#unless i'm half dead like today

[godnectar]

It’s why I try to message you when I can which is why I don’t expect you to answer me back right away, my love.

-Hazel

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part two.

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & john have dinner together again & you finally come to understand him a bit better. at the very least, what you think he wants. and he lets you in just once, wondering if you can be trusted after all. · word count: 2,736

You sleep fitfully that night.

It takes hours before your body manages to calm enough for you to find rest after having exhausted yourself from crying, hugging a pillow to your chest for comfort—utterly terrified that he’ll come back.

Every small noise you hear makes you shoot up in bed, staring at your now-curtained balcony doors, praying to God that he’s gone. That he hadn’t meant what he said about returning. He’d been bluffing, you’re sure.

You need for him to have not been serious.

You drag the next day during your classes.

You stay fairly to yourself, not wishing to talk to anyone. But, of course, all that any of them have on their minds, and seem able to discuss as you pass them in the halls is him. Including your best friend, Emma.

It only serves to turn your stomach. The fact that she worships the ground that his corrupting boots walk upon—that she has no idea that he’s a soulless monster. That he had so easily threatened your life before proceeding to humiliate you before stealing away your first sexual experience for his own benefit.

He’d done it to be cruel, you’re sure. To disrespect you like he’d felt you’d done toward him.

As if refusing to make eye contact while hundreds of others gazed upon him with admiration was anything like what he’d done to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around the incredible difference between who he is in front of a camera versus who he had turned into in your apartment last night… He’s a psychopath, clearly. All you can manage to return to time and again was him staring at you with red eyes, threatening your life. A threat that had rolled off his tongue as easily as asking you about the weather.

You wonder how many lives he’s taken that no one knows about, or that Vought has taken diligent measures to cover up. Wondering why they do it—why they would protect him—has a simple answer: he’s indestructible…right? A man with that much power, and with no remorse—with no weaknesses—is a terrifying thought.

You really fucking hope you never see him again. That whatever he was after he managed to get out of his system last evening. After all, what’re you compared to Queen Maeve, or a model, or fellow actress, or supe?

Thankfully, it’s a slow day at work. Usually it is, in truth. Not many people seem to have much of an appreciation for buying and collecting antiques anymore. Unless it’s Christmas time…the store is almost always dead. A fact you’re quite grateful for today as you arrange a shelf of Precious Moments figurines, avoiding the section of the store dedicated to superheros at all costs.

You ring up maybe half-a-dozen customers in not quite as many hours before heading home for the day, practically dead on your feet.

You take a long shower—the pleasant feel of the hot water nearly serves to put you to sleep—repeatedly telling yourself that you’re safe here. He’s not coming back. This is your home. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re sure he’s already forgotten about you by now, anyway.

When you emerge back into your bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants—ready to just throw something in the microwave so you can go to bed straight after—you halt in your tracks when you see a silhouette with wide shoulders and a billowing cape on the other side of your closed curtains.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re seeing things. He’s been on your mind all day and you’re exhausted on top of that, not to mention starving.

It’s not real. He’s not—

There’s a gentle knock against the glass. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in. But, then you’ll end up having to pay to replace the glass, and you’ll have to explain things to your landlord, and, well—”

You come over to the door then, frustrated tears stinging your eyes, and you flip the lock, heading in the direction of the kitchen without a word.

You know it’s useless to try and hide, or pretend like you’re not home.

He lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He says in a sing-song tune, following you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter with crossed arms and a smug look on his face.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

You open the freezer, throwing a microwavable dinner on the counter, refusing to even look at him.

And then he sighs, grabbing the meal away from you, throwing it back into the freezer.

He leans down toward you. “What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.”

You grip the edges of the counter in each of your hands, dragging your nails across it. “I never asked for any of that. I begged you not to.”

He leans in closer, grabbing your hip painfully as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He pauses. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Your chin wobbles and your stomach fills with lead.

“Now,” he starts again, sliding his gloved fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.”

You bite your lower lip to try and keep your tears at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you.”

You turn to the side, facing him, reluctantly looking up, meeting his empty blue eyes. “Thousands—no, millions—of women across the world would love nothing more than to throw themselves at you. To be at your beck and call. What the hell do you want with me?”

He gently caresses your chin between his fingers, smirking softly. “I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.”

He smacks your rear then, causing you to squeak in surprise. “Now, feed your man.”

You raid a brow at that. Your what?

You watch as he leans down, removing the milk jug from your fridge and you cross your arms. “I’m not doing all the work while you just sit there and watch.”

He looks at you with a displeased expression from your back-talk, but you don’t back down.

You remove a loaf of bread from the bread box, tossing it on the counter in front of him. “You’re in charge of making toast.”

Quite astonishingly, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks at you with a surprised look in his eyes and a gentle smile. “How many slices do you want?”

You have no idea that it gives him a sense of normalcy and home, even if just for a moment. Like you’re a mother instructing her child, giving them a small responsibility to see to at dinner time. You’re making him a part of the process, and he likes that. Appreciates it, even.

You’d begun giggling ridiculously from nerves in the middle of making spaghetti.

Homelander had looked at you with a raised brow and a sour look on his face, until you’d explained, with tears streaming down your own. “I’m cooking dinner with Homelander. You’re—”

You’d gasped for breath, doubling over. “You’re in my apartment! Making toast!”

And then you’d begun to actually cry—your exhaustion catching up to you all at once—hysterically, at that. He’d considered multiple courses of action. One: simply leaving. Two: threatening you to shut the hell up or he’d really give you something to cry about. He’d taken the third option with no fucking idea as to why.

He’d gathered you in his arms, ignored your tiny fists beating against his chest and your demands that he let you go, and held you until you calmed.

Once you did, and your breathing and heart-rate had both returned to normal—the smell of adrenaline no longer coming off of you in waves—he told you it was time to eat.

So, here you sit, slowly eating spaghetti and toast in silence with America’s poster boy.

He takes a long sip of milk, studying you.

“You’re very attractive,” he says, briefly pausing. “In an ordinary ‘girl-next-door’ sort of way, I suppose.”

Your eyes flit to his, swallowing your noodles. “T-thank you.”

He hums in response, a small smile on his lips, fingers splaying outward expectantly.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. “You’re…handsome.”

His smile fades at your unsure tone of empty platitudes. “Why don’t you like me?”

Oh God, not this again.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your toast. “You’re asking that after what you did to me?”

“You mean what I did for you? You seem to forget that I gave you an orgasm without so much as asking for anything in return.”

Bile rises in your throat. “You stole my first sexual experience away from me.”

“I think stolen is a nasty way to word it. I gifted it to you.”

You grip your fork tightly in your fist, having half-a-mind to drive it through the back of his hand. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to even imagine how such an action would end. Probably with your apartment becoming a bloody mess and your twenty-one-year-old life at an end before it ever got a chance to truly begin.

So you set the utensil down.

“You want me to like you?” You ask quietly, having no clue as to why your meaningless opinion of him should matter in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, brow twitching in response.

You fold your hands in your lap, leaning back, staring at him. “Tell me something, then. Something real and that no one else knows.”

He stays quiet, so you continue.

“Because the very opposite of that is why I dislike—no, scratch that—despise you: because you just look like an empty suit to me. Something manufactured by the media. A man unable to think for himself without a teleprompter in front of him instructing his every move.”

He grinds his teeth, his face twitching, his gloved hands now squeezed tightly into fists.

And you immediately fill with regret. Being exhausted typically left you one of three ways—all of which you’d experienced in one evening alone. Giggly and easily amused, emotional, or irritable.

The first two he’d tolerated. This one…you worry it ends with your landlord discovering your corpse the next time rent is due.

“You think they control me?” He asks with a sneer.

“I have yet to find a reason to think otherwise.”

“You think,” he says, leaning in toward you, his boot pressing against your foot beneath the table. “I’m just some puppet manufactured by Big Media? Hm?”

He stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor and you stand as well, your own toppling over in your panic as he backs you into a corner.

He must like doing this—intimidating. Invoking fear.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ve done things… Things that would horrify you. Things that even Vought doesn’t know about.”

He shrugs. “They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile. You think you’re so…different, though, don’t you?”

You brows furrow and you feel completely terrified, but quickly decide upon trying a new approach.

Aggression is getting you nowhere—it’s only begetting more on his part. And you worry how far you can push him before it ends in catastrophe.

And it’s then that you realize that he does have a weakness after all: he’s desperate for approval. Why the hell else would he be here yet again, demanding to know why he doesn’t yet have yours? Is he just that much of a narcissist, or is it something deeper?

You slowly reach up then, cupping his cheek, your other trembling hand coming to rest gently upon his chest.

Touching him in such a familiar fashion may end horribly for you, but something tells you it's well worth a try.

“What happened to you?” You ask in a whisper.

His features shift—softening—the look in his eyes that of…confusion. He even goes so far as to lean in slightly to your warm, comforting touch.

Your eyes flit between his, taken aback by his embracing your kind, physical gesture. “You haven’t always been like this, have you?”

You take a tiny step closer, bridging the gap between your bodies, since you think this attempt might just finally be getting you somewhere.

“You want me to like you? Trust you? Actually enjoy your company, and, much more, want it? Tell me something no one else knows, then. Something that will make me see past all of it.”

Your eyes trail along his suit, before meeting his own again. “Past this. I have no interest in getting to know Homelander. Because that’s not who you really are, even if you’ve forgotten it. There’s still a man in this costume. A human being.”

You watch with shock as tears gather in his eyes that continue to stare into your own, his lips pressed into a firm line as he remains silent.

You shoosh him softly. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. You may not want to believe it, but you can trust me. I haven’t even told anyone about you coming here last night, because I’m not the type to gossip. I have no interest in it.”

That’s not the reason whatsoever, but he can think whatever the hell he likes, so long as it gets him to calm down and give you a moment of vulnerability.

You brush a tear away as it slips down his cheek.

“You want to know what people have told me time and again since I was little? That they feel like they can trust me—even complete strangers. They’ll share things with me that they won’t even tell their closest friends and family. For the longest time I couldn’t understand why—what it was about me—and then I figured it out.”

You gently run your fingertips along his cheek. “I know what it feels like when someone betrays your trust repeatedly. When that one person in all the world you’re supposed to be able to rely and lean upon just…uses the things you tell them against you just to hurt you. Because they’re incapable of empathy. And I refuse to do that to others. Because I won’t be like her. I can’t. I just…I guess people can sense that about me. I hope so, at least. It’s the only explanation I have.”

You pause. “What I’m trying to get at is that you can, too: trust me. You’re safe here.”

He blinks, another tear slipping down his cheek, which you softly wipe away.

“John,” he whispers, finally speaking. “My name is John.”

You smile.

“John,” you repeat, and his chin wobbles at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“Thank you for telling me. That’s all I wanted: to know something about you. Something that comes from you.”

His face shifts then, his vulnerability quickly vanishing. “If you tell anyone—”

You slip your fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

His eyes flit between yours, debating, considering.

And then he nods and you release a breath of relief.

He leans down then, pressing his lips to yours—tenderly. A wholly different sensation to how he’d been with you last night.

It’d worked.

You pull back slightly.

“Y/N,” you whisper against his lips.

His own twitches. “I already knew that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Who was it? You said ‘her’.”

You swallow, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk about it tomorrow night?”

He likes that you want him back again. That you’re admitting it. That you’re planning on it.

He smirks. “Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, sweetheart.”

[usagikookiejams]

BEING AWAY FROM THEM FOR SOME WEEKS

Shiba Taiju, Sano Shinichiro, Haitani Ran

⚠️WARNING: Curse words, mentions of kill (no actual killing tho in this hc), 'crazy' behavior lol

SHIBA TAIJU

"When are you coming back, baby?," the guy on the other line inquired. "Can you like stop asking me same question for the past 2 weeks already?," you tsked. "Brat, I'm just asking ya know," you could feel him rolling his eyes by the tone of his voice. "Hehe sorry love, I promise I will come back ASAP once my event is done here. Mwah, TTYL!," you hung up. Fast forward, you came back to Japan after 4 days since the call. You arrived at Taiju's house a.k.a Black Dragon's HQ where you could see most of his subordinates were bandaged up. "What the...," your thoughts were interrupted upon hearing some yelling, HIS yell to be exact. You entered the house to witness Taiju beating up his subordinate with a baseball bat. "Care to explain?," you inquired which led to Taiju stopping his action, and the subordinate repeatedly bow at you while saying thank you. Kokonoi came into the frame while laughing, "He got WILD when you were not by his side, so he released the pent up stress towards these guys." Taiju let go of the bat and walked towards you, "Tch! They are lucky that you are here already. If not, I swear I could go rampage and kill half of these useless guys." You looked at him dead in the eyes while shaking your head, "You maniac, how do I even like you in the first place." Taiju just shrugged and took you to ride on his motorcycle while enjoying your presence again.

SANO SHINICHIRO

You were watering the plant in your parents' garden when suddenly your phone started ringing. You went to retrieve them before greeting the other person on the line, "Hello babe!." You could hear rustling which may indicates that the person was still in bed. "Hey darling, I miss you so much! Can you come home by today? Ahhh I literally haven't eaten properly since you left," which continued by the sounds of Emma's nag telling him to get his ass off the bed and go to work already. You could hear a loud 'hey gimme back!' before Shinichiro's voice was replaced with Emma's on the other line, "Hey Y/N, when are you coming back? This lazybum has been off his job for 3 weeks now, reasoning that he doesn't have enough energy to work. Ugh I really hate to tell you this but can you please please PLEASE come back ASAP. Istg he has been losing a lot of weight already ugh!." You talked with them for some minutes more before having to hang up. You felt guilty and tried to talk about it with your parents, in which they agreed that you should go back home to Shinichiro as your mom has been getting better from her sickness. Thus, the next day, you arrived at Tokyo. You didn't tell Shinichiro about your plan so upon seeing your face by the main door, Shinichiro dropped to his knees to hug your legs tightly while crying like a baby. "Please don't leave me ever again! If you need to go to your hometown, bring me with you so that we will not be separated huwaaa 😭😭," he messily crying, ruining your pants with his tears and snots. You just laughed at his behavior but still agreeing to his suggestion. "Ahh, this man is gonna be the death of me lol," you monologued in your head.

HAITANI RAN

You wouldn't lie that leaving this house in the hands of Ran's is really.... unnerving. This man literally loves to cause trouble at home, which most of the time leading you to feel like dying is a better option. Why is that? Cuz this man lovessSSS to pull 'harmless' pranks that drive you crazy, like right now; "Babeee, do you think the fish in the fish tank could survive if I put a sprinkleee of chilli flakes in the water?," Ran showed you the fish tank via the facetime. "Don't you dare Ran! That is MY fish so don't do this crazy shit unless you don't want me coming home again," you threatened him. "Hmmm...," he walked closer to the tank while shaking what seems like the small container of the chilli flakes you frequently use. "AHHH! ISTG DON'T!!," you screamed at him while saying profanity words. "HAHAHAHHA!!," you could see his camera shaking from his laugh, he later on flipped the camera to front facing him. "Dumbass babygirl, I would never do bad shit like that to animals you know 😔. Though I kill people on a daily basis. What kind of a maniac do you think I am? ☹️," he jutted his lower lip faking sadness. You glared at him through the screen while 'promising' that you are going to beat his ass once you come back. In the end, that promise was fulfilled by you beating his back with the frying pan he bought you on your birthday <3

[kennarose1108]

Rio x Reader (YOU SAVE HIS LIFE) Part 2

Two months had gone by and Rio had healed mostly. But the relationship between you two had blossomed into something... More. There was already something new when you first saved his life but it had grown into something more than a companionship. But he never talked about it. It was nothing personal, he just didn't like talking about his feelings.

That's just who he was.

But he showed his affection in certain ways. Pet-names were a big one. Baby, sweetheart, baby-girl, and of course ma or mama. Another way is he liked putting his hands on you. Like if you had your back to him let's say, making something to eat, he'd put his hands on your shoulders and watch you. Or when he started to leave the apartment he'd give you a kiss on your head, forehead, or cheek before leaving. There was only one bed in the apartment and you offered to sleep on the couch but he refused, saying it was your own bed and you could sleep in it. But he wasn't much for cuddling. In bed, he liked his space but while you both slept you'd cuddle up to him but he didn't push you away or anything... But he'd still never admit he liked it.

When things started going back to normal for him he didn't want you going to meetings or getting involved with his work. He said it was 'too dangerous' and who were you to argue with him?

His other way of showing his affection is buying you things. You cannot even count how many pairs of dresses, shoes, handbags, and clothes in general he bought for you. You don't wear half of them but you appreciate them regardless.

He refused to talk about Beth, Annie, or Ruby. He just wouldn't. Which worried you. You didn't want them dead, you still cared for them.

So... Today you decided to leave while he was out on a meeting to visit Beth. He didn't like it when you left without him. It worried him. But what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him...

Right?

You quickly left the house and you had to walk to her house since the only car you both had was his and he was currently using it. Luckily you didn't live too far Beth. When you got to her house your stomach turned as nervousness hit you. What if she was dead? You don't think you would be able to handle it.

You got to her front door and your hand raised to knock on the door but you hesitated. But you quickly swallowed the lump in your throat before knocking quickly. You heard footsteps walking towards the door and thank god it was heels. Unless Dean was wearing Beth's heels you knew it was Beth coming towards the door. You let out a relieved sigh before another lump filled your throat... Shit... What would you say to her? How do you explain that you saved the person who had been torturing her for months and now wants revenge?

But before you could think any further the door opened. Beth took in who you were and she let out a small gasp. Her lips parted and her eyes widened.

"Hey, Beth..." You choke out.

---------------------

You were now sitting in her kitchen. She made some coffee and handed you the mug and you took a sip. She leaned against the island in her kitchen and stared at you.

"I'm sorry for... Not answering your calls... Or when you came to my apartment you banged on my door but I didn't answer..." You say while staring at the mug in your hands. She stared at you for a solid thirty seconds before finally speaking, "Is he alive?" She asks. You couldn't answer that question... Which was an answer in itself but she wanted to hear it from you.

"Y/N-" "Yes." You say. She lets out a shaky sigh. "You saved him... Why?!" She shouted. "He was dying Beth!" "He did horrible things to us! For months! We were free! We had a way out and you went and saved his life?!" She scoffs.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" She yells. You shake your head. "Why did you even come here?" She asks. "...To make sure you were still alive." You finally looked at her since you entered her home. She stared at you with a facial expression of disgust, anger, and fear.

