#young justice mini series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mggslover · 28 days ago

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Reflections pt. 2

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her.

PART 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst x hurt/comfort Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers since i’m not on that season yet, can contain inaccuracies), reader cuts longer hair short, guns, reader isn’t the best person, emotional, vague mentions of sa and suicide, kidnapping, fade to black smut (so suggestive content) Word count: 5,8k A/n: turning a supposed to be one shot into a series is more difficult than i anticipated lol. i’m hoping you guys will enjoy this part as much as the first one :) i'd love to hear your thoughts!!

Vibrant flashes of the pixelated scenes on TV reflected against the motel room walls. You were reminded of how your mother always used to say that watching television in the dark is damaging to your eyes. You never doubted her. Never felt the need to confirm her words by looking it up. It’s in human nature to trust one another. It is only when someone betrays you — or when you betray them — that trust gets damaged. You sit on the edge of the bed, mindlessly picking at the loose printing of the Caltech shirt you’re wearing — Spencer’s Caltech shirt — as you watch the umpteenth news segment since you left the state. “Authorities are still on the lookout for a suspect following the poisoning of three men. The men were murdered at a college reunion that took place inside a bar, their bodies found just a street away. These promising young men had bright futures ahead of them, which were brutally robbed by this suspect–“

The screen flickered to your passport picture, showing a list of your physical descriptions on the right.

“She’s believed to be armed and dangerous. Please, come forward if you have any information on her possible whereabouts. The FBI have stated that they will not stop their search until they have the suspect in custody. Justice will be served.”

With a scoff, you grab the remote, the screen fading to black with a simple click of your thumb.

Young promising men, my ass. Hearing that sentence out loud left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, burning your throat as you swallowed. You let out a deep exhale, your body falling back onto the hard mattress with a thud, allowing the darkness to envelop you as your thoughts swirled through your head.

Your whole life you had run away from the things that scared you, preferring to flee than live with the reality of the situation. You’d made the conscious decision to change your behaviour once you had decided to walk into that bar. But one thing led to another, and without being aware of it at the moment, you’d found yourself in the same situation: fleeing. Only this time around, it was different. This time you were on the run. And it wasn’t a question of if, but of when you’d be caught.

Ignoring the remorseless pounding in your head, you roll over the mattress. The cheap sheets rustled underneath you in protest as you threw your legs off the side. Your hand patted the bedside table until you felt the switch on the night lamp, turning it on. The room, as a result, illuminates in a soft, golden glow.

Your eyes adjusted to the light, slowly taking in your surroundings. You noticed a large bookshelf against the right wall that you swore you hadn't seen before. Although your mind had been so clouded these past days that it wouldn’t be strange if you looked over it. Curiosity got the better of you, and with steady steps, you walked toward it. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. The words played in your head as your fingers grazed against the dusty spines. When the melody came to its natural halt, you grabbed the book that your finger had landed on.

Gone Girl.

You scoffed a breathy laugh, “Obviously.” You held the book mockingly in the air, giving an ironic nod and tight-lipped smile toward the ceiling. “Thanks, universe.”

The irony hit you as you flipped through the pages. Maybe you’re more like the protagonist—Amy Dune—than you’d like to admit. Always having the need to orchestrate the outcome of your life, selfish enough to not care about the consequences it has for others. What if the universe is not trying to mock you, but merely giving you a hint? Were you supposed to change your appearance? It worked for Amy.

Your feet carried you to the stuffy bathroom, the book still in hand. With your elbow, you turned on the light switch, cringing when you saw yourself in the mirror. The only sleep you’d gotten in the past days was in Spencer’s arms, and damn was it a good sleep.

Sleeping with an FBI-agent sounded like a good plan. Well… at least to you. What are the chances of being a suspect in a crime, not being believed by anyone, and then being interrogated by a man who had heart eyes for you? There was no other option than to play into it, and you thanked yourself for taking those theater classes in high school.

However, it wasn’t all a ploy. It affected you to have someone be so gentle with you, to have an absolute stranger care so much for your well-being. And when you kissed him… you knew your heart was involved too.

Still, your brain overpowered your feelings. The second you woke up, you knew you had to leave. They already knew about Natalie, and the more time you gave them, the more dirt they’d find on you. Taking that gun? Call it a precaution. Hijacking a car to get to the motel? Well, you stole it from a hobo. Could’ve been worse.

“God,” you groaned, thinking back on the events of the past few days. You rubbed your eyes and dramatically slid your hands down your face.

Your eyes landed on the nail clipper placed on the sink. This is so, so bad. You placed the book down, then picked the item up, circling the cool metal around your fingers. The ghost of your face reflected back at you in the mirror. Oh, your hairdresser will kill you. But who will care if you’ll be locked away in prison, anyway? At least your humor was still working.

You brought the clipper to the ends of your hair, your thumb pressing down as you cut a lock. The sound sent shivers to your spine, a sour face impaled on you.

“I swear to god Amy, don’t fail me with this,” you mumbled to the sky in a prayer.

-`♡´-

3 Days Ago

Being frustrated was an understatement for the way Spencer was feeling.

Once he left the bedroom, it took him less than a second to notice the slight gap between the cupboard doors. His pulse quickened, he stood frozen for a moment as he felt a tight knot form in his stomach. In a sudden rush, his senses came back to him. He took a leap toward the cupboard, slamming the doors open, and to his suspicion, he found the safe unlocked. His gun vanished in the same way as you had.

He couldn’t help the string of curses that escaped his lips. His hands reached through his hair, tugging at the loose curls as his mind raced in every possible direction, none of them making sense.

How could he have been so stupid? He’s a profiler, for Christ’ sake. It’s his job to read people, to see through their lies. His cheeks heated in embarrassment, recalling the disapproving looks of his team members when he told you that he believed in your innocence.

You were innocent. At least, that’s what he thought. Now he wasn’t sure anymore. An innocent person wouldn’t run, and they especially wouldn’t steal the gun of a federal agent while they’re at it.

He thought back on your arrest. It happened quickly. The team had received a call from someone at the reunion who had been taking a smoke break in an alley near the bar, the first to discover the bodies. Finding you was simple. Your behavior was suspicious on the camera footage. You looked nervous as you walked into the bar, wiping your clammy hands on your dress, scanning the room as if in search of something. When your eyes landed on the three men, your gaze grew cold. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots when you rushed out of the emergency exit right after the men had accepted their poison-filled drinks.

But now it was a completely different story. You could be anywhere. The uncertainty gnawed at him. He felt responsible for this, even though it wasn’t his decision to let you go. He’d been insistent on getting you out of that interrogation room as fast as he could. The guilt pressed down on him, the pressure on his ribcage accumulating with every second that passed. Every second that he didn’t do anything was another chance for you to run. Spencer had no choice but to call Hotch as he stepped into his Volvo. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t know what you were capable of.

Spencer made sure to evade Derek’s sharp glances as he walked through the bullpen, headed straight for the small flight of stairs.

Hotch was standing at the door frame, waiting on him. He never had experienced being scolded by his parents, but this sure seemed like a similar situation. Spencer swallowed, his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, trying to hide his nerves as he braced himself for the words that were about to follow.

“I’ve informed the rest of the team,” Hotch explained, his eyebrows edged in an irritated frown. “The only reason that you’re on this case is because you could give personal insight into the unsub. We’ll discuss this afterward,” he added in a warning tone, “Behaviour like this is not tolerated.”

“I know,” Spencer muttered, his voice coming out hoarse. I don’t agree, but I understand. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response. His body leaned forward, head tilted as he called the team to gather around the round table.

“Man, you slept with her?!”

Derek hadn’t even properly sat down before the criticizing jabs slipped out. The tone was instantly set, an awkward tension lingering thick in the air.

Spencer’s mouth opened, his fingers flexing, but before he could respond, Emily rose from her seat. “It’s in the past. Right now, we should focus on finding her before she’ll devolve.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. This discussion was pointless; there was no time to lose. “Garcia, can you go over her documents again?”

“Of course, sir. Uh, let’s see–,” her purple colored nails tapped against the keyboard of her laptop. “She hasn’t been very active in the last few years. Most activity was during college. She majored in chemistry.”

Spencer’s heart did a jump at the mention of chemistry. He barely got the chance to ask you about yourself, and he was fighting the urge to ask Penelope for more information, wondering what else you’d have in common.

“Wait a minute,” Spencer wondered out loud when his brain made the connection. “Chemistry.”

“The victims were poisoned,” Rossi noted, connecting the dots.

Spencer suppressed the rising nausea by forcing his eyes shut. His knee tremored, anxiously tapping against the underside of the table. He really didn’t know you, did he?

Hotch’s furrow deepened. “Another confirmation that she’s the one we’re looking for.” He turned to Garcia, “Did we receive the results from the lab?”

“Not yet, sir. But this is interesting though,” her nails continued their rhythmic clicking. “She dropped out of college a couple of months before graduating.”

“You wouldn’t just do that,” Rossi mused. “Can you find any reasoning in her archives?”

Penelope shook her head. “Not really. The whole thing seemed pretty sudden. She had good grades.”

Hotch leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Let’s look at victimology.”

“Okay, so we got Shaun Dallas, Eric Zimmer and Nathan Johns. Tight buddies throughout college and they still seemed to be according to social media. Different majors, none of them chemistry.”

“She seemed disgusted when I brought them up,” Derek added, referencing your interrogation. “Said that nobody in college liked them.”

“Well, they seem like the standard gross jock types,” Penelope commented.

“Does she have any history with them?” Emily asked.

“Uh, not that I can see,” Garcia replied. “I don’t even think they shared any classes.”

“What about them personally? Anything you can tie to her wanting them dead?”

“Let’s see, boy wonder…” Garcia mumbled in response to Spencer, eyes focused on the screen. “Here! I got something.”

Everyone stared at her in anticipation. “Nathan Johns was involved in a Peeping Tom “incident” when he was fifteen. He had a habit of peeping underneath the bathroom stalls in highschool, and one girl decided to press charges with her parents. Claims were quickly shut down though, because, obviously, his father is a lawyer.”

Hotch’s lips pressed into a tight line. “What about the other two?”

“Zilch. Squeaky clean records.”

“Let’s leave that for later,” Rossi suggested. “We have more to say about her MO.”

“She poisoned her victims,” JJ chimed in. “That makes sense with her chemistry background. She’s also shown that she’s meticulous and pays attention to detail.” She continued elaborating, “She managed to poison the drinks without the bartender noticing and she made sure to keep an eye on Spencer as he typed in the code to his safe.”

The team nodded like-mindedly. Spencer bit down on his bottom lip. He didn’t have much of a say in all of this. He didn’t even know why he still tried to make sense of it all. Whether he genuinely believed in your innocence or if this was an attempt at finding a theory that would sooth his mind.

“She’s rather chaotic, actually,” he eventually spoke up. “She snapped during the interview when Natalie Fisher got mentioned. She took my gun while I was in the room next to her. To be more specific, she—“ he cleared his throat, “I woke up and she walked back to me before heading out. It doesn’t match the MO of the killings.”

“What are you suggesting, kid?” Rossi asked, confusion visible on his face.

“She doesn't have to be the unsub.”

“Oh, come on, man. Then how do you explain the dumping of the bodies?” Morgan inquired, his tone laced with accusement. “She went from meticulous to dropping the bodies in the middle of an alley where anyone could pass by. She’s shown dramatic changes in MO before.”

“The bodies could have been placed there to set her up. The unsub must have known she’s disorganized, so positioning the bodies there could be connected to her. If the unsub is as diligent as we’re assuming, he could’ve easily disposed of the bodies in a place where we wouldn’t be able to find them. Instead, he dropped them right in the face of any passersby.”

“Spence, I thought we’ve been over this,” JJ said, offering a sympathetic smile, her hand sliding over the table to reach out for him.

Spencer quickly pulled his hand back, seeing the obvious hurt on his friend’s face. Yes, they had been over this. He was positive that he would snap if he had to go through another “Are you sure you’re ready to be back? The change from prison to society is a huge change” conversation.

“Did she share anything else that makes you think this way?”

Spencer blinked at Hotch's question. The moment was still fresh in his mind. He remembered how nervous he felt when he had asked you to take you to his place. He had replayed the hypothetical conversation in his mind a thousand times, how he would first open up about his past, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up about yours. But when you kissed him the way you did, there was no space for any other thoughts in his mind.

“Reid,” Hotch repeated.

“No.”

“No?”

“She said that she likes the sea,” he shared, the corner of his lip slightly lifting at the memory.

“I feel safe in your arms,” you whispered, your breath tickling his chest as you lay your head on top of it. His arm was wrapped around you, tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm, wondering if you could feel his pounding heartbeat.

“The only other place I’ve felt this safe is at sea.”

He smiled as he gazed down at you. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Really?”

He felt the movement of you nodding. “It’s the only place that calms my mind.”

The sound of ruffling paper snapped him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head to see Rossi unrolling a large map of the country.

Spencer could feel the prying eyes on him. Geography of the unsub is his strength. He inhaled a deep breath before leaving his chair, reluctantly walking toward the wall where Rossi had pinned the map.

“She told you that she didn’t have a place to stay,” Prentiss stated, her words sounding like a question for affirmation.

Spencer nodded, trying to focus on the case like it was any other. “She walked to the reunion, probably taken by cab, and then we found her walking around the area when we arrested her. So, she has no vehicle.”

“For all we know, she could’ve taken the first plane out of the country,” Morgan interjected.

Hotch clicked his tongue. “We alerted Border Patrol when Reid had called me, which was less than an hour after she had left his house. If we assume she’s chaotic, she wouldn’t be able to book a flight that quickly. The only place you can disappear this smoothly has to be a place in her comfort zone.”

“Can we assume she’s still in Virginia?” Rossi asked.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer replied. “Her picture is all over the state, and Virginia’s beaches are very populated, with a minimum of in the hundred thousands. Virginia Beach, for example, has a population of 453.649.”

“She doesn’t have a car,” Rossi thought aloud. “There are no records of her having a stable job, so she doesn’t have a lot of money in her pockets either. Knowing cab drivers, they won’t want to drive around for hours, which leads us to—“

“Delaware,” Spencer finished.

-`♡´-

A sea breeze gently caressed your face, blowing through your cut hair. With your eyes closed, you cherished the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the scent of saltwater in the air. It was a nostalgic smell that came with a flood of memories: building sandcastles on the beach, running barefoot across the hot sand before diving into the sea, loud laughter as you splashed the water and got splashed in return.

The flashbacks were a stark contrast to your current predicament. When you opened your eyes, it was dark. The sea in front of you looked black, only reflecting a small glimmer of the moon that hung low in the sky. The sand beneath your fingers felt cold. And there were no sounds of laughter, not even the sound of annoying seagulls. You were surrounded in absolute silence. A crunching noise came out of the darkness. The sound so sudden and intense, similar to being whipped across the face. Though, your head didn’t turn. You knew who was out there.

The sounds grew louder. Sweat started forming on your face and hands. Your fingers trembled as you reached into the pocket of your