#you’re worth more than this Karen!!

[very-normal-userboxes]

[buckboi]

Angsty Little Coda to 7.6 because I couldn’t get the look on Margaret Buckley’s face out of my head but don’t worry it has a happy ending

*Now edited and on Ao3*

G / 1k / TW for bad parents

“Evan, have you got a moment?” 

Five words from his mother and Buck falls off cloud nine and crashes back to nineteen years old.

But Chimney’s alive and okay. Maddie’s glowing beside him in her gown. Everyone’s chatting and eating the overpriced (but admittedly delicious) wedding cake. It feels like a family gathering, and Buck won’t cause a scene in front of his family.

“Yeah, sure,” he says. Tommy gives his hand a gentle squeeze. Says I’ll be right here with just his eyes. Buck squeezes back, and follows his mom into the corridor.

“Come here.” She pulls a tissue from her pocket with one hand, grabs his chin with the other and starts wiping away the soot Tommy had left on his face when they reunited. “So. What’s all this then?”

It’s a trap, he knows.

“What’s all what?” he deflects.

“All this.” She waves her hand at his face, then towards the hospital room where Tommy is visible through the glass door. “You’re an adult now, Evan. I thought you knew better than to upstage your sister on her wedding day.”

Oh great. Accused of doing exactly what he’s trying not to do. It would be funny if it wasn’t frustrating.

“Second wedding,” he mutters under his breath. Just because Maddie was happy to forgive her parents for missing the first one, doesn't mean Buck has to let it go too.

“Excuse me?”

“I said she knows,” he corrects. This is a happy day. Chim is alive. Maddie is beautiful. Tommy is waiting for him. Things are good. He’s not arguing with his mother. “Maddie. I told her about Tommy weeks ago. She was the first person I told, actually. And she told me to bring him to the wedding, if I wanted to. The only one here who seems to have a problem with it is you.”

His mom scoffs at that, and lets go of his face.

“I’m not homophobic.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I just don’t think it’s right, springing it on your father like that.” She tuts at him. Like he’s nineteen, fifteen, twelve, eight years old. He almost liked it when she was disappointed in him. At least she was paying attention. “He’s getting older. His heart.”

“You think me having a boyfriend is going to give dad a heart attack?” He laughs at the absurdity of it all. “Do you think we should get him outta that room before he realizes Hen and Karen are lesbians?”

“Evan.” How she manages to say his name with some much judgment when she’s the one who names him, he’ll never know. “It’s different. When you find out your own child has been lying to you for years. And all those girls you’d string along...”

She looks hurt, but not angry, which is its own kind of fucked up. It’s not fair. She doesn’t get to be sad about this.

Not when things are finally feeling good, and safe, and right. When Tommy feels right.

“I wasn’t lying.” It’s maybe more of the truth than she deserves.

“I don’t see how that can be true if you’re gay.”

“Well I’m bi, actually. And I only just-“ he scrubs a hand over his face, probably spreading the soot around worse. “It’s a recent development, okay? That’s why people didn’t know. ‘Cause it’s new. And Tommy and I are taking it slow.”

“I suppose that’s a first for you too, Evan?” she snipes and it’s goddamn unfair because who is she to ask him that? To judge his life when she’s never so much as pretended to take an interest in it?

He has options, now. He could storm off. He could say something worse. He could say something worse, something about dead children and how they can’t disappoint you like the ones who are still alive and then storm off.

She’s not worth it, says a voice in his head. It sounds a lot like Eddie, and Bobby; like Maddie, and Chim, and Hen, and Tommy.

Like someone who actually cares about him.

“Can we just… not?” he asks, and for a second Buck thinks she might actually refuse. Might force the point, but she lets out an unnecessarily weary sigh and nods. “Can’t we go back to the party, and enjoy what’s left of the day?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I want that?” Buck doesn’t even attempt to answer that one. “Just let me get you looking respectable again and we can go back.” She grabs at his face once more.

“Buck! Chim wants you back for a team photo,” Maddie says, bursting out of Chimney’s room in a cloud of tulle. Just in time to witness his humiliation. Great. “Aww, you’re wiping it off?” 

“Of course he is,” their mom says. She’s scratching at his face with the tissue. Speaking for him like he can’t answer on his own. “It’s your wedding, Maddie. I won’t let him show you and Howard up.”

Buck takes a deep breath and smiles thinly as his sister furrows her brows.

“Oh, well, Chim said he wanted a photo with your face all dirty.” She laughs sweetly, and grabs Buck’s arm. “He wants to capture every detail of the day.” 

“Oh,” Buck says eloquently as he lets his sister pull him back into Chimney’s room. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she assures him.

“No it isn’t,” Chim cuts in from his bed. “Tommy, again. I want that photo!”

And Buck laughs, because it’s silly, and because he knows his family loves him. He asks, “Do we have to?” not because he doesn’t want to, but because it’s Maddie and Chim’s day, and he never wanted to steal their spotlight, even for a moment.

“Oh absolutely you do, Mister,” Maddie tells him, with just enough tease that he knows she wouldn’t force it if he protested. “Our wedding, our rules.”

Buck has no interest in protesting, instead he turns towards Tommy, who’d been a shockingly good sport about this. Buck’s sure he’s exhausted; probably desperate to get back to his apartment and shower off the day. Kinda wants to join him there if he’s being completely honest with himself.

“Well?” Tommy asks, interrupting his steamy fantasy.

Buck bites his lip like he's a teenager again.

“Hi.”

“H-“ Buck interrupts Tommy’s reply with his lips, far softer than before.

He’ll never ask how his mom reacted - whether she rolled her eyes, or pursed her lips or looked, even for a moment, proud of him - but Buck’s family cheers and jeers and whistles their support.

And he feels free.

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER TWELVE: PICTURE PERFECT

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SUMMARY ↳ You think you understand why people say "Happy Holidays." You are happy. A busy household during Christmas is something you’re familiar with. You distinctly remember waking up in the tower on Christmas morning to find Thor standing above you with a big stupid grin, not even having changed from his asgardian armor. This time, however, it’s Jon floating above you, a silly Santa hat on his head. “Merry Christmas.” You roll over, pulling your pillow over your head. “Nothing merry about waking me up so damn early.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none, none at all wc: 4.3k

sorry for the late-ish post! totally forgot it was upload day woopsie

The next day, you're awakened by the sound of Alfred entering the room with a tray of food. You sit up, feeling much better already, and gratefully accept the meal. "Thank you, Alfred," you say with a smile.

"You're quite welcome," he replies, his tone warm. "Master Bruce and the others will be here shortly. They have a few more questions for you."

You nod, taking a bite of the food and feeling your energy start to return. True to Alfred's word, Bruce, Damian, and Jon enter the room a few minutes later.

Bruce starts. "We've been discussing your situation. We’d like to better understand your abilities. You've explained your origins, but we need to see what you can do."

You nod, setting the tray aside and standing up. "Fair enough. What do you need to see?"

"We'll start with a simple demonstration of your web abilities," Bruce says. "Show us what you can do with and without the bracelets."

“Not inside the room. Go downstairs,” Alfred cuts in firmly. You all nod and scurry downstairs. Bruce shows you how to access the Batcave via the clock. You pretend to pay attention, as if you didn’t already know. Once inside, he takes you all aside into a quaint little training room, where all the other batkids are waiting. The mat feels like home under your feet. He prompts you to show them what you can do.

You nod and raise your wrist, shooting a web towards a nearby wall. The organic webbing shoots out with precision, sticking to the wall firmly. It’s a simple web, straight and true. Equipping the bracelets, you decide to send out a web-net. The size of it covers a great deal of the wall.

“My organic webs are really only good for swinging and grabbing stuff,” you explain.

“[Name] has 576 possible web-shooter combinations,” Karen pipes up helpfully from the computer. Bruce’s slight frown suggests he’s not used to her yet, and probably won’t be for a while. “Much more versatile than their organic webs, of course.”

Tim looks impressed as he glances at Bruce. "576 combinations? That's... a lot."

You grin and nod. "Yeah, my dad loves over-engineering things. The web-net is just one of the many tricks up my sleeve."

Damian steps forward, eyes narrowed in thought. "What about your strength and agility? We need to see how you compare to us."

You nod, understanding the need to prove yourself. "Sure thing. What do you want me to do?"

Bruce gestures to a nearby set of weights. "Lift that."

You walk over to the weights, easily lifting a barbell that looks like it should be far too heavy for your frame. You then set it down and leap onto a nearby platform with a single bound, showcasing your agility.

"Not bad," Damian admits, though his tone is still cautious. "But can you fight?"

You smirk. "Why don't we find out?"

Damian raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the challenge. He steps onto the mat, and you both take your stances. The others  watch closely as you and Damian circle each other.

Damian strikes first, his movements quick and precise. You dodge and counter, your enhanced reflexes allowing you to keep up with his speed. The two of you exchange blows, each testing the other's limits. Damian's skill is evident, but your enhanced strength and agility give you an edge.

He’s got all the tells of a trained assassin. His eyes dart around your figure, looking for openings and weaknesses. He adapts seamlessly, each of his movements controlled and calculated. He aims to control the flow with every jab, kick and punch. Unfortunately for him, you’ve been trained by one of the deadliest assassin of your world, Natasha Romanoff.

You decide it’s time to up the ante. You feint to the left, then quickly spin and sweep his legs out from under him. Damian lands on the mat but rolls back up to his feet instantly, eyes blazing with determination. He’s not used to being bested so easily, but he respects the challenge.

“You’re good,” Damian admits grudgingly, adjusting his stance. “But let’s see how you handle this.”

He lunges at you with a series of rapid strikes, forcing you to focus entirely on defense. You block and parry, your reflexes barely keeping up with his speed. You notice an opening and take it, landing a solid punch that sends him skidding back.

Before he can recover, you shoot a web at his feet, sticking him to the mat. He struggles for a moment before smirking and cutting himself free with a small blade.

“Me! Me next!” exclaims Stephanie, waving her hand around in the air. You take turns sparring everyone—save for Jon, who has just been watching a bit stiffly—, winning every time (not to brag or anything). You get a few hearty laughs when you manage to lift Jason with one hand and gently slam him to the mat. 

Then your final opponent steps up, Cassandra Cain. You gulp slightly. She’s written off as one of the best fighters in the Batfamily, and probably the DCverse. You’re supposed to be holding your strength back to show your skill, so it’s a matter of being smart, not strong.

You start cautiously, circling each other as you assess her fighting style. Cassandra doesn't waste any movements, each strike calculated to test your defenses. You rely on your agility and strength to keep up, blocking and countering her attacks with equal precision.

As the spar intensifies, you find yourself impressed by Cassandra's skill and adaptability. She adjusts her tactics based on your responses, probing for weaknesses in your defense. You're forced to rely on more than just brute strength, using strategy and technique to gain an advantage. Damn, she’s really good. It’s a blessing you’ve been trained by the goddam Avengers.

Your fighting styles are similar, fluid and dance-like. You’re impressed but not surprised by her ability to read your movements and react almost instantaneously. Natasha’s words replay in your mind.

“Predict every possible movement of theirs.”

You huff, arms hanging by your side, tired. “What, like Garou?”

Natasha raises a perfect eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and slight amusement. You wave your hands in dismissal. “Forget it.”

Natasha steps forward, her movements fluid and controlled. “It’s not just about predicting every move, it’s about understanding your opponent’s rhythm and intent. You need to see the fight a couple of steps ahead. Every slight movement can give away their intentions."

She demonstrates, moving with a fluid grace that you've come to admire. "You have the strength and agility. Now you need precision and awareness to make them truly effective."

In front of Cassandra now, you truly do feel like Garou. Your mind paints images of every way she could go, every move she could make. You feint to the right, then shift your weight and spin to the left, aiming a kick at her midsection. Cassandra blocks it effortlessly, but you expected that. Using the momentum from your spin, you drop low and sweep her legs.

Cassandra jumps, avoiding your sweep with an almost inhuman agility. But you're ready. As she comes back down, you grab her wrist and twist, using her own momentum against her to flip her onto the mat. She lands softly, rolling to her feet with a small smile.

"You're very good," Cassandra says quietly, her tone filled with genuine admiration.

"You're incredible," you reply, equally impressed.

Dick claps to be dramatic, initiating a round of applause from everyone else (except Damian, the stinker). You grin and bow dramatically. “Kicked our asses,” mumbled Jason, rubbing his jaw.

After the applause dies down, Bruce steps forward, a thoughtful look on his face. "You've shown us your abilities, and it's clear you have the skill and strength to be a valuable asset. Now we need to focus on integrating you into our ways."

Alfred clears his throat politely. "Perhaps, Master Bruce, our guest would benefit from a proper rest before diving into further training and mission planning."

Bruce nods. "Of course. We'll take a break for now. You've done well today."

As the group disperses, Jon approaches you with a friendly smile. "Hey, that was awesome. I can't wait to see what else you can do."

“Well thank you… Superboy,” you grin as he rolls his eyes playfully. Hooking your arm in his, you begin to walk out the cave. “Seriously thought, I bet if I was a normal person I still could’ve figured you out.” He raises a brow in challenge. “I mean, the Ferris wheel thing? Seriously?”