"You went missing. For months. We didn't know what happened to you. You didn't answer our calls, our texts, whenever we went to your apartment you never answered..." She says. "I couldn't." You sigh. "I shouldn't even be here..." You take another sip of coffee and the warm liquid soothes you a bit.

"Is he keeping you captive?" She asks. You shake your head, "No... He... Cares about me." Beth scoffs again. "Oh please..." She says with a roll of her eyes. "If he didn't I'd be dead right now. But I'm not. That means something, doesn't it?" You say. Beth just stared at you and you didn't have anything left to say... Except this, "If I were you I'd leave town. He's not too pleased with you and he's been leaving the apartment recently... It's a matter of time before he shows up here." You say before standing to your feet. "Thank you for the coffee but I have to go." You turn to leave but she calls out to you, "Y/N wait!" She quickly runs up to you.

"Will I see you again?" She asks. You think for a moment... Will you see her again? You sigh. "No. Because if you do I'll be with him. And I think we both know how that will go." You say before turning and leaving her home.

You walk home with a mind full of thoughts and a heavy heart. But it only got worse when you got to the apartments and saw Rio's car in the parking lot. Your heart skipped a beat...

He came home early.

What would you say? What would you do? Should you walk away? Should you face him?

You need to face him.

You went inside the apartment complex and to your apartment door. You let out a sigh before unlocking and opening the door... There he was. In all of his glory. Just sitting on the couch, staring at the wall, and seemingly lost in though. You shut the door behind you and stood there.

"I can explain..." You say. "Oh yeah?" He says without moving his gaze from the wall. He stood up and kept his gaze on the floor before walking over to you. Once he stood in front of you he finally looked at you. "Where did you go?" He asks.

"...Out." You croak out. He raises his eyebrows, "Out?" He repeats. "Where is... 'Out'?" He asks. You hesitated before saying, "I went to Beth's..." He sighs deeply. You both stared at each other. You weren't afraid, you knew he wouldn't hurt you. You were just nervous. Nervous of making him upset with you.

He clicks his tongue, "Did you tell her I was alive?" He asks. You don't answer which then... He knew. He sighs and turns away from you, "Goddammit Y/N..." He mutters. "I'm sorry... But she asked and what was I supposed to say?" "No. You were supposed to say no." "Is that a rule all of a sudden?" You two argue.

He walks back over to the couch and sits down. "Are you mad at me?" You ask. "...I'm not mad you left. Because you can leave whenever you want... But I'm upset you told Beth. I wanted to keep it quiet for a little longer." He says. You walk over to the couch and sit next to him.

"Sorry... I just wanted to see her again. I should've expected she'd ask about you." You say while sighing deeply. "It's fine. I'll just speed up my plan." He says before placing a kiss on the side of your head. "...Plan? Are you going to kill her?" You ask. "Does it matter?" You scoff. "Yes! It matters. She's my friend Rio..." This time he scoffs, "She tried to kill me Y/N." Shit, He was getting mad. If he didn't use any pet-names that means he was getting pissed.

"I-I know but-" "But nothing. We're not negotiating this." He says. "So that's it? You just kill my friend and that's the end of it?" "Yeah." He answers quickly. You stare at him with a tearful gaze, which he hates. He didn't like seeing you upset. But there was no way he was going to negotiate something this important.

He sighs, "Listen to me," He starts while gently resting his hand on the back of your head. "You're my girl... Alright? And I would do anything to make you happy... But she tried to kill me." He says while rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of your head. A tear rolled down your cheek but he was quick to wipe it away. "...Please. Keep Annie and Ruby out of it." You beg. He nodded. "I can do that." He says softly.

"But let's forget about this for now," He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. "How about you and I go out tonight hm...? You can put those pretty clothes to use." You smile and play with the rings on his fingers. "I'd like that..."

------------------------------------

You were both now at his favorite bar. Since it was a Friday night it was booming so when you both got out of the car he grabbed your hand and interlocked his fingers with yours as you both entered the bar. He pulled you through the bar until he got to stools and you both sat down. You both ordered some drinks and after that he looked at you with a smirk.

"What?" You say with a chuckle. He leans in and gently brushes your hair behind your hair and whispers, "You look stunning..." And you did. You were wearing a cherry red clubbing dress with black heels and jewelry and of course, your makeup was done. You smile at him with a faint blush on your cheeks. "Thank you." You say. "What do you think of this place?" He asks. "It's nice. But with you, I was expecting something... More." You say. He raises an eyebrow at you, "Oh yeah? Like what ma?" He asks curiously.

You shrug, "I dunno... Just more." You say with a smirk while crossing one of your legs over the other which you saw how Rio looked down at your legs before leaning back. The bartender brought your drinks and you both take a sip out of your drinks.

You felt a presence behind you, a guy leaning on the bar while looking at you up and down. He was too close to you in Rio's eyes and he didn't like it. Rio grabbed your chair and pulled you closer to him in the most obvious way possible.

The guy behind you takes the hint and rolls his eyes before walking away. You chuckle, "Jealous?" He smirks. "Of course. You're my girl." He says while brushing some hair behind your shoulders.

You both sat and talked and drank just a little bit. You both didn't dance or party, you just enjoyed being out with each other. Eventually, you both left and went home. You were now just entering your apartment.

"These heels are killing me. I haven't worn a pair in a long time." You say while taking off your heels and setting them next to the door. He just smiles at you.

You smile back at him before cupping one side of his cheek and kissing the other. "Thank you for taking me out tonight... I had fun." You turn to walk to the bedroom but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back into him. He holds his hands on your waist and presses his forehead against yours. He lets out a deep sigh and enjoys the feeling of you against him.

"...You're important to me. Y'know that?" He says. You nod slowly. But as you both stand there he leans in further and kisses you. This is the first time he has kissed you on the lips... It felt good... It felt amazing.

One of his hands went to your jaw and his tongue slipped into your mouth. The kiss was slow, sensual, and full of emotion. He cared for you, deeply, and you cared for him. As you both kissed each other it started to get more passionate and lust-filled. Both of his hands were on your face now as he kissed you hard. He then lifted you off the ground, making you wrap your legs around his waist, before he carried you off to the bedroom.

PART 3

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VIII. whatever keeps you around.

parts: previously / next plot: bruce has a proposal for you. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, brief discussion of slight suicidal ideation/martyrdom, drug (and the injection of drugs) mentions, you will not guess what trope I managed to include in here. words: 6.9k. a/n: plotting this series makes me feel like charlie day pointing at a wall of red string

“…You won’t like it.”

It's clear what you have to do. You'd realized it when Gordon came to you, so of course Bruce did too. If you were going to make this right, you would have to face this head on. "I know what I have to do," you start, "I need to lure him out."

Bruce's expression shifts. Whatever you've said seems to be the wrong answer, "That... won't be necessary."

"What? What else can I do?"

"What did Gordon tell you about Dimitri?"

Your head throbs as you recall the memory, "Uh... he said he believes I'm next on Dimitri's hit list. He also said Dimitri hadn't anticipated me being at the house."

"Right, because Russo didn't want anyone knowing where he was." Bruce turns to his computer and brings up Russo's file, "After his divorce and the death of his son, he holed up and started erasing himself from the internet. As far as his neighbors know, he was constantly alone. You already know how hard it was to find him on your own, and unless Dimitri knew someone keeping tabs, it doesn't stand to reason that he found him any easier. But you, on the other hand," Bruce opens a search engine and types in your name. You're unsettled when the screen fills with results, most of them news articles from the night you'd been held hostage, "your name and face was everywhere after the gang war."

When the reporters had shoved cameras in your face and begged for you to tell them about Batman's heroic rescue, you hadn't thought twice about it, still fresh from the throes of gore and violence in the ER. Friends, family, coworkers: almost everyone you knew had seen it.

It clicks for you then, "If Dimitri planned on killing us both and I was easiest to find, why didn't he come for me first? I mean... it was me and Alex who ruined his life. If he wanted anyone dead more, wouldn't it be me?"

"I wondered the same thing. With the know-how and the right connections, anyone could find where you live just by name alone. Russo, on the other hand, is almost anonymous. It doesn't make sense why Dimitri would target Russo first."

"Do you think maybe it was a warning? Maybe he wanted to scare me."

"If he wanted to warn you, he wouldn't kill the guy in his house where no one checks up on him. Days would've passed before anyone noticed the flies in the windows."

"I don't get it."

"Do you remember how long it's been since you were taken hostage?"

Your mind lands on a weak estimate, "I don't know, a week and a half?"

"It's been over two weeks. According to the wardens, Dimitri stopped being a problem for them after the first few years. Friends with a rough crowd but he rarely got caught up in anything. Didn't have the heart to. So why, after 17 years, does he break out?"

Your stomach drops, "He saw me."

"And realized that while he was rotting away with nothing to live for, you were a hero," the word sickens you to hear, "on the front lines, saving lives, being saved. Your life went back to normal."

You grip the side of Bruce's desk with the sudden urge to vomit up everything you'd eaten today, which, frankly, wouldn't add up to much more than water and crackers.

You'd said it yourself: you'd gotten to live a life that Natalie, Dimitri, and Alex never would. Of course he wanted you dead. "So then I have to lure him out."

"And put yourself in danger? No."

"I’m already in danger, Bruce. What if he goes after the others? My parents? My coworkers? The other cops at the shootout? We have to end it now."

"This isn't the only way."

"It's the best way."

"Last time he had a knife, you could defend yourself. Barely. What if next time, he has a gun?"

"So what, you just want to do nothing?"

Bruce turns away from you. He gnaws on his lower lip, "No, I want to bide our time. Look into him more. I need to know if he's working with the Vipers again."

You watch him as he begins typing away at his computer, but you can't process what he's looking for through the haze of anger that washes over you. You lean on the desk, craning your neck up at his face to make him look at you, to understand how ridiculous he sounds, "We don't have time for that. His grudge is with me. I should meet him now and end this... either he gets what he wants or- or..."

Or what? Your stubbornness peters out. You don't know what. You see yourself standing face-to-face with Dimitri, his knife raised, ready to bury itself into the cushion of your chest. And nothing.

The you in this vision has no weapon.

"You don't think you're going to survive this." Coming out of your mind, Bruce is now looking at you, brows furrowed. He looks... mortified.

You scramble to cover your tracks, "That's not true. I'd have you there."

"But you don't want me there. You want to go alone. You think you deserve it."

"God, what are you? My therapist?" Your words flit out of your mouth in a rush, tongue nearly slipping up to defend yourself. You push away from the desk when you start feeling overexposed.

Bruce follows you, "You're not 16 anymore, this isn't some gang fight where you throw all your chips in because you can't see a year ahead of you. You've made a life. You've got people to lose, you said so yourself. I know what it's like... the survivor's guilt. You relive that day over and over-"

His words are making you feel sick to your stomach again and you lurch forward, finger in his face, "Don't you fucking preach to me-"

Almost as immediately as you'd raised your finger, Bruce snatches your wrist in his hand, yanking you close enough to be imposing, staring down at you with the same power that the Batman had used. It was so sudden that you quickly fall slack, wrist going limp in his grip.

It had completely sobered you of your tantrum, and for better or for worse, you were forced to listen to him, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. You see this ending with you dead because you want to make up for the shit you did. You think that's what Alex wants? For you to bleed out in an alley like she did?" And just like that, the fire roars in you once more, but your other hand can't slap him across the face before he's caught that one too, "No future? What about all the people you've saved? Could still save? Face it now because you may not get another chance: you're alive. Do you want to be or not?"

You want to hurt him, turn his skin red and give it a place among the other bruises that glitter and glare down his torso, and as your hand shakes in his hold, you are forced to understand that you are angry because he is right.

You'd felt this same anger before. When your parents told you Alex was a bad influence on you. When Russo looked you in the eye and told you that you didn't have it in you to pull the trigger. It was maddening. He had clocked your suicide mission before even you had, had seen you in his mind's eye the way you saw yourself: disarmed, a lamb to the slaughter, a sacrifice for the greater good, a speedbump.

You could see Batman tackling him to the ground over your dying body. You couldn't see yourself getting up the next day.

After the frustration leaves Bruce's eyes, he's looking at you with something softer. You feel known, uncomfortably so, as he waits for you to meet him there.

And when you do, you hate how you collapse into him. Even more, you hate that he takes you up into his arms, holding you steadfast, as understanding as you needed him to be with all your fear of admitting it. The solidness of his body reminds you of the night he'd first held you, and that just makes you cry harder.

It feels different from last time. Where there was armor is now warm skin, the likes of which you hadn't felt in a while. If you had told your past self you'd one day be standing in Batman's cave, hugging Bruce Wayne and crying over the permanence of your mistakes, you might have diagnosed yourself with head trauma.

You screw your eyes shut in a vain attempt to put the tears to rest, your freed hands practically clawing at Bruce's warm back for some purchase, some stability. He doesn't seem to mind. He just holds you closer.

After a few minutes, you force yourself to speak, sniffling away the last remaining tears you'd allow yourself to shed, "You said I wouldn't like it. Your plan. What is it?"

"To disappear."

You wrench yourself back. Bruce is dead serious. "What?"

"I've considered it from all angles-"

"What do you mean, 'disappear'?"

"All but one of the prisoners Dimitri broke out with are still missing. How do we know they're not all working together? How do we know that you luring him out won't draw them out too? You were the easiest target before, not anymore."

"Say what you mean, Bruce. What do you want me to do?"

"I want to hide you here," he winces as he says this, as if aware of his words only now that they're out in the open, "with me."

"You're shitting me."

After a while, Bruce's face hardens, "I told you you wouldn't like it."

Liking it or not liking it was nothing. You'd advanced past "like". You were firmly out of your depth here.

You slip out of Bruce's hold and he lets you, standing rather awkwardly as you rub a hand across your mouth. Despite earlier, it now feels uncomfortably dry. You glance at Bruce and then at his screen, the tab with your name and face plastered all over it hovering in the background. "You want me to disappear off the face of the earth while you track him down. Leave my home, leave the people I care about, abandon my job. You want me to hide."

"I don't know how else to protect you. Not until we figure out what we're up against." Bruce watches you spin away, scoffing into the air, "You noticed it when you fought him off, didn't you? Something was really wrong with him."

You see flashes of Dimitri's feral stare, the way he staggered and swung. He was like a rabid animal in a cage. "Of course there was, he was trying to kill me."

"Beyond that," Bruce insists, "he wasn't right. I've seen it before. He was on something."

"Most people are these days. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd... I don't know, gotten his hands on drops or something-"

"It wasn't drops. Gordon told me."

"The detective?"

"He said they found a syringe with traces of venom in it. Dimitri's shooting up. That's why he was so strong."

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, "Venom? Great. Somehow worse than Drops."

"If he's on that drug, he's definitely addicted. It also means you won't stand a chance against him. This is why I'm telling you to stay here," Bruce steps forward, eyes imploring yours. You're dumbstruck by the heavy earnestness there, "stay in the tower. Hide here for a few days. Let me handle this."

"If he's on venom, it means he doesn't think he can handle you on his own," you wring your hands, flitting through images of the Dimitri you remember, "he was always really small. Even at fourteen, he hadn't really sprung up. He was scrawny and small and couldn't defend himself. Suddenly Gordon's saying he's almost twice the size of what I remember. Have you ever fought someone on venom?"

"Once or twice, somewhere between fixes. Why?"

"General has this kind of... sedative that we use when we get patients dealing with the effects. It's not perfect, but it does help calm them down enough to help them. Maybe we can use it to help him."

"The strain is constantly changing," Bruce watches you deflate and clears his throat, "but if I can get that sedative, I can use it as a base to make a new one."

"You need clearance to get your hands on that stuff. I'm going with you."

"What part of disappear do you not understand?"

"One, I never agreed to do that, and two, if Batman gets caught stealing from a hospital, that'll make you public enemy number one. You need my help, so let me help you."

Bruce is looking away, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth even as you zero in on him. You're getting flashbacks of that same Bruce from when you'd first met him here in this tower. All tender-eyed, even as he tries to put on a face for you, "And I need a drink," you rub your temple next, catching a glimpse of Bruce watching you from his peripheral, "You've got those, don't you?"

It turns out Bruce has plenty. There's a whole cellar full of them, the kinds you see in MTV Cribs with the low recessed lighting and mahogany shelves gleaming with polish. It makes sense for him to have it, but less so when he tells you he doesn't actually drink any of it.

"You weren't drinking at the party, either. Even though everyone else thought you were." You brush your hand along the shelves, careful not to knock any bottles loose. "Is that a trick to keep people spilling secrets? Or to keep from spilling your own?"

Bruce hovers near the entrance with his arms folded and back pressed to the wall, carefully watching you peruse his selection, "Maybe I don't like the taste."

"That's good. Men in Gotham die from alcoholism at a higher rate than any other city in the state."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't smoke either." Bruce blinks at you, "Just get shot at. And stabbed."

He says nothing.

Your hand lands on a red aged older than your mother and you stand to the side, looking expectantly at him. You're afraid that if you try to pick it up, you might knock down the whole row.

Slowly, Bruce pushes himself off the wall and glides over to you, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and looking to you for approval. You try not to shrink yourself when you nod.

You follow him out of the cellar, flinching when the lights dim behind you and the door rolls shut all on its own. He guides you to the kitchen where night still hangs over Gotham outside the window, but the time on the stove clock warns of early morning soon.

Bruce pulls out two glasses and fills yours with wine and his with cranberry juice from the fridge. You could almost laugh at the pairing.

Once he slides your glass to you, you take a seat at the island and take a sip, "I need to ask you something. I get now why you refused me at the station, but then you came back. Why did you change your mind? I mean, neither of us knew Russo would be dead when we got there. Were you just going to let me hate you?"

"Yes." His simple response draws a quick, stifled laugh out of you.

"Are you always this... chaotic?"

Bruce leans his elbows on the countertop, hunching in on himself, "I always meant to tell you who I was. I just didn't know when. And I didn't mind if you hated Bruce Wayne, but... you trusted Batman. I didn't want to break that trust. Even if it meant telling you earlier than I planned, I wanted to give you some closure."

You think about the fear that had paralyzed you back then, thinking that Bruce Wayne was some big, bad criminal hiding behind polite society. Then you think about the real man, hiding behind a mask. You fidget uncomfortably, struggling with feeling somewhere between grateful and nauseous. Your eyes catch the stitches on his shoulder and you itch to wipe away the dried blood that had dribbled from the cut, "You said you were looking for Dimitri when you got that. Did you..."

