wukong woke and saw him missing it would jeopardize everything.

Not to mention, he was in a very lucrative position to persuade Wukong to make peace with him. Wukong listened to everything he said as the monk and he doubted he'd have to push very hard to get him to realise that the best way forward was forgiveness.

This was not a plan without risk - he had Heard about Wukong's Vision of Truth and it would only take one glance with those golden eyes for Macaque to be made. But as long as they didn't run into any trouble there really was no call for Wukong to use them.

In the meantime, he soothed Wukong's pain. Until eventually, the right opportunity presented itself.

"Five hundred years, master. I get that I wasn't great company but to just leave me there..."

"I will never understand the magnitude of such loneliness. It was part of your punishment but I can only imagine it was made worse knowing he was able to alleviate such suffering and didn't. I know it brings little peace but it does not sound as if he did this to hurt you."

A little angrily he responded, "No, he did it for himself." He then looked down eyes a little wet, "To protect himself from me..."

"I believe there may be more to it than that. I do not disagree that he likely could have visited you and that he did not out of fear of your reaction but from what you have told me that was not the only reason he was not there."

He mumbled, "He said he was trying to find a way to free me... And that he was busy protecting our home..."

Concerned he asked, "Your home is not often in danger, is it?"

"I... I don't know... But Macaque can handle it. I mean, he's not as strong as me but he's kept it safe this long, right?"

"I can only assume so. I do not know what he is capable of. Although I will certainly pray that demons the likes of which we have faced do not currently threaten him."

A small worried frown appeared on his face but still he muttered, "Macaque, can handle it..."

It did cut at his pride somewhat to sow these seeds of doubt in his ability but it was a small price to pay. He could prove himself capable when all of this was behind them.

He pretended to seriously consider the problem, "Wukong, you are capable of travelling great distances in the blink of an eye. I wonder if you promised not to be gone longer than a day if it would bring you some peace to check on your home?"

Wukong looked at him hopefully, "Are you sure, master? I could be there and back in no time at all. Just a quick check, I could leave some clones, and then when I would be free from any worries about its safety."

"Yes, I think that it is best we nip this worry of yours in the bud before it can distract you from your duty here. Just be back before dawn."

Wukong jumped to his feet, sickening adoration in his eyes, "Thank you, master! I promise, I'll be back in no time! Let me take you back to the others and I'll be on my way. I'll be sure to bring back all of your favourite fruit - oh just wait until you try them from my home!"

He patiently walked with Wukong as he continued to tell him how wonderful the food back home was and then as he explained to the others what he was planning to do. They all cheerfully put in their requests and waved off his lectures to keep their master safe.

Finally, he was gone and the pig and the horse eagerly accepted his suggestion that they rest here until he returned.

It really was exceedingly easy to cast a spell to put them all to sleep.

He returned to the monk, in the pitch black cave, and relished in his frightened sobs as he picked him up by the throat. He spoke with the monk's voice, "So sorry to have kept you waiting for so long but it took some time to convince your good, little disciple to take a quick visit back home. But for the next few hours my attention is only for you."

----

Well the monk had been disappointing to say the least, both in entertainment and in answers. Apparently only Guānyīn was capable of removing the circlet and she would only do so once the journey was completed. But there must be another way.

How to investigate it without giving himself away though...?

He pondered his next move as he watched over his sleeping disciples. There was a part of him that saw boundless opportunity by carrying on with this ruse but the risk of Wukong's Vision of Truth was too high. He needed to bring this show to its conclusion.

No doubt he could have a nearby demon kidnap them all. He just needed to explain away why the monk would think it had been almost a week and not only the day it would take Wukong to find them...

Ah, there was an artefact in the vault that might suffice - a little pocket dungeon that one could easily be fooled into thinking time moved differently within.

Easy. Reluctantly patch up the monk, shove him in the box, and hand them all over to the local demon lord. No-one need be any the wiser.

If only that's how it had all transpired.

Instead he only had seconds to leap to his feet at the sound of Wukong's nimbus hurtling towards him, he had even less time to realise that furious, golden eyes were glaring straight at him before having to dodge out of the way of the impact.

He dropped the disguise and immediately dove for a shadow portal. But he choked as his cloak was snagged and he was pulled back out and thrown through a forest of trees to slam against the side of a mountain.

He had no time to ponder the how's, not when Wukong was flying through the air, fist drawn back, and with murder in his eyes.

He managed to leap out of the way just as the mountain shattered under Wukong's strike.

Macaque had fought with Wukong many times over the years - and only occasionally had those fights ever been driven by anger and even then Wukong had never exerted his full strength.

This wasn't good.

Desperately called out, "Wukong, wait! I can explain!"

Wukong roared as he lunged at him, "You can explain!?"

Macaque was on the defensive as Wukong screamed, "You can explain why you were manipulating me!? You can explain why you tortured my master!?"

Wukong managed to catch his tail as he tried to dodge and he wasted no time using it to throw him into the nearest tree, reducing it to splinters.

He never got a chance to scrabble far before Wukong had him by the throat, and he wheezed, "I was doing it for you!"

He wasn't sure how it was possible for those eyes to burn any brighter with fury but his words managed it.

Wukong slammed him to the ground, voice terrifyingly level he said, "I told you to go home. I told you I didn't need your help. I didn't want to see you again." He increased the force in which he held him down, "And this is what you did instead?"

He grit his teeth, "They have you chained like a fucking dog. You're the Monkey King, not some pathetic mortal's pitiful slave."

He was picked up and slammed down again, "Don't speak of my master! You don't deserve to ever have laid eyes on him!"

The drive to survive and the fury of this misplaced loyalty had his shadows rise up and Wukong had no choice but to drop him and dodge their attempts to skewer him.

He stood up shakily, "Everything I ever did was for you... and yet some mortal that'll be dead in not even a fraction of our time together has more of your love and devotion than I've ever had..."

He'd seen it with his own eyes, felt the adoration Wukong had for this monk.

He had achieved Wukong's affection through force.

Is that what it took? Is that where he'd always gone wrong?

He summoned his staff and he watched as Wukong did the same. He took a haggard breath in, and he promised the impossible, "I'm bringing you home."

----

"It was a bloody fight but there's no prize for guessing how it ended. The Monkey King, of course, defeated the foul demon that had endangered his journey for the scriptures."

The shadows depicted a gruesome scene of a pleading Macaque on the floor trying to scrabble backwards as Wukong lifted the staff high above his head.

MK looked away before it could make contact with Macaque's skull.

When he looked back, it was to the scene they had started with - Wukong and the Great Companions walking along.

"And thus the pilgrims continued onwards, an event of such little significance it never even made it into the stories that would be written one day."

The shadows swirled into nothing and Macaque took a bow, "And there you have it folks, the end of the Six-Eared Macaque. Tragic, sure. But hey, not everyone gets a happy ending. That's just life for you."