He groans. “I was trying to get you to safety!”

“My hero,” you smirk.

He drops you off at your room, exiting from your window with a wave. Nari is happily cuddling with Alfred on your bed, the sight making you coo. You gently sit by them and run your hand down Nari’s back.

Your door opens without as much as a knock or warning. Damian pauses when he sees you on the bed.

“Now, what would you have done if I was naked?” you ask sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Tt,” he scoffs, eyes looking away. “I was merely looking for Alfred.”

“Might have to get in line somewhere, Nari’s holding her hostage,” you hum, looking down at the pair. The sounds of purring cats fills you with calm. You see him still standing in the doorway. “Well? Come on, come sit.”

He hesitates to move, before stepping forward and shutting your door. He sits on the other side of the cat pile. “What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

You shrug nonchalantly. “I just mean you’ve been weird since I revealed my totally awesome alter ego.”

“I have not.”

You roll your eyes. "Oh please, Damian. You practically scowled through our entire spar. You mad ‘cause I kicked your ass or something?”

He crosses his arms defensively. "I am not upset."

"Right," you say skeptically. "Then what is it?"

Damian looks away, his expression unreadable for a moment. "It's nothing."

You raise an eyebrow. "You don't usually act like this. Come on, out with it."

“You…” he grumbles, clearly annoyed at being pushed, “...everytime I think I have you figured out, you surprise me.” He leans back, lying down on your mattress. “I don’t know anyone like you. And now, to find out you have been parading around as the new vigilante we’ve been so preoccupied with…”

You lean back as well, listening as Damian tries to articulate his thoughts. His demeanor shifts from guarded to contemplative, and you sense a rare vulnerability in his words.

“Not to mention you’ve known who we were since then…” he muttered, eyes on the ceiling. “

You listen attentively, sensing Damian's struggle with his thoughts. His words reveal a complexity you hadn't fully anticipated. "It must be strange," you offer quietly, "to have someone come into your world who knows so much and yet is still a mystery to you." 

“Are you mad because I kept it a secret from you…? Technically, you kept Robin a secret from me,” you offer.

Damian shifts slightly, his gaze flickering to meet yours briefly before returning to the ceiling. "It's not just that," he admits quietly. "You're skilled, strong, and you fit into our world seamlessly. It's..."

He shifts closer, his expression unreadable but his eyes holding a mix of curiosity and something deeper. "I want to understand you better," he says, his voice low.

You reach out, cupping his face with your hand. His eyes bore into yours, earnest. "I want you to understand me better too, Damian," you say softly, meeting his gaze with sincerity. "I know I've come into your life in a pretty unconventional way, but I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."

Then, you add shyly, “if you’d have me.”

Damian's lips quirk in a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You've certainly managed to keep me on my toes."

You chuckle softly. "Likewise. But hey, that's part of the fun, right?"

He nods, a thoughtful expression crossing his features as his eyes grow half lidded. "Fun... yes, I suppose it is."

Your heart slows in its beats, relaxing. You take in the mattress against your cheek, taking in the calm and gentle atmosphere. You feel a rush of warmth as Damian's hand finds yours, his touch surprisingly tender. The air around you feels charged with a mix of uncertainty and possibility. You squeeze his hand gently, a silent reassurance that you're here, you're present, and you want this.

"I didn't expect this," Damian admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turn your head to look at him, meeting his gaze. "Neither did I, to be honest. But sometimes unexpected things turn out to be the best."

He nods slowly, his expression softening as he looks at you. "You're not like anyone I've ever known."

"And you're not like anyone I've ever known either," you reply with a small smile. "But I think that's a good thing."

Damian leans closer, his face now just inches from yours. "Perhaps..."

Before either of you can say anything more, the door creaks open slightly. You both turn to see Bruce standing there, a faint hint of concern in his eyes.

"Ahem," Bruce clears his throat. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Damian sits up abruptly, his demeanor shifting to a more guarded stance. "Father, what is it?"

Bruce steps into the room, his eyes briefly scanning the scene before focusing on Damian. "I need to speak with you about something. Come down to the cave."

Damian nods, the serious look returning to his face. "Understood. I'll be there shortly."

Bruce glances at you, his expression softening slightly. "Thank you for your cooperation today. Your skills are impressive, and we look forward to working with you." Ever the most formal guy in the room.

You nod, feeling a mixture of pride and nervousness. "Thank you.”

Bruce gives a curt nod and leaves, the door closing softly behind him. Damian turns to you, his expression thoughtful.

"I should go," he says, his tone reluctant.

You nod, understanding the demands of their work. "Of course. Duty calls."

As Damian stands, he hesitates for a moment before grabbing your hand and pressing a light kiss on your pulse. "We'll talk more later," he promises. You can say anything, so you nod.

Damian leaves the room, and you find yourself alone with your thoughts. Nari, sensing the shift in mood, nuzzles closer to you, offering silent comfort. You stroke his fur absently, your mind replaying the events of the day.

A busy household during Christmas is something you’re familiar with. You distinctly remember waking up in the tower on Christmas morning to find Thor standing above you with a big stupid grin, not even having changed from his Asgardian armor.

This time, however, it’s Jon floating above you, a silly Santa hat on his head. “Merry Christmas.”

You roll over, pulling your pillow over your head. “Nothing merry about waking me up so damn early.”

Jon chuckles, his laughter light and carefree. "Come on, Scrooge. Get up and go downstairs." When you don’t move, he pounces on you. His fingers wiggle across your stomach as you shriek and fight to get free.

“Okay, okay! Jeez,” you concede. He rolls off of you, not without placing a hard kiss on your head. 

Damian pokes his head into your room with an annoyed expression. "What’s all this nonsense?"

Jon turns to him with a bright smile, "Just spreading some holiday cheer. Get in the spirit, Dami!"

You stretch and sit up, rubbing your eyes. "Yeah, Dami. It’s Christmas. Let’s be cheerful and merry."

He scowls slightly but steps into the room. "Tt. Christmas is just another day."

You and Jon share a knowing look before you hop out of bed and tackle Damian in a hug. "Oh, come on. Even you can't be grumpy on Christmas!" Damian sighs but doesn't push you away. 

The three of you head downstairs to the living room where the rest of the Batfamily is already gathered. The faint scent of Alfred's cooking wafts through the air, and you can hear laughter and chatter echoing through the halls. The tree is beautifully decorated, and presents are piled high underneath it. Bruce is sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, looking surprisingly relaxed.

Alfred hands you a steaming mug of hot cocoa as you join the group. "Merry Christmas," he says with a warm smile.

"Merry Christmas, Alfred," you reply, taking a sip of the rich, delicious drink. You glance around the room, your gaze landing on Damian, who is sitting quietly by the tree, watching the proceedings with a thoughtful expression.

You join the rest of the Batfamily in the living room, enjoying the festive atmosphere. Jon is already diving into his presents, enthusiastically tearing off the wrapping paper. Dick and Barbara are sitting together, exchanging gifts and laughing. Tim is deep in conversation with Stephanie, who is trying to guess what he got her. Even Jason seems to be in good spirits, joking around with Duke and Cass.

You decide to approach Damian, holding your mug of hot cocoa. You sit down beside him, the warm and festive atmosphere contrasting with his contemplative demeanor.

He glances at you as you settle beside him, his expression softening slightly at your presence. "Enjoying yourself?" he asks, his tone carefully neutral.

You take a sip of your cocoa, letting the warmth spread through you before answering. "Yeah, it's nice. Reminds me of home," you admit softly, thinking back to the holidays you spent with your family and the Avengers. Damian watches you quietly, seeming to consider your words.

"Your family must be... different," he finally remarks, his tone almost curious.

You nod, a faint smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, definitely different. But they're good people. Just like yours." You gesture subtly towards the rest of the Batfamily, who are now engaged in lively conversation and laughter.

Damian follows your gesture with a small nod, his gaze lingering on his family for a moment. "They're... unique," he admits quietly, a hint of something warmer in his voice.

Finally you sigh, “Well.” You dig into your pocket and pull out a box, handing it to him.

“Merry Christmas.”

He takes the box, opening it gingerly. Inside lies a sleek looking ring. Damian raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting from surprise to intrigue as he takes the ring in his hand.

"What is it?" he asks, turning the ring over to examine it.

“A ring,” you smile. He rolls his eyes so you elaborate. “It’s something I made. Karen is built into it, so she can help you personally.” You tap it twice, pulling up a hologram. “Here’s all the stuff she can do.”

The hologram reflects in Damian’s eyes as they flutter left to right, reading. “Happy to help, Damian,” Karen says.

“It also works as a communicator, so if you’re ever in need of me to save you from getting your ass-kicked, she’ll let me know,” you grin.

Damian ignores your little comment in favor of sliding the ring over his finger. He examines the way it shines under the light, nodding. “It’s adequate.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re welcome.

He gets up abruptly then. “Stay there,” he commands, walking off into another room. He’s gone before you can blink, so you clasp your hands together awkwardly and observe the room. Jon has gone and went to his parents (which, oh my god, Superman and Lois Lane are here, holy shit. You wonder if Bruce told them about you.) and is talking animatedly to them. In his hands is a small canvas in his hands, you can barely make out the portrait of Jon on there. Must be Damian’s gift to him.

Speaking of, you hear his footsteps come back. You turn to see Damian returning with a small, elegantly wrapped box in his hand. He sits back down beside you, his expression more relaxed than before. He holds out the box towards you.

"Here," he says simply, his voice quieter than usual.

You take the box, carefully unwrapping it to reveal a.. camera! It’s a nice one, definitely expensive. It fits perfectly in your hands, just the right size for travel.

"You said you like photography," Damian explains quietly, his gaze flickering to meet yours. "You also said you’d like a memory. Now, you can capture them.”

You feel a rush of warmth in your chest as you realize the significance of the gift. "You remembered.” It comes out as a whisper. “Thank you, Damian," you say softly, touched by his gesture. You attach the strap of the camera and hook it around your neck.

He nods, seeming satisfied with your reaction. "It suits you," he remarks, his tone almost approving.

You smile, reaching out to gently touch the lens. "I love it."

“[Name]!” Jon exclaims, crossing the room to get to you. His hands grasp yours and pull you off the couch. “Come meet my parents.

Oh dear. You send a look to Damian for help but the bastard just smirks at you. You chuckle softly at Damian's smirk before allowing Jon to lead you over to where Clark Kent and Lois Lane are standing. They both turn to you with warm smiles, Clark's eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Hello, [Name]," Clark greets you warmly, extending a hand. "It's good to finally meet you. Jon has told us a lot about you."

Lois nods in agreement, her expression friendly yet keen. "Yes, Jon's been quite excited to introduce you to us."

You shake Clark's hand with a smile, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement at meeting such iconic figures. Shit, you thought you would’ve had the fan behavior under control by now. "It's a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Jon has been wonderful to be around.”

Jon beams proudly, standing beside you. "They're really nice, right?"

Clark chuckles warmly, his gaze flickering briefly towards Jon before returning to you. "He speaks very highly of you, [Name].” He pointedly looks at Jon as he says this.

Lois’ eyes flick down to your camera. “Interested in photography?”

You nod eagerly, feeling a little more at ease with their friendly demeanor. "Oh, yeah. I like capturing moments. It’s a small passion of mine.”

“Well if you ever get tired of superheroing call me. I’m sure we could use an excellent photojournalist,” she winks.

“Mom,” Jon complains. Lois shrugs innocently.

You laugh warmly, feeling more comfortable with Lois' playful banter. "I'll keep that in mind, Miss. Thank you." In another universe, maybe.

Jon tugs at your hand. "Come on, I want to show you something." He drags you towards the Christmas tree where a beautifully wrapped gift waits for you. You hear the chuckles of his parents as you’re pulled away.

You smile at Jon's enthusiasm, kneeling down to unwrap the present. Inside a bracelet. The beads make up a beautiful image of green and blue. There’s a spider charm hanging from it. Jon beams up at you, clearly proud of the gift he chose.

“I saw a video online about making bracelets for each other's eyes,” he mutters shyly. “I made one for you out of me and Damian’s eyes.”

The bracelet feels like gold in your hands. "It's perfect, Jon," you say genuinely, feeling touched by his thoughtfulness.

Clark and Lois watch the exchange with warm smiles, clearly pleased by Jon's happiness and your appreciation.

You thank Jon again with a hug, feeling a surge of warmth at the bond you've formed with him and his family, hearing his heartbeat speed up before his arms wrap around you. “Oh, before I forget.”

You pull out another box, handing it to Jon. “I know you were listening to me and Dames earlier, stinker.” It’s cute to see how his face turns red after being caught. “It’s the same thing I got him. Connects to this–” you tap the nano-earpiece where Karen speaks to you. “–and his. Our own little channel.” Jon's eyes widen with excitement as he takes the box from you, eager to see what's inside. He opens it carefully, revealing a similar looking ring. His grin widens as he realizes what it is.

He slips the ring onto his finger, marveling at how it fits perfectly. "This is so cool. I can't wait to try it out!"