Bruce catches your eye when you fail to finish your question. "No," he answers solemnly, "which is only part of our problem." He stands to his full height, flexing bruised knuckles against the counter, "I ran into one of the guys that broke out with Dimitri tonight. That's who gave me this. Dimitri isn't working alone."

You frown, "Is he trying to shake you? Why leave clues at all?"

"Because these people want me dead. The guy from tonight? I booked him a year ago for trafficking women. Earlier led me to a fringe group of Falcone's."

"You've been looking for Dimitri all day?"

"I haven't stopped since we found Russo. I couldn't."

You rub your arms, feeling the room grow chiller by the second, "So... so he's leaving clues to people who hate you. To keep you occupied." Bruce nods. "So he can get to me?"

"After last night, he knows the Batman is on your side."

"Dimitri wasn't out when you got on the scene. Do you think maybe he's taking venom because these guys warned him about you?"

Bruce smirks, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip from his glass, "As a precaution, sure. And now he has reason to believe I know you. If he's going to go after you, he's going to shoot up each time."

"That stuff is nasty. You're big and scary when you're on it but as soon as the effects wear off-"

"You deflate like a balloon. It's also stupid expensive, so he's either got real generous prison pals or he's being used. It's why I need to know if he's working with the Vipers. They might be supplying him."

How you'd gone from an ordinary surgeon to a detective in the span of mere weeks was beyond you. You're beyond just treading water. You're diving into the abyss.

Your brain struggles to make real what is before you. Bruce, still shirtless, drinking delicately from a glass as he watches the night sky shimmer from the kitchen window. And you, sitting across from him, cracking open one of his family's expensive bottles that, frankly, puts your pantry vinos to shame. Playing vigilantes like schoolchildren. Except the blood on you both is very real.

Your arm throbs at being remembered for once tonight. Bruce notices you touch it, "You need to get some rest."

You know he's right, and you're not arguing for the sake of arguing when you say, "I can't sleep yet." But he can tell there's more on your mind as he waits silently, almost egging you on to lay yourself bare. You swear you're not arguing just for the sake of arguing, "And I don't want to disappear. I want to be alive."

Bruce says nothing. The silence isn't humiliating like you'd think it be, even if the first few seconds leave you feeling just as laid bare as you thought you would. No. It feels acknowledging. Understanding, even.

For the first time, you look at Bruce and feel like you understand him. If he was really Batman, then he would know better than anyone why you would want to put yourself in danger. But beneath that, with the meager knowledge of who Bruce Wayne is, you also think you understand him too.

He'd mentioned the survivor's guilt. While he'd played a much more innocent role in the whole ordeal, you couldn't imagine the weight on one's chest knowing that two people you love didn't get to go on but you did. It's a lot to ask of a child barely coming to understand the mortality of one's own keepers.

The choice to be alive for someone like that is a deliberate choice. Constantly made every morning.

"There is another way," Bruce muses, "but you'll like it even less."

"Don't leave me hanging."

"We could go public."

"What?"

"You said disappearing would mean abandoning your life. And it would. No one could know where you went, who you were with, but there's always the chance someone might slip up. It's the safest option but it's not what you want. So don't hide." Bruce's eye contact is deep and unwavering. Compared to earlier, he seems to trust you're willing to listen this time, "Be mine."

For the nth time tonight, you are rendered nearly speechless. Nearly. "Are you fucking with me?"

Bruce's eyes narrow, "No."

"Did you just... proposition me?"

"I made a proposal."

"You're asking me to date you."

"Publicly. Batman has more enemies than allies, but Bruce Wayne has the people. If you and I are publicly linked, it tells everyone looking for you that the world is watching. It makes you more visible, as well as anyone who comes after you."

"You haven't slept," you reason, "clearly. And you're delirious."

"I haven't slept, no." But he looks fairly sober for someone who hasn't slept in a day. He is a different breed, this Bruce Wayne.

You peer out the kitchen window and see the black sky dipping into a blue horizon, "Then sleep on it and come up with something better."

Bruce rounds the island until he's standing beside you, looking down at your barely touched wine, "There's some spare rooms upstairs. You can take your pick." It dawns on you that you may not be going back home any time soon. "You know your way around."

You suppose you deserve that dig.

Then he's leaving you, glasses abandoned, home for you to explore. You don't realize how thick the air had gotten with him right next to you until he's gone.

You half-expect Alfred to pop up somewhere nearby, but there's nothing. This far up, there is no city to listen for, no neighbors slamming doors. You are in a cold house all alone. You suddenly wish he'd stayed to keep you company, even if the weight of it was beginning to take its toll on you. Left alone, you only had the sunrise.

You watch until the sky has all but chased the night away, and then you head upstairs.

You didn't think you'd get much sleep in a stranger's bed, but you're being roused by a sharp, successive rapping at your door several hours later. It jolts you awake, kick-starting your heart, and you clumsily tumble out of the million thread count sheets to open the door.

Alfred stands there fully dressed for the day, one hand tucked in his pocket and the other still raised to knock. Upon seeing you, he lowers his fist, "Morning," he starts, looking away as soon as he meets your eyes, "breakfast is ready. Come get it before it's cold."

He does not give you a choice in the matter. He's already limping toward the staircase without another word.

After you get your heart to settle down, you follow after him, preening yourself as you pass hallway mirrors and portraits of the Wayne family through the generations. You hadn't come down this hallway when you'd found the terminus elevator, so you stumble to a stop in front of a portrait of a young Bruce grinning ear to ear.

It startles you. His eyes are soft, a gentle humming blue untouched by wrinkle or darkness. He must've been especially young here. Glancing at a nearby portrait of his parents, you find him the spitting image of his father. You look around and realize there are no portraits of Bruce at this age.

Bruce. He might be at breakfast, and the mere thought of having to discuss what occurred last night almost turns you right back around to the guest room, but your stomach rumbling begs you not to. You still walk quietly, peering around corners in case your stomach changed its mind.

You find you're cautious for naught when the only person standing in the kitchen is Alfred, chopping up fresh fruit.

"I hope you don't mind that I moved your things," he gestures with his paring knife to your surgical tools neatly congregated on the counter, "I cleaned them too."

"Oh. You didn't need to do that."

"There was blood, so I'm afraid I did." Alfred places a bit of pressure on "blood", and you quickly take note of his short tone.

Still, all the same, he then gestures to the island and implores you take a seat in front of an empty plate. Without asking, he begins pushing steaming hot food onto your plate, "Tea or coffee?" He asks, barely looking up at you.

"Uh, coffee is fine. Thanks." You watch Alfred pour you a mug and wonder if the awkwardness with him is any more preferable to the awkwardness with Bruce. Alfred is passive-aggressive, Bruce is... aggressive. You remember how the latter had left off your night together and find yourself feeling warmer toward Alfred. "How long have you been up?"

"Since 6, although I woke a few times through the night."

You wince, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I did think Bruce had invited you over under different circumstances, so... not as alarming, all things considered." Your grip on your fork slips and it clatters to the marble. Alfred barely reacts.

"He needed stitches." Is all you can get out.

"Yes, I'm well aware."

You glance up at him, "You saw?"

"When he first arrived home, yes. I was the one who helped stop the bleeding."

You stare at the coffee sweating in your cup, recalling something Bruce had mentioned last night, "Bruce said you were the one who used to stitch him up."

"Yes."

"If you were there, why-"

"It's what he pays you for, isn't it?" Alfred almost snaps back at you, slicing a strawberry into quarters with more edge than needed.

You recall something else next. The softness in Alfred's face the day you first came here, arguing with Bruce in the very room next door. You'd wondered what it had all been about.

"I've done alright, haven't I?"

"He said something else too," you start, careful as you choose your next words, "about how much you worry about him." You fiddle with your mug, pretending not to feel the heat of Alfred's eyes on you, "I think the reason he hired me is because he was worried about you."

You just catch the tail-end of Alfred's frown, "Worried about me? Why?"

You probably aren't close enough to either of these two to laugh about this, but you do anyway, "Isn't it kind of obvious?"

"Nonsense. We always discussed... if it would come to it, that if he were to pursue this life further, that he would recruit professionals who might aid him in his work. It was the natural thing to do."

"Maybe, yeah. But would he have really needed me if you weren't already doing everything else for him? You've taken good care of him this long. I mean, the aftercare you gave his bullet wound was exceptional. I accused him of talking to other doctors."

Alfred busies himself with scraping his strawberry halves into a bowl, "It's basic knowledge. You learn that kind of thing in the service."

"Or when you invited me to watch you two spar. You know his body probably better than he does. You're fantastic, Alfred." You couldn't say you weren't also trying to butter him up to better his feelings toward you, but you were speaking truth all the same.

In a very British way, he rebuts your compliments and spoons some fruit into a glass, beginning to layer some yogurt over top them, "Regardless of reason, you are here now, and I'll have you know that every part of your contract covers this. Wayne Enterprises will exhaust every possible legal tool at our leisure if you speak of any—any—of this to anyone. Master Bruce's identity is safely guarded, and regardless of his trust in you, I will not hesitate-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey. I would never tell anyone. Not after all Batman has done for me." You press a hand over your heart for emphasis, "He is just as much my patient as Bruce Wayne is, and he didn't have to pay me to take care of him."

Alfred still stares you down like a guard dog, paring knife still clutched in his fingers. After a moment, he looks away from you and points at your plate, "Eat. It's getting cold."

So you do. It's good so you say as much, counting any point toward his affection as a good thing. If you could get Alfred to trust you, you'd call that a win.

The tension in the air dissipates over time, and after you've licked your plate clean, you and Alfred are sharing coffee together. "Bruce isn't joining us?"

"I've stopped expecting him to be awake this early." You glance at the clock that reads 10:12. "He has adopted a near-fully nocturnal lifestyle."

"The night that he crawled through my window, he was there at the hospital the next morning like nothing happened. He doesn't do that often?"

"Before last year, it was a rare occurrence. While he's dedicated himself to his role more recently, if he can avoid it, he will."

You think back to what knowledge you do have on Bruce's charity work and his friendship with the Mayor. You'd worked shifts just as long, but you couldn't imagine showing up to work mere hours after getting shot in the stomach and having to put on a brave face about it. You almost feel bad for calling him out on it in front of everyone.

But then again, if you hadn't, would you even be sitting here?

You swirl the last vestiges of coffee in your cup, trying to picture a world in which you'd gone and found that empty office to nap in instead of toddling behind Rudy and Em and Alfred and Batman. The Batman.

The novelty of it brings a fresh wave of dizziness over you. You had been exposed to so much information over the course of the last 12 hours that it hadn't fully settled in on you what Bruce was. You didn't think that your brain would process it even if he was standing in cowl and cape right in front of you.

"I suppose you'll be staying with us for the near future, if Bruce has anything to say about it," Alfred stands from his chair beside you and puts your dishes in the sink, "shall I inform your security detail or would you like to?"

You don't know what to say to that. "I'm... I think I should talk this over with Bruce first. It may not need to come to that."

The butler shrugs. "I'll be attending to some house duties for the rest of the morning. Should you stay for lunch, let Dory know, hm?" You give him a weak nod and watch as he makes his way from the sink and heads down another hallway out of sight.

Not too long after Alfred leaves you, you hear the doorbell ring. Bruce hadn't mentioned to you that any guests would be here today, but then again, the two of you had had more important things to discuss last night. You check your reflection in the glass of the kitchen window, wondering if there were any hidden doors in the bookcases that could hide you from whatever Wayne Enterprises exec that was coming to talk business, but you wouldn't trust yourself not to break something in the process.

You hear two pairs of footsteps approaching from the elevator and turn to see who it might be. You first recognize Dory, fluttering between frantic small talk and making sure not to trip in her kitten heels as she guides her guest into the living room. You stiffen as soon as you see him.

Detective Gordon catches your eyes instantly, his own widening. Dory says something about going to fetch Bruce before she quickly ascends the stairs, leaving you and James staring at each other across the distance. In one hand is a notepad and pencil, and the other fixes his tie, almost as if at a loss for words. He greets you, hesitantly leaving where Dory had left him to approach you, "I saw the boys out front but... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither." You reply. "Is everything okay?"

James glances up at the stairs as he passes underneath, "That depends. I followed up on your request."

Shit. Of course a cop would do their job when you least expect it. You slip out of your chair and rush to meet him halfway into the kitchen, "Did... did you find something?"

"I can't say much right now. I'd like to talk to Mr. Wayne, but-" The sound of Dory's heels clacking against the wooden stairs makes James lower his voice, "-you being here complicates things."

Bruce is wearing a shirt this time, thankfully, though you're not expecting him to look as put together this early after what Alfred had said. He towers behind Dory's much smaller frame in a pair of loose black pants and a matching turtleneck, looking in a fashionable state of undress as he pads barefoot into the room. With hair slicked back and stubble freshly shaved, he doesn't look like someone caught unaware. He's fixing the sleeve of his sweater when he extends a hand to Detective Gordon, bright smile and all, "Detective James Gordon, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced. If this is a bad time, I can come back." James gestures to you.

Bruce's look at you is empty, devoid of any detectable emotion or thought. It strikes you as unsettling, the same way a cashier at the end of their shift isn't really looking at you, "Oh, no. I was just on my way to work when I felt unwell. I called my doctor over but it was nothing to worry about. A little stomach bug, is all."

You do look like you'd just come over in a rush. You're still in your lounge clothes from the night before, and your medical supplies are still in the kitchen where Alfred had left them. James seems to notice, but he doesn't look any more relaxed. "That's good to hear. I don't want to keep you too long, but truth is, I have some questions I'd like to ask you if you have the time."

"Is something wrong?" James glances between you and Bruce, something the latter doesn't miss, "is it sensitive?"

"It's about the party you threw here the other night, Mr. Wayne. For Mayor Reál. I hear you invited quite a few Gotham politicians to celebrate the passing of the mayor's new bill, correct?"

"That's correct."

"And I understand you're quite invested in Gotham politics in general, much like your father."

"I am. My mother and father were very interested in the city, and Mayor Reál breathed new life into that for me after the election. I do what I can to support the cause."

"And that cause is...?"

Bruce takes the skeptical tone on the chin, smiling wider, "A safer, fairer Gotham. For everyone."

This Bruce was nothing like the Bruce you had all to yourself. He taps into that persona from the party with ease. Watching him is like watching a performance. "That's good, good. I notice you try to make an effort with charities in the city, donations and the like. You recently donated a new wing to Gotham General."

"I did. Increasing access to medical care for the citizens is important to me. My doctor, a talented surgeon at General, knows this well." You flash a timid smile when both Bruce and James look to you.

"And you also financially support politicians in Gotham."

"Occasionally. Anyone I feel has Gotham's best interests in mind."

"And have you found members of Gotham's political parties to be unusually forward in requesting your support, Mr. Wayne? Perhaps a little too pushy, maybe."

Bruce wears confusion well, "Not necessarily. I'm not easily pressured into doing things I have no interest in."

"Of course. How about any attempts to win over your support? Publicly or otherwise."

"I'm not sure what you're asking, detective. I'd love to help, but I don't think I have the information you're looking for."

James nods, holding his chin high, "My apologies. I should've been clear from the beginning. My question is: have any politicians or members of law enforcement offered you anything in exchange for your financial or public support? I have reason to believe there may be someone with high clearance exchanging confidential information with civilians. Especially ones who can pay. I'm just looking for a lead."

James frames his question well, even though any fat cat familiar with the cops could see the hidden question. Bruce frowns, tilts his head, shaking it slowly, "That's awful. I don't currently know of anyone doing such a thing, to me or anyone else. But I can keep an eye out. I can only imagine how dangerous that might be."

"Exactly. We'd like to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."

"Of course. Do you have a card? Perhaps I can contact you if I hear anything."

James fishes out his card and hands it over, "I don't want to put you in a bad position, only pass along what you know if you feel safe enough to do so."

You notice Bruce is flicking the business card between his fingers as a fidget, though he keeps his attention respectfully on the detective. "Absolutely. Thank you, detective. Dory can show you to the door."

The detective nods and follows Dory out of the room. As soon as the two are out of earshot, Bruce's expression softens as he presses his back into the counter. You wish you could sink into the floor. "To be fair," you begin, "I didn't think he'd find anything."

Bruce side-eyes you, "That was you?"

"I thought my criminal boss was going to blackmail me to keep his secrets."

"Criminal boss." You think he's trying to mock you, but his eyes are surprisingly guilty when he looks at you, "Alfred wasn't kidding. I really didn't handle this well."

"No, not really." You don't mean to kick him while he's down, but you can't lie either. Even now, you were still making meaning out of this whole thing.

By all means, you've gone from knowing nothing about him, to understanding even less, to fearing him, to this. With Batman on the other hand, you'd felt nothing but loyalty and trust in him up until the very last second. Now they were both the same person, and the meager hours of sleep you'd gotten hadn't cleared all that up just yet.

You wonder who you're supposed to see now. Batman or Bruce Wayne? Why was the line separating them blurring the more you thought of them?

"So, did you ever come up with a better idea?"

Bruce does not offer one. You'd dreaded that.

"You already know what I think. No matter how we go about this, there's going to be something. So what do you want to do?" Bruce's eyes follow your ever minute expression, laser-focused on you. "Whatever you choose, I will keep you safe. I promise you."

He feels so staunchly Batman in this moment, even with the soft voice of Bruce, watching over you. Through all your uncertainty, this you believe him on.

And you're exhausted, you find. Your arm is beginning to throb again. You crave the reprieve of a bed but not your own, to your surprise.

"I'm going to trust you, Bruce," your voice wobbles as you say it out loud, "I'm going to trust you like I trust Batman."

Bruce holds eye contact with you for a few moments, "Okay."

"Can I ask... why are you dressed so nice?"

"We're going to get the sedative."

"You're going as Bruce?"

"It's the middle of the day. Yes, I'm going as Bruce. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

You fluster, suddenly reconsidering this entire plan. You'd pictured Batman skulking on the rooftop while you Mission Impossible'd your way into the medicine cabinets for what you needed. Walking in with him—the real him—would draw attention you didn't need, "You're only going to make me look suspicious."

"I'm your patient, and more importantly, I'm a donor."

"You will stick out like a sore thumb."

"That means when people are looking at me, they're not looking at you." You open your mouth to argue but he's already cutting you off, "Do you want me to drop you off at your place or do you want me to send someone to get your things?"

You're aware of what he's really asking.