MK could only stare horrified for a moment before he weakly asked, "He killed you...?"

Cheerfully Macaque responded, "Sure did. I was dead as could be until our old pal the Lady Bone Demon came by and well I'm sure you know the rest."

He didn't know what to say, he couldn't say he hadn't had some suspicions but to have it confirmed and for everything leading up to it to be so awful? It made him feel sick.

And yet his mind was a flurry of questions - How had Monkey King known what had happened? He couldn't have felt nothing about killing Macaque, right? Even if Macaque had done something that terrible - had he deserved to die? The two of them today were sort of getting on - how was that possible? How could you ever move past something like that?

"I can see I've rendered you speechless. I'd like to say it was my incredible performance but alas with a story this good the show is almost negligible."

MK stood, "Stop! This isn't- You can't-! You died! You shouldn't be-"

"What? Making light of it? Finding it funny? Hey now, do I go around telling you how to deal with your death? No, I don't."

He powered through all of that, "There's so much I don't know. How did Monkey King know? What happened after he... After you died?"

Macaque shrugged nonchalantly, "Guess you'd have to ask Old Monkey King that. Maybe he'll be feeling more inclined to share now that you have the other half of the story."

He then stretched, "Now if you'll excuse me - I'm not one for encores or for meet and greets - so I'm off to raid the wine cellars."

He grinned a little manically before falling into a portal, "See you around, MK."

MK didn't waste his breath shouting after him.

He needed to find Monkey King.

--Chapter End--

Next Chapter

LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[frenziedfireworks]

hi! i was wondering if you could do something like draco having a sort of mental breakdown, and the reader comforting him? or maybe the reader catches draco trying to scrub or scratch his death eater mark off. ps, i love ur work 💗

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary : Your boyfriend is having a tough time and you're there to help.

CW : sad!Draco, Draco rubbing his skin raw, bit of a mental breakdown + comfort

You had been staying at Malfoy Manor quickly after you received an owl from your boyfriend. The tyrannical things his father was making him go through and the trauma he had to endure.. You had hoped to lighten it. You knew he had his bad days but he mostly preferred to keep it to himself. He had said “it’s easier for him to think” during those moments. You had more just accepted he still wasn’t used to affection and he had been terribly neglected. 

Today was one of his bad days. You had sauntered around the manor all day in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. Much to your dismay the only person you caught was Lucius. 

“Ah, Y/N. Out for a stroll? Do be careful. You never know what you will find around the manor these days. Definitely at this time of night.” Lucius said in a haughty tone as he looked you up and down. You simply nodded to the man and began to walk away. You had to see Draco.

–

Your hand went to knock on his bedroom door when you heard the muffled sobs. You knew he wouldn’t let you in until he had finished or would just act like nothing had happened. So despite better judgment and privacy for your boyfriend, you yanked the door open. 

Draco’s bloodshot eyes met yours before he turned away. You noticed his pulled sleeve and the scratches against the dark mark. He had been picking at it long enough to draw blood.

“Dray, sweetie.” You moved in and rubbed a hand lightly against his back. His body wracked with silent sobs as he slowly leaned into the touch. You took it as a good sign and wrapped your arm around him, pulling his form into you. “It’s going to be okay. I know things are hard but we are going to get through this. Together - remember?” You whispered to him and he took a few deep breaths. His head turned and you saw how puffy and red he was. Evidently crying for some time now.

“Do you really think it’ll be okay Y/N? After everything I’ve done? I am just becoming what I hated.” His words spat with disgust and his nails traveled down the scratches on his forearm. Your fingers pushed his hand away and you brought it up to your lips. You placed delicate smooches against the burnt skin, watching as his grey eyes widened.

“You have been pushed and pulled in every direction. You do what you must to stay alive. You are not them and never have been. You are a survivor.” You brush at his pale locks and lean in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. The blonde’s face melts and he automatically nuzzles into your neck. His grip around you is tight and his breath left goosebumps. 

“I love you. I’m sorry.” Draco’s voice was small, obviously still feeling the turmoil. You just hummed and held him in the embrace. You were glad he had finally allowed you to see him - the true him.

“I love you too. There is no need to apologize. I’m here for everything. Good or bad. You’re safe with me.” You could feel the tiny smile against your flesh that widened on Draco’s face. He may not have an easy life but he would always have you.

–

“Let’s clean you up and get you to bed.”

 You walked to the bathroom and grabbed a rag. You wetted it with warm water and made your way back, grasping at his mangled arm. Draco took a few deep breaths as you washed over the spot and then placed the towel against his face. Moving it against his porcelain skin you wiped away until he looked pleasantly relaxed. You placed a small kiss to his lips before placing back the cloth. Draco scooted up the bed and got in, waiting for you to join him. 

You got comfy beside him and sighed as you felt his head lean against your chest. Your fingers ran through his hair and his breathing began to slow.

“Goodnight Y/N. Thank you..”  

Your heart warmed at the soft and sweet tone, happy to bring some comfort to your dear boyfriend.

“Anytime honey. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[androgynoussublimeangel]

So far all the ProhibitedWish content I've written Jake has either not been mentioned or already dead. But what if....human AU (cuz I guess technically it's the only AU where Jake being alive doesn't fuck the timeline too much) where essentially Jake keeps hearing things about Scarab or seeing glimpses of his relationship with Prismo before they officially "get-together" vs. Jake actually meeting the guy (including maybe a bonus where he just watches Scarab do something totally unhinged before he knows who he is then promptly is introduced to him) I would just love Jake pushing Prismo to pursue Scarab and then after finally meeting him and being like blindsided by what an maniac he actually is vs how Prismo has been describing him this whole time.

Spent my shift at work kind workshopping/brainstorming:

Set up in glimpses with Prismo and Jake regular meet-ups up to catch up. This is after Jake has already met Lady and they've had the Pups (not sure how old they're gonna be probably still kids at least). It begins with Prismo just complaining about the new auditor and what a hardass he is, Jake offering ways for Prismo to maybe befriend the guy, maybe help him to lighten up. Like inviting him to Prismos parties.

This is the cusps of change for their relationship where Prismo and Scarabs relationship becomes less outright hostile. Slowly Prismo begins actually following Jake's advice to try and befriend the other and does finally take the initiative to actually invited Scarab to the next party though he doubts he'll show up. But Scarab actually attends but spends the entire time alone in a corner before leaving early, before Prismo can interact with him all that much. Prismo reports all this to Jake who again encourages him to approach Scarab first, "maybe he's shy!". Except Scarab doesn't show at the next party, Prismo tries to pretend he isn't disappointed.