The rest of the Batfamily gathers around, curious about the new gadgets and gifts being exchanged. Dick claps Jon on the back. "Nice one, Jon! Now you can bug them anytime."

Jason chuckles. "Or maybe they'll bug you."

Duke eyes the camera around your neck. “Ooh, family photo time?”

Groans echo the room as your hands come up to grip the camera. With everyone gathered around the Christmas tree, you snap a few photos, capturing moments of laughter and camaraderie. Jon is grinning widely, Damian is trying to look nonchalant but can't hide a small smile, and even Bruce cracks a rare smile at the camera. The rest of the Batfamily, along with Clark and Lois, join in the festive spirit, making silly faces or posing dramatically.

“Now you,” Cass says, waving you over. You huff good-naturedly and set the camera up, scurrying to squeeze between Damian and Jon. You hold up your hands in the ‘spidey’ pose, grinning. Jon squeezes you and Damian to him, cheeks mushing with each others.

The pictures turn out perfect.

notes: jon watching reader and damian spar: am i into this

yeah damian felt a little thrown finding out he doesn’t know you as well as he thought. i figured he’s the type to not like knowing things, and well, reader being spinnerette? and knowing he was robin before he could ever think to tell them? yeesh. its okay now though :)

[yourstru1y4ever]

Day 12 - "You remembered?"

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 599 Content: Fluff! Reader is allergic to milk (sorry fam) Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: And here’s day 12! It’s a little bit short but that’s because of how much I wrote for day 11 so forgive me about the length. Also this is totally self indulgent because I have a lot of severe food allergies (more than 5) and I just figured Matt would be like one of those dogs who can smell an allergen on a food. I wrote this very quickly and it's not beta read so I apologize for any mistakes!

It’s a busy night in Josie’s bar, it was lucky that you, Matt, Foggy and Karen were able to get a booth with how crowded it is. There was barely any standing room and you could tell the noise was starting to get to Matt.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Foggy stands up and starts to squeeze his way towards the bar.

“Our usuals please Fog!” Karen calls out, “It’s been one hell of a week.”

“You’re telling me.” Matt responds and you smile, “At least it’s the weekend now, we can relax just a little bit.” You lean against Matt and he chuckles.

“Just for a bit.” He wraps his arm around your torso and brings you closer to him to kiss you on your check.

“Ew,” Karen teases, “Get your PDA outta here.” She points towards the exit and you both laugh.

A few minutes later Foggy comes back with a tray of drinks for you all, he and Matt have the cheapest beers known to man, a rum and coke for Karen and an espresso martini for you.

You’ve been trying your best to stay up longer at night for Matt when he goes out on his patrols, so far you’ve only been awake the one night he came back, most other nights you’re barely half awake or just asleep on the couch.

As Foggy hands you your drink, you notice Matt looking confused, “What’s wrong?”

“Your drink smells different,”

“Maybe Josie used decaf or something.” You joke, bringing the drink up to your lips.

“Wait!” Matt quickly takes the glass out of your hands, bringing the drink close up to his nose, “You can’t have this.”

“Aw what? Matt, come on!” Karen says.

You give Matt a questioning look before he takes a sip of your drink, “Yeah there’s milk in this.”

“What?” Foggy spits out his drink and looks over at you, “Did you drink it?”

“No I didn’t I- wait you remembered?”

“Your milk allergy? Of course sweetheart, why wouldn’t I?” He looks at you with concern.

Karen gasps, “Was it because of a shitty ex or something? Spill.”

“No it’s just-” You look down at your hands, “People usually forget about my allergy and I don’t blame them. It can be hard to remember sometimes.”

“It’s not hard to remember,” Matt tells you, “It’s worth remembering to keep you safe.” He takes your hand in his and gives it a small squeeze. You smile at him and nod your head in thanks.

“Hey, I’ll get you a new drink. Want anything in particular, aside from an espresso martini?” Karen asks as she gets out of the booth. 

“Let’s see how Josie does on a margarita,” You say to Karen and she laughs walking up to the bar.

Foggy gestures over towards Matt, “Just be sure to have your little allergen checker make sure it’s safe for you alright?”

Matt grins, “I wouldn't want it any other way.”

Karen soon comes back with your favorite flavor of margarita and before she hands it to you she gives it to Matt. 

After a moment he sets the drink down, lips forming a thin line. 

“Well?”

“. . .It’s safe,” “Matthew!!” Foggy cries out, “How dare you put us on edge like that?!”

Matt grins, “It was a funny,”

Foggy crosses his arms and glares at Matt, “. . . yeah it was a little funny.” 

You grab your margarita and start drinking along with everyone else, thankful to have a group of loved ones who care about your food allergies and are careful of what they have around you.

[signanothername]

UT/UTMV Comics and Animatics masterpost

This will include every comic and animatic I made so far, the links will be arranged from oldest to newest, I will also specify which characters these links focus on for easier navigation

*tip! Those in red text will contain an explicit discussion/visual display of some sort of trigger/content warning, these could be blood, emotional or physical abuse, emotional manipulation, death, self destructive behaviors, implied or discussed suicidal ideation, suggestive content or other sensitive topics

*tip! Those in orange text will contain an implied or mentioned trigger/content warning but no explicit discussion/visual display

Let me know if I missed color coding anything :)

Comics

A never ending game - Killer and Apple twins

Brink of death - Apple twins

You don’t even know how it started - Apple twins

Linguists… - Killer and Nightmare

Misplaced hatred part 1 - apple twins

Misplaced hatred part 2 - apple twins

One brain cell - MTT

Trauma - Apple twins

Killer vs Error

Foolish for you to trust yourself - Color Spectrum

Crocodile tears - Nightmare

Mugs - Nightmare gang

Besties? - Killer and Ink

Strangers - Apple twins

Nonexistent mercy - Color Spectrum and Nightmare

Final request - Apple twins

Get humbled Nightmare - Killer and Nightmare

Worth it - Color Spectrum

Emotional suppression - Killer and Nightmare

As dead as you’re going to be - Apple twins

Guilt trip town - Color Spectrum

“Handson experience” - Killer and Horror

Eating problems - MTT

Keeping the kitties safe - Color spectrum

A Little life update - Killer and Nightmare

Choice - Color Spectrum

Thanatophobia - Nightmare gang

Killer vs Dream

Read like an open book - Nightmare and Color

On the topic of kindness - Nightmare and Color

Two Nightmares

999 souls - Apple twins

Delta vs Killer

Numb - Color Spectrum

Dream’s room

Cinnamon roll - Color Spectrum

Not human nor monster - Color Spectrum

Nightmare and a kitty

Watched… - Killer and Nightmare

Subconscious protectiveness - Nightmare and Color

Apple pins - Apple twins

Uncorrupted Nightmare

I love you - Apple twins

Nightmare do you love Dream too?

Taunting - Killer and Nightmare

Soul capture (part 2)

A beautiful haunting smile

When love hurts more than hate

——————

Animatics

The Aristocrats… - Nightmare and Neil

Nightmare but it’s with Abridged freeza’s lines

Killer, but with Abridged Alucard’s lines

No longer you - Apple twins

NIGHTMARE HAS FALLEN! - Apple twins and Killer

Murder trio as the seeker trio - Nightmare gang

I’m supposed to be your friend - Apple twins

If Nightmare is Regina, who is Karen and Gretchen?

Killer’s voice claim 1

Killer’s voice claim 2

Killer voice claim 3

Nightmare’s voice claim

Rockabye Nighty…

Autistic person when then someone who is slighty more autistic than them: 💀😡 - Ink and Error + Nightmare

———

Extra

Comic dub by @/softwaredubs

[loves0phelia]

Hello

I have this writing where we read the pov of Matt and it is sort a love letter to Y/n. We read about his thoughts about her, how much he loves her and it is very poetic and lovely perhaps even a bit sad. Let me know your thoughts 😊

Letter

Summery: The request but sad ++ (oops)

Words: 809 (it's small sorry)

Warnings: spelling mistakes, and it kind of doesn't make sense in some parts

A/N: listen to LOML by Taylor Swift while reading and thank you for the request xxx

“I’ve always heard that love is blind. I used to think I understood what that meant, that I could grasp the irony of it all, given my circumstances. But then you came into my life, and suddenly, the phrase took on a new meaning—one I never expected.

It's in the way you move through my world, unaware of the light you carry in my fire-filled sight. I can’t see it, but I feel your warmth in the air when you’re near. Your presence makes me feel something I've never experienced.

You make me wish I could see, not to take in the world around me, but to truly see you—the way you smile when you think no one’s watching, the exact colour of your eyes when they light up and the way you look at me. I wish more than anything to be able to feel your love through a simple glance.

I spend so much time running through shadows, but with you, it’s different. With you, I don’t fear the darkness; I embrace it because it brings me closer to you. Your body against mine, your laughter and simply you being you pulls me to you and I can't help it. If I could, I would stay with you forever.

Sometimes, it feels wrong to be so attached to you when I promised to give my full attention to making this city a better place. Because I know that if you asked me too I would drop everything to be where you are. Even if it meant abandoning what I've built and cherished. You are worth more than anything.  You’ve intertwined yourself into my soul.  I am not me without you.

Every time I close my eyes, it’s your face I see, your voice I hear, your touch I crave. You are my calm in the chaos, the one thing that makes all the noise in my head fade into silence.

But a heartache comes with loving you, an ache that I can’t ignore. It’s the knowledge that I’ll never fully deserve you, that the darkness I carry will always be a shadow over your love. I wish I could promise you a life without fear.  But all I can offer is my heart—battered, bruised, but still beating for you through any ups and lows

You are the light in my darkness, the reason I keep fighting, even when it feels like there’s no fight left in me. And even though I know I’ll never be the man you deserve, I will love you with everything I have, for as long as I can.

Yours, always, Matt”

The small paper containing Matt’s braille written note, crumbled in his fist as he stopped speaking. His voice echoed in the large church and the only other sound that could be heard were the sniffles and cries of your loved ones. Foggy, Karen, and your family. 

His fingers tightened around the folded piece of paper in his hand once again.

As he reached the casket, he paused, his breath catching in his throat. The reality of it all hit him with a force he wasn’t prepared for. You were gone. No amount of whispered promises or desperate prayers would bring you back. 

With trembling hands, he unfolded the letter, the words written across the paper now seeming so small compared to his grief. He had poured his heart into those lines, trying to capture the love, the regret, the sorrow that consumed him. But now, standing there, he felt as though nothing he could say would ever be enough.

Gently, he placed the letter on top of the casket, his fingers lingering for a moment as if he could somehow reach you through the wood and metal as if you could feel his touch one last time.

“I love you.”

Kneeling beside the casket, Matt rested his forehead against it, his hands clutching the sides as if it were the only thing keeping him from collapsing completely. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m so, so sorry…”

The church seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing down as if they were trying to suffocate the life out of him.

Matt stayed there, his heart breaking until the silence of the church was too much to bear. With a final, trembling breath, he stood, his fingers brushing over the letter one last time before he forced himself to turn away.

He knew that he would never truly leave you behind, that you would haunt him in the quiet moments when he was alone, and that your memory would be both a comfort and a curse. But for now, all he could do was walk away, leaving behind the only woman who had ever truly seen him—the woman he would love until his last breath.

[ascendanttarot]

PAC: Messages From Your Spirit Guides

Hi everyone! This PAC will cover whether your spirit guides have any messages or guidance for you. This is a little shorter than the last PAC but only a little bit, promise! I'll list a few signs for every pile before your reading to ensure you have picked the right pile for yourself. If you resonate with one or more signs, that is meant to be your reading. And! You’ll get a channelled song! :)

Please remember your fate is not set in stone so your answers may change depending on the actions you take and will take if you please. Tarot is not a substitute for professional advice. The images I’ve used are not mine.

From left to right: Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3

Pile 1

Signs:

You play guitar or favour the sound of acoustic guitar in your songs

You listen to the following bands/artists: Hozier, Florence + the Machine, Mitski, and other similar artists

This is a weird one, but when cleaning you like buying the sprays/wipes/detergent with a fruitier smell?

You like going on nature walks

You read poetry

Your cards: The Tower, Queen of Cups rx, (clarified by the Six of Swords rx) Page of Wands

Your message: Something unfolded in ways you could have never imagined. It’s like all your backup plans fell apart too, and your optimism has been taken away from you. I just heard ‘victim of circumstance’. This is a difficult message to give, but your guides are saying whatever happened, happened beyond anyone’s control. You tried to shield yourself from these difficult emotions by hardening your heart, creating distance between you and your feelings... but you’re spirit guides are asking you, “Is this really worth it all?”. It won’t be an easy feat to move on from this situation, and your guides understand that. However, they’re saying that when the time comes and the right opportunity is in front of you to take that first step of healing, please take it. The best part of your life requires a childlike sense of wonder. It’s going to require a lot more determination and ambition than what you’re feeling now. Your guides are saying to take your time to feel messy, and when it’s time to heal, don’t rush yourself to do that too. They’re here for you if you ask them. They believe in you even if you don’t believe in yourself, but they are waiting patiently and happily for a time when you’ll start standing by your back too.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 1!