You heave a sigh, "Drop me off. I can't promise Judith won't hurt someone if she finds a stranger in my house."

a/n: mj stop having the reader move in with bruce when their life is put in imminent danger challenge impossible

[yorshie]

Pick Up The Phone

Bayverse x FemReader PART TWO

tags/summary: violence, torture, cussing, hurt reader, angst, uhhhhh symptoms of shock? (I'm not to the point where I am writing an outright relationship but the undertones are there)

Reader has a date go sideways and the turtles come to the rescue, but there's a difference between seeing violence on tv and seeing someone you care for commit it.

Set in 2023 (Turtles aged up)

Leo would have called this an 'I told you so moment’. 

You wished he was here, would have listened to his lecture on being more careful and not letting your guard down, if only for the fact that suffering through a powerpoint on ‘fifty ways today could go wrong’ would be happening on the way to the med bay, where hopefully Donnie would inform you that your arm was, in fact, not broken, and you were just being a little bit dramatic.

You deserved a few moments of dramatics at this point.

Your phone buzzed again, loud and angry in your hand, but you ignored it, knowing it wasn’t the number you wanted, needed. The screen was cracked, half the touchpad dead, and you weren’t even going to try to answer unless it was one of your friends. 

Your face felt hot, sticky, but it was your arm that gave you worry. It had settled into a prickly pain that felt like a coiled snake, skin feverish and swelling quickly to the point your long-sleeved shirt felt constricting. Thank god it was dark outside, not many people around, easier to hide the side of your body that felt like it had shattered when you went down the stairs.

You paused under a street lamp, looked left and right, behind. The coast was clear, you felt far enough away. Your right hand pressed, shaky, on the screen, and you cursed, your fingers catching on the cracks as you fought with the half dead technology to hit a number, any number, on your short list.

Finally, failing, letting out a rough hiss, you jammed the phone on its side against your chest and held the button for assist.

It dinged, and you tucked your chin, whispering, “Siri, call Leo.”

“Sorry. Did you say ‘Call Leo’?” The answer, loud, carrying, had a shiver break across your shoulders, a cramp starting in your neck as your body tried to compensate the weight of keeping one side stationary.

“Yes.” It came out angry, even quieter, but the phone heard, and you watched as the screen changed, for once not trying to hit the speaker button.

The damaged screen was hot against your face, and you cradled it against the right side, unconsciously moving away from the light as you caught the distant shadow of a figure moving towards you.

The voicemail beeped, and you felt your face fall, not bothering to listen to the whole automated message. You set the phone back on your chest, pressed firm on the half lit ‘hang up’ button, fought a sniffle as it didn’t work. 

You hissed out a breath again, pressed your forehead against the screen, and gritted out, “c'mon Leo, please- please, get your phone, please.”

---------------------------

“Hey, we on for movie night tonight?” Raph’s voice echoed throughout the lair as he hopped the turnstiles into the main room, depositing a pack of soda onto the common area table as he went.

“Don’t know,” Mikey’s voice floated from far above, and Raph ducked as his brother swooped down, the propulsion on his skateboard whining as he banked hard and jumped over a pipe. “Babycakes said something about having plans, told me and Donnie to not wait up.”

“Plans?” Raph frowned, cast his brother a look over his shoulder as he paused.

“Yea, Dee thinks it’s that guy we’re suppose to pretend to not know about.”

“Well, you’re doing an excellent job of that,” Raph sassed, already moving, knowing a lost cause when he saw one. He stuck his head into the lab, careful not to move past the neon tape marking the entrance. “Hey, Don? You hear from girlie tonight?”

“No, not recently, but that’s not surprising.” Done answered, popping up from a workbench and moving towards his brother. “I sent a couple messages to her earlier, but I think she muted her phone, hasn’t answered.”

Before Raph could comment, he heard Mikey’s voice again. “Yea, she hasn’t even responded to the epic battle of cat gifs today, and we’ve had that thing rollin’ since Tuesday.” 

Raph snorted, loudly, just to let Mikey know he was ridiculous, but Donnie hummed, brows shifting in confusion. “Hm, well… maybe Leo knows something.”

“Knows something about what?” Came the reply, the eldest stepping out from the dojo, swords clasped in his hand instead of strapped across his shell. 

Raph jerked his chin towards him, “You talk to princess today?”

Leo paused, looked from Raph to Donnie. “No, but my phone’s been up in my room. Usually if she wants to talk, she does it in person.” 

“Just go check your phone, numskull.” Raph gestured, and Leo scoffed, walking up the ramp to his room. 

Donnie was already returning to the lab, grabbing his phone where it sat on the main desk. He frowned at the screen, calling back over his shoulder to Raph. “Got a missed call from her, just now.” The phone buzzed again, lighting up slightly brighter in his face. “Aaand now a voicemail.”

Raph moved to Donnie’s shoulder, crowding up into his space, as Donnie flicked the device open and navigated to the phone app.

“Donnie?”

They both froze, twin shivers working across their shells and down their legs like ice water at the hissed voice.

“Donnie, please, please- I need help-.” 

It sounded like - like crying. 

Raph was suddenly alone, a Donnie shaped hole next to him, as the taller brother all but teleported to his main station and started typing furiously on one keyboard. 

Muffled, a harsher voice in the distance, and then your breath heaved out across the speaker, loud and uneven, the slap of footsteps echoing in the background. Raph could hear the next words from clear across the room. 

“I’m not going back with you, leave me alone!”

“Donnie! We got a problem!” Leo was back. Raph spared him a glance, feet cemented to the floor, and saw the flash of an Otterbox in his hand.

“She called you, too?” 

He saw Leo mouth the word too, before Donnie’s voicemail started up again, and he went silent, still.

It was that harsher voice again, this time clearer, closer. “Hey, c’mon, at least let me take you to the hospital-”

Raph felt something knock into him, saw Mikey shrug his shoulder out of the way, uncharacteristically solemn as he asked: “Donnie, where we goin, bro?”

A loud ringtone blared throughout the lab before Donnie could answer, and Raph all but ripped the seams on his pocket trying to get his phone out. He cut off the cheery jingle about sunshine, Donnie’s hissed “speaker, speaker” reminding him to hit the extra button instead of just screaming into the receiver:

“Princess!?”

“Raph?” And oh, the pain in his chest at that one word.

“Where are you, talk to me.” He felt crowded, Mikey against one shoulder, Leo at his back, but he fought the urge to shake them off.

“Who the fuck is Ra-”

“Your worst goddamn nightmare, if you don’t quit following me, asshat!” He could have kissed you for that, but that ball of ice in his gut solidified at the angry answer fired back:

Oh, so this is why you were guarding your pho-” The voice cut off, and they all heard the painful gasp that followed, your hiss audible.

“Donnie, work faster!” Leo all but shouted, but Donnie was already flying, grabbing gear as fast as he could. They scrambled out of the lab, Raph and Mikey racing for the dojo, hot on the others’ heels as they leaped the turnstiles and raced to see who would get out to the tunnels first.

----------------------------------

Your call with Raph got disconnected in the struggle, but at that point all the despair, all the pain, got balled up in the center of your chest and turned into rage. You had minutes, maybe fifteen at the most, before the calvary arrived, and the idiot currently trying to haul you back to the street by your good shoulder would be in for a world of hurt.

“Stop! I don’t want to go anywhere with you!”

He ignored you, still pulling you away from the alley, from the manhole cover you’d been trying to pry open.

“You aren’t thinking clearly, why the fuck are you trying to go down into the sewer?” 

“Let. Me. Go.” You stepped forward quickly, stomped his foot, jerked back just as fast. 

“Fuck, you little bitch-”

The manhole cover behind you rocketed off the ground, disappearing into the dark with a loud crash and you felt like laughing at the sheer relief, your arm suddenly free as the man grabbing you was unceremoniously jerked away.

He was emitting a high pitched whine, the sound disappearing the harder Raph squeezed.

That relief bubbled away at the sight of violence, big hands slowly squeezing. You looked up at his face, expecting murder, bracing for it.

Devastated by the look of hatred in its stead.

Someone's arms wrapped around you, Mikey, you distantly thought, but you pulled against the warm push of muscle. “Stop- stop him-”

“Back off, Raph,” Leo barked, and you shivered as Raph dropped the man with a thud.

A quick glance around made you realize that, while relief had been your first emotion, something much darker had a hold of the turtles.

Donnie took up your vision as Leo moved past, large hands cool as he took your face between them and together with Mikey tried to turn you away.

Craning your neck, you could just make out the hiss of steel being drawn as Leo stopped over the crumpled figure on the ground.

A fear wormed its way into your heart, beating louder and louder. “Wait, wait- stop. Leo! Stop!”

He pulled up short like a puppet on strings, and you curled your good arm across Mikey’s bicep, trying for just a little wiggle room. Donnie’s thumbs still tracking across the bad side of your face as you fought to keep your eyes open.

“I need-I need you guys to take me to the lair.” The words left in a rush, your tone almost panicked, desperate that they take the bait. “Please, Raph. Leo. Please, I need you all to take me to the lair.”

“She’s got a broken arm,” Donnie called, as if you hadn’t spoken. “The head wound seems superficial, but it’s a lot of blood.”

You swatted away his hands, kept your eyes over his shoulder, tip toeing, pulling against Mikey. “Leave him, its not worth -”

Wrong thing to say. Raph moved faster than you could think. The crunch of bone against pavement the only warning before a high pitch scream left the man still on the ground. 

The near growled whoops was darker than you had heard his voice before, but Leo only huffed a low chuckle that did nothing to ease your fears.

“Don, She’s nicked here,” Mikey’s murmur jerked you back, made you realize the calloused hands on you had moved. His grip had shifted, one arm across your chest, the other pulling at the hem of your shirt, thumb tucked into the crease of your hip.

Donnie’s finger moved to cover the broken skin, and you hissed, breath broken, babbling: “Stairs. Stairs- I fell down the stairs leaving-”

“Oh?” Leo’s voice reached you, and you cut yourself off, jaw snapping shut despite the fact that the tone wasn’t aimed at you. “I didn’t know you were called ‘stairs’. Nice to meet you.”

You couldn’t see what he did, but whatever it was pulled out a gargled whine. 

Your hand finally unlatched from Mikey’s wrist, grabbed a hold of Donnie’s arm, tightened until you knew your nails were digging in. “Donnie- Donatello! Listen!”

Hazel eyes snapped to your face, and you continued, desperate to establish contact. “You are better than this, you all are better than this. Call it, Dee. Get me to the Lair."

His eyes flickered, you felt hope. “I’m really tired, Dee. My arm hurts so bad, please.”

His mouth pulled up at one corner, as if he knew what you were doing, saw straight through to the panic. He straightened to his full height, and you let that relief blossom, felt the pain in your arm again as he turned.

He whispered something, low, to Leo, and you watched, helpless in Mikey’s grip, as they turned in unison to your failed date.

“If.” Leo lowered himself, and you saw the sway of the blade in his hand, saw the way the man seemed hypnotized by the threat. “You. Ever. So much as think ill of her, we will know. And we will find you.”

Mikey’s chest vibrated under you back as he chuckled, his lyrical tone causing you to shiver. “Look at the big man quiver. Fucked up the wrong tree, bro.”

You bit your tongue, hard, fighting the urge to try and hurry them, goad them into leaving faster, knowing it might snap whatever hold you had and they’d go back into torment mode.

You didn’t release your breath until you all were in the tunnel below, good arm coming up to wrap around Mikey’s neck as he shifted you, careful of your bad side, gait long and even as they ate up miles.

Finally, a good ten minutes in, and you finally raised your head from his neck to ask, “Is my arm really broken?”

Heard Donnie hum an affirmative, and lowered your nose back to tuck against the juncture of Mikey’s neck. “Just one break, in your forearm. I’m hypothesizing you stuck it out to break a fall?”

“I really did take a trip down the stairs,” it felt wrong to try to inject humor, but they were so silent except for the sound of their feet on the cement. You tried to fill the silence again. “He only pushed me against the wall, only tried to get my phone. If I’d been smarter-”

A heavy hand, finger curling under your chin, and you let him, met Raph’s gaze, “If you say ‘only’ one more time, I’m turnin’ round.”

You made a strangled nose, disappeared back into the safety of Mikey’s hold, felt his hand soothe the shiver that had started in your shoulders, down your spine.

Donnie kept the med bay sterile, bleach clean. The white tiled walls boxed you in as Mikey set you on the patient bed, gently removing the grip you had on his wrist so Donnie could take his place.

They filled the room til the space was fit to burst, and you felt the tension, drowned in it with every pass of the soft cloth Donnie rubbed across your face, every brush of your knee against his leg. You had no idea who was wound tighter, you or them.

Finally, when Donnie moved back and you blinked at the harsh light after minutes of keeping your eyes clenched tight, Leo sighed. A deep, chest rattling exhale of breath, and it was like those imaginary puppet strings were finally cut, and you slumped your good shoulder against the wall behind you.

You could almost see him open his mouth even though you were faced the opposite way, and belatedly remembered how you had looked forward to his powerpoint presentation earlier. A smile worked its way onto your face, a twisted thing, gone as soon as you felt the atmosphere shift again.

“The fuck you smilin’ about?” Raph. And you swallowed heavily, mind flickering back to big hands squeezing.

“Raph.” Leo’s reprimand was soft, different from the bark earlier. You suddenly wanted him to snap, wanted the anger. Wanted them to at least stay on one page so you had a hope of processing it.

You felt tears, now of all times, escape their ledge, start tracking down your face as Donnie moved to your arm. You stared at a point over his shell, where the wall met the ceiling, and held it.

“Ah, shit, princess. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” That big hand again, cupping your cheek, and without thinking you curled your face away, heartbeat painful, imagining the strain to squeeze the life out of a man with one grip.

His hand hung in the air, suspended, then dropped, and you tracked it all in slow motion. 

Donnie interrupted, “I’m gonna look at your ribs now, kay?”

You nodded woodenly, sucked in a breath at how cold his hands felt against broken skin.

“You’re gonna feel a little out of sorts for a bit,” he continued, and blessedly Raph moved away. For a heart stopping moment you thought he was leaving, but he only leaned back against the closed door. You tracked over him, then around the room, realized he had gone to the wall furthest from Leo.

Donnie pulled your attention again, “you’re likely already experiencing some shock symptoms-”

Donnie was almost always right, you realized, because at that moment you blurted out: “Thank you, for- coming to-” The words stuck, and the tears wouldn’t stop, and you could still see Raph’s hand hanging in the space next to you. Your arm burned, your ribs ached, but you needed to say it, needed them to know that-

“Hey, babycakes, it’s ok. It’s ok.” Mikey was on the bed behind you, legs sliding on either side of yours, holding you steady with a warm hand on your good hip, and you breathed in sharp, your shiver turning into full body quakes.

Donnie kept a hold of your bad arm, held it out, kept it steady as he continued to work on it, probing the break carefully.

Leo moved, silent, in between a long blink, grip on your calves soft as he dropped to his knees, caged you in between Mikey’s thighs and his plastron.

Raph sighed from where he stood, and you heard more than saw him push off the door, steps loud as he moved to your free side and once again raised his hands.

They curled along your jaw, too big, too strong. Grip careful as he wiped away the tears, cradled your head to keep your chattering teeth still. 

An echo of the earlier violence, but at this point you didn’t care.

[youryurigoddess]

Aziraphale’s secret investigation and overlooked Clues

Remember this frame from Good Omens S02E06? Apparently Aziraphale had been using the empty carton box brought by Jim to store things in. It became a new home to at least two out of three “Lost Quartos” — the supposedly lost Shakespeare plays briefly but hilariously mentioned in the Good Omens book — as well as a very mysterious legal document.

Thought probably half of the Good Omens analysts here, including the ever so wonderful @fuckyeahgoodomens, who managed to find some information about the deceased John Gibson from New Cumnock (1855 - 1905).

Unfortunately the most interesting thing about this early 20th century provincial postmaster was his youngest child James (1894 - 1973), a quite famous stage (West End!) and film actor immortalized on screen in The Master of Ballantrae (1962), Witch Wood (1964) and Kidnapped (1963).

After that particular discovery the fandom-wide search seemingly led nowhere and the topic died a premature death.

And I almost figured it out seven months ago.

“But Yuri, you’re so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”, you probably want to shout across a busy London street at this point. Well, let me tell you. Much like Aziraphale, I'm blindingly intelligent for about thirty seconds a day. I do not get to choose which seconds and they are not consecutive.

Only tonight the stars have aligned in an ineffable way.

For those of you who don’t follow this account, some time ago I’ve realized that John Gibson isn’t the only testator whose estate was being investigated by Aziraphale right before The Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association monthly meeting.

If you watch S2 finale closely enough, you should notice that Crowley not only stress cleans Aziraphale’s bookshop — he also goes through the books and papers on his desk between the last three angels leaving the bookshop and Maggie and Nina’s intervention. A seemingly permanent arrangement of the props post-shooting, visible in detail both on Radio Times tour and SFX magazine photo shoot, sheds even more light on this detail.

The close-ups published after S2 release are legible enough to refer us to a much more prominent historical figure, Josiah Wedgwood (1730 – 1795) — an English potter, entrepreneur and abolitionist. Founding the Wedgwood company in 1759, he developed improved pottery bodies by systematic experimentation, and was the leader in the industrialisation of the manufacture of European pottery.

Long story short, I transcribed the handwritten pages abandoned on Aziraphale’s desk, found out the source and the full text of what could be identified as Wedgwood’s last will and testament, took a walk to visit his Soho workshop, and proceeded to write a lengthy meta analysis about it.

I was today’s years old when I realized that there’s something else connecting those two dead British men.

The Scottish Post Office Directory of 1903 recorded John Gibson from New Cumnock as a “stationer and china dealer” (above) operating from the shop located in the town’s post office building.

Indeed, a close look at his post office shop window in the Henderson Building (below, bottom left) reveals an artful display of fine china and pottery next to postcards printed by Gibson.

There are multiple ways to connect this surprising link with possible S3 plot points, obviously, but it’s getting late, so let’s just name the two most important ones.

You’ve probably heard of the Holy Grail, maybe from Monty Python or Good Omens S01E03 1941 flashback. Depending on the version of the story, if can be a cup, a chalice, a bowl, or a saucer — but almost always a dish or a vessel connected personally, physically and metaphysically to Jesus (unless you’re partial to Wolfram von Eschenbach’s idea that the Grail was a stone, the sanctuary of the neutral angels who took neither side during Lucifer's rebellion).