Prismo isn't that keen on the idea. Then not quite sure how I wanna make this work but Scarab has his breakdown leading to the fallout leading to his demotion, this is hot gossip in the company. Prismo ends up calling Jake after he attempts to speak to Scarab about it leading him accidentally poking some sore spots and leading to a fight. (Vaguely the idea is Scarab is on the roof he and Prismo kinda get into it ending with Scarab getting emotional and demanding Prismo leave him alone.) Prismo calls Jake as he smokes (smt he only does when he's extremely stressed and the guilt is eating him up) Jake whom encourages him to go back and talk to Scarab more.

Prismo does so and both he and Scarab are able to clear the air and force some awkward apologies out but they come to an understanding

Jake seeing this makes sure he can attend the party after that much to Prismo's delight. Usually if Jake can find time to make it to parties, (since this is after the kids are born he's not as much of a party animal anymore so his attendance is spotty) Prismo would be glued to his side. But Scarab actually shows up this time around. Jake waves Prismo off to allow him to spend time with his prickly coworker (Jake never sees Scarab his view always blocked by a guest or Prismo himself). When Jake is leaving he spots Prismo has made his way to the balcony having a quiet conversation with someone else, laughing and seemingly at ease so Jake leaves him be to head home for the night.

Prismo and Scarabs relationship vastly improves after this. Jake continues to give Prismo encouragements and maybe advice he himself had found useful when wooing his Lady (though he doesn't tell Prismo this, he figures his pal deserves a smooching partner too)

This is where it gets vague but thinkin Jake hearing stories about Scarab from Orbo and Cosmic Owl when they all maybe go out for drinks and about how crazy and harsh he is and this is where it begins, Jake gets it in his head that Scarab and Scrabby, that Prismo keeps telling him about, are two different people (Jakes got a wife, kids and a Finn to take care of cut him some slack for not remembering a faceless coworker) So Cosmic Owl and maybe also Orbo always have new stories for Jake about their borderline psychotic coworker. But in that same vein Prismo always has a new story about how cute his Scrabby is.

Finally Prismo wants to introduce Jake to Scarab after they've begun officially dating. I'm thinking Jake might own or co-own a gym with Jermaine (more like a rec center; they got classes for kids, stuff like self defense, ect) he sees some dudebro hitting on some smaller guy. When the bigger dude starts getting aggressive Jake is ready to step in only for the smaller guy to put the fear of God in the larger man with some choice words and a sharp smile. (I've got more to the scenario that might include Scarab mildly strangling the guy with weights but point is my mans is homicidal) Jake is equally impressed and frightened.

Oddly enough he and the little maniac end up leaving the gym at the same time, walking in the same direction and going to the same Cafe or park. And then Jake watched gobsmacked as the same little maniac walks right up to Prismo, who scoops him up to greet him affectionately while being scolded by an exasperated yet fond Scarab. Jake is floored. Prismo sees him and waves him over and Jake smiles and simply goes with it. Scarab seems decent enough if not mildly psychotic when pressed.

Prismo goes to the bathroom, leaving Scarab and Jake alone. Scarab pins Jake in place with a knowing gaze. They have a small interaction (not unfriendly but Jake is SWEATIN) Prismo comes back and asks what they're talking about and Scarab tells him about the man at the gym he dealt with. Prismo only responds with stars in his eyes, thoroughly enamored with Scarabs...meaner tendencies. Jake is mildly concerned for his friends taste in partners but simply glad to see him happy only watches the two weirdos with amusement.

The end lmao

(Perhaps I shall actually have time to write and polish this if my schoolwork would stop beating me with a stick)

[raibebe]

Dreamies in Hogwarts

Genre: fluff Words: 1595 Warnings: mentions of injury, mentions of bullying

A/N: I had this very sudden need to develop new characters and these are the outcome. And it may or may not have been to do with some post about Jeno being in a house he doesn't belong in.

So here I present (with the help of the lovely @flowerboykun who helped both with some of these bullet points and the little banners) my take on the Dreamies if they were in Hogwarts.

Comments and further questions on them are greatly appreciated. Also arguments about their houses. I very much appreciate other points of view.

Gryffindor (duh)

Muggleborn

Prefect

Golden boy of the house

Has only lost house points ONCE (and he will keep blaming it on Donghyuck until he dies)

If he doesn’t get 100% on a DADA exam, something is wrong

The first one to master his patronus spell by thinking of the day he first stepped into Diagon Alley

Yes, he too got spooked by the big lion he cast but that was before the animal let him pet his mane before disappearing

Had several mental breakdowns trying to choose his elective courses because he couldn’t just take all of them

Always has an open ear for his underclassman

Might just let it slide whenever he sees a first-year out of bed too late because he too would just get lost on the way from the library to their common room and suddenly it was after the curfew

Seeker of the Quidditch team

Refused the captain position multiple times because he thinks Jeno is more suited for it and honestly… He doesn’t need any more responsibilities

So oblivious to everyone who tries to hit on him… Like please help this guy

The amount of times he has been asked out on dates and he just thought it would be a friendly hangout and he brought more people is getting ridiculous

Ravenclaw

Pureblood

Do not underestimate him 

His skills in Charms are unmatched and he probably knows more hexes than all his classmates combined

His quick thinking probably saved Chenle’s life during a Quidditch match once when he fell off of his broom after taking a bludger to the side

Got thrown out of the library for shouting at Donghyuck and Chenle… permanently…

Makes them pay for it by getting his books… And some that he doesn’t actually need… Heavy ones…

Has a new love letter in his bag after every day… He has stopped reading them… 

And started folding them into little tiny cranes instead so he can charm them to fly right back to whoever wrote it… It’s his way of letting them down gently..?

Very fond of the merpeople once he saw them in the Slytherin common room

Also uses them as an excuse to accept Donhyuck’s invites to hang out because he of course just wants to catch a glimpse of them

Maybe beating Donghyuck in wizard chess is also a plus

Not a prefect but loves using the prefect bath (yes, he got Mark to tell him the password)

Found the Room of Requirement sometime during his fourth year which took on the space of a quiet and comfortable safe room for him to recharge

Whenever you cannot find him, he’s probably in there painting

Gryffindor

Halfblood

The sorting hat had a really hard time putting him in a house

Like it took a looong time but in the end, Jeno’s courage and drive got him sent to Gryffindor 

Captain of the Quidditch team

Plays as Chaser

Once accidentally broke one of the hoops because he threw the quaffle too hard and then there was the time when the Hufflepuff Keeper got a concussion…

Loves Care of Magical Creatures and no matter how ugly the creature is, he takes care of them with utmost respect and admiration 

Very fond of the Thestrals, especially the smaller foals and very upset about people being ignorant towards them just because they can’t see them

Wants to go into the forbidden forest so fucking badly to see what kind of creatures live there but he knows that he’ll get in so much trouble if he actually went in

So he just likes to hang out right at the edge of it in hopes to catch glimpses 

Once fell asleep in a Divination class that Jaemin talked him into taking with him

He thought it would be a lot more exciting and the calming scent of the tea put him right to sleep

Needless to say, he dropped the course for Arithmacy instead… Don’t ask how that’s going. 