Song: In Your Own Sweet Time by Zaska, Karen Cowley and Hozier

Pile 2

Signs:

You have an alternative sense of style

You love 80s music. I just heard Wham and The Cure to name a few of the bands that popped up in my intuition

Odd sign to give, but you may have had a vaporwave phase? If you know, you know

You like Fantasy and Sci-Fi books and shows

Another odd message to give here—you may be sensitive to touch, but it goes both ways? Like you can only wear certain fabrics, or you like soft things, but also people may say you give good hugs

Your Cards: 8 of Swords rx, 6 of Cups, The World

Your Message: I just saw the image of your spirit guides popping open a bottle of champagne with a knife before chucking (yes, that violently) streamers and confetti! You know why? Because. You. Did. That. You’ve just come out of a period in your life when you had to do some intense shadow work. You’ve worked on your biases, and have started to fix your flawed systems on your environment and yourself; your spirit guides could not be more proud of you. They’re celebrating 24 hours a day 7 days a week because that chapter of your life is over! This new phase of your life will be given gently to you with the love and compassion you deserve. I think this may be an opportunity to let yourself be seen by others again. At the very least you’ll be hanging out with old friends and making new ones, but at the most, I’m seeing possibly an opportunity for a project to start online. Either way, your spirit guides will have your back for that in the future. For now, though, they’re asking you to put your feet up and high-five yourself for how far you’ve come!

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 2!

Your Song: Blame It on the Boogie by The Jacksons (I’m serious, they’re having a party right now haha!)

Pile 3

Signs:

You prefer the dusk over the dawn

You like RnB, so artists like Victoria Monét and Ashanti might be familiar artists to have in your playlists. I also heard Destiny’s Child and Ms. Lauryn Hill

I feel like you might like, collect, or work with crystals and metals. I just saw some people here may wear protective jewellery

You like sports, or were heavily involved in sports when you were younger, but you aren’t anymore

I just heard ‘helping hand’, so you may just be a really helpful and generous person. You’d be the friend people go to if they need advice on something

Your Cards: 2 of Wands, 2 of Swords, King of Cups

Your Message: Okay this feels pretty straightforward. Your spirit guides want you to know that you’re coming into a divine partnership (not necessarily romantic if that’s not you’re thing or if you’re aromantic, so this could be a friendship or a business partner even) very soon. With the emphasis on the number two in this reading, this may correlate with timings in your life. You may meet this person in 2 weeks, 2 months, or even within the span of 2 years, but there’s a strong message of divine timing working in your favour. I feel you may have issues trusting the people around you to have good intentions because of negative experiences in the past. This person won’t break that mental belief for you, you’ll do that yourself, but they will certainly be the catalyst for it. Maybe the reason why you’re so jaded is because you’ve hoped for this so long the hope soured to cynicism, but this is not the natural state of your soul. This person will offer you the emotionally mature partnership you’ve dreamed of, with a sensitivity for you and your feelings you aren’t used to. Your spirit guides can’t wait for you to meet them because I’m hearing this relationship will be healing for all the parties involved. They’re with you on this every step of the way.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 3!

Your Song: Love Is on My Side by Brandy

[cuddly-dean-baby]

The Lawyers 4

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader, Frank Castle x GN!Reader, Matt Murdock x Jennifer Walters

Words: 535

Standing outside his apartment door, you hear both of their voices more clearly than Karen and Frank do. “Yeah, Karen, they’re in there. He must've forgotten to call in.”

“It's very unusual for him not to call in though, and you know this.” She gives you a soft, knowing look.

As the three of you start to walk away, the door opens to reveal Matt, his hair standing all over the place, him fumbling with his pants. “Karen?” He hears her heartbeat before hearing yours and softly calling your name, completely ignoring Frank.

You immediately knew that he had sex with the woman who claimed that they haven’t done it since the second time and it was a one time fling. “I hope she’s fucking worth it, Matthew.”

He knew he was in trouble when you used his whole name, but it broke his heart more when you used it from finding out he fucked the same woman he fucked his relationship with again.

“Don’t bother coming into work today, Matt. Foggy and I aren’t gonna be there.” Karen says before following after you. Frank says nothing as he pushes off the wall he was leaning against and walks after you and Karen. 

Karen had messaged Foggy to meet at Fogwell’s. As soon as he walks through the door, he almost jumps out of his skin as the punching bag goes flying towards him. “Fucking flying- you almost killed me!” He gets nothing said in return from you as you try to calm your heaving chest. 

“Let’s go, Foggy. We’re going for a walk.” Karen pushes him out.

“But I just got here.”

“Too bad.”

Once they’re out of Fogwell’s, you’re now leaning against the bottom ring rope. “Let me see your hands.” You hear Frank say as he steps into your vision, about to touch your hands.

Feeling a bit too overwhelmed to be touched right now, you immediately stand up, your hands away from him. “Don't. Just- don't.” You walk away from him and to the punching bag that flew like a fucking eagle towards one of your friends.

An eagle that is 68kg and used for punching, or making it near attack someone.

Once you pick it up, sand starts to pour. It doesn’t help you being so overwhelmed, so in this case, with all of your strength, you throw it to the other side of the building, mostly by where Frank is.

“Is today the day to kill everyone with the fucking punching bag?” He asks, grumpily and sarcastically.

“Today is the day is where I am so fucking confused with what’s going on.” Before Frank could say anything, you continue. “My fucking ex goes back to the woman he’s been fucking for the unknown millionth time after the both of them saying it was nothing.” You start to unwrap the bandages on your hands to reveal reddened and slightly bleeding knuckles. “My ex best friend and I kissed, to which I don’t know where either of our feelings are. And my said fucking ex is here with his woman.” 

Turning around, Jennifer is standing behind a baffled Matt and in the doorway. “Out of all the people, you kissed him?”

Marvel Tags:

@spnfanboy777 // @wolf-knights // @blurredx18 // @buckysbrattybaby // @chrisevansangel // @misha-collins-is-a-dilf

The Lawyers Series Tags:

@yarrystyleeza // @arsonfrogger

[twola]

Seven Deadly Sins - I

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Summary: Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. A continuing series.

Lust: an intense sexual desire or appetite, uncontrolled or illicit sexual desire or appetite; lecherousness, a passionate or overmastering desire or craving.

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Next

That is the absolute last time he ever listens to some hare-brained plan dreamed up by Sean MacGuire. Abandoned cabin, he said, not a soul around, he went on. He just failed to mention that this cabin near Eris Field was a goddamn Lemoyne Raiders safe house. Not nearly worth the take, and now Arthur needed more shotgun shells. He made sure Sean caught hell before sending the boy off in the other direction. He cuffed him over the head for good measure.

Arthur swung around to the south of Rhodes to keep away from camp for a while, it was only a matter of time until those inbred hicks realized it was another gang encroaching on their territory. 

He spurred his horse into a gallop as the sun set over the west, and a full moon rose over the hill country of Scarlett Meadows. 

Arthur hits the shores of Flat Iron Lake just north of Braithwaite Manor.

He pats his mare’s head as she slows to a walk, breathing heavily, coat worked into a lathing sweat. “You’re alright, girl.”

Trailing along the shoreline, in the distance, he can see the faint lantern lights from the gang’s camp at Clemens Point. He stops the horse, allowing her to step down to the water and take a much-needed drink. Swinging off the saddle, he pops his shoulder, still feeling a twinge of pain from his ‘stay’ with the O’Driscolls weeks ago.

A sound reaches his ears, rustling of leaves, movement of water. 

He ties up his horse against a tree, unholstering his revolver as he sneaks closer to the small cove that the shoreline creates. He takes cover behind a wide tree trunk, slowly clicking the safety off his revolver.

He peers on the other side of the tree at the rocky shoreline.

It is not some bounty hunter, or robber, or frankly any kind of threat.

It is you.

You’re partially obscured by the outcropping of rock, but there is more than enough moonlight to trace the sinuous curves of your body.

You’re completely bare, nude as the day you were born, washing yourself in the waters of Flat Iron Lake.

He should be blushing and turning away, leaving you privacy while he reaches camp from another direction. But as the moonlight dances on your dewy curves, Arthur is guided by another notion.

He did always say that he wasn’t a good man.

Arthur holsters his gun, trying to be as quiet as possible. He watches you with the eyes of a predator, a hungry wolf with a doe in its sights. It hasn’t been since his untried youth that he’s so governed by an urge like this, being driven by pulsing blood and hotheadedness and want.

You’re wringing out your long hair over your shoulder, the expanse of your back and the curve of your spine above your hips visible above the water.

He swallows, hidden by foliage, behind the tree trunk overlooking the cove where you bathe.

Arthur can’t say he’s ever looked at you like this, thrumming with the singular need to sink his cock into your body. You’ve been around a few years, a dependable thief, a decent shot, he looked at you no differently than he looked at Karen, Tilly, or Mary Beth. But now, seeing you like this, he’s driven by a need that pounds in his blood. He knows he shouldn’t be here, dirty old man , but by some kind of force far stronger than shame, he is rooted to the spot, breathing in a deep breath through his nose.

He uncomfortably shifts, his hand over his gun belt that’s slung across his hips, tighter now against his hardening cock. He pushes at it awkwardly, trying to find some damned relief. 

You turn, humming to yourself while taking a step closer to the shore. More of your skin becomes visible to him as you rise from the water like some storybook nymph.

He swallows, tracing the rivulets of water down your frame, down over your pebbled nipples and the swell of your breasts, your soft belly, sliding down your skin into the thatch of dark hair at the apex of your thighs.

Arthur liked to think of himself as being above that. Not so completely enraptured by the female form that he could think of little else.

But right now? His stiffening cock pressing against his pants is his priority. With guidance that he knows could only come from thinking with his cock, he steps out of his hiding spot and down to the shoreline.

Leaves rustle on the ground.

You catch his gaze. Surprised, fearful, like a skittish doe in the jaws of that hungry wolf. Stunned into silence, into stillness. 

Water continues to drip down your body. Nothing is hidden from his eyes. 

Were he not but a trickle of that fresh lake water, trailing slowly down your skin, down your breasts, your soft belly, collecting at the cradle of your hips. Weaving its way through the hair there. 

Drip, drip, dripping to the hidden, dewy skin of your cunt.

-

You swallow. Your skin breaks out into gooseflesh as you shiver under the cold weight of his stare. You should scream, you should run, you should hide yourself from him.

Should, should, should. All of these things you should do.

But the way he is looking at you. The way he is staring. The shadow across his face from the brim of that old leather hat. The telltale sign of heavy breathing, his chest rising and falling. You can see his fist clenching at his side.

Arthur has always been distant. You had heard talk of a woman he had been involved with years ago, some high society girl that broke his heart. Not that you were particularly eyeing anyone in the gang for any self-gratifying reason - it was less complicated that way.

But now, now,  he looks at you with a hunger that needs to be slaked. Arthur Morgan. Dutch’s top gun. The enforcer. You’ve seen him break men with his two hands, those two hands that clench at his side as he struggles with some semblance of control.

In this moment, you imagine those hands on you.

Something, perhaps the traitorous clenching of your cunt around nothing when you look at him, goads you into speaking up.

“Want to join me, Arthur?”

-

Your voice is soft, breathy, when it reaches his ear. He continues to stare, gnawing at his lower lip for moments that seem like an eternity.

His cock is so hard it’s almost painful, straining against the fabric of his jeans. A cool breeze rushes in from the lake and you shiver, the goose flesh that springs up on your skin makes him itch to touch you. Even feet away, he can see your nipples darken and harden.

“Are you coming?” You whisper at him, your hand slowly raising toward his still form. 

The double entendre is not lost on him. 

Arthur hasn’t been one to be guided by his cock, certainly not recently. Not in years. He’s not one to seek out whores in far-flung cattle towns the gang rolls through like a prairie wind. But Christ , if you aren’t here, hand outstretched, beckoning him to come to you.

His gun belt lands on the ground with a clatter. Arthur is kicking his boots off while shrugging his suspenders down his arms, fevered in his movements. His satchel joins his belt on the ground. He refuses to look away from your figure, refuses to give up a single moment of the moon shining down on the expanse of your skin.

Arthur works at the buttons of his work shirt, one by one, as his breathing becomes heavier. He nearly rips his shirt off, it falls to the ground over his discarded gun belt. The Lemoyne heat and humidity are stifling, and he has forgone a union suit underneath his clothing.

You suck in a breath, and he sees a glint of hunger in your eyes, beginning to match what he’s sure is emanating from his own. 

His hands glide to the buttons of his pants, pressing them between the fabric eyes, his cock insistent against his fly. 

One, two, three.

-

You stare at him, your gaze darting downward from his hungry eyes to his broad chest, covered in wiry hair. His arms, muscled and sculpted and brawny. The way his waist slightly tapers inward down to his hips. He is hewn from decades of intensive labor, the chase of violence, living on the lam. 

The trail of dark hair from his navel that disappears under his pants becomes more and more visible to your gaze at each button he undoes. His fly hangs open for a moment, before he hooks both of his hands at the sides of his pants and slides them down, baring himself to you the way you are to him. He tosses his pants into the pile of clothing on the shore.