A slightly more obscure dish related to the Son of God appears in the sixteenth chapter of the Book of Revelation as a vital part of His Second Coming. The Seven Bowls (or cups, or vials) of God’s Wrath are supposed to be poured out on the wicked and the followers of the Antichrist by seven angels:

Then I heard a loud voice from the temple telling the seven angels, “Go and pour out on the earth the seven bowls of the wrath of God.” So the first angel went and poured out his bowl on the earth, and harmful and painful sores came upon the people who bore the mark of the beast and worshiped its image.

The second angel poured out his bowl into the sea, and it became like the blood of a corpse, and every living thing died that was in the sea.

The third angel poured out his bowl into the rivers and the springs of water, and they became blood. And I heard the angel in charge of the waters say, “Just are you, O Holy One, who is and who was, for you brought these judgments. For they have shed the blood of saints and prophets, and you have given them blood to drink. It is what they deserve!” And I heard the altar saying, “Yes, Lord God the Almighty, true and just are your judgments!”

The fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and it was allowed to scorch people with fire. They were scorched by the fierce heat, and they cursed the name of God who had power over these plagues. They did not repent and give him glory.

The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues in anguish and cursed the God of heaven for their pain and sores. They did not repent of their deeds.

The sixth angel poured out his bowl on the great river Euphrates, and its water was dried up, to prepare the way for the kings from the east. And I saw, coming out of the mouth of the dragon and out of the mouth of the beast and out of the mouth of the false prophet, three unclean spirits like frogs. For they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of God the Almighty.  (“Behold, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is the one who stays awake, keeping his garments on, that he may not go about naked and be seen exposed!”) And they assembled them at the place that in Hebrew is called Armageddon.

The seventh angel poured out his bowl into the air, and a loud voice came out of the temple, from the throne, saying, “It is done!” And there were flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, and a great earthquake such as there had never been since man was on the earth, so great was that earthquake. The great city was split into three parts, and the cities of the nations fell, and God remembered Babylon the great, to make her drain the cup of the wine of the fury of his wrath. And every island fled away, and no mountains were to be found. And great hailstones, about one hundred pounds each, fell from heaven on people; and they cursed God for the plague of the hail, because the plague was so severe.

[kiiwiigii]

The Red-Eyed Boy pt. iii

Pt. One | Two | Outtake

Alec x Swan!Fem!Reader

Summary: Alec returns and shows you how sorry he is. *wink, wink*

Warnings:

Smidge of angst

Smidge of bondage

Straight up smut

Word Count: 3,130

A/N: Today I learned that suck at writing smut, but please enjoy anyways. As with all my Alec fics, he is aged up. Also, I am fucking obsessed with this gif.

Tags: @rosedpetal, @lack-lust-3r, @badass-daisy-22

Alice and Bella eyed me warily from their spot on the kitchen table as I padded around the kitchen. It was my turn for dinner tonight and I was working on a new recipe.  

"Please stop looking at me like that. I'm not about to keel over dead and I'm definitely not about to poison Bella right before she gets married." 

I grinned when Bella scrunched up her nose in annoyance. 

"You're not gonna die because you're tied to Edward through a piece of paper, Bells." 

"Says you." She grumbled. 

"Have you heard from him?" Alice asked softly. 

"No." I pursed my lips. 

It had been nearly two weeks, and I hadn't heard a damn thing from Alec. I had called and texted only to be ignored and left on read. I knew he'd be mad, but for the love of God, he was taking this too far. I just wanted to strangle him. I had spent the first week moping before trying to shake myself out of it. I refused to let myself fall into the state that Bella had after Edward left. 

Although it was really hard not to. I still had my moments, usually in the evenings when I was alone. 

I paused in the middle of chopping an onion, looking over my shoulder at Alice. Her visions were the only thing I could really count on right now, unless I had a vision of my own. Unfortunately, sleep had been avoiding me, and when I did sleep nothing came to me. 

She shook her head sadly, indicating that she hadn't seen anything. Yet. However, she also hadn't seen anything different from her previous visions, so nothing had really changed, and that gave me hope. 

"So, Y/N, we have your first dress fitting tomorrow." Alice, thankfully, changed the subject.  

"Ooh yay! Do I get to see Bella's dress?" 

Bella groaned before plonking her head onto the table. She was so easy to tease. 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't want to marry me." Edward entered the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket. 

I smiled watching them all together, happy to watch the little scene from afar. Eventually I had to turn back around, doing my best to hum a tune in my head, both to distract myself from the situation with Alec and so Edward wouldn't pick up on my depressing thoughts. This should be a happy time. 

Somehow, I don't think I was fooling anyone. 

It was official. I hated weddings and anything to do with them. I was almost positive that had I not been in a house full of vampires, Rosalie would have stuck a few pins in me on purpose.  

It was dark by the time I finally arrived home, and all I really wanted to do was shower and pass out on my bed. Keeping up a relatively happy façade almost 24/7 was exhausting. 

The house was dark, and I suddenly remembered that dad was out on one of his camping trips with a friend. Well, at least I would have the house to myself, and I could be as depressed as I wanted. 

I went straight to my room to gather some pajamas and a towel. I almost felt too tired to even shower, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to make sure I do some basic self-care. Throwing my bag onto the bed, I began to strip. 

"You should keep your window locked." 

I jumped and let out a scream, quickly covering myself, dress already hanging half off. 

It was Alec, propped up on my bed, another book in hand. How had I not seen him?? I even threw my bag in his direction. 

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I wheezed at him, trying my best to get my racing heart back under control. 

"Not particularly." His eyes roamed over me, from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my neck, where my pomegranate seed necklace hung. And then the dangling straps of my dress. "You look beautiful, tesoro." 

I blinked rapidly, trying my best to figure out what the hell was happening. I hadn't heard from Alec in nearly a month and here he was, just sitting here. In my room. On my bed. As if nothing had ever happened.  

"Where have you been? Why have you been ignoring me?"  

He simply eyed me before closing the book with a thump.  

"I was extremely… angry. There was a while where I did not really have control of myself. I even scared Jane." He admitted. "I didn't want to take it out on you. Or for you to see that side of me." 

I glared at him. 

"So, you just disappear without a word? Didn't bother telling me that you were okay and that you just needed space? You're aware that I've had visions of you since I was like, six years old, right? I've seen you angry." 

"Not like this, you haven't." He said quietly. 

"Do you know what I thought? I thought you had left me. Despite whatever Alice's visions tell her, I know that they can change at the drop of a hat. I was just sitting here waiting, praying that you wouldn't change your mind." 

Fuck, here come the tears. 

He was next to me in a heartbeat, hands cupping my face. I tried to back away, but he kept his grip firm. 

"I would never leave you, Y/N." He said softly, wiping the tears away. "Ever. I have never been good at relationships. I have always kept myself at arm's length, but you, you are different. And when I saw you on that field, after the battle, I had never been so scared and angry in my life." 

He paused for a minute, searching. "Had I lost you, I would have burned the world down." 

My breath hitched in surprise, and I could feel my heart skip a beat. He kissed me then, and I allowed it, wrapping my arms around his neck as he reached for my waist. His kiss was soft and controlled, while mine was bordering on desperation. 

"Don't you ever do that to me again." He whispered against my lips, a warning. 

Why did that turn me on and piss me off at the same time? 

"I'm sorry, what was that? Because it sure didn't sound like an apology, Alec." 

He pulled me flush against him, nipping at my collarbone in reproach. I hissed in pain, but he quickly soothed it over with his tongue. 

"Then let me show you how sorry I am." He whispered. 

He pulled me in for a heated kiss and I couldn't help but gasp. Alec took the opportunity to dip his tongue into my mouth again, and the moan that worked its way up my throat had him growling possessively. 

I could already feel my nipples tightening and the wet heat between my legs. 

I grabbed him by the collar to pull him closer. He gladly obliged and before long, he had me pressed into the bed, right underneath him, his lips giving slow languid kisses anywhere he could reach. 

"Alec." My voice was caught in my throat. 

Goddammit. He hadn't even gotten me out of my clothes before he had me begging. Hell, he had barely even touched me.  

And I was supposed to be mad at him, dammit! 

He paused, lips at the swell of my breast. Finally, he lifted himself up so he could look me in the eye, searching my face. 

"Do you trust me?" 

I nodded my head furiously. 

"I need to hear you say it, Y/N." 

"I trust you." 

I was practically panting. 

Alec produced a long strip of gauzy fabric and slowly tied my hands together, gauging my reaction, before putting them above my head. 

"Did you come prepared with that?" I gaped at him. 

"No. I took it from your bag." He smirked. 

My bag? Since when did he have the time to go through my bag? I looked at my tied wrists again, trying to wrack my brain as to why I had a long ass strip of- 

'Oh my god.' 

It was the sash to my bridesmaid's dress. I know I hadn't put it in there. The last time I had seen it- Alice. She fucking knew. She had to. She had a vision and didn't even tell me. Granted, if this was a part of her vision, I would be highly embarrassed to hear her explain exactly what she saw. 

"Now." Alec put my hands above my head again, and then trailed his own hands down my arms to my collarbone, thumbing over the mark he had placed on it earlier. "Your hands stay put above your head until I say otherwise. If they do not, I stop. No matter what I am in the middle of." He warned, pausing to make sure that I understood. "Are you okay with this? If not, we can stop." 

I shook my head back and forth frantically. 

"Y/N, I need you need to say it out loud." 

"Yes." I breathed. 

"Good. If you become uncomfortable at any point you are to tell me." 

"Yes sir." It was out of my mouth before I even realized it and I blushed furiously. 

"Are you sure you're a virgin?" He teased. 

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" I teased back, a little breathless. 

Alec's brows raised before he smirked, leaning in closer, mouth right next to my cheek. 

"I think I am going to enjoy this very much." His hands began to make their way past my collar bone to cup my breasts through the fabric of my dress, his thumbs flicking slowly back and forth over my nipples.  

My back arched in a gasp, and he let out a hum, pleased with my reaction. Soon I felt more and more skin being exposed to the cool night air, his cold lips and tongue following right behind it, licking and nipping his way until, aside from my bra, I was fully exposed from the waist up. I blushed as he sat back, admiring the view. 

"You are truly beautiful, mio cara." He breathed.  

His cold hands caressed every inch of exposed skin, purposely avoiding the spots that I wanted him to touch the most. I pouted up at him and he swiped a thumb across my lip. 

"I must admit Y/N, I like seeing you like this. And I think you like it too." 

Slowly, I gave his thumb a long lick before sucking it into mouth. His eyes darkened even further, and I could practically feel the rumble of possessiveness in his chest. 

"Careful, amore." His voice was now husky and strained. 

I released his thumb, edging my teeth along the sides and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I thought you were supposed to be apologizing." 

His eyes were now pitch black. 

"I think you forget who's in control here." 

I let out a squeak as he moved aside and ripped my dress the rest of the way down, leaving me in just my bra and panties. He settled himself between my legs, to nip and kiss his way along the inside of my thighs. 

I sucked in a sharp breath when he placed a kiss right over my covered mound, and then nuzzled into it. My hands jerked and he looked up at me, remaining still. 

"Hands, amore." He chided. 

I immediately put them back in place, wriggling my hips in anticipation. Finally, he slid my panties down, revealing my inner most self, glistening and wet just for him. 

"Perfect." 

It was the only thing I heard before his mouth was on me and my back arched off the bed yet again.  

Keeping perfect eye contact with me, he gave me long slow licks, delving into me with his tongue. And then he found my clit. I couldn't help it, I cried out, my hands immediately coming down to lace themselves through his hair. 

This wasn't an apology; this was fucking torture.  

He paused with a growl. 

"Hands, amore." 

"But- but-" 

He lifted himself up slightly, a warning look in his dark eyes. "Hands." 

"Alec." I whined, wriggling my hips again and trying push him back down. "Please." 

"You know the rules, principessa." 

"Did you just call me princess?" 

He just smirked. "You're learning. Now, hands. If I have to tell you again, I will tie you to the bed." 

'You just may have to do that.' I thought. 

He watched me for a moment more before slowly lowering himself back down, wrapping his arms around my thighs to keep my hips level. He began his slow assault on me yet again and I did my absolute best to keep my arms above my head. It was working so far... barely. 

Before long I could feel a warm heat beginning to build low in my stomach.  

"Oh god, please don't stop." I chanted. "Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." 

I wasn't entirely sure what was happening, all I knew what that it felt good, and he absolutely had to keep going. Otherwise, I was sure I was going to die right then and there. 

And then the bastard stopped. 

"Alec." I let out a low whine. 

He crawled back up to me, placing a kiss on my lips and I groaned at the taste of my arousal on him.  

"No cumming just yet, amore." He swept his tongue along my lips. "The only cumming you will be doing is on my cock." 

I almost choked. "Have- have you always been this dirty?" 

"You have no idea." He bit my earlobe and I squirmed at his words. “And this is only just the beginning.” 

"Well, it looks like won't be doing much of anything, since you're still dressed." 

"That can easily be remedied." 

My eyes widened as he slipped off his shirt. I had always known he was muscular but there was a big difference between feeling it and seeing it. Next came his pants and underwear, and I’m pretty sure my brain stopped working. 

How was that going to fit?? 

"Like what you see?” 

I simply nodded my head, my mind still trying to process the situation I was in... and the fact that his cock was rather... large. 

He leaned over and began untying my hands. I raised a brow at him. 

"I want you clinging to me when you cum." 

Oh fuck. 

My hands immediately went to explore his naked chest when he caught my hand and kissed my fingertips. 

"Are you still okay?"  

"Alec, I swear to God if you don't fuck me-" 

He cut me off, crushing his lips to mine and I suddenly felt him nudging at my entrance. He sat back briefly, rubbing himself in my juices, preparing. 

"Eyes on me, amore." 

I swiftly looked back up at him. I don't think I could have taken my eyes off him in that moment. 

Finally, finally, I felt him enter me ever so slowly. I let out a hiss of pain, my hands clutching desperately at the sheets, and he stopped, letting me adjust for a minute, all the while never breaking eye contact. This, this was something else. I had never felt so full.  

"Fuck, you're tight." 

I let out a whimper. 

"It's okay, mio cara." He kissed away the tears from my face, I hadn't even realized that I was crying. "I'm going to move now." 

And boy did he move. It took a few thrusts before the pain subsided and then I felt as if I was flying. He kept his thrusts steady and deep, his hands roaming my sides before cupping my breasts and placing gently kisses along the edges. And then proceeded to close his mouth on one of my nipples through the lace.  

"Alec." 

He didn't reply, deciding to suck harder and scrape against the sensitive buds with his teeth instead. If he kept this up, I wasn't going to last long, and I think he knew it. He sat up again, but this time he angled my hips up and I was suddenly seeing stars. He was hitting my sweet spot now and I couldn't contain my moans any longer. I could feel it building, and building, and building.  

"Don't you dare stop." I panted. 

"Eyes on me, darling." He ordered, grabbing my face, and making me look him in the eyes. "I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come on my cock." 

Oh, God. He was speaking to me in Italian, and I didn't have the slightest clue as to what he was saying, but it was hot. 

"Alec, please. Make me cum. I want to come." 

"Fuck, so tight for me." He thrust harder and I could feel the walls of my pussy starting to tighten up. "I want to see you come undone around me." 

"A-Alec!" 

He forced me to look up at him again as I came hard, legs wrapping around his waist as he nearly collapsed on top of me. If I was seeing stars before, now I was suddenly seeing a whole fucking galaxy. 

"Fuck." He kissed me deeply as I felt him spasming inside me, cool liquid coating the walls of my pussy. 

He hovered like that for a long moment, his kisses turning into soft, languid ones, his hands roaming in even softer caresses. Finally, he pulled out of me, and let his eyes wonder over me. I'm sure I looked a mess, but he seemed to like what he saw, judging by the smirk on his face. 

"Come, amore. Let's get you cleaned up." 

"I don't think I can walk." I closed my eyes, doing my best to breathe and not die from great sex. 

"I can definitely help you there." 

I nearly yelped as he lifted me from the bed bridal style. 

"Is this your way of saying you want shower sex?" I wriggled my eyebrows at him. 

"I had not really thought of it, but if you insist." 

I laughed and snuggled into his chest. 

He paused a moment, really looking me over now. "I am truly sorry, Y/N. For everything." 

I placed a hand on his cheek. "Apology accepted." 

NEXT - (Outtake)

{Masterlist}

Translation (Done via Google): Tesoro: Darling/Treasure  Mio Cara: My darling.  Principessa: Princess 

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[countrymusiclover]

11 - Changing the Game

Part 12

It’s About Time

What other episodes do you want me to include?? I am wanting to write them at 17 years old already so I might do a time skip unless y’all have anymore episodes you’d like me to include when they aren’t 17.

Georgie and I hadn’t really talked in deep conversation about whatever our feelings were. We had been working in Dale's shop for a few weeks now. So only small talk when the other needed help with a customer. 

Rounding the counter top I handed a person back their change before I eyed the clock seeing it was time for me to be off of work. “That’s my shift. Georgie I’ll see you tomorrow.” I headed towards the front door about to leave.

“Y/n, hang on a sec. Can I talk to you real quick?” He made me pause from pushing open the door to leave. 

I clicked my tongue looking over my shoulder at him. “I guess so. But make it quick I have to meet your sister before she tries out.” 

“Yeah I heard that was today. But I was thinking if you’re free afterwards that we could hang out.” Georgie shrugged his shoulders standing a few steps away from me. 

I clicked my tongue feeling uneasy about talking with him right now. I wasn’t brave enough to tell him how I really felt and I wasn’t sure that I would ever get there. “I’ll see if I’m free, Georgie. But I - uh should go. I promised I wouldn’t be late.” Pushing the door opened the young Cooper watched his best friend leave the store and he dropped the half smile on his face knowing he needed to say something sooner rather than later. 

George sr, Missy and I got out of his truck  before I watched Missy slam the backdoor behind her including her bedroom door in anger. Waiting outside her room i wasn't sure what to say listening to the parents talk about what happened in the kitchen. Memaw's shoes quickly stomped down the hallway pushing the door open. “You want to be on that baseball team?”

“Yes, but the coach said-” Missy sat up on her bed. 

Connie cut her granddaughter's words. “I don't care what he said get your glove, let's go.”

She got up from the bed coming to meet me in the hallway until Sheldon spoke up. “Missy..”

She halted glaring at him. “What?”

He sent her a good boost of confidence rather than a snarky comment. “Do good baseball.”