Actually, he’s doing pretty well in the exams after staying up the whole night cramming, only making his way into bed because Mark found him and carried him upstairs after he passed out in the common room

Slytherin

Halfblood

Didn’t care for Quidditch much until he found out that Mark was playing for Gryffindor

Suddenly, he knew all the rules and had a brand new broom for the tryouts

Is he looking for the snitch or is he just annoying Mark the whole game? No one actually knows

Are you still rivals if it lasts longer than 4 years or are you just in love at this point?

Anyways

Always puts on a strong face but he’s fucking tired of stupid rich purebloods telling him that he doesn’t belong in “their” house

Whenever it just gets too much, he goes to the owlery because their sweet hooting always comforts him and his own eagle owl is always down for scritches and cuddles (and very menacing screeches whenever someone shows up to bother them) 

That is until one day, a small black cat also came to the owlery and curled up in his lap, purring when he started to pet it

And surprisingly, it was very easy to just complain to the little kitten about everything, it even gave disapproving meows at the correct timing

The most peculiar thing though… The cat doesn’t trigger his allergies. But it’s magic so that explains it. Right?

Maybe he should really ask Renjun whether or not there are any charms like that

Takes his divination class very seriously

No, I am kidding, he’s bullshitting himself through every essay… Successfully.

Slytherin

Pureblood

Fuck gender. Like seriously. Who invented this concept? Not them. So therefore it shouldn’t adhere to them.

Metamorphmagus and therefore they might have a new hair color every other day

Very fond of giving themself heterochromia  

Everyone thinks they’re just naturally very gifted in potions but they have worked their absolute ass off to be as good as they are since their grandma is a potion master and they have been brewing with her for as long as they could stir a cauldron 

Has a (very legal) business of selling love potions 

And always has an antidote on hand in case someone tries to spike Mark’s drink (again)

Could not care less about house points and rivalry 

Or Quidditch for that matter even though they show up for every game his friends play in

Might get distracted halfway through and play with cats beneath the bleachers

Friends with the kitchen elves and always praises them for their food

Very peaceful unless you fuck with their friends 

Someone is taking advantage of Mark’s or Jeno’s kindness? Some asshole is calling Donghyuck names again? A dude pushed past Renjun and made him spill his pumpkin juice all over his notes? They sure as hell will not enjoy their next meal when everything suddenly tastes like vomit

Will give them the antidote with a sickening smile on their face once they apologize because they’re just that nice of a person

Slytherin

Pureblood

Transfiguration prodigy

To everyone’s misfortune

He could use his gift to experiment and figure out new spells… But instead, he chooses to play elaborate pranks on his friends

They have stopped counting how many times Jisung’s quills have turned into bugs in the middle of the lecture

Figured out how to turn himself into an Animagus when he was 15

Nothing and nobody is safe from him once he turns into a sleek black cat

Has tea on literally everyone  

Cannot stand the pureblood fanatics and will not hesitate to curse them out very colorfully or turn their belongings into different bugs and animals whenever they’re being assholes to others who don’t fit their standards

Very obsessed and intense about Quidditch 

Do not ask him about his favorite team or he will not stop gushing about one of their chasers

The quickest of Slytherin’s chasers

Once got badly hit by a bludger and refused to be taken to the hospital wing because they were behind by quite a lot despite his arm definitely being broken

Yes, he had to be dragged off the field

Hufflepuff

Muggleborn

Baffled and in awe about everything around him

Still cannot believe that he’s able to do magic and make things LEVITATE

Also food just randomly appearing on the table??

Owls bringing his mail?? That’s crazy. Like how do owls know how to do that?

Really likes Herbology but is kind of freaked out by how many dangerous plants are out there

Please let him drop his potion class for his own safety

Claims that he followed the exact steps in the recipe but somehow managed to melt the bottom of his cauldron not once but twice and got the whole room evacuated because his concoction smelled so bad, a girl fainted

Despite Jaemin’s continuous efforts at teaching him, he seems to be a lost cause but at least he hasn’t exploded one of his potions in a long time

Almost failed the flying class because he was scared shitless after Chenle told him a bunch of nonsense about accidents that have never happened 

Very good friends with some of the portraits and therefore knows a lot of secret passages

The one who always ducks at Quidditch games if any players or balls are remotely in his vicinity

Also still gets spooked by the ghosts

Which only prompts them to scare him even more. Mostly by peeking their head through his food

[caseycabotsvu]

Casey Novak x (Student Intern) Reader x Alex Cabot (Are you coping?)

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

Reader is a student law intern at the district attorney's office; her mentors are Casey and Alex. Reader struggles with her past after an abusive home life. When school should have been her safe place, instead she was assaulted. After leaving home and beginning law school she won an internship at the firm. Life starts looking up, but will y/n be able to cope with the pressure of her internship? (Reader struggles with Anxiety and Depression. TW: SH) - 2305 Words

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

As usual, my day starts with my alarm blaring as I turn over switching it off, dragging myself out of bed, across the hallway into the bathroom. I undress getting into the shower letting the water trickle over my body waking me up for the day. Sometimes I miss the days when I would get in the shower and my arms would sting with the sensations caused the day previous, it was a bad way of coping and I knew that but it's the only way I knew. Pulling myself out of the shower, I repeated as always how proud I was of myself for being clean and finding other ways to cope, but with the pressure I had been under recently I was craving the release that my blade once brought me.

I loved the internship, and I knew I had earned it. Casey and Alex where my bosses and they treated me well, I knew they had high standards, and I was so scared to let them down or allow the powerful women to see any form of weakness in me. Pulling on my dress and heels I headed for the kitchen grabbing my coffee and bag before heading out the door. Today was a huge step, it was my first day in court, under the guidance of my mentors. Casey and Alex had been prepping me for weeks, going over the process and indulging my every anxiety in hopes of keeping me calm on the day. They had once been in my shoes and knew how stressful the first trial could be so they wanted me to be as prepared as possible, so I could start off on the right foot.

Stepping out into the street, the bustling of people sucked me in as I walked for my metro to work. I scanned my card at the gates striding onto the busy rush hour platform. Pushing onto the metro as it arrived I seated myself, looking up at those around me, catching a glimpse of someone I had not seen in a very long time. Feeling panic wash over me in a hot flush I fumbled around my bag trying to appear calm, my abuser, the guy from my school was sat on the same metro as me. I knew he could not hurt me, but I was still pulled back into the times he did, feeling dirty all over again. Whilst fumbling around my bag I came across my old purse, something I used to carry with me for relief in the moments I couldn't cope with my emotions. I felt so guilty knowing it was there but facing the world today was going to be hard, so I had it as a back up in case I needed it.