He steps into the water, unafraid, confident, driven. Wading toward you, the water creeping up with each step, up his calves, past his knees, up his thighs to where his engorged cock hangs heavy. 

Arthur reaches you, his hungry hands on your body as your breath hitches, shivering as you close your eyes. A thumb brushes over one of your nipples. Fingers dance across the soft skin of your inner thigh, moving closer to the apex, and you widen your stance unconsciously, as your hands find their way to his chest, palms spread wide over the planes of his solid pectorals. 

Your eyes snap open as your breath quickens, Arthur drags the knuckle of his pointer finger between your folds. You gasp, and in response his mouth hangs open, his other hand leaving your breast to dart down to his cock, stroking it slowly as he rubs at your core.

“A-Arthur,” you stutter, one of your hands moving to his forearm, clenching it tightly as he presses against you. 

“ Jesus , woman.” He slips a finger inside you and you keen, head thrown back and gasping to the nighttime sky. Arthur groans in response, his other hand moving from his cock to grasp roughly at the back of your neck, pulling you forward, nearly stumbling into him, and captures your lips with his own, smothering your high-pitched wail with his mouth.

The hard, hot line of him is pressed against your hip, insistent, and as you quickly get used to his ministrations in your cunt, you reach between your bodies to ghost your palm over his cock, taking the place of his hand that is winding through the hair at the nape of your neck.

It’s his turn to groan, and you feel the vibrations of the low register of his voice down your spine, he juts his hips against you. He pulls away, gasping, pupils blown. His hand moves slowly back from your neck to cup your jaw, the rough skin of his thumb tracing your lips.

You open your lips and take his thumb in your mouth, sucking gently. His eyes widen, mouth twitching for a moment. You feel him push a second finger into your cunt and you burn , your teeth clenching down on his thumb gently as you suck.

You know, you know , that there is no going back from here, that you’re about to tread on dangerous ground, but from the way your vision narrows to the pulsing of your blood underneath your skin, you don’t care.

-

Arthur stares down at you, his thumb in your mouth, fingers in your cunt. One of your hands lazily strokes at his cock, your thumb swiping over its head every few strokes.

He draws his hand from your mouth and leans back in to take your lips against his again. His tongue presses against yours. You’re completely pliant against him.

“Gonna fuck y’ now.” He pants into your mouth, taking his hands from their places and quickly grabbing the undersides of your thighs, hoisting you from the water as your hands find his shoulders. Your legs immediately wrap around his hips.

Your lips remain locked on his as he wades back toward the shoreline, and once he’s out of the water, he’s sinking to his knees, bending over to lay you out on the ground. 

Your hands card through his honeyed locks, as he presses his lips to yours again. He settles in between your hips, his cock pressing against your thigh.

You moan into his mouth, and one of your hands reaches between the two of you to grasp him, guiding him in between your thighs.

He pushes inside. 

It’s slow, as much as he wants to fuck you until you scream, he can get to that later. Inch by torturous inch, he presses forward, until the bones of both of your hips touch, and he is buried deep within you.

Christ, you’re just as tight, wet, and warm as he’d thought you’d be.

He grunts, rolling his hips back to withdraw, then pushing forward again, swallowing your moan as his lips remain on yours.

There he is, fucking you on the sandy shoreline of Flat Iron Lake, the both of you naked as the day you were born, kissed by moonlight. He pulls away from your lips, and you both breathe fast, panting breaths.

“ God -” you croon, your blunt nails digging into his back.

He chuckles lowly, “Not quite.”

Arthur loops one of your legs over his shoulder, and your babbling becomes incoherent as he widens the yaw of your legs, and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

He’s careening toward completion, that feeling deep in his gut where he knows he’s about to have this burning energy that’s overtaking him pulled out through his cock.

You’re shamelessly moaning beneath him, gasping syllables of his name. God, hopefully, you ain’t so loud the camp hears you, cause there would be absolutely no hiding what he’s doing to you.

“I’m, ooh- god…” you spit out, voice breathy as you begin to arch underneath him, your cunt embarrassingly wet, the squelching of his thrusts becoming louder as you cry out, clenching around his cock, scratching his back near painfully. Arthur continues to fuck you through your release, chasing his own as his breathing tumbles into panting as he slams his hips into your own. He lets your leg down from his shoulder.

Arthur pulls out with not a moment to spare, the hot spatter of his release against your inner thigh as your back continues to arch against him. He groans, his forehead against yours, out of breath, barely holding himself up as his forearms bracket either side of your head.

You sigh, satiated, breathy, slowly coming down from your high, “Mister Morgan.”

“At your service, ma’am.” He places his head in the hollow of your shoulder, nipping slightly at your neck before he rolls off of you. 

You’re both covered in sandy mud, streaks of the red clay that helps give Scarlett Meadows its name coating your skin.

“Looks like I need another bath. I was almost done, ‘fore you interrupted me.” You sit up, wiping at a smudge of mud on your hip bone.

“Mm, could help ya there, if y’ need it.”

You roll your eyes at him, and he reaches over to pinch at your hip, causing you to giggle and scoot further away from him.

“Arthur. Knock it off or we ain’t ever gonna get clean.” You scold but cannot keep the smile from your face. You push yourself up to stand, moving back toward the water, stepping in gingerly, wading out until you can sink down so the water covers your shoulders.

Arthur reclines back, propped up on his elbow, watching you pick leaves and twigs from your long hair. 

You turn around, catching his eye. “You coming in?”

Arthur snorts, looking down, but cannot keep the grin from his face. He pushes himself up from the ground, standing up and wading into the water.

“Y’know, Mister, you ain’t half bad.”

“You ain’t half bad yourself, Miss.”

He circles you, your hair fanned out in the water. You eye him with a glint of mischief.

“I wouldn’t mind if we did that from time to time.”

“Oh? Would you now….” He reaches toward you, and you push a small wave of water at him in response.

“Mhm. But not now. You’ve got mud on your face.”

[toooster]

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Request: listen to my words very carefully. This is a process. Step 1) wait for love is the law by Gigi Perez to come out. Step 2) analyze that song like no other. Step 3) write the most gut wrenching fic about it and return it to me. Here is my theory. In my eyes Dreykov believes he resembles god, and is better than anyone else. Therefore the widows have to follow extremely strict rules, almost like it’s their religion. Now here is were the fic idea comes in, Natasha meets reader. It starts as a friendship, helping each other out, etc. Until the two seem to catch feelings for one another, in which the staff notices and tells Dreykov. Dreykov sees this as a threat because it could mess them up, mess with their minds, so they are separated. Never allowed to see each other. Love was the law, but religion was taught. Obviously that’s leaving it on a cliffhanger so I need you to fill in the blanks, make it absolutely amazing. Make me cry a little. You see where I’m going with this?

Warnings: Cussing, TW!Dreykov, talk of killing, violence, not being able to see her gf 💔

A/N: I’m thinking I might do a Part 2 and turn this into a series, let me know if I should!

this took so incredibly long..but it was totally worth it! Enjoy!

Capital loss.

Taken to the Red Room at 5, there was never room for error as y/n got older. Dreykov saw her as a weapon, nothing more. Never once was she viewed as a human, to Dreykov she was a weapon, and to the staff she was nothing but an object that they could abuse.

“Not good enough!” Karen, a staff member yelled. Y/n had to have “special training” due to her misbehaving. Well in their eyes it was misbehaving, but to anyone else it was just a teenage girl rebelling.

“I hope she chokes and dies.” Y/n said as she stabbed the unknown piece of meat on her plate. “Don’t you think that’s a bit far? Yes it’s their jobs and all but do you ever wonder that maybe this isn’t what they want?” Nat asked as she sat across from the girl.

“I could give a rats ass about what they want.” She said rolling her eyes at Nats ridiculous comment. “You wanna train with me later?” Nat asked interrupting the silence.

“Sure.” Y/n replied bluntly, Natasha wasn’t sure what it was she found so endearing about the girl, ever since they were small Natasha had a certain interest in her. Maybe it was out of sheer curiosity, or maybe it was something deeper? Natasha wasn’t sure just yet.

Love was the law.

The two girls sparred for a while, neither giving up. Unfortunately, they both are extremely hard headed and stubborn. “You’re not winning.” Y/n said with a smirk on her face. Natasha felt a weird sensation in her stomach, maybe that weird meat went bad?

A staff member stood outside the room staring in through the plexiglass window, a disapproving look on her face.

“Sir?” Susan, the staff member from earlier asked quietly. “What can I do for you Ms. Blancher?” Dreykov replied turning around slowly in his chair. “I’d like to bring up something that I think you should be aware of..” “And that would be?” He said as she sparked his interest.

“Ms.Romanoff and Ms.L/N. They seem to be spending quite a lot of time together recently, I’m just concerned that their “friendship” will get in the way of training and missions. We need them as focused as possible, and this “friendship” could impact their focus.” Blancher spoke slowly, emphasizing the quotations around friendship.

“mhm..What do you think I shall do?” Dreykov asked, “I think separating them would be for the better. And with Ms.L/N’s past it wouldn’t be such a horrible idea.” She responded with a smirk.

A week had gone by and Natasha wondered why she hadn’t seen Y/N in some time, “Yelena, where’s Y/n?” Nat asked, her voice laced with concern. “You didn’t hear? She was moved to the other squad, with Macy.” the younger sibling explained.

“What? Why?” Natasha asked quickly, “I don’t know, I’ll ask Macy when I have the chance.”

“This is so fucking stupid.” Y/n said throwing her hands up in the air, “Why did you even get moved? Did you guys..do something?” Macy said hunching down over the table whispering. “What? No!” “Well I know how you can be sometimes. It’s no secret you have feelings for Nat, and when you want something you make sure you get it.” Macy shrugged.

“I don’t like Nat. We are friends, and that’s all.” Y/n said pointing at Macy, “Plus even if I did like her, it’s not like she’d like me back. Because “lesbians” are frowned upon.” she said looking at her feet.

But religion was taught.



[typicalopposite]

Ughhhhh! Today was… draining 😭 I haven’t had the chance to write much… but the last time I checked the chapter was basically at 10k 🫣 and still going… soooooo here’s another little snippet from chapter 6 of my Tommy Mpreg 🫶

The weather is nice.  Nice enough to sit out on the porch swing and get lost in your thoughts… get depressed from your thoughts… a tear slides down Tommy’s cheek just as a familiar red SUV passes by and turns into the driveway; Athena and Karen get out, smiling and waving.  “Hen said we might find you moping around at home,” Athena says, offering a warm smile.  Tommy stares at them, and sighs. “She seriously told you?”  “Well… she told Bobby,” Karen says. “Then they talked about it for a little while,” Athena adds. “Then they told us, and suggested maybe we come talk to you.”  Karen grabs one of the rocking chairs and sits down, smirking. “Since we have some good experience with disapproving in-laws.” Tommy stares at the women, confused. “But Bobby’s parents aren’t alive and— and Karen, Toni loves you!?” “She didn’t always,” Karen corrects. “She has come… a long way.” “And my mother…” Athena chimes in. “Well let’s just say Bobby still consistently has to jump through hoops to stay in her good graces.” “Yeah, well… at least he managed to get in them at all…” Tommy mumbles. Athena sits down on the swing beside him and lays her hand on his. “I wish I could tell you Buck's mother will come around… but that woman— mmph…” Athena makes a face, and Tommy laughs. He fully gets it, and agrees, just by that noise alone.  “She’s definitely a character,” Karen sighs. “But I’ll tell you one thing. You, and these two…” Athena pokes at Tommy’s stomach, before laying her hand against it as the babies start to kick. “—mean more to Buck than she ever has… and ever will. I know you’re trying to keep the peace by keeping quiet. But I’m telling you, it’s not worth it to lose your peace in the process.” He knows she’s right… and Hen’s right… and Eddie’s right… and his mom’s right. He sighs, nodding. “And, just to put it out there,” Athena continues, getting that classic no nonsense Sergeant Grant look in her eye. “If she bothers you any while she’s here, just come to me. I don’t mind showing her how to back to her own lane.”  Karen laughs and reaches out to grab Tommy’s other hand. “Yeah, we’ve got your back.”  And they did. 

We love a good support system, yeah? 🫶

I know it’s late but tagging: @30somethingautisticteacher @onthewaytosomewhere @judymarch15 @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @bucksxkinard @bidisasterevankinard @kinardsevan and anyone else who wants to share 🫶🫶

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER SIX: MAKE OUT FAKE OUT

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SUMMARY ↳ An unlikely ally appears! “I know you’re Spinnerette.” . . . What. The. Fuck. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: (the non-existent) threat of blackmail wc: 4.4k

Victoria’s been acting weird. You suppose it’s normal given the events from last week. Since then, multiple articles have come forth speaking of Robin and Spinnerette saving the day. The people of Gotham seem to be taking to their new arachnid friend well.

But back to Victoria—she struggles to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds. It doesn’t stop her from being a stern teacher though, so you guess nothing other than that has changed. Whatever, you have better things to worry about.

Progress has been… progressing with the badassium. You’ve begun assembling the makeshift particle accelerator, but Karen estimates that you’ve only built three percent. And it took you that long. Have mercy.