Connie, Missy and I got in her car driving to the baseball field where the coach was.  I gasped in surprise seeing that the coach was in fact my boss at the sporting good’s store. Connie stomped up to him while he was packing the back of his truck. “You tell my granddaughter she can't play baseball?”

“Oh, well, I was just looking out for her, that's all.” My boss responded to her. 

Connie snapped back. “Is that so? Well, we don't need you deciding what's best for her.”

“What do you need?” He asked. 

Connie nodded her head poking her index finger into his chest. “I need you to give her the same chance you would a boy!”

“Or what?” He challenged her. 

But she wasn’t going down without a fight. “Or you and me gonna have problems.”

“Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?” Dale picked up a ball and glove handing it to her. 

“No, we wouldn't.” She takes the gear  coming over to the two of us. Handing it to Missy she stands beside me and behind the young girl. “Fire it in there, baby.”

“I'm scared.” Missy put the ball in one hand and slipped the glove on her opposite looking at my boss but didn't throw it immmedatly. 

Connie faced her granddaughter looking her dead in the eye. “Meemaw has just made a scene. Now is not the time to be scared!”

“Come on, Missy just picture me down there. Throw the ball to me.” I encouraged the girl knowing that she had really impressive aim. 

Missy takes a breath before launching the ball directly into his glove. I jumped up in the air cheering for her while Connie removed her sunglasses teasing the coach. “I'm just a girl. But I think that’s called a Strike.” 

It had been a few days since she made the team and today was her first game. All of us were gathered together in the metal bleachers. Missy came out of the dug out with a red helmet on her head and a gray baseball bat in hand. She was in white pants, an orange shirt and her hair was braided down her back when she walked towards the mount. “Let's go, Missy!” Connie cheered standing beside me. 

“Go get 'em, Missy!” Her dad hollered while I stood as close to the metal fence as possible to see the game. 

The other team's pitcher threw a ball where she ducked underneath it and the umpire behind her caught the ball. “Ball.”

“Whoa.” Her mother gasped. “Oh! Dear Lord.”

Dale, who was the coach, remained calm as best he could. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold it.”

“It happens. She's okay. Brush it off, Missy!” Missy’s dad touched his wife’s arm, not concerned about this. 

The pitcher launched the ball again before Missy ducked a second time since the ball was directly heading for her face. “Ball.”

“What the hell?” Connie jumped up to stand. 

George Sr raised his voice. “Son of a bitch.” 

“Ballard, you gonna let them give her a black eye or am I gonna have to come out there and kick their asses!” 

My boss raised his hands understanding the frustration. “Hey! Hey, hey, hey. Hold it. We talked about this. Cooper!” He called her name where we saw Missy run forward and tackled the pitcher into the dirt beginning to hit him with her fists. 

“Hell yeah!” I throw my hands up in the air in victory that she was standing up for herself. 

Coach Ballard shakes his head. “Ah, well, here we go.”

“Eat dirt. Eat it.” Missy said shoving his face in the dirt. 

Connie cheered her on. “Kick his ass!”

“Does it taste good? Huh?” Missy teased. 

Dale chimed in. “Yeah, listen to your meemaw. Kick his ass!”

“You gonna cry? Huh? Do it. Cry.” Missy noticed some tears coming down the boys face. 

Her mom didn't want to watch the scene before her looking at her husband. “Do something. Break it up.”

“H-Hang on. She's winning.” But all he could feel was proud of his little girl. 

“Missy! Missy Cooper, you stop beating up that boy!” Mary shouted not enjoying her see her daughter beating up a boy over a baseball game. 

Connie shouted back. “Punch him in the nuts!” 

After Missy was thrown out of the game I had to go home for dinner and everyone had to get ready for school and work the next morning. Laying on my bed with my bedroom door closed I was eating some Fritos and finishing up the math homework I had left until I heard someone knocking on my window in the middle of the night. “What the heck is going on?” 

The knocking occurred a few more times where I could see someone out there so I got up and opened the window. Shifting my gaze around I could see someone hanging off the tree that was near my window. “Y/n!” I recognized Georgie’s voice coming through the night sky. 

“Georgie, are you insane? Get in here.” I gasped holding out my hand for him to take as he crawled over on one of the limbs until I yanked him inside my window and we tumbled to the floor where I prayed we didn't wake up my parents. 

He got up off the floor using his knees tugging me up to stand with him. “I need to talk with ya about something.” 

“Hold up.” I moved around my bed flipping the lamp light on. “It’s the middle of the night. Did something really bad happen?” 

He shakes his head no. “Nah nothing bad. But there's something I need to tell you.” 

“Okay. What is it?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

Georgie ran a hand through his hair and he slumped his shoulders heavily before the words I wasn’t expecting fell out of his mouth. “I have feelings for you.” 

“What kind of feelings?” I questioned him not believing what he uttered next to me after all this time. 

Georgie nervously responded with a blush on his face. “The more than best friends kind of feeling.” I hung my mouth opened so unclear of my next response to my best friend. 

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tags just ask - @lover-of-books-and-tea @bvbwestfall @bubble-bluee @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley @skeletonontheroad @ashsallyblue2

[creative-kny-fics]

maybe lee muichiro ler demon since yesterday was his birth day, and genya would save him after, Happy birthday Little fog/Misty!

Well, although the devil is dead, I have SEVERAL ideas for BDA. But, I'll change it a little just because it's Genya and I suck at doing fight scenes, I hope you like it

Lee: Muichiro Tokito

Ler: Genya Shinazugawa / Demon?

'Where did you get that doll?' 'I don't know, he appeared next to my bed today. I liked it and I kept it...'

'Of course you like it, it looks like Muichiro. Maybe Kamado was the one who did it, Giyuu keeps talking to me about how Nezuko sometimes sews clothes or stuffed animals to distract herself...', Genya raised his eyebrow and laughed, he loved how his brother was jealous when it came to Giyuu's "adopted children".

He said goodbye to him and saw the doll with tenderness, he couldn't help but throw it into the air and catch it carefully, to repeat the movement again while walking, he was having fun.

He wasn't aware of other things, after all, that doll didn't have life... Or did it...?

'Kagaya-Sama... I'm worried about Muichiro-Kun...'

'Now now Amane, calm down. Remember that Kocho said that Muichiro was having a slight breakthrough regarding his memories. I understand your concern, but stay calm.'

'That's not exactly why...'

Kagaya stared at Amane, until a small scream brought him out of his thoughts, asking Amane what was happening.

Amane didn't know how to explain it, she saw Muichiro fly through the air, to fall but without touching the ground, as if someone held him and immediately threw him into the air again until he finally stopped.

'I don't think it's because of some BDA, you had the night off yesterday... Unless you were quite naughty and went out on other people's missions...'

'I didn't! I stayed in bed. Ginko is witness to it! But then, if it's not a BDA... WHY AM I FLOATING?!', Giyuu shrugged his shoulders and tried to get Muichiro down as best he could, but...

Genya started to growl, was he being attacked by a ghost? His arms felt heavy, as if the doll in his hands was beginning to have a life of its own and was pulling his arms to let him down.

Having an idea, he let go of the doll and almost immediately, Muichiro fell, hitting Giyuu in the head, but at least he was on the ground.

'That's weird, maybe I need exercise or I'm already going crazy... Come on mini Mui, we have to train and get the real you a gift, I'm afraid that Muichiro will get upset with me, and Giyuu will get upset too and then complain to Sanemi and Sanemi complains to me and... AND WHY AM I TALKING TO A DOLLY?! It's not like you can understand me... Well, here we go.'

And so, Genya and his new friend began doing Genya's activities, from training to going to buy something to eat.

It amused him, it was like having Muichiro but without him asking him to buy cotton candy or to try harder, it was comforting, but seeing that doll only made him miss Muichiro.

'So, since this morning, your body has been making involuntary movements. From flying and floating to feeling like someone has been holding you all day... It's weird, Muichiro-Kun, I think someone must have cast a spell on you or some BDA has affected you or someone close to you. You should try to talk to those closest to you... Why are you laughing...?'

'I dohohohon't know!! I fehehehehel like so-someheheone is squeHEhezing my si-sides... Buhuhut there's no one... Okay, it stopped' 'Maybe, you better go talk to Genya, he might be responsible', ding ding ding, we have a winner!

Muichiro thanked Shinobu and left, but how could Genya be responsible? He would never do anything to hurt him, there must be something else...

He saw the sky, it was more than half a day, Genya was probably on his break, well, he just had to go find him and tell him, or better not, he didn't see him capable to do something to hurt him but to make fun, like he did

'And what do you think? Should I give him the gift in the morning? Should I request that the next mission be assigned to me with him? I wish you could talk mini Mui...'

'Genya?', well, that was unexpected.

Genya shook his head, had the doll just spoken?! He looked out of the corner of his eye and sighed in relief, the voice was the real Muichiro's, not the doll's. 'Oh, hello Mui... What's wrong? You look confused.'

'Yes, well, strange things happened today. I floated, Giyuu-San tried to help me stop and I struggled with what was keeping me in the air, and now I find you with a doll of mine... Where did you get it from?'

'To be honest, I found it. He looks just like you and I called him mini Mui'

Muichiro crossed his arms, that doll didn't look like him (it was his identical copy), but then he analyzed things better...

Genya found the doll, it must have been after some mission, right? So, if he had a doll and since that morning he has been accompanying Genya, that means that...

'Genya...' 'Yes?'

'Have you by any chance played with that doll?', Genya nodded and gave him details.

Muichiro frowned, so it had been Genya, well, rather, the doll that Genya controlled that had been making him act that way! Oh, he wasn't going to forgive him for this so easily....

'So you had a doll of mine, you made me look stupid today! I'm going to teach you that you don't play like that with me, Genya...'

Genya didn't understand, but seeing Muichiro approach while moving his fingers was not a good sign. He wasn't going to beat him, not even because it was his birthday, but what could Genya do?

He quickly looked at the doll and sat it on his lap, pressing its sides and hoping that Muichiro's hypothesis was correct, and he wasn't wrong...

'E-ehehe...!' 'Oooooh, so you were right! Well dear Mui, do you know what happens when you threaten? Better said, do you know what happens when you have a birthday? In addition to the gifts you receive something else~', Muichiro shook his head and frowned, Genya was not going to beat him!

But all his attempts were evaded when Genya began to tickle the doll's armpits. Muichiro thought it was stupid that this doll was tickling him, but he couldn't find any explanations.

His knees soon began to shake and he fell to the ground while hugging himself, as if he were stopping Genya from continuing, but it was impossible. 'Aaaaw what's wrong Muichi? Does it tickle you? This is actually quite fun! I'm tickling you and I haven't earned any kicks or smacks for it!'

'If yo-yohohou cohohontihihinue with thi-thihis, I will ti-ticklehehehehe you un-until yohohohou wet ahahahaha yohohohourself! Mahahark my words, Ge-Gehehenyahahahaha!'

'Uh-oh, was that a threat I heard? I was going to be gentle with you, but it seems I should teach you a little respect~'

Genya laughed innocently, before slowly lowering his hands to the doll's hips, kneading them with some force and laughing when Muichiro's laughter became more intense and He started to spin around on the floor.

'Hahahaha hey, what's wrong with you? Are you a worm or something? Look at you, you're squirming like one!'

'SHUHUHUHUSH!! STAHAHAHAP THIHIHIS!! YO-YOU AHAHAHAREHEHE GO-GOHOHOING TO PAHAHAHAY AHAHAHAHA FOR THIHIHIS!!'

'Ooooh but of course not! I can't always tickle you, you always beat me! Also, remember when you said "if you had been a hashira, that BDA wouldn't have tickled you"? It's kind of ironic, don't you think~?'

Muichiro tried to grit his teeth and cover his mouth, oh, he hated it when his own words played against him, and even more so if Genya used them to mock him.

Genya on the other hand was having too much fun, there were no kicks, no bites, no attempts to get away, it was perfect!

'Hey, do you think raspberries work on this doll too?', even if the answer was obvious, Genya wanted a reaction.

Muichiro tried to beg him with puppy dog ​​eyes, but was interrupted when Genya blew a huge raspberry on the doll's body, making him scream and squirm like a worm.

It didn't matter if it covered his stomach, if he kicked, pawed or tried to bite, it was as useless as trying to cut off the water or trying to hit the wind.

'Even though you are the birthday boy, it seems that I have received the best gift in the world. It's not fun when you're the victim, is it?'

'I-IT IS NOHOHAHAHAHAT!! PLEEEEASE GEHEHENYAHAHAHAHA!! I'M NOT GONNA TEASE YOU AAIN!! JU-JUST STOOOOOOP!! PLEHEHEAHAHAHASEHEHEHEHE!!'

'Mui Mui Mui... I think you're forgetting that I know you perfectly... As soon as you catch your breath, you'll give it back to me and 100 times worse, don't promise something you won't keep... But, I won't be like that you and I will show you mercy, although, I don't know what I want in exchange for it...'

'GENYA PLEASE!! GEHEHEHEHEHEN!! MY LOHOHOVEHEHEHE!! MY BOY!! AAAAAAAH AHAHAHAHA!! GENGEN!! PLEASE!!'

Genya smiled cheekily and slowly stopped his grip on the doll's hips, slowly leaving him on the porch of the house and approaching the hashira who was trying to catch his breath.

'Hey Mui...'

'W-whahahat...?'

'Happy birthday hehehe'

N.A: Yes, I know it took me a long time with this, but I had no inspiration and I had other problems. So, better late than never

[hadesforpreswrites]

dirty laundry, pt. 3

a/n: here's part 3! "death of peace of mind" came through my airpods at the exact right time while writing this. i hope you enjoy! if you want more, let me know by reblogging, liking, commenting, vibes, whatever. i love this couple so i'm willing to write more!

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

genre: idiots-to-lovers

warnings: praise; oral (m. receiving, f. receiving)

word count: 3,787

summary: noah spent the night, it's the next day. what will these two do?

part one part two part four part five

noah was the first of the pair to wake up. he first noticed the lack of warmth that he had when he had fallen asleep. he turned his half-awake eyes to the other side of the bed and saw she was curled up on her other side. he smiled to himself as he rolled himself over and pulled her back to his chest. she made a small mewling sound as she snuggled in closer to him. 

“what time is it?” he heard her sleepy voice ask him.

“i have no idea. you keep the windows covered so i’m not even sure it’s daytime right now,” he said with a playful tone. 

she giggled. “sun’s too bright.”

“i know,” he said. “if we get up now though, i’m sure we could locate somewhere that has pancakes.”

“tempting,” she said thoughtfully. “but i’m pretty comfy.”

“then we’ll stay here,” he kissed the back of her neck. 

a couple more hours passed as they laid there. he dozed back off to sleep after a few minutes of listening to her heavy breathing.

when he awoke again, he realized he was alone. the sheets were still warm where she had been laying so he hadn’t been alone for long, he concluded. the door to her bedroom was slightly open, allowing the morning sunlight to stream in. as if on cue, her shape darkened the door and pushed it open more. 

“oh, good, you’re awake,” she said, still sounding slightly tired. 

“just barely. whatcha got there?”

“iced coffee,” she passed him a cup as she sat on the bed. 

“doll, there’s no ice in this,” he chuckled.

“okay, so it’s cold coffee,” she laughed. “you don’t get hot coffee cause that’s scarlett’s and she might disown you for drinking it without asking.”

“that’s fair. she’s so touchy,” he said as he took a drink of the coffee.

“truly,” she said as she brought the blanket over her legs again.

“is she home?”

y/n looked over at him with raised eyebrows. “what do you think?”

“good for her,” he mused, earning him another laugh. “so what’s the plan for today?”

“well, it was wallow in self-pity but i guess that’s canceled.”

“definitely canceled.”

“so nothing planned unless you want to be bored while i knock out some homework.”

“oh, i’m sure i could find something to keep me occupied,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her, causing her to lightly shove him. “can i play your xbox?”

“that i will allow,” she said, passing him the controller. “only if you try dragon age though.”

“deal. you do your homework, i’ll age some dragons.”

“that’s not-” he shot her a look that told her he knew and she nodded with a smile. 

a few hours passed of her reading over articles and typing god knows what at the speed of sound. he opted to start with the first dragon age game in the series, a game that he realized came out in 2009 and looked like it. but after getting some tips from her on character creation, he played while she worked. 

eventually, she shut her laptop and set it on the side table and threw her backpack back to the floor before slumping against the pillows in exhaustion. 

“you know,” he said, saving the game and exiting. “you look really hot while you work.”

she shot him a look that told him he was being dumb.

“i’m dead serious. especially when you pulled your hair up to get it out of your way, peak sexy academic.”

“you’re so weird,” she said, shaking her head, amused. 

“and yet,” he said leaning over her. “not wrong,” he moved a stray piece of hair that had escaped her bun. 

there was a sudden knock on the bedroom door, “lovebirds, are you decent?” scarlett’s voice sing-songed through the wood.

noah groaned and sat back against the pillows as y/n answered in the affirmative. scarlett sauntered in, freshly showered and wearing different clothes from the night before.

“when did you get home?” y/n asked, patting the space in front of her on the bed. 

“like an hour ago. wanted to be clean before i told you about my escapades.”

“should i leave?” noah asked. 

“depends on a couple of factors, my dear noah,” scarlett answered. “one, has anyone in this house eaten lunch? and two, do you want to hear of the sex life of your closest lesbian friend?”

“one, no. and two, i don’t even want to hear of the sex life of my closest straight male friend,” he answered. “i’ll go get us food after i get dressed.”

“i thought you said you were decent,” she shot an accusing glance at her friend. 

“i have shorts on,” he confirmed by standing up from the bed. he grabbed a shirt from the bag by the bed and slipped it on over his head. “what do you want to eat?”

“olive garden,” y/n said with a smirk.

“i only do olive garden in the restaurant,” he chided.

“for the soup, ya know,” scarlett explained to y/n as though she didn’t already know.

“right.”

“something close,” y/n said thoughtfully, not wanting him to have to drive all over town to find something.

“honestly, taco bell sounds good,” scarlett said.

“taco bell always sounds good,” y/n said.

“text me what you want,” noah said to scarlett, leaning over the bed to give y/n a quick kiss.

“ew, pda,” scarlett jokingly said.

“pda?” y/n started. “we’re in my bedroom.”

“you win this time. why don’t you need y/n to text you her order?”