Getting to my stop the subway halted and I ran off the carriage as fast as I could hoping to make it straight to work without being near the guy. I never looked back as I dashed up the stairs and through into the foyer, towards my shared office with Casey and Alex, shoving the door open frantically I wasn't expecting Alex or Casey to be here already so when they looked over concerned I turned red, needing a second to compose myself. I could not let them see me breakdown.

Casey: "Good morning y/n. How are you, you look stressed?" She shot you a sympathetic smile, presuming you were worried about court. You didn't answer instead just looked at both women in shock.

Alex: "Earth to y/n? Are you okay?" Alex questioned, believing the same as Casey.

Y/n: "Yeah umm sorry I...yeah your right I'm just a bit nervous for today that's all, nothing else." I forced out a laugh trying to remain calm as they both gave you a reassuring look.

Casey: "Okay come sit and we can prepare the notes together before we go in. You can take control in this trial but if you need someone to take over at anytime we will."

Alex: "We aren't expecting you to be perfect sweetie, your only young and you have years ahead of you, all we ask is you try your best and take all the experience that comes okay." Alex reassured, trying to remove some pressure.

Y/n: "Thank you both, really I just want it to be over." You laughed composing yourself and trying to lighten the mood.

Casey: "You're going to be great sweetie trust me. We've seen what your capable of, your smart and collected and you're going to be such an amazing attorney."

With that you all sat and discussed the case and planned questions for the defendant. You began to calm down forgetting of your earlier panic, as work took over. All three of you headed for court, the corridor felt so long, as your anxiety ramped up. Walking into court there wasn't too many people which made it easier, but you were still on edge. Stepping to the stand you began the trial as instructed, cross examining the defendant. Getting into your flow, you began to feel less anxious, until the defendant's attorney decided to begin questioning you, his aggression showing. As he approaches, you backed away feeling intimidated as his eyes fixed on you.

I could feel my heart begin pounding as if I were a scared kid again waiting for him to hit me just as I was used to at home. The judge, stopped him before he got to close and reprimanded him for trying to psych out the new intern, accusing him of threatening behaviour. A small break was granted, allowing us to reconvene in 10 minutes. Alex waved me towards her and Casey, congratulating me on how well I had been doing, calling the man a pig for his disgusting behaviour towards a young woman. I smiled along, all whilst cursing myself internally, believing I wasn't good enough and would never be. They were just being nice, it's their job. But that wasn't true.

Alex decided to take over the trial as the evidence was already shaky, you believed this to be your fault, but it wasn't. There had been no forensics from the start so nothing scientific to back up the prosecution, a hard case to start with. As court ended we lost the case, unsurprising due to the insufficient evidence, but I couldn't help thinking it was my fault, I was the liability as always.

Rushing out of court I grabbed my bag running towards the toilets. I slammed the stall door grabbing my only coping mechanism from my bag. The blade I had been free from for years was back and I needed to feel the pain. Grabbing my blazer sleeve and rolling it up, seeing the faint scars left behind, I dug the blade into my arm feeling the wave of pain wash over me, I felt relieved, but guilty. I dragged to blade repeatedly over my skin creating long lines watching the blood bubble to the surface and run down my wrist. Realising I was now covered and how long I had been I quickly cleaned my arm up pulling my blazer sleeve back over them making sure they were hidden. I shoved the blade back into my bag and grabbing some tissues to dry my eyes. Looking in the mirror I could see my eyes bloodshot from crying and my hair messy. I fixed my hair and reapplied some makeup in attempt to cover up my upset. Walking back to the office, trying to appear as composed as I could, praying Alex and Casey had left for lunch, but they hadn't. They had been waiting for me to return. Giving them a sheepish look I walked in placing my bag down, the guilt consuming me. Alex approached, i didn't dare look up, backing away into the corner, my body scared of the repercussions, something that it was programmed to do over my childhood.

Alex realised you were scared and didn't approach any further, used to dealing with victims she could tell, as could Casey that something was wrong.

I sat in silence for a while before hearing Alex speak.

Alex: "Sweetie, its okay, you did incredibly well, for such a tough case. Even I couldn't have won that one."

Casey: "It was a tough case y/n, there was barely any evidence. Be proud of yourself for having the courage to stand tall in court today." She smiled at you, as tears began to fall down your cheeks. At this point both women looked concerned, never having seen your break. They came towards you quickly to console you, but you panicked scared they would hurt you. Dropping down into the corner covering your head, Casey could see the signs, she recognised her younger self in you, cursing herself for not noticing earlier. Covering your head in fear you braced yourself for the onslaught of abuse, but it never came. Casey kneeled instead, and Alex got on the floor, waiting for you to come round. After a while you looked up, tears staining your face. Casey reaching out a tissue for you to grab. Shuffling closer to them, Alex helped you up and onto the sofa, as they sat either side of you.

Casey: "That's it honey, take some deep breaths for me, you're okay, you're here and nobodies going to hurt you sweetheart."

Alex: "Were here for you sweetie, were not going anywhere, your safe with us." Sniffling I reached out for the tissues, in the moment not realising my sleeve had become stained with blood. Alex's brows furrowed shooting a concerned look to Casey as Casey nodded seeing it also. For a while silence hung in the office as you calmed down. Casey took her chance to check you over now.

Casey: "Honey, it's okay no need to be scared I know you've had a hard day, but I need to ask you something before I can let you leave." You nodded still unaware of the grave mistake you had made. "What happened to your sleeve love, there's blood soaking through it." Panicking you tried to get up, only to be pulled down by Alex who held you in her tight embrace.

Alex: "Its okay sweetie, we just want to make sure your safe. It's something we've both seen lots. Its understandable why you'd turn to this to cope."

Y/N: "I..I...I'm fine it's just been a stressful day, I saw my abuser on the metro this morning, I got intimidated by the prosecutor and on top of it all I fucked up the trial and we lost."

Casey: "Honey your clearly not fine, you didn't lose the trial it was never going to be won, that was impossible. And as for this morning, that prosecutor is a known bully. You don't deserve to carry the pain of other people's actions towards you, I've been there, and it can be unbearable feeling so alone. I promise you have us, and we'll be with you every step of the way."

Alex: "We've got you and you're never going to face judgement from either of us, we all have our ways of coping, we just want to keep you safe, okay? Can you let us see and clean you up, so they don't get infected sweetie?" Still in Alex's soft embrace you reached out your arm to Casey, allowing her to roll up you sleeve and see your arm littered with cuts. You hid your face into Alex feeling ashamed, she only held you tighter as you sobbed . Grabbing the first aid kit Casey cleaned up your arms with care, trying to be as gentle as she could, applying some antiseptic cream and plasters. She pulled your sleeve back down and pulled you into a hug. For once you felt safe and cared for, they held you as you sobbed, breaking your heart to them about your abusive household and the guy who assaulted you repeatedly throughout school. Alex and Casey listened intensely before speaking.