You’re currently in the Den, looking over your creation.. The walls are lined with various tools and blueprints, and the centerpiece is the skeleton of the particle accelerator. You sigh, wiping sweat off your brow. This is going to take longer than you thought.

Karen’s voice chirps in your ear. “Perhaps taking a break would help clear your mind, [Name].”

You glance at the clock. It’s already past midnight. Maybe she’s right. “Yeah, I guess so.. Let’s call it a night.”

Robin meets you on the rooftop you’ve perched yourself on. He crouches next you, watching the streets below. Robin’s eyes follow the movement below with a practiced vigilance, his dark cape fluttering slightly in the breeze. The city's nightscape is a blend of lights and shadows, with the occasional sound of sirens breaking the relative silence. He glances at you, his expression giving nothing away.

“Long day?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“You ask, why?”

You groan, stretching out your stiff muscles. Robin tracks the movement. “Surely you wouldn’t come hang out with me just because you felt like it. I doubt one night of ass-kickin’ makes us friends.”

“This is not ‘hanging out’,” he grumbles, making you nod your hand in a ‘you’re proving my point’ fashion. “I am simply taking a short recess, you happen to be in my resting spot.”

“Yeah, uhuh.” You don’t believe him for a second, but you can’t bring yourself to really care.

“Batman wants you on the team.”

You damn near fall off the rooftop. “What.”

“Perhaps you are older than I thought, if your hearing isn’t on par,” he smirks.

“First of all, my hearing is way better than yours, fuck you,” you quip, quickly righting yourself. “Second of all…” you hesitate, “can we take a raincheck on that?”

Robin looks at you. “I… am busy right now. And do not have time for a team… yeah. Also, I just prefer to be alone.” The words come out choppy, as if you’re coming up with them on the fly (you are). That last part is a straight lie, you love your Avengers.

You know Robin obviously is skeptical, but he says nothing. “Why does Batman want me, anyway?”

Robin shifts slightly, his expression unreadable behind the mask. “You share the same goals we do. It only makes sense to join forces.”

Robin's words hang in the air, punctuated by the distant sounds of the city below. You shift uncomfortably, trying to process the unexpected offer. Joining Batman's team? The idea both excites and intimidates you. You've always admired the vigilantes of Gotham from afar, but becoming a part of that world was another matter entirely.

You don’t belong here. It was different when you were asked to officially join the Avengers, but fictional comic characters turned real? Your mind wants to melt. You don’t want to drag them into your mess.

“I really do appreciate the offer, but…” you sigh, and lean back. “...not right now.” And probably never. You clear your throat and stand up, Robin following. “Well, it’s been awkward. See you!” you rush out, quickly swinging away. Robin eyes you until you swing out of sight, thinking.

“They denied.”

Bruce sips his tea, humming. “Did they say why?”

Damian comes to sit next to his father. “Their reasoning was that they were ‘too busy for a team’ and preferred to be alone. It was very obvious they were hiding something, father.”

Bruce sighs, putting down his cup. “We’ll keep trying to convince them, slowly,” Bruce adds as he sees Damian moving to get up. “Stay cautious, but also stay amiable, Damian.”

Damian scoffs. “I am amiable.”

Bruce chuckles as Damian leaves.

Ms. Varley announces a project at the end of class the next morning.. The class groans loudly, of course. “It should be fun for you young folks,” she emphasizes, like it disgusts her. “It is a partner project,” the class lights up for a second, “with your tablemate.” You swear you see a glint of satisfaction in her eye as the class slumps. You and Damian look at eachother. “Together you will explore unconventional perspectives on any known superhero or vigilante of your choosing.”

The projector shows a powerpoint labeled “Hot Takes”. A few snorts are heard. “I want you to to challenge yourselves boldly,” Ms. Varley states, walking around to pass out the rubric. “You’ll select a figure that intrigues you and craft a thesis that challenges the traditional view. Support it with thorough research and present your findings in a persuasive manner."

“It’s not about being right or wrong, it’s about being able to defend your point.” Ms. Varley takes her place in front of the classroom. “This is your final project. From now until winter break, we will be spending our Fridays working on it. Only Fridays, so I suggest working on it with your partner outside of school.”

She sits down in her chair, signaling that she’s done talking for today. Buzz fills the classroom immediately, peers chattering and making plans. You scoot your chair closer to Damian. “I know what I want to do,” you declare.

“As do I,” says Damian, facing you.

“My take is better,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

Damian scoffs. “I sincerely doubt you are capable of coming up with something adequate to the challenge.”

“Don’t be a hater Damian, it makes you look jealous,” you tease.. The bell rings, filling the class with sounds of hustle and bustle as students pack up. “Oh! Before you go,” you say, grabbing Damian’s wrist. You hold out your phone. “Number?”

Damian looks at your phone in confusion. You huff. “Your phone number, Dames. So we can contact each other and plan our project?” you clarify in a ‘duh’ tone.

You watch as he stares for a moment, before taking your phone and putting in his contact info. “You will come home to the manor with me,” he declares.

You blink. “Huh?”

“We will start working on it today,” he elaborates, handing you back your phone. You fumble with it for a second before shoving it in your pocket. “The faster we get it done the better.”

“Um, ok. Yeah, makes sense,” you gulp.

This time you’re the one distracted in ballet. Victoria huffs and snaps at you multiple times, so you figure she must be back to normal. Art class proceeds as norma, Ms. M making you practice your color theory. You hold back on designing new iterations of your suit, something you did a lot of back home out of sheer boredom.

Damian guides you out of the school with a hand on your back, like he did at homecoming. You wonder what exactly he is doing, since you know he feels the eyes and points at the two of you from other students. You sigh, hopefully nobody bothers you about it.

Alfred greets you at the gates, this time you make sure to actually get his name officially. Damian gets in the car first, pulling you in by the hand. Your shoulder bumps into his as you land with an ‘oof’. The ride to the manor is silent, leaving you twiddling with your thumbs. Thankfully, the ride isn’t too long.

The manor looks imposing, standing here looking at it. It’s different from seeing it from WEBBERs point of view or from an inked page. Damian grabs your arm, snapping you out of your daydreaming. He leads you through the grand halls of the mansion, his steps confident and purposeful. The interior is as opulent as you imagined, with rich furnishings and tasteful decor that speak of wealth and history.

"Your family's home is... impressive," you remark, trying to break the silence as you’re dragged along.

Damian nods curtly, saying nothing. You sense there's more to his demeanor than just his usual aloofness.

He leads you to a spacious study lined with shelves of books and a large, fancy desk at its center. Papers are neatly organized, and a computer hums softly in one corner. Damian gestures for you to take a seat. You do, placing your bag down beside your chair. Damian sits next to you.

You take out your laptop and open a new powerpoint. “My idea was that we do it on Batman,” you state, turning to Damian. “I think Batman is part of a cycle of violence. I think that he does help and protect people, but he also enables a lot of the behavior from criminals.” You stand up and begin to pace the room.

“He inadvertently contributes to a culture that normalizes violence as a means to solve problems. I mean, all of his criminals eventually break out of arkham. Scarecrow literally attacked our school a while ago! Criminals respond to Batman’s intervention with heightened aggression and increasingly dangerous tactics, which results in a cycle where each side justifies escalating their actions in response to perceived threats.”

You pause, stopping your pacing. Damian is staring at you. You cough. “That’s all to say, violence begets violence, hurt people hurt people, yadda yadda,” you grin sheepishly.

Damian nods intently. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the armrest. After a moment of silence, he speaks, his voice calm yet decisive.

"Your perspective is not entirely without merit," Damian begins, his tone measured. "Batman's methods have indeed perpetuated a cycle of violence in Gotham. His reliance on fear tactics and physical force against criminals often leads to heightened retaliation and more extreme measures from his adversaries."

He shifts in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly. "However," Damian continues, "one must consider the broader context. Gotham City is a cesspool of corruption and crime, where conventional methods of law enforcement have repeatedly failed. Batman's presence, while controversial, fills a void where the justice system falls short."

Damian stands up abruptly, pacing the room with a controlled energy. "His actions, while extreme, have prevented countless tragedies and protected innocent lives. The criminals he faces are not ordinary. They are deranged, relentless, and would wreak havoc unchecked if not for his intervention."

He stops in front of the window, gazing out at the expansive grounds of Wayne Manor. "Batman's commitment to justice is unwavering. He sacrifices his own safety and personal life to ensure that Gotham's citizens have a fighting chance against the darkness that plagues our city."

Damian turns back to you, his demeanor earnest. "Our challenge will be to present a balanced argument," he concludes, returning to his seat. "Acknowledging the complexities of Batman's methods while critiquing their consequences. We must delve deep into both sides of the debate to craft a compelling thesis."

You nod, absorbing Damian's perspective. You’re impressed, but yeesh. He could’ve been more subtle, in your humble opinion.

“I’m impressed,” comes a voice from the doorway. You and Damian turn around to see–

Bruce Wayne. You sigh deeply inside your mind.

“Father,” says Damian, looking a bit lost. “How long…?”

“Since your friend started speaking. I apologize, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I only meant to introduce myself when I heard your compelling argument, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, looking awfully apologetic. Of course, Batman himself heard all that.

He turns to you and sticks out his hand. “Bruce Wayne, Damian’s father.” You shake his hand humming in affirmation.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” you smile. Alfred comes in with some snacks and refreshments, placing them down on the table. You and Damian thank him, seemingly on autopilot. Bruce smiles at Damian.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he says, and then he’s out the door.

You rub your palms on your pants. “Welp,” you hum, sitting back down and pouring yourself a cup of tea. “I think he likes me.” You pour a cup for Damian and pass it to him. He sits back down as well, accepting the cup.

“I think he does, as well,” mutters Damian, sipping his tea.

The rest of the evening is spent refining your argument and laying out the skeleton on your powerpoint. Despite Damian's initial reservation about your abilities, you find that you complement each other well in terms of ideas and research methods. You check the time, it’s a little past nine.

“I should get going, I don’t wanna leave Nari alone for too long,” you say, beginning to gather your belongings. Damian raises a brow. “My cat,” you clarify.

Damian's eyes brighten very subtly. You know what he’s thinking, so you show him the picture you took of Jon holding Nari. “He’s cute, right?”

Damian analyzes your picture like it’s an art. He nods in approval. “You shall have to bring him over to meet Alfred.”

“The.. butler?” you question, as if you don’t know better.

“The cat.”

Damian walks you out of the manor where you find Bruce. His eyes spot you two approaching and nods in acknowledgement. “Alfred is already waiting outside for you,” he tells you. You nod and step outside, feeling the cool air hit you. You thank Alfred as he opens the door for you, stepping inside. Damian and Bruce are standing together on the porch. Bruce is telling Damian something, but he is only looking at you.

You send him a hesitant smile, and he nods at you.

Bruce watches the car drive off. “Still suspicious?” he asks.

“Nothing of note has happened,” Damian begrudgingly tells him. Bruce warmly chuckles.

“Well,” he starts, looking at Damian. “I like them.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “I do not like what you are insinuating.” Bruce shrugs innocently, stepping back inside the manor. Damian stands in the cool air for a moment, before following him inside. 

The dance instructor has a headache, so she says that you all can do whatever you’d like, as long as you don’t bother her. You sit against the far wall, laptop on your legs. You’ll use the time to finish the assignments you’ve been procrastinating on.

Victoria surprises you by sitting next to you. She surprises everyone else to, if their wide eyes are anything to go by. They quickly look away at her glare. “Hey, Vicky,” you mumble, unbothered.

She pretends to look interested in what you’re typing. Her eyes watch your fingers as they rapidly move across the keys. She clears her throat.

“I would like to practice some more after school. I expect you to be there,” she says primly.

You raise a brow, still looking at your screen. “There’s no practice today.”

“Obviously,” she scoffs. “I wouldn’t be asking you if there was. I just think… it would be beneficial to us.”

You look at her. She’s crossed her arms and is looking down at her lap. You exhale and nod. “Yeah, okay.” You didn’t have anything planned after school anyway. Victoria nods, sitting beside you for the rest of the period.

Damian suggests that you come over again to work more on the presentation, but you have to deny. “I have a ‘special’ practice session with Vicky,” you wink.

Damian ignores your innuendo in favor of furrowing his brows. “You don’t have practice today.”

“First of all, what do you know?” you huff, putting your pencils away. “Second of all, you’re right. However, Vicky has ordered extra practice. Just the two of us.”

Damian grips his bag a little bit tighter. You wave goodbye as you leave the classroom, heading to the dance studio. Victoria’s waiting for you, still in her uniform. You place your bag down, suddenly tense. Victoria crosses over to you, grabbing your hand. “Shut the door,” she demands.

You obey, curious. “Something wrong?”

She fidgets with your web-shooter-turned-bracelet, like she’s looking for something. You’re not worried, the form it’s in right now gives nothing away, but you are really confused right now.

“Vicky?” you implore, trying to catch her eye.

“I…” she hesitates, before straightening her shoulders. “I know who you are.”

You furrow your brow. “What exactly does that mean–”

“I know you’re Spinnerette.”