“he has a list,” y/n looked up at him standing by the door with a smile. he shot her a wink and took off toward the restaurant. 

he heard scarlett yell down the hall, “he should have one for me too!”

he didn’t know exactly what the two were talking about as he drove the approximately 10 minutes to the closest taco bell. he ordered in the drive-through and waited in line and all the while he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. once the food was secured, he drove the 10 minutes back to the house.

the girls had relocated to the living room and were trying to decide what to watch when he walked in and kicked his shoes off. he sat the bag of food and drinks down on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch next to y/n. 

“noah,” scarlett started. “tell her we can’t watch our show with you because it’s a) ours and b) you would be lost.”

“i’m not getting in the middle of this,” he said as he handed y/n her drink.

“fine,” she drawled out, taking a drink from the soda. “then since i have the remote, i’m picking avatar: the last airbender and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“since when am i not okay with avatar: the last airbender?”

“the movie.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“i would.”

noah decided now was the time to step in. “doll, you know that movie was garbage.”

“yeah, but it has jackson rathbone in it,” she countered.

“who?”

“jasper from twilight? guy with dissociative identity disorder on an episode of criminal minds?” scarlett supplied.

“the one who looks constipated?”

“that’s the one. she has a very miniscule celebrity crush on him,” scarlett confirmed, dodging a pillow that came flying toward her.

“i thought i was your celebrity crush?” playfully upset. he was secure enough in himself to not be completely jealous of people she’d never met.

“a girl is entitled to multiple celebrity crushes,” scarlett said, defending her friend.

“oh look, it’s not streaming. you’re saved again,” y/n said, ignoring the two of them talking about her crushes. “cartoon it is.”

the three of them ate and watched the show in relative peace. after they had finished eating, noah moved so his head was in y/n’s lap and she stroked his hair as they watched. it was peaceful until scarlett’s phone started ringing. 

“do you want me to pause it?” y/n asked as her friend stood to take the call in another room.

“nah,” scarlett answered before walking to her room.

“multiple celebrity crushes, huh?”

“a couple.”

“who?”

“none ya,” she said, poking his nose.

“fine, keep your secrets,” he stuck his tongue out at her. 

“does it actually bother you?” she asked after a moment.

“no, doll. it doesn’t. they don’t have you, i do, and” he tilted his head to make sure scarlett wasn’t coming back down the hall. “they don’t know the face you make when you come.”

her eyes widened and blush rushed across her face. she smacked him on the chest. “noah,” she whisper-yelled. 

“just sayin’,” he said, turning a triumphant look back at the tv. 

another full episode later, scarlett emerged from her room, dressed in scrubs.

“where you going?” noah asked as he watched her slip her shoes on. “it’s family time.”

“sorry, dad. a damsel in distress needs me,” scarlett winked. 

“she means work,” y/n translated. “you’re supposed to be on days off.”

“yeah, well,” scarlett started. “at least it’s overtime pay. i’ll be able to take you on a nice date soon, my love.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “try not to catch anything.”

“no promises. love you two. no fucking on the couch,” she said as she shut the door.

“you two will be the death of me,” y/n said, covering her face in her hands. 

“at least when i said it, we were alone,” noah defended himself.

“true,” she sighed, turning her attention back to the tv. 

“hey,” he sat up and faced her. “you okay?”

“i’m just tired,” she said, giving him a small smile.

“doll,” he warned. 

“i am tired. but i’m also upset because she’s been working a lot of overtime. yesterday was her first true day off in like two weeks.”

“fuck,” he said. “no wonder you were so worried about her getting to go out.”

she nodded. “can we take a nap?”

“if that’s what you want.”

“i think so. if you’re not tired, you can continue saving ferelden.”

“you’re so cute when you say nonsense words,” he said, standing and pulling her up. he kissed her quickly before gathering their trash from lunch. 

“it’s the country you’re in in dragon age: origins! it’s not nonsense!” she said, incredulously. 

“i know, doll. i’m fucking with you,” he shook his head as walked to the kitchen. 

“rude,” he heard as she started toward her room.

when he finally made it to her room, he closed the door and climbed in bed beside her. she was scrolling on tiktok, laughing. he just watched her, smiling fondly. 

“hey, look, it’s you,” she said, showing him the screen of her phone. sure enough it was him performing.

“it is me,” he said, nodding. “and that’s folio. and ruffilo, and jolly.”

“jerk,” she said, laughing. 

she put her phone on the side table and turned to look at him.

“no, no,” he said.

“what?”

“last time you looked at me like that, you didn’t sleep.”

“i’m not looking at you like anything!” she said defensively.

“sure,” he said, trying to hide his smile. “so if i do this,” he kissed her forehead. “or this,” her nose. “or this,” her lips. “you’ll still sleep?” he said against her lips.

“yep,” she said, her eyes closed from the contact. 

“what if i don’t want you to?”

“then i guess you’re s.o.l.,” she said, suddenly turning around.

“baby,” he said, pulling her back to his chest.

“hmm?” is all that came out of her.

“look at me,” he coaxed.

she turned her head and looked at him.

“such a good girl,” he whispered, capturing her lips in his again. she sighed into him, starting to angle her body back towards him.

he let her move so her back was to the bed and he was hovering over her, much like the night before. he kissed her deeply, parting her mouth so his tongue could take up residence. their tongues fought for dominance, this time she did not give in so easy. she licked the roof of his mouth and he moaned at the feeling. her hands were roaming up and down his covered chest before she moved her hands under his shirt. he shivered at the feeling of her hands on his bare chest. 

“god,” he breathed. “i love your hands on me.” he kissed down her neck and sucked on the hollow spot at the base, causing her to moan out his name. “i love the way my name sounds on your lips,” his hands were making their way under her shirt. “i love when you wear my clothes.” he let his hand roam her torso, “i love what’s under them.”

he pushed the bottom hem of the shirt up, revealing her stomach and then her breasts. he kissed the valley between her them before bringing one into his mouth. her breathing became more rapid as he sucked on the skin and nibbled lightly on each nipple. he kissed down her stomach and stopped at the waistband of her shorts, looking up at her through his lashes. 

“baby,” he started. “please, can i taste you?” he’d never been so desperate in his life.

“are you sure?” she asked.

“i am more than sure. i’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” he nipped at the skin by her waistband, causing her to shudder. “but i’ll only do it if you’re okay with it. i’m never gonna do anything you’re not okay with.”

“i’ve just never..i mean i’ve read about it but..” she trailed off. 

“remind me to have you tell me more about what you read later,” he said, still looking up at her from between her legs. 

“oh, no. that’s between me and my bookshelves.”

he chuckled darkly, “guess i’m gonna start reading.”

her eyes widened, “that’s okay. you really don’t have to.”

“oh, i think i do,” he kissed the hollow spot on her hip. “but right now, i want-no, i need to taste you.”

“okay,” she breathed.

“don’t just agree to make me happy, baby.”

“i’m not. it’s okay.”

he hooked his fingers in her waistband and pulled her shorts and underwear down together until she was bare to him. he leaned back down and hooked one of her thighs over his shoulder, giving him better access. he kissed her inner thigh until his mouth met her core. he licked a stripe up her folds, stopping to circle her clit. he moved his tongue to her hole and started his ministrations, nose nudging her clit with every move he made. 

her fingers wove through his hair, tugging at the roots, causing him to moan into her. the moan sent vibrations through her, causing her to moan as well. her breathing was picking up as she felt his tongue working her into oblivion. 

he replaced his tongue inside her with a finger and continued to suck and kiss at her clit. the onslaught of both his finger and tongue was almost too much for her. “god,” she breathed out.

“my name is good enough, baby,” he said, only stopping for a moment, the quip earning him a smack on the head, causing him to chuckle. 

he went back to his work, inserting a second finger and continuing his attack on her clit with his tongue. 

it came like a sneak attack, his name fell from her mouth like a prayer. 

“that’s it, baby, let go,” he continued to lap up the juices flowing out of her, not wanting to waste a drop.

when he came back up, his lips and chin were glistening with her release and he wore the biggest smile she’d seen on him in a while. he rested his chin on her stomach and looked up at her. “next time, i’m having you sit on my face,” he said matter-of-fact.

she laughed.

“i’m dead serious, doll. i want to drown in you, difficult to do that when gravity’s working against me.”

he slid up her body, coming face-to-face with her. he rubbed his nose against hers. “do you want to taste yourself?”

she nodded, a blush creeping up her face.

“you’re so cute. you’re practically completely naked under me and you’re embarrassed about this,” this caused her to smack his arm, which caused him to laugh before kissing her fully on the mouth. 

he moaned as her tongue immediately darted into his mouth. he felt her hands tugging at his shirt and quickly discarded it before reattaching himself to her.

“noah,” she breathed as she pulled back.

“hmm?” he asked as he attached himself to her throat.

“teach me how to make you feel good.”

“fuck,” he groaned before looking at her in the eye. “you don’t have to,” he said.

“you promised,” she reminded him.

“you’re right, i did.”

he slid off her, pulling her up by her arms, the shirt she was wearing dropping to cover her once more. he started to pull his shorts down and noticed she was looking away and chuckled. when he was sufficiently disrobed, he turned her head to look at him in the face, kissing her deeply. “are you sure?” he asked when he pulled back.

she nodded.

“we’re gonna have to get you used to using your words, baby.”

“i’m sure,” she said in answer.

he pulled her hands to his chest, palm down, wanting to start her in familiar territory. he ran one of her hands slowly down his chest, stopping at the dip in his hip. “last chance. you can back away and everything will be okay,” he said, looking directly at her.

“i’m not backing away from you,” she said, looking directly back.

he nodded and continued moving her hand toward his length. both of their breaths hitched when she grasped him. he moved her wrist at the pace he liked and let go, letting her take over. his breathing was becoming shallower as she continued. “just like that, baby. look at you, such a good girl.”

she kissed his chest as her hand pumped him. he held her head to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “i’m close, baby,” he whispered into her hair. 

she stopped her movements and he let out a small whine when she removed her hand from him. he looked at her in confusion as she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed.

“sit down, dammit,” she said. he obeyed, wanting to see where this was going.

he groaned at the sight when her knees hit the floor in front of him. her hands spread on his thighs as she confidently brought her mouth to him. her tongue licked up his length before she took him in her mouth. she took as much of him in her mouth as she could, until he felt the back of her throat, causing him to moan. his hands went to her hair and his fingers wove themselves in it. he gently bucked into her as she bobbed her head up and down. he knew he wasn’t going to last long, his release right on the precipice. 

“baby,” he breathed. “y/n,” this time it was her name falling from his lips. 

she didn’t pull away and instead used one of her hands to pump the rest of his length that didn’t fit in her mouth. when he came, she let it fill her mouth before swallowing.

“where did that come from?” he asked as she pulled back from him.

“i told you, i read a lot,” she said.

“i’m really gonna have to start reading,” he said, more to himself.

“come here,” he said to her. 

she stood and let him pull her to him, his hands going to the back of her thighs. “sit dammit,” he mirrored her words from earlier.

she sat, knees on either side of his hips. her drenched core hovering over his length, that was already starting to harden again. he pulled her lips to his, tasting himself on them as he deepened the kiss. he fell to his back, legs still over the side of the bed, her hovering over him now. her hair formed a curtain around their heads. 

“y/n,” he said softly, placing a hand on her cheek. “i love you. i love you so much.”

“i love you, noah. more than words can say,” there were tears forming in her eyes. 

“c’mon, doll. let’s get you cleaned up,” he slowly sat them up and stood, carrying her. 

he sat her on the closed toilet before turning to the shower knobs. “stay with me,” she said, softly.

“if i do that, you can’t commune with satan in your lava,” he said, causing her to laugh.

“that’s fine. don’t wanna talk to him anyway.”

when the temperature was just right, he helped her pull her shirt over her head and stepped in the shower behind her. 

“you know,” she started. “the shower feels bigger when i’m alone.”

“i can leave,” he said, starting to pull the curtain back in jest. 

“don’t you dare.”

after they washed, they walked back into her room and got dressed. he started stripping her sheets as she dug for clean ones in the chest at the foot of her bed. 

he smiled to himself as he threw the soiled sheets in the washer and walked back to see her struggling with the fitted sheet. 

“the bed is a rectangle, but the sheet is a square,” she said, grumpily.

“i think it’s more like an oval,” he said, thoughtfully.

“not helpful,” she huffed as she found the corner.

after the bed was made again, they climbed into their spots. “i think you earned your nap,” he said.

“oh, was that tax for napping?”

“100%.”

“i’ll remember that.”

after a few moments he said, “tell me the author who taught you how to give head. i owe them a thank you note.”

she shook her head. “bold of you to assume it’s just one author.”

“bold of you to assume i won’t write multiple personalized notes.”

turning more serious, “it was okay, then?”

“okay? you think it was just okay?”

“i don’t know, i mean it was my first time.”

“trust me, doll, it was great. especially for a first time.”

she smiled.

“oh, she does like praise, doesn’t she?” he quipped.

“she likes peace and quiet too,” she countered, laying with her back to him, still smiling.

he brought her to him, kissed the back of her head, and held her tightly. 

[afurtivecake]

I'm feeling restless today so I think I'm just going to say AFTG opinions until the craving I'm having for novelty and excitement goes away. Honestly, I have no idea if they're weird opinions or not.

1.Neil's POV worked too well as propaganda on me because I still can't make myself like or care about Aaron. Every time Aaron shows up in the narrative, I'm mentally like, "Oh. The other Minyard twin." He's an interesting character and his relationship with his family fascinates me, but, I still cannot make myself give a shit about him.

2.I like the detail of Aaron's homophobia. I don't know if other people remember 2007, but casual homophobia was very much in vogue unless you managed to surround yourself with an entire circle of queer friends like the Trojans. Mainly I like it because it opens up the floor for Nicky's comebacks, which I think are hilarious. ("Even quickies take time"? Perfect comedy timing)

Hang on, those first two make it sound like the only thing I like about Aaron is that he's homophobic towards his family and that's...only partly true. I also liked when he was an asshole to Neil on purpose. That was very cool of him.

3.I like the Andrew/Roland thing. It's such a power-move from Andrew to go for an older guy, who was also his colleague and superior, at a nightclub he was technically too young to be working at. He's been horrifically abused by older guys most of his life, he's just out of juvie, probably just coming to terms with his sexuality, and his first move is to start a casual relationship with someone who has the exact stats of someone you'd think he'd want to avoid. And honestly, good for him. Like, the guy does NOT do things by half-measures.

4.I'm of the "fine with any Kevin ship including none" camp but I do think that if all of Kevin's prospects where in a conference room together debating who should get to have a go at Kevin, I'd back Nicky. idk, I just think it's funny he technically called dibs first.

5.Kind of wish there had been more of Riko torturing Neil. We see a lot of Lola torturing Neil, but I think we missed out on a lot of truly unhinged shit Riko would have let slip while torturing Neil. If Neil had been at all lucid during that time, he would have probably picked up so much more new roast ammo. Like the next time he faced Riko, he could have just opened his mouth and Riko would have been DEAD. Riko would not have been able to recover from the humiliation Neil would have been able to deal him with what Neil learned about him while at Evermore.

6.I'll always be kind of disappointed Kevin isn't as awful as I thought he could be. Before TSC, I thought there was some real potential for some VERY ugly interactions between him and Jean. Like, shitty ex comes crawling back the moment things aren't going well for them kind of dynamic between the two of them. I was rubbing my hands together evilly and waiting for the drama. And then TSC came out and he was just. Kind to Jean? And I just like, "oh. what the fuck. he...cares? people are kind sometimes? oh what the fuck. that hurts worse." And then I become obsessed with Kevin Day forever like the rest of the fools.

[aerodaltonimperial]

Passive aggressive Jack letting Hook know he is mad by committing every Italian cooking taboo he can think of. Looking him dead in the eye as he breaks the pasta.

(this is the funniest prompt i have ever received, i need you to know this - 💚🧡)

Okay, at first, it could have been... not intentional. Jack's quiet, but, like, he's sometimes like that, and it doesn't always mean anything bad, it just means he's all up in his head about something, and normally Hook just lets him work it out 'cause Jack won't give anything away unless he's good and ready. But it ends up hitting 5 minutes with Hook standing on the other side of the kitchen island while Jack cooks, and Jack hasn't said a word, and Hook... may have misjudged this.

Shit. Did he do something? He doesn't think he did. Did he forget something? Oh, god. Oh, god, what day is it. He's so fucking bad at remembering things. Is today important? Fuck. What month is it? He's panicking when Jack finally raises his face, looking up from the pot of boiling water. He's got the spaghetti in his hands, all bunched together.

He glares at Hook, holds his gaze, and cracks the spaghetti pile in half.

Oooooookay, that's bad. Shit, Hook's absolutely fucked up. He's forgotten something, or he did something, or is it possible that Jack had a dream where Hook did something and he's punishing him for it? No, no, Jack wouldn't do that. Jack's not the kind who...

...pours a jar of pizza sauce into the bubbling pan while the pasta hasn't softened at all.

Oh my god, Hook's gonna die.

"How's... how's your mom?" he asks, though his mouth has gone dry.

"Great," Jack replies. He doesn't break the staring contest as he twists off another lid and dumps the whole jar of oyster sauce into the pasta soup.

Oh my god, why would he even buy oyster sauce?

"Uh," Hook tries. "How's your..."

The rest dies on his tongue as Jack pours in a bottle of worcestershire. Jesus christ. Hook's entire family tree is rolling in their graves right now.

He has to leave the kitchen, but it was the wrong choice, because when Jack finally sets the food in front of him, the pasta is.... soup. It's fucking soup, and it's about the run off the plate. Hook spots chunks of pineapple swimming in the abomination.

Jack leans down, hands on his knees and falsely bright smile plastered on his face. "What day is today?"

"...Monday?"

"Well, you got close," Jack says. "It does end in y. How about an easier question."

Hook squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't have to look at the crimes against food mocking him from the plate. "Please don't."

"What date is today?"

"The... 10th?"

"It's the 22nd," Jack tells him. "So if you subtract four, what day would it have been four days ago?"

"The..." Oh no. Oooooooh no. "The one-year anniversary of... oh god." He's sweating; it's beading up on his forehead and falling into the food and he can only imagine that it would improve this absolute fucking horror show.

"Yeah," Jack says.

Hook swallows, and it hurts. "I forgot our anniversary."

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna have to eat this, aren't I?"

"Every single bite."

He can't. He'll throw up. He'll throw up, and Jack will absolutely dump the rest of the plate on his head, and he'll have to explain to everyone why his boyfriend broke up with him and gave him a concussion. "I love you?"

"Don't even think about it, asshole," Jack whispers. "You're gonna eat all of that, and then we'll see."