Alex: "Honey I was thinking, I'm not fully comfortable letting you go home alone today, I just want to make sure your okay tonight, would you like to come stay at Casey and I's appartement?" Casey nodded reassuring you it was okay, and you agreed, scared to be alone tonight. The two women held you up, practically carrying you out of the office taking your home. Once in the appartement they got you some pyjamas, which swamped your tiny frame, guiding you into the spare room to get some rest as they went back to the kitchen to prepare some dinner.

Alex: "How could anyone treat such a sweet girl so horribly. She was clearly vulnerable, and they all took advantage of her. That's no childhood for anyone."

Casey: "I know Alex it breaks my heart she faced those awful things; she doesn't deserve the pain she must face on a daily basis. How does she keep going, I would have crumbled." Casey began to cry, the reminder of her past becoming overwhelming. Alex pulled her into her embrace holding her girlfriend tight, peppering her forehead with kisses.

Alex: "I love you with all my heart Casey Novak, your the bravest person I know."

Casey: "I love you too, Alex Cabot."

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: graphic(ish) death

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

NICO ALLEN NICO ALLEN NICO ALLEN NICO ALLEN

this chapter is so JAM PACKED you’ve got info hitting you from ALL angles about ALL three of the boys… eee

also… like… they really can’t catch a break can they

part twenty-six

❝ A GLIMPSE INTO THE FUTURE(S) ❞

MONDAY — AUGUST 17 — 5:12AM

BENTLEY HAD TO HELP NICO USE HIS INHALER FOUR TIMES. He didn’t stop crying until there seemed to be no tears left in his body.

Now, it was probably an hour later, and Asten still hadn’t returned. Nico had taken up residence on the bench under the awning, looking pretty much like a sad little wet cat. He hadn’t said a word since he’d calmed down — which was fine. Bentley didn’t blame him.

It had started to sprinkle again, which made the cold even colder. The streets were hazy from a thin fog that had rolled in, making it hard to see things that were far away, and Bentley was now twice as anxious about being able to spot oncoming Vigilantes. He wasn’t sure where Asten’s house was, but he was starting to get a little worried that he hadn’t come back yet.

The only sound besides the steady, soft breeze was the repetitive tap-tap-tap of Nico’s anxiously bouncing tennis shoe.

Bentley shifted where he stood with Asten’s black backpack hanging on his shoulders. He’d thought about sitting on the bench with Nico, but he didn’t really want his butt to be wet, so he took to standing against the inside of the bus stop instead. He wished he could do more. Why did hugs seem to be the only thing he was good for anymore?

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Bentley looked up into the streets beyond. What if something bad happened to Asten?

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Should they go in and see? Just to make sure? Surely Nico knew where Asten lived, right?

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

Bentley glanced over at Nico, whose incessant tapping was accelerating. The blonde was paying no mind to it, staring straight forward, stuck somewhere deep in his own thoughts.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

“Nico?” Bentley questioned, glancing down at his leg. It was moving so fast it looked kind of like a blur. How was he doing that? The blonde didn’t hear him — only kept staring forward.

“Nico?” He tried again. The tapping was so fast that it didn’t even sound like tapping anymore, but one, long sound. Like a hummingbird beating its wings so quickly it sounded like vibrating. Bentley blinked once, twice, counted his fingers to make sure he was awake. He was awake, and Nico’s leg was moving at an ungodly speed.

“Nico!”

“Huh?” He questioned, turning toward Bentley. Something flashed — like literally flashed — in Nico’s eyes. Something yellow, streaking across his blue irises like lightning. There was yellow lightning in Nico’s eyes that left just as quickly as it came.

Bentley must’ve made a face, because Nico looked down at himself, searching for something off. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Bentley said a bit too quickly, glancing down the road.

“Why’d you look at me like that?” Nico questioned, looking up at Bentley. His eyes were just blue now — no lightning.

Bentley blinked, trying to gather his bearings. He didn’t just see that, did he? He had to have been, like, hallucinating or something. Right? 

“Like what?” He tried.

“Like there was a bug on my face,” Nico replied, wiping at his face with his hands. “Is there a bug on my face?”

Bentley opened his mouth to reply, but a different voice pierced the air. 

“Jesus! Mrs. Harrison hardly let me escape her house,”

Both Bentley and Nico turned, the latter rising from the bench on the immediate. Every hint of lingering emotion seemed to fade from Nico’s eyes when Asten approached, any hint of his earlier breakdown being skillfully wiped from his face. He turned it on, like a switch, changing from mental wreck to typical Nico in a blink. Bentley wasn’t sure why, nor was he sure if it was a good thing.

Asten stopped ahead of them, green irises flicking from one to the other. “I got a crowbar. And this article I meant to bring.”

Asten now had some kind of toolbelt on his waist that was way too big for him, where a crowbar was dangling from his torso all the way down to his knees. There were other tools there, but Bentley wasn’t quite sure what they were. He had a handful of papers in his hands, and from what Bentley could see, most of them looked like old articles that he’d printed out.

He stepped up to them and handed each of them a page. “I checked the cabins bookings again while I had my phone and, take a look at this-“ He pointed to the paper in Bentley’s hand, which had a calendar table on it. “-Davis Henderson, star Princeton student and yadda yadda had that place booked right before he went missing, too.”

Nico scrunched his face up. “How in the world did you print these out?”

“I know someone for everything, nosebleed,” Asten said, raising a brow at Nico. “I could get anything from a fake ID to a box of butterfly wings in less than thirty minutes.”

Nico blinked. “A box of butterfly wings.”

“Yeah, there’s an old woman on eighth that collects them, I think she’s kind of insane. But that doesn’t matter. Check this out,” Asten pointed to the paper in Nico’s hands. “This girl, Charlie Reins, died in a freak mine collapse on a gemstone expedition to Brazil two years ago. No body was ever recovered. Closed casket funeral.”

Bentley moved closer to Nico’s side, glancing at the photograph of a blonde girl, maybe a little older than Jason? Why did she look kind of familiar? 

“A little more research revealed that-“ Asten grabbed the page from Nico and gave him a second one, with a picture of a girl and… Dr. Keene? “It was Dr. Keene’s step-daughter.”

Nico blinked. “Uh-huh. And what does this have to do with the Secret Keeper?”

Asten’s eyes flicked between them, a glint of something swirling around deep in his irises. “Well… I don’t actually know. But I thought it was interesting.”

Bentley glanced down at the pages, watching as the letters suddenly began to swim around like they were in water. He blinked twice as a dull ache surfaced at the back of his skull. Someone was talking — he couldn’t hear them. The dull colors around them mixed into an indiscernible blur, and he could feel someone touching him, he could feel himself moving.

“Don’t worry, babybird. I won’t tell your secrets,”

And the ground fell out from under him.

When he stopped falling, he was in a car.