.

.

.

What. The. Fuck.

You blink, because that’s all you can do. “What?”

“Don’t try to deny it. There’s no use,” she crosses her arms.

“Vicky, this is crazy. I’m not Spinnerette! Was it the Scarecrow attack? Are you still scared? Maybe you should see someone–”

“Spinnerette called my Vicky!” she snarls, pointing a finger at your chest. “No one calls me that but you.”

Your tongue pokes your cheek, stepping back. You never would’ve thought Vicky would be the first to figure you out. Though you suppose you haven’t been as careful as you thought. Fuck, how could you be so careless? Do you still try to deny it? Surely it won’t be that hard, but clearly Vicky is smarter than you think.

“Perhaps she could be a formidable ally,” suggests Karen. “She may have access to resources we need.”

You straighten at Karen’s voice. She’s right, of course. Victoria’s loaded. She can throw money at people to get you the materials you need. Expensive, high quality material. There’s just convincing her…

And maybe… it’ll be nice to have someone else know in this universe.

You sigh and hold out your arms. “Fine, you got me. I’m Spinnerette.”

Victoria smirks victoriously. “Show me.”

“Show you…?” you mutter.

“Show me some proof.”

You blink at the audacity. She was just accusing you of being Spinner, and when you admit that you are, she tells you to ‘prove it’ to her!? You sigh, tired of it all.

You walk to the wall of the room, placing your foot on it and climbing up. It’s a comical sight, the way your body completely changes rotation effortlessly. You walk along the ceiling, moving back to Victoria. Jumping down, you purse your lips and spread your hands. “Happy?”

Victoria’s got a glint in her eye that makes you nervous. She nods, and you set your hands on your waist.

“Okay listen, you know now, there’s no going back from here. If you tell anybody–” you begin, voice taking on a threatening tone.

“–I want to help you!” she blurts.

You blink. “Pardon?”

“Let me help you do your… saving people thing!” she says, waving her hand around. She steps closer to you, eyes shining. Huh. Well, you were going to threaten her and her parents' credibility as members of society. Rich people always have some skeletons in their closets, and you sure as shit are capable of finding them. This is a surprising turn of events.

Still, you scoff. “This is insane–”

“I can be your sponsor! Like whoever makes all of Batman's stuff!”

“I would’ve never expected this from you—why do you want to help me?” you ask incredulously.

“Nothing I do satisfies my parents!” she growls. Oh dear, backstory time. “They literally left me the company to inherit, but doubt my ability to run it. I pay attention, I get good grades and I do everything they say, but they still doubt me. I even try to get with stupid Damian Wayne.” She throws her hands up. “I don’t even like him!”

“I know I can’t tell them you’re Spinnerette, but if I can successfully help you do what you do…” she curls her hands together. “Then at least I would know that I’m good at something.”

You’re left speechless. It’s like you’re listening to a brand new person. You place your hands on her shoulders. “You already are good at something, dance!” You gesture to the room. “You work harder than anyone else here!”

“Dance isn’t my future,” she scowls.

You purse your lips. You have no idea how she feels. The adults in your life have always let you be yourself. Even if they didn’t you’ve always had the backbone to tell people to step off and let you do your own thing. Rich people like Victoria’s parents can get pretty extreme. You wouldn’t be surprised if they disowned her for not wanting to inherit the company.

You sigh, running a hand down your face. “Okay,” you mutter. Victoria stiffens in anticipation. “You can help.” You’ve been evaluating her this whole interaction. She’s a sheltered rich kid looking for adventure and on a weird journey of self discovery. She isn’t looking to rat you out (she kind of needs you, anyway).

She squeals and claps her hands, before clearing her throat and composing herself. “I look forward to our partnership.”

Arms crossed, you grumble out, “uhuh.”

“How do they work, anyway?” she says, grabbing your wrists, pressing around your bracelet.

“Uh, it won’t work in the state that it’s in–” a web shoots out of it, sticking to Victoria’s blazer. You guffaw. “Karen!” you gasp, knowing in the web-shooters’ bracelet form it wouldn’t shoot unless she made it.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” she asks cheekily. Traitor. God, she’s been waiting for someone else to talk to, hasn’t she?

 Victoria looks mystified by the web actively attached to her. “Who’s Karen? she asks as she tries to grab the web.

“Do not–!” you grab her hand. “–touch it.”

“Why? Oh, right. It’s sticky, huh?”

“Yes, Vicky. The spider webs are sticky–” the door to the dance room opens, and you stiffen. Shit, the web–

Victoria closes the distance between you two, jumping on you and wrapping her legs around your waist. You instinctively hold her thighs to support her, looking at her in alarmed confusion.

“What–” she silences you by pressing her lips against yours. All coherent thought goes out the window, because literally what is your life?

Her hands wind around your head, and her lips caress yours with a soft yet firm pressure. Your heart races, pounding in your chest as you instinctively tighten your grip around her legs, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body against yours and the taste of her lips make everything else fade away.

After what feels like an eternity, she slowly pulls back, leaving your lips tingling. She gazes at you with a mix of mischief and satisfaction, running a hand through her hair to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. You stare at her in awe, your breath coming in short gasps. She's got balls of steel, no doubt about it. You just gained a whole new level of respect for her.

She looks to the side. “Oh, hi Damian.”

Oh god. You look to the entrance of the room and sure enough, Damian’s there. He’s looking at the two of you with wide eyes, unable to school his expression. He’s stopped dead in his tracks with your phone in his hand.

Wait… your phone!

You shift so Victoria’s back is facing him. You balance her with one hand, reaching between you two to get rid of the web that’s squished between you. You do it quickly, balling it up in your hand and setting down Victoria on the floor and heading over to Damian.

“Thanks, I didn’t even notice I left it,” you smile casually, internally screaming.

Damian says nothing as you take your phone from him, stuffing it in your pocket. You place your hands on his chest and guide him out. “Okay. Bye now. Talk to you later!” He seems to finally realize what’s happening, brows furrowing and looking at you before you close the door in his face. You lean against it, listening. There’s no sound for a bit, before you hear Damian walk away. You sigh.

“Holy shit, Vicky. What the hell?” You can’t help but laugh. You throw the balled up web in the trash, making your way over to her. She’s got a cheeky smile on her face, hands behind her back.

“It’s like I don’t know you anymore,” you tease. She’s looking at you.

“I like you,” she says, making you freeze for probably the tenth time this afternoon. When will it end?

“I have feelings for you,” she elaborates, pacing. “I know that you don’t feel the same. I just…” she stops, turning to face you. Her eyes peer earnestly into yours. It crushes your heart. “...I know your secret. Now, you know mine.”

You whisper, painstakingly soft, “oh, Tori…”

She sniffs, swatting your shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not in love with you or anything.”

Still, you feel like the worst human being ever. It’s not your fault you don’t have feelings for her, you know that. And yet… you’re probably the first person she’s ever shown this side of her to. Dare you say, her first real friend.

You pull her into your arms. “I’m so sorry.”

She melts into your arms, gripping you tightly. Her light sniffles fill the room.”I’ll get over it,” she promises. You only hold her tighter. After what feels like an eternity, she withdraws from you, wiping her tears.

“Okay, some ground rules,” you say, hopefully providing a much needed topic change

“Number one, you can’t tell anyone.”

She nods. “Obviously.”

“Number two, I call the shots. If I say do something, do it. I know better, it’s for the best.”

“Number three, this changes nothing. We can act like friends if you want, but if your grades start dropping or people start noticing you acting strange, we’re done. Got it?”

“Got it,” she agrees. You heave out a sigh. “Go home, Tori.” You web over her bag and hand it to her. She goes sparkly-eyed again.

“Will you patrol?” she can’t help but ask.

“I think I deserve the night off. The Bats can handle it.” You grab your stuff and turn towards the door. “I’m gonna take a long nap when I get home.”

“Let me take you home then!” she blurts.

“Jesus, do all you rich kids have chauffeurs?” you ask. She shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I just wanna lay down and not wake up for three years.”

Victoria bids you goodbye as you make you enter your apartment. You drop your bag, groaning at your stiff shoulders. You sag your way over to your bed, flopping face first into it. You knock out almost immediately, letting the stress of the day leave you. Spideys never have it easy, do they?

notes: y'all i've had that tori scene in mind since i first made her LMAO

[justamessedupdisneyprincess]

I need help, my life is now a living hell. (TW suicide attempt mention)

I know this is gonna annoy a lot of you for bitching and whining again but as of late my life has been really hard. I had to sell my soul and my life to a demon against my will. There is a toxic parasite I want to cut ties with but can’t. I am talking about a toxic family member who has no respect for boundaries and loves to judge and be rude to everyone around her.

I just really need some help rn guys because at this rate it really feels like I can either endure and sacrifice my sanity for as long as she lives or I could only ever end it via suicide. I have tried to do it twice while she was down and my mother has to hide away medication so I don’t overdose and sharp things such as knives and scissors when her new favourite person ever, her karen on steroids sister is here.

To paint a picture there is a story about when I was a baby with my cousin and toxic aunt. My toxic aunt would use grandma ( her mother) as a slave whenever she came to visit her grandson. “Now that you’re here I want you to do EVERYTHING for him while I go and bitch and whine about coffee and ask to see managers (I’m not joking. She literally does that. Saw it multiple times when she stays with us.). Whilst my Mom would offer to do fun activities with her and us, like go to the beach, etc. Because of this she enjoyed our company more than my toxic aunt who threw a tantrum over it. “You love my sister’s daughters more than my son!”. She got so pissed that she moved out of our place during a vacation. Mother offered to have my cousin and grandma to play in the pool with me and my sister whilst she helped my toxic aunt pack. She EXPLODED over that! Why? Idk. She then stormed into the house screaming and it woke baby me up and I was sobbing. Dad got mad and told her to get out and we had nothing to do with her until grandma died.

She hasn’t changed at all. Very toxic, always complaining and saying horrible things behind our backs. I had multiple extreme meltdowns when she came. She stayed for four whole months last year. One summer, one spring, one for every season. She has this rule too where only she is allowed to talk, all she does to complain and she gets weirdly excited when someone else is struggling…she loves to happily talk about others misfortunes and then she finds no joy in going to the beach and going out for lunch. Instead she complains constantly and it ruins the whole day. Mother told me she says the most horrible things about me behind my back too…which gets her upset but she puts up with it because she is going through a divorce. We put up with her rude behaviour out of pity. I understand how hard getting divorced is but it shouldn’t excuse…whatever the fuck she is doing to us. Mother and I got into extreme arguments because of her as well and we rarely fight. My toxic aunt turns my parents against me. I’m freaking out because she is going to come down again.

Last time she claimed to be more respectful of our boundaries. “We don’t have to do something every day, I’m ok to hang out by myself every now and then.” Then she guilt trips us by saying “I don’t know why I bother coming down here if I’m going to be alone.” Over me wanting to spend ONE fucking weekend alone with my mom out of an ENTIRE month of her hovering around us and never shutting up. She also loves to interrupt. I would be in the middle of saying something and she cuts in as if I’m worth nothing! Then I can’t even say anything because she never shuts up ever! Then when I am blessed with a moment of talking (usually because mother says Izzy has something to say) I get nervous about saying something she will judge me for!

She belittles every trigger of mine too. Once I used to like this cafe and she has this huge obsession with their muffins. I don’t go there anymore though because some mean teenage girls work there now and they have been openly rude to me two times when I visited. So rude I ended up crying once. I didn’t want to go back (keep in mind I have been bullied a lot as well, I have a huge fear of mean girls) My aunt gave me this huge lecture about it and tried to force me to go in just so she can get her muffins. I felt completely shattered as she gave me a hard time over it. In the end mother figured out her angle and just dropped her off there whilst I waited in the car…for her to do that though about my own experiences and my triggers and not wanting to return to a cafe with rude service…it was just so insensitive.

She used to say rude things to me because of me displaying typical autistic traits like my weird eating habits and my special obsessions. Mother made her stop saying things to my face but she told me she just says judgemental things behind my back now and she gives me this god awful judgemental stare when we go out to eat…She also shows no respect for mental illnesses such as anxiety, saying it’s not real. She also once made fun of someone who committed suicide…which shows how she isn’t really a good person. She picks at Mom and gives her a hard time and openly judges her and says rude things to her and mother always bottles it and takes it out on me in the end because the one who HAD been rude to her is going through a divorce.

I never want to have to endure her abusive behaviour again but I’m completely powerless. I feel so hopeless. Idk what to do..

[cevansbrat0007]

You’re writing is so amazing, literally love everything you put out!! Do you have any romance book recommendations?!? Literally anything, I fully trust your judgement lol😌

Omigosh! First, thank you so much for the compliment. Second, I got you.

*whips out Kindle*

I've broken it down into categories. Here we go:

Contemporary Line of Duty Series, Tessa Bailey - If I want something quick, down, and dirty I reach for her. I recommend starting with her Line of Duty Series, which features the most delicious rough and tumble cops finding love.