Dear god in heaven. Hook utters a silent prayer slash apology to all his ancestors shrieking in the great beyond, picks up his fork, and prepares to give his entire fucking life, and possibly his functioning stomach, to his relationship.

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

Knight of the Dark

It could not be done

This chapter is just about 2.100 words. Older teeny rating, I guess, due to not nice npc death.

When Valen felt the strength of day tugging at him, he took a deep breath and with a slight groan he turned around. The sky looked like the sun had just come up behind the horizon. The circumstances did not bring any warmth, but at least the sun shone some light upon them. Today, decisions had to be made. Valen fell asleep late yesterday, trying to come up with the best way forward but... he was unsuccessful. He hoped for answers today.

He lifted himself out of bed and put on his clothes and armour. A bit of water on his face and through his hair restored his good looks. With the rest of his daily hygiene taken care of as well, he quietly left his room to see if anyone was awake already. 

The great hall was dead quiet, he couldn't even hear anything from the kitchen yet. But looking at the clock behind the bar, he expected that Dolly would appear any second now.

He then turned around and made his way to the sofa in the corner. He immediately noticed something was off. A body he expected to see wasn't there. He accelerated his steps to ascertain her disappearance. The teapot and cup were still there, as was the blanket ... but no sign of Lavinia. 

A chilling idea crossed his mind, but he told himself that before he should worry, it was better to check the options here. He moved quickly around the Mystical House to check a few places but couldn't find her. On his way back towards the hall, he ran into Dolly. 

"Dolly! Have you seen Lavinia this morning?"

The urgency was obvious in his tone of voice, and Dolly instantly shook her head.

"Darn it. I need to wake up the magister, I fear she's gone and that is NOT good."

He turned on his heels and rushed down the corridor towards SONYA'S room. He banged his fist on the door several times.

"SONYA, Lavi's gone! We need to go after her, NOW!"

There was a quick footstep behind the door and then it opened. SONYA was already dressed but seemed to have been interrupted putting on her boots.

"You have checked the house?"

"Of course! Not exactly everywhere, but more than the places she could realistically be. Besides, why would she need to hide in here from us?"

SONYA shook her head. "No, you are right. She probably has gone back. Alone. I'll be with you straight away."

Valen sighed as he idled in front of SONYA'S half-open door. The Mystical House protected them from unwanted invaders, but it didn't keep people imprisoned against their will.

"What on earth is she thinking? In her state, she can't even beat creampuffs, let alone General Lorenzis. Unless Berial is granting her his power... I sure hope we can catch up in time."

When SONYA appeared by the door she ushered him back to the bar, her two familiars in tow. Dolly didn't have enough time to prepare anything, but she reacted quickly enough to have some bread on the counter. 

"Let's munch on this while we're on the go. I can get us to the nearest Way Stone, but we have to walk from there, I'm afraid." 

Valen had already taken a bite and a piece of bread in hand when he answered. "That's fine, I'll manage to hold my food in."

SONYA smirked and then nodded him to come over. She asked Dolly to stay put and proceeded to cast her teleportation spell.

He had to stand for a moment after arriving, but then lead the group towards the Heroic Order headquarters in big strides. They had just come round the corner of the street when they noticed something was off already. There were people running from and to the entrance and Valen heard the distinct noises of battle. 

When he also spotted a familiar figure approaching from the other side, he started to sprint. 

"General Hogan! What is going on?!"

They met right in front of the open gate to the headquarters but instead of exchanging greetings, they both turned to stare inside the premises. There were two hypofiends in sight alone, that engaged the present members of the Heoric Order in battle. Valen didn't like that one bit. The same distraction allowed Lavinia to launch her first assassination attempt yesterday, and he knew very well what this meant.

"What is going on here?" 

General Hogan attempted to move but Valen stopped him.

"Wait, we need to get to General Lorenzis first. The other soldiers are taking care of the Hypofiends, so let's try to run past. -- I'll explain later, General, this is too urgent."

Valen expected some questions but instead, Hogan gave a quick nod and let Valen lead the way. 

It wasn't just down here in the open that Hypofiends caused chaos. Even as they came up the large corridors, they heard fighting. Most unarmed personnel had evacuated already and the few soldiers running around not fighting tried to usher them back out several times. The moment they realised it was General Hogan, however, the former leader of the Heroic Order, they made no attempts to block their path.

The General's office was on the top floor, overseeing the training courtyard to the back. When they reached the room, the doors were blocked and it took SONYA'S magical help to force it open.

As they stepped inside, General Lorenzis stood over Lavinia's beaten body on the ground. In tension, Valen held his breath, but when he saw Lavinia groan and move, he exhaled relieved. From behind, he felt General Hogan pushing past him. Unsure about what to do, he let the General take control of the situation.

"General Hogan!" greeted the current leader of the Heroic Order his predecessor. "You have come at a rather curious moment."

He was slowly walking towards them, rubbing his knuckles. He didn't seem heavily injured at first sight, but clearly exhausted from a fight. 

"Indeed. Let's try to deal with the Hypofiends before--"

Hogan was interrupted in his speech and Valen could clearly see why. Dark purple smoke had appeared around Lavinia and she grabbed the dagger laying in front of her, lifting herself up from the floor. And then, in unbelievable speed, she lunged at General Lorenzis from behind and swiftly cut through his throat.

Valen had no time to call out. General Lorenzis gurgled a bit and staggered before he followed the blood pouring from his wound and fell to the ground. Lavinia stood motionless behind him, the dagger still in her hand. 

And then, behind her, the ground opened up and like a dash, Berial made his grand entrance to the scene.

"SURPRISE! Have you all missed me? What do you think of my little play? My main actress didn't quite hold up to the job in the end. BUT! No matter. the bad King is dead. Now let's have the princess take the Knight to her grave, too! HAHAHAHAH!"

Berial darted down from his position in the air to push Lavinia in Valen's direction. Her eyes locked onto his and Valen had hardly enough time to react to her sudden lunge at him. 

"HGHNN, damn!" 

He had successfully dodged her blade and as she was close enough for him to grab, he tried to confine her. Of course, she did not like that and fought back.

"SONYA! CAN YOU DO SOMETHING HERE?" he shouted out in desperation.

He couldn't fight Lavinia, not to mention kill her. But when he looked over to the magister, he only saw the flashing light of her magic blasting a large dark creature towards the other end of the room. SONYA was caught up in her own fight, as was Hogan. A Hypofiend had emerged, clinging to his leg and about to drag him into the shadows, forcing SONYA to move to him next.

Valen cursed and put all his strength into shoving Lavinia away from him. As she fell, he felt one of his swords leave its scabbard by his belt. It was her father's. It fell onto the floor as she hadn't managed to keep her grip on it. Valen lunged to kick it away from her, but he was too late. It was already in her hand.

"Oh no, not with that sword, Lavi. Please!"

Valen expected her to keep attacking and drew Stormcaller to be ready to deflect her attacks. Lavinia was up in a moment and growling through the darkness swirling around her purple-tainted body, she kept swinging her sword at him.

Valen kept trying to retreat and keep as much distance between them as possible, but he was so focused on not getting injured by one of her quick slices that he didn't have much time to call for help or see what else was going on. Thus he didn't notice that more people joined the fight until a familiar-looking spear flew in right between him and Lavinia. She was in the process of lunging at him again, but the spear hit her arm and she fumbled, letting go of the sword in her hand. She fell down onto her knees, avoiding a second spear by a mere fraction of a second.

Valen realised immediately that Dionel, a Celestial whom they had met at the Moon Temple, had joined the fray and was attacking his corrupted friend.

Corrupted as she may be, he couldn't give her up just like that. The second spear had just hit the ground, as he lunged protectively in front of Lavinia. He managed to grab her arm and twisted it behind her back, pushing her down into the ground. He put all his weight onto her to keep her there, not least to shield her from attack above.

"Hghn, stay -- down."

He gritted his teeth. He needed to put a lot of force into his hold, as the hypogean energy within her gave her strength beyond her capabilities. And when two heavily armoured boots touched down right in front of him, he just doubled down on his strength to keep her immobilized underneath him.

"Let me do what has to be done, step aside."

"No. She's not lost. There must be another way!"

Dionel attempted to make a move but at that moment Berial was slammed hard into the ground and wall right behind them. 

"SCARLITA!" 

Valen heard Dionel shout out and the Celestial turned away from him towards the Hypogean. 

Berial struggled a little to come back up to his feet and he cursed out loud.

"Well that's not fair! Three of you against one little jester! EEK!"

Scarlita's weapon came down as fast as her war cry. Berial could hardly evade it. The blade sunk deep into the stone masonry and produced deep cracks that spread across the floor and wall. 

Feathers from the Hypogean's wings scattered all around as he hastily withdrew into the shadows. 

"You blasted pigeonheads, you're spoiling all the fun! I better look for a new play-thing, so be prepared for an even better spectacle!" 

Berials voice echoed through the remains of the large office before everything fell quiet.

All Valen could hear were Lavinia's angry groans and his breath, as he continued to keep her in place. He closed his eyes in desperation when both Celestials directed their attention on the corrupted woman beneath him. This wasn't right. He needed... 

"SONYA, please..."

And as if she had foreseen his plea, she appeared next to him. He looked up to her and saw the signs of the fight in her tired face and dishevelled clothes. The light she summoned by her palms was warm and bright and Valen closed his eyes, saying a prayer in his mind to thank Dura for the existence of this woman. Sometimes, he thought SONYA was Dura herself and he couldn't help but feel blessed that she considered him a friend. Naturally, this was a ridiculous thought but if anyone could come close to the divine image people had of their goddess, SONYA would be it.

In an instant, he felt how Lavinia's body relaxed and her whimpers died down. When the light faded, Valen gently laid down the unconscious but breathing body of his friend.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and kneeled by her side for a moment. 

"Thanks. SONYA." he mumbled quietly.

[gmariam321]

I feel like I've probably shared this before, but it was in my Unfinished Torchwood folder so I thought I'd share it today, even if it is again. If I didn't ever post it, I wonder why; if I did, my apologies for the double post, but it's cute and it was fun to edit since it's been a year and a half since I did any real writing. Enjoy! And maybe I'll work on some more of the stuff in my unfinished folder!

Don't get mad, get even

"So, how did the rest of the night go?" Owen asked from his station, his feet on the desk as he twirled a pen in the air and smirked. "You score?"

"Do you really want to know?" Ianto asked in return, turning around on his own chair and giving Owen a skeptical look.

"Not particularly," Owen replied. "Not at all, actually. Don't know why I even asked. Only you two are so strange sometimes…" He trailed off, chewing on the end of the pen, shaking his head.

"I'm sure I'm going to regret this, but what was so strange about last night?" Ianto braced himself for some intense piss-taking from the doctor, who seemed to delight in it more and more the longer they worked together.

"You and Jack," Owen said. "If Tosh hadn't walked in on you snogging in the tourist office a few weeks ago, no one would ever know you were shagging again. It's like a classified secret or something."

"Maybe we’re simply more private," Ianto suggested. "And professional."

"You're something," Owen said, shaking his head again. "Here we are, hitting the pub after work to celebrate the end of the longest week ever, and you two are still playing at Jeeves and Wooster. You can be a bit more casual after hours, you know."

"And you want me to—what? Feed him chips when we're out in public? Hold hands and whisper in his ear?" Ianto asked. "Stick my tongue down his throat and put on a good show?"

"Oh my god, you're going to make my brain bleed," Owen complained. "I'm just saying, if you're sleeping together, you can act like it. We all know now."

"We do act like it, Owen," Ianto replied, turning back to his computer. "When we're alone and we’re—"

"Don’t say it."

"But you thought it."

"Sod off."

"You brought it up, Owen." Ianto is still not sure why, though.

"And I'm not done. You flirt and joke, but Jack does that with dead trees. You don't hold hands, don't dance or kiss or make googly eyes—"

"I'm not sure Jack knows how to make googly eyes," Ianto said, holding back a grin at the thought of Jack with some sort of vapid love-sick look on his face. "He is well over a hundred and fifty years old."

"Wow, only six times older than you," Owen drawled. "Way to bag 'em, grave robber."

"He's immortal, Owen," Ianto replied, and this time he did turn around and grin. "Age is a meaningless number to him. But experience—experience makes all the difference in the world." He let his gaze go distant as he thought about some of the experiences Jack had shared with him. “And Jack has experience.”

"I am so done with this conversation," Owen grumbled.

"What, the one you started?"

"I'm finishing it. Go file some paperwork or something."

"But I didn't answer your question," Ianto said. He had to admit, he was having too much fun with Owen to stop now. Plus, he did have some gossip, of a sort.

"I don't want to know if you scored anymore, unless you both picked up a bird and—"

"Nope, not that," Ianto interrupted quickly. "But the rest of the night was interesting. And not in a tawdry way," he added.

Owen was quiet. He threw his pen in the air a few times, spun around in his chair, blew out a breath, and turned back to Ianto. "Now it's my turn to regret asking, but how so? Something happen after I left?"

"Jack got pissed," Ianto told him, lowering his voice as he glanced back at Jack's office. "Completely shit-faced blitzed."

Owen looked confused. "What?"

"He was loud and laughing, extremely handsy, and stumbling around. I even had to help him," Ianto cleared his throat, "with his trousers. In the loo."

"I bet you did," Owens smirked. "And I bet he loved that."

"Actually, I'm not sure he remembers," Ianto replied thoughtfully. "He practically passed out on the way home. I half carried him up to my flat—it was like wrangling an octopus—and put him to bed only for him to jump up and run for the bathroom. Ten minutes later and the octopus was back. He slept straight through 'till morning."

Owen was giving him a very strange look, both amused and disgusted. "And let me guess, you made him toast and brought him some paracetamol with your best coffee in the morning?"

"Well, yes," said Ianto, feeling defensive. "He's actually done the same thing for me."

Owen shook his head and started laughing. "Ianto, you do know that Jack can't get drunk, right?"

"Of course he can," Ianto replied. "I've seen him drink many times."

"And have you ever seen him stumbling drunk?" Owen asked.

"Well, no, not since we've been….you know," Ianto answered. "Why do you think he can't get drunk?"

"Because he told me," Owen replied smugly. "After my first really bad case, we went out to some skivvy bar to put it behind us, and although I don’t remember everything from that night, I do remember Jack being perfectly fine to drive my arse home because, as he put it, 'I can't get drunk.'"

"That's ridiculous." And yet, Ianto had a bad feeling that Owen was right. He couldn't actually remember seeing Jack drunk before, or hungover, and he'd definitely seen Jack drink before. And Jack had been dramatically over the top last night, as well exceptionally quick to recover that morning.

"That's what I thought,” Owen said. “He told me then, and he'd probably tell me now, that he metabolizes alcohol too fast for it to affect him that much. He's never been a big drinker, but I've seen him put down a fair few. He might get a little loose, but that's not hard for Jack." He sniggered and continued. "My guess is it has something to do with his immortality. He literally burns up the alcohol before the rest of us have finished our first pint. Sort of like how he never gets sick either."

"He told me last weekend that his allergies were bothering him!" Ianto exclaimed. "I made us soup for dinner." He stood up, took a step toward Jack's office, then turned back, staring at Owen. "Are you serious? He really wasn't drunk last night?"

"I think you've been had, mate," Owen told him, and he actually sounded like he felt bad for Ianto.

"I can't believe he'd do that," Ianto muttered. "What the hell was the point?"

"Who knows how his warped brain works," Owen told him, then motioned him closer. "But may I suggest not getting mad, but getting even?"

Ianto glanced back at Jack's office, still tempted to storm in and give Jack a piece of his mind before cutting him off from coffee and sex for the rest of the week. It was only Thursday; Ianto could survive, but he knew it would be rough punishment for Jack. Then he glanced back at Owen.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

"Not yet, but between the two of us, we should be able to come up with something good." Owen grinned as he stood up. "Come on. A pint on me to ease your sorrows while we plot."

Ianto couldn't help but grin back with a nod. "I think we can come up with something not just good, but brilliant," he said. He grabbed his coat from nearby and headed out the cog door with Owen, a dozen different ideas already plotting through his head.

Jack might not be able to get drunk, but he wouldn't know what hit him when Ianto was done with him.

* * *

[sol-consort]

I think I need to find a way to stop being gay it's too hard 😞. Because I'm always falling for the most obscure fem characters that have almost no fanfiction written about them/hardly any fandom. 1st, it's Ashley who's really hard to find the gay fandom for (you're a dimond in the rough fr) and there's only a handful of fanfiction for and then today I've just seen that deadpool wolverine movie and I'm thinking 'obviously there's gonna be a lot of fanfiction for this sexy evil bald lesbian like this is a major motion picture' only to be met with reality fist straight to the face when I tried looking up fanfiction and there was none zero. I think I'm freaking too close to the sun.

(Srry for venting, but I fear we share the struggle of what is essentially being in a half dead fandom)

I feel you, it's so jarring how little attention gay women characters get in fandom spaces. Unless the source media itself is explicity sapphic, then finding any fanfics about lesbian characters is akin to panning for gold at the edge of the river.

The "older" a fandom is, the more obvious this phenomenal becomes. Mass Effect, for example...I mean let's just call it what it is. Blatant misogyny. Why doesn't Vetra get the same treatment as Garrus? Why isn't Miranda celebrated for her genius as much as Mordin is? Why does EDI get reduced to hot sexy robot while Legion gets the cool badass design? Why does Ashley get so much shit about her ME1 alien racist remarks when even Kaidan, Jacob, and Joker had some racist lines? Renegade Shepard is the epitome of human supremacy yet here we are.

It's still prevalent in new big fandoms. In BG3, for example, I wrote so much for Minthara, my longest and most intricate fic ever was made for her. Yet my stories that got to most attention and requests for updates are about male characters. One of them is a literal npc with no relevance for the plot.

I was happy finding out that Kaidan actually has presence in fanfics, but when I scrolled through Ashley's AO3 tag expecting something similar, I was so fucking stunned to find nothing. It's why I even wrote that Ashley fic, I was so frustrated at the lack of content for her. It started this blog.

Much like my frustration at the lack of content for Minthara started my other blog.

I wish women characters get the same treatment in fanfics written about them as men. By that, I mean they deserve shameless smut. They deserve casual sex. They deserve silly fics, parodies, and memes made about them. They deserve dating HC and having flaws that they don't feel guilty for.

Allow them the exact same courtesy extended to the token hot male characters of a fandom. Why doom the yuri constantly? Let it breathe for a second. Give it the space to be any genre it wants.