He blinked a few times, trying to right his teetering mind. Everything was sort of spinning, still, and the rocking of the vehicle wasn’t helping. It made him feel like he was going to throw up. Had he passed out? Was he being taken home?

Asten was sitting — no, laying next to him, curled in a small ball in the rightmost car seat. Dumbly, Bentley reached for the older boy, and his hand moved and moved and moved until his arm couldn’t go any farther, but he still wasn’t touching him. He was right there but Bentley couldn’t touch him.

“Asten. What happened? Where’s Nico?” He tried. The outside world passed in pitch black blurs, only illuminated dimly by the car’s headlights. There were two people in the front seats — a man and a woman. Bentley couldn’t look at them very long, because the brightness of the headlights was making his head hurt worse. Asten didn’t move, nor did he respond.

The woman, however, turned from her spot in the passengers seat. She didn’t seem to see Bentley. “Está tudo bem, amor, estamos quase lá.”

Bentley winced when another stabbing pain shot through his head. It’s okay, baby, we’re almost there.

He looked up at the woman, at her unmistakably green eyes. She was speaking in Portuguese but… Bentley… he knew what she was saying. How did he know what she was saying?

“Dói tanto mãe... por favor, faça isso parar,” Asten replied, and Bentley only noticed right then that he was… crying. Curled up in the car seat and crying. 

It hurts so bad, mom, please make it stop.

“Tem que ser o apêndice dele, é tudo que sei que pode causar tanta dor,” The man said softly, leaning a little toward the woman in the seat next to him. Were these Asten’s parents?

It has to be his appendix, it's all I know that can cause so much pain.

“Acalme-se amor, você vai assustá-lo,” His mother replied. Calm down, love, you’ll scare him. Then she turned back to Asten, a petite hand finding its way between the seats to rest in his blue hair. “Você vai ficar bem, querido, só mais alguns minutos.”

You’ll be okay, baby, just a few more minutes.

Bentley brought a hand up to his skull, wincing when the pain behind his eyes heightened at the slightest touch. “Asten…?”

The older boy did move, that time. But it wasn’t in response to Bentley’s call, it was in response to his mother’s hands that were beckoning him forward. He looked younger. 

“Venha aqui Asten, você ficará bem,” Come here, Asten, you’ll be okay.

Bentley watched in silence as Asten summoned all the strength he had left to climb over the center console into his mother’s arms. It was nothing short of pitiful — he was sobbing from whatever pain he was in, and his mother couldn’t really do much about it except hold him.

Bentley winced again when his head throbbed rather spectacularly, his vision blurring and then returning to normal a few times in a row. “Bruce?”

“Honey, stop!” Asten’s mother shouted rather loudly in English, causing everybody in the car, including Bentley, to leap out of their skin.

There was a girl standing in the middle of the road.

It was…

The Secret Keeper, in all her glory. Smiling at them with her twisted smile that looked gruesome and terrifying as usual, with her glowing amber eyes that only appeared when it was too late.

Asten’s father swerved into the other lane to miss her.

No one had a second to react before the car rammed into the front of an oncoming semi-truck, and Bentley’s ears rang deafeningly loud, his vision turned into nothing more than a blur of white. It felt like someone was stabbing a hatchet into his skull.

He opened his eyes. When had he closed them? He didn’t know. What he did know was that his head hurt so bad, and all he could see was white.

He looked down. He was standing on white — a solid white floor. He was still wearing the old black jacket and red tennis shoes. He was in a white box: white walls, white ceiling, white floor.

He turned, and the Secret Keeper was staring at him.

Bentley screamed, his heart immediately starting to hammer behind his ribcage as he scurried to get away from her. She didn’t pursue him, didn’t chase, just stood. Smiling.

“The past is a fickle thing,” Her voice came, but her mouth didn’t move. Bentley moved away until he found himself pressed into the furthest corner of the white room, as far from her as he could be.

“I can see your memories, babybird, but I can also see your future. Every possible variation,”

A gray smoke appeared, hovering over the floor only feet from Bentley. It swirled like storm clouds until it rose into a spinning pillar. After a moment, the smoke faded away, and a gravestone was left in its wake; a gravestone with the words Bentley Whittaker — ten years old engraved on it. A church bell that didn’t exist rang in the distance, and Bentley tried to push himself further into the wall.

And suddenly, the wall was gone. He stumbled backward a solid five steps before he was able to regain his balance, turning back to face the supervillain. 

The Secret Keeper was gone, too.

“Coming, Robin?” 

It wasn’t her voice coming from behind him, but Tim’s. Bentley turned. Tim was standing far off in the white room (Abyss? He couldn’t see walls anymore), wearing a suit that was very much not his Red Robin suit, but a solid black cloak that starkly contrasted the rest of the white everything Bentley could see.

Robin faded into view a few dozen feet from him, in a suit that seemed… somehow familiar, but also brand new. It only had two colors as opposed to the typical three or four — black and yellow, just like the bird. The black hood of the cape was tugged over Robin’s head. A glass case appeared in front of him, holding what looked like Dick’s Nightwing suit.

Tim stepped forward, the cape of his Batman suit dragging the floor. He rested a black-gloved hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Bentley?”

Robin turned, and Bentley blinked. 

He was staring at himself. Older, thirteen or fourteen, maybe, with a black domino mask clutched tightly in his left hand.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” The other Bentley replied, bringing his Robin mask up and resting it on his face.

One variation of his future was… for him to be Robin to Tim’s Batman?

He and Tim faded away in clouds of gray smoke. The Secret Keeper’s voice came: “The good variations… the bad.”

“C’mon, Bentley, c’mon, c’mon…” Another voice that wasn’t her’s echoed around the white chasm. Bentley turned, inhaling sharply when he saw himself… dead.

He… or… another Bentley was hanging slack in someone’s arms. His face was pale and lifeless, brown, glassy eyes staring at nothing. He was wearing a Robin suit — Damian’s old one, that Bruce had just made a replacement for — and there was…

God, he felt like he was going to throw up. There was a huge, jagged piece of metal debris sticking out of the other Bentley’s stomach, coating the entire midsection of the Robin suit in crimson. Jason was the one holding him, in his Red Hood get-up minus the helmet, and they were standing in what looked to be… a pool of glowing green water?

“C’mon!” Jason shouted at no one in particular. “You saved me, so save him!”

Bruce came into the scene, drifting up next to Jason in the pool. “You’ve been in here for hours. He’s gone, Jay.”

Bentley’s head throbbed as he stared into his own lifeless eyes for what seemed like forever, until that, too, faded into smoke.

“Even the ugliest variations. I can see them all,” Her voice came.

“Puppeteer!”

Bentley whipped around again, and standing a few dozen feet ahead of him, was his father. Laying limp at his father’s feet was Damian, in his new black Robin suit. The white floor beneath him was stained and streaked with blood, and his suit and mask had been burned and torn, leaving seared and ripped flesh in its wake. He was gasping for breath, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood that made Bentley’s head swirl.

Another Bentley came into view, sauntering up behind his father. Their red hair and brown eyes matched in a way that made him feel sick. They were each wearing suits. Full-blown tuxedos. His father pulled a pistol from a holster on his side, chambering a round and flicking the safety off. Then he held it over to the other Bentley.

“The last bird is yours,”

The scene seemed to expand, and several more battered and bloody corpses came into view — Jason, Dick, Tim, Bruce, Steph, Duke, Bruce, Cass, Barbara, even Alfred.

Bentley watched with mounting horror as the other Bentley — the Puppeteer — took the gun in his small fingers and aimed it at Damian’s head.

His own voice made his ears itch like nails on a chalkboard. “See you on the other side, Babybird.”

BAM!

Bentley — the Bentley, the only Bentley — snapped his eyes shut as the resounding gunshot echoed through the white, a soft whine escaping his lips. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to pass out. He wanted Bruce.

When he worked up the courage to open his eyes again, all of his possible futures were gone, and the Secret Keeper was standing mere feet from his face.

“Your future rides on what you choose when you wake up. Remember that,”

Pain. Searing pain, like a million red hot knives were penetrating straight into his brain. Bentley screamed. Couldn’t see anything. Felt something cold. God, he was so cold. He was so cold. Where was Bruce?

“Bentley, buddy, please wake up,”

He was so cold.

“I knew we shouldn’t have left!”

“This could’ve happened even if he was at home!”

“Well, he’s not at home!”

Bentley was so cold.

“Oh my God, Bentley!”

When he peeled his eyes open, Asten and Nico’s faces were both hovering ominously above him. The light from the single flickering streetlamp shined behind them like some kind of indecisive halo, coming and going, making Bentley’s head hurt even worse, if that was possible. The nights sky was still shining above them.

He was soaking wet. They all were, actually. It was pouring rain now, and Bentley was laying on the sidewalk. Well… not just laying, but shaking — trembling like a leaf, actually, and only when he hiccuped pitifully did he realize he was crying.

He felt like he got hit by a truck.

He tried to push himself upright, but his mind swirled and left him nothing but nauseous.

“You probably shouldn’t move too much,” Asten suggested. “You look like you might hurl.”

He felt like he might hurl. The Secret Keeper could see the future. His future. All of them. Him dying, him being Robin, him being the Pupeteer… And he could… he… he…

The Secret Keeper was the reason Asten’s parents died.

That’s why he was so hellbent on killing her.

Bentley buried his face in his hands with a low noise.

“We should just go home. I knew something like this was going to happen,” Nico muttered. It was only then that Bentley felt a hand beneath his head, keeping it from resting on the pavement.

He blinked a few times, pushing his hands against his eyes in a futile attempt to make the tears stop. “What… happened?” The force it took to push the words out made the pain in his head triple, and he audibly winced.

“You… your eyes… they turned amber. And then you passed out,” Asten explained softly, his stringy, wet blue hair dripping rainwater. “What did you see?”

Bentley shook his head to dismiss him, but it ended up being a terrible mistake. It just made everything spin. And he was so cold.

“Let’s take you back to the Manor,” Asten said, a gentle hand resting on Bentley’s left shoulder. 

The Secret Keeper… had said what he chose to do next would impact his future.

Maybe she was trying to scare them off. Maybe they really were on her trail.

He couldn’t go home yet.

“No,” Bentley argued, blinking a few times. Their faces went in and out of focus, and even though most of his mind was writhing, he breathed in deep. “No, I’ll be okay. We have to find her. I just… I just… need a few minutes. I’m okay.”

Asten grimaced and glanced over at Nico. The blonde looked back at him, an expression of pity and understanding painted across his features. “Look, I’m all for pushing through the worst of times, but you really don’t look good, dude.”

“No. I’m… okay, I just… don’t feel very good. Right now. I’ll be okay. Just… just give me a minute,”

He almost sighed in relief when he felt Nico’s hand brush his hair away from his face. It made him miss Bruce. He was so cold.

“Just give me a minute. I’ll be okay. I’m okay…”

Bentley curled up against Nico’s knees and cried.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

[runariya]

I don't wanna rush you but can we get another snippet? 👀

A lil one under the cut~ 💕

Asking her how her relationship with Jungkook is? Not an option. Why would you willingly want to hear anything about their intimacy? Definite no.

Her childhood? Pass.

Her job? Don’t care.

Whether she has pets? Hmm, that would be nice to know. You love animals, regardless of their owner, so that’s where you settle.

This time though, you swallow the bite of food before speaking to Hara, who’s managed to eat half of the huge plate sitting before you both while you were lost in thought. Just as you part your lips, inhaling enough air to ask your first personal question, she freezes mid-bite with a half-eaten cinnamon roll in hand, her eyes wide.

“Oh no…” she breathes, mortified, cradling her stomach as she drops the roll and bolts towards the nearby toilet, gagging.

To your dismay, she doesn’t close the door behind her, and you can hear her throwing up everything she’s eaten so far, which sets off your own stomach. You start gagging too, barely able to stand, hating this reaction you’ve had since childhood whenever someone’s vomiting or even gagging near you.

You need to leave. Now. So you call out a quick “sorry” and “bye” with your hand over your mouth, grab your coat while passing the sad excuse of a fixed coat rack and rush outside. You’re not even fazed by the freezing cold, just relieved to be as far away from the sound of vomiting as possible.

Seeing no other option than to go back to the hostel and get your snowboard, you try to calm yourself as much as you can. It’s finally time to face Jungkook alone, how you’ll manage, you don’t know—but you’ll figure it out as you go.

When you enter the hostel, Jungkook’s already standing in full gear in the main area, turning his head from the hallway leading to the rooms when the chime signals your arrival. He looks confused for a moment, but as you approach your snowboard, you try not to let his presence faze you.

Though you fail miserably when your voice embarrassingly cracks. “Good morning.”

Jungkook still has the same effect on you. Anytime your eyes catch even a glimpse of him, whether in person or just a pixelated picture on the internet, he takes your breath away and makes you flustered all over again. It’s not like it’s something new—he’s had that effect on you ever since the first time you saw him, when he was tapping on your car window, asking if you needed help as you were clearly having a breakdown because you couldn’t, for the life of you, park in the narrow side street.

“Morning. Where’s your other half?” Jungkook’s voice turns slightly bitter, but as you look at him, you can tell he’s more irritated with himself than anything.

“He’s not coming.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question, walking towards the door to leave for the hill.

“He doesn’t need it. It’s just us. Or should we cancel the lesson altogether?” You grin at him as you walk beside each other, playful but secretly hoping for a way out that won’t involve you breaking a bone today.

“No, ‘s fine.” You think you catch a small smile tugging at Jungkook’s lips, but he quickly pulls his scarf up over his mouth, hiding it.