The Coppersmith Farmhouse, Devney Perry - I adore this small town, enemy-to-lovers romance featuring a single mother and the local sheriff. Sheriff Jess can be an ass, but he grovels well. The Game Maker Series, Kresley Cole - Centers around three Russian brothers who have ties to the mafia. While each man is different and beautifully broken in his own way, they all believe in taking what they want. And once one of the Sevastyan's have set their sights on you, they will not take no for an answer. They're also not opposed to kidnapping either. The Italian, T.L. Swan - What happens when a summer fling ends up being so much more than that? This romance tells the story of an Italian mafia boss and his forbidden love with an Australian tourist. There's sex, angst, danger and so much more.

Historical *Outlander Series, Diana Gabaldon - Claire and Jamie's love literally transcends both time and space. This series contains an amazing romance, well researched historical descriptions, elements of magic, and so much more.

Paranormal The Psy Changeling Series, Nalini Singh - If you love stories about shifters and people with psychic abilities then I totally recommend checking out this series. Slave to Sensation is the first book, and premise goes something like: the ruling Psy prefer to exist in a world devoid of feelings and emotions, but what happens when one of their own finds herself craving something only Lucas Hunter, the alpha of the Dark River Shifters, can provide? *The Guild Hunter Series, Nalini Singh - Think Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but with Angels. This series is amazing and the love story between Raphael (the Archangel of New York) and his precious mortal, Elena (who is a badass in her own right). The world building is fantastic, the romance is hot, and each book only gets better. And believe me when I say, these are not your grandmother's angels. I also love the fact that you get to watch their relationship grow and evolve across multiple books. *The Night Huntress Series, Jeaniene Frost - Also has a Buffy the Vampire Slayer vibe, except the heroine is actually half-vampire herself. Bones, her eventual love interest, reminds me of Spike. Just a little bit. And just like the previous series, their romance spans multiple books. Also the love scenes are fabulous. *The Fever Series, Karen Marie Moning - If you love reading about heroines trying to solve mysterious disappearances, the Seelie and Unseelie Fae, and a delicious Alpha Male that could just easily rip you apart as well as fuck you - I'm looking at you, Jericho Barrons - then check this out. This series requires a little commitment because the romance, while hinted at, doesn't start until you're a couple of books in. But it's so worth it because you're rewarded with a territorial, possessive, darkly handsome anti-hero. *The Highlander Series, Karen Marie Moning - If you're a sucker for men in kilts, ancient curses, time travel, and drop-dead-sexy highlanders who fall hard for their modern day mates then please read. Also, some of these heroes go on to appear in the Fever Series as well. Immortals After Dark Series, Kresley Cole - Another great one This one features characters from every corner of the lore. I'm talking vampires, witches, valkyries, berserkers, demons, werewolves, succubi, and more. The men are swoon worthy and the women are badass. But what I especially love is the creativity and humor she manages to weave throughout her stories. She uses the fated mates trope quite a bit, which I love. However, what makes it great is that a lot of times the men show up like: "You belong to me now. I'm ready to take you to home" and their brides-to-be are like "Fuck off. Come any closer and I will stab you/shoot you/light you on fire". And what's more...they absolutely follow-thru. Those heroes have to earn their women. Oh, and the sexy times are good and spicy.

Hope this helps! If you or anyone else decides to read a book from this list, please let me know what you think!

*Indicates Book Boyfriend

[tiniedemon]

— ♡

two birds

kyle broflovski / reader

— ♡

cw. | angst

“i want to move away,” you whispered into the darkness of your room. kyle jolted from his spot beside you, head lifting from your bare chest.

“what makes you say that?” he responded, genuinely confused and hurt. you’d lived in south park your entire life. your entire family was here. he was here. why would you want to move away?

“i hate this stupid town.” he let out a shaky sigh, pulling you closer to him, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

“i hate it too, but it’s home. it’s always been home,” he whispered, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. you sighed softly, a void opening in your stomach, and plastered a soft smile on your face.

“yeah, you’re right,” you agreed. you swallowed the lump in your throat as his head rested against your chest, releasing a shaky sigh. a single tear rolled towards your hairline.

—

“i can’t stand this stupid town,” you murmured, flicking the ash from the end of your cigarette. kenny grunted in agreement, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair.

“i can’t either. if i could leave, i would,” kenny responded, his eyes mirroring the hurt trapped in his mind. “but i’ve got karen to worry about. shit sucks.”

you sighed. your gaze wandered to the sky, clouds floating against a blue backdrop. you envied the clouds. they’d seen so much more of the world than you. they were free to move with the breezes of life’s natural path.

“yeah, i get it,” you finally responded, a plume of smoke leaving your mouth. you watched as it floated to join the puffy white forms in the atmosphere, the longing in your heart and the void in your stomach growing.

“i just hate this town, is all.”

—

“hey, baby?” kyle called from the other room, voice perplexed. you heaved a sigh, seemingly the only thing you knew to do nowadays, and trekked to the kitchen area of your small apartment. kyle’s freckled face was illuminated only by the blue luminescence of his laptop screen. paperwork lined the table in front of them.

“yes?” you inquired, stopping behind him and leaning your elbows against the chair. your fingers instinctively combed through the cropped curls on the back of his neck, eyes tracing the sharp curve of his tensed jaw.

“why do you have six thousand dollars in savings?”

your body froze, your lungs forgetting to breathe. you’d forgotten all about kyle’s access to your bank account. years worth of savings were open for his eyes to see, transactions stretching over nearly six years.

“baby?” he asked softly, eyes softening as he saw the panic on your face. his hand gripped onto yours, fingers lacing together, and as his eyes met yours, you could breathe again.

“i’d rather not talk about it,” you whispered in a hoarse voice. kyle hesitated, but nodded, and the tension relaxed from your chest.

“i understand. just know you can trust me,” kyle murmured. you gave an absentminded nod, returning to your shared bedroom in a haze.

you didn’t know how much longer you could do this for.

—

“only a few more months until you move. have you told kyle yet?” bebe asked, body reclined and feet up against the coffee table. you chuckled sadly from your mirrored position next to her, tossing her a mournful glance from your phone screen. the look she gave you was pure pity, but you chose to ignore it for your own sanity.

“i mentioned it to him once. he acted like he didn’t really like idea of moving away from his whole family, so i didn’t push. i can do it on my own,” you explained, absentmindedly scrolling through videos as you spoke. bebe sighed beside you, nudging you with her elbow.

“try to tell him soon, okay? he needs time to prepare,” she hummed. you hesitated, but nodded nonetheless.

this was slowly turning out to be more stressful than you’d originally thought.

—

“i want to move away,” you spoke again, kyle looking up at you from his book. his eyebrows were furrowed, concern in his eyes. you could see the worry from a mile away.

“why do you want to?” he asked. finally, you felt seen. you felt heard. he wasn’t brushing you off. the relief was only minute in the face of the decision you’d made for yourself.

“i feel so trapped, ky,” you murmured, looking at the ceiling. you couldn’t look at him. not in this situation. “i just have to get out of south park. i can’t live here anymore.”

kyle sucked in sharply, and you could imagine the fallen expression he wore. you worried your lip between your teeth, awaiting his response.

“i can’t come with you,” he whispered. the tension in the room was so thick you could barely breathe. your heart shattered in your chest, tears rising to your eyes.

“i know.”

the silence was deafening.

—

“i can’t believe you’re actually leaving,” kyle murmured, hand in yours as you stood beside your car. you blinked back tears, plastering a weak smile on your lips.

“i can come visit soon,” you lied. you wouldn’t be back for a long time. not to this trashy hick town. there was nothing here for you except kyle, but even he wasn’t enough to bring you back.

“i’m gonna miss having you in my bed,” he sighed, tugging you into a tight embrace. you inhaled his scent, committed it to memory, basked in the warmth of his chest.

“i love you,” you whispered. kyle pressed a kiss to the top of your head, returning the sentiment in a cracking voice, before he finally released you.

you didn’t look back as south park disappeared from your rear view.

—

your phone buzzed against your blanket, lighting the ceiling with an incoming call. you released a shaky, tearful sigh, unwilling to look at the screen.

you knew it was kyle, and you knew you couldn’t answer. dodging his calls was the most difficult thing you’d ever done, but it was necessary. he had to forget about you, for his own sake.

you double clicked the power button, turned your phone over, and cried.

as much as you hated leaving him, you hated south park more.

—

the doorbell was startling. you’d nearly dumped a cup of scalding tea on yourself with how hard you jolted. frightened and confused, you rose from your couch. you didn’t have any friends in this new town.

but you did in your hometown.

kyle was startled upon seeing you, taking in the changes in your appearance. your skin looked healthier, your hair looked shinier, your face looked happier. overall, you looked better. he hadn’t noticed how half dead you’d looked until you were at your best.

“kyle?” you managed to utter through your surprise. he scuffed his foot against the pavement of your porch, hands in his pockets, sheepish smile on his face.

“i missed you in my bed,” he stated shyly. your heart pounded in your chest, tears rising to the surface. “i was wondering if i could stay in yours from now on?”

you were quick to nod, stomach twisting and face smiling. he brought you into the tightest embrace of your life yet, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead.

“i love you so much,” you whispered into his ear. he guided the two of you into your home, shutting the door with his foot, collapsing against you atop the couch. he whispered his undying love to you between desperate kisses, fingers bruising with how hard he cherished you.

as the saying goes, if you love something, let it go, and if it comes back, it’s meant to be.

[ithebookhoarder]

🎄Spending the holidays with Matt (Matt Murdock x Reader)

A/N: It’s officially the festive season and for some reason my inspiration has returned with a vengeance. Apologies for my absence the past few weeks, but I am back. Keep your eyes peeled for some more festive content in the coming days - oh, and happy holidays to everyone celebrating this time of year! 

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist

So Matt may not be that festive by nature, but you can bet he’s willing to indulge every one of your whims when it comes to the holidays. 

Honestly, it makes a nice change to have someone to spend it with. It gives him a reason not to spend the entire evening out on patrol, knowing you are back at home, watching an endless marathon of Christmas movies whilst you wait up for him. 

He wouldn’t care if you want to decorate the apartment or the office as he can’t really see it anyway so he isn’t bothered by flashing lights or reams of tinsel. As long as it makes you happy, then it’s worth it. 

He may pretend he’s above it, but he enjoys the happiness he can feel radiating off of you. Well, that’s his reasoning for his festive cheer even if you have your own theories. 

After all, the Devil of Hell’s kitchen is more like Santa than the Grinch - or so you point out one night: ‘I’m just saying, Matty. You run around at night, wearing a red suit, looking for people who have been naughty to punish them, and by default reward people who have been nice-’

‘-I swear to god-’

‘Should I start leaving out cookies for you? Maybe some milk? I-’

Needless to say, he quickly tackles you onto the bed and puts a stop to that line of reasoning.

Matt would almost die with joy if he came home to smell the warm scent of you baking in the kitchen at any point. The mixture of ginger, cinnamon, and freshly baked cookies is heavenly. Almost as heavenly as the soft hum of your voice whenever he catches you singing along to your Christmas playlist. 

He’d never say, but it’s enough to warm his ‘cold Scrooge-like heart’ - as Foggy calls it. He’s often stood just outside the front door, listening to you, too afraid to enter incase you stopped. 

You have a fairly decent voice, which he appreciates. 

Not naming names but Matt wanted to jump out the window when he caught you and Foggy duetting ‘All I want for Xmas is you’ with the radio in the office. Foggy is many things but a singer is not one of them. Luckily, Matt loves him too much to say. He just grins and laughs the whole way through, only able to imagine the ridiculous expressions you must be doing as you dance about the space.  

Speaking of singing and dancing and festive cheer, you can bet you’d all make your way to Josie’s at some point, for Christmas drinks with the gang before everyone goes their separate ways for the big day. 

Jessica makes a brief appearance, just long enough to down a glass of whiskey, as does Clare when she get off shift from the hospital. 

It’s safe to say you all come out the bar a little worse for wear, even Matt, which is a nice surprise. It isn’t very often you get to see your boyfriend grinning like a small child, carefree, and drunkenly trying to pull you under the mistletoe - ‘cause it’s tradition’

When it comes to gifts, Matt would know exactly what to get you - that man has been gathering intel all year long and is ready to surprise you as it’s one of the rare opportunities he gets to show you how much you mean to him. 

He’d probably drag either Foggy or Karen along with him to pick it up, just to make sure he gets it right. 

When he gives it you better be prepared for a ‘sorry if this gift looks like it was wrapped by a blind man joke’ - which is insane as he still somehow manages to wrap it beautifully (which is incredibly unfair considering wrapping gifts is like the hardest thing ever). 

Also. Matt may be blind but he can hear everything. It’s a nightmare. He can hear it when you try to silently cut wrapping paper, or when the gifts you’re hiding under the bed rustle when you put another one under there. 

You have to banish him from the place if you even hope of trying to wrap them without him guessing what it is. 

He’s good though and would never open them, knowing how much it means to you to surprise him on the big day. 

You also decide to do something for him, offering to attend mass with him at the nearby church, knowing how much it means to him to go. 

Sitting there together, nestled in the pew, it’s hard not to enjoy the carols and the peace that seems to radiate from Matt. That in itself is worth more than any material gift you can give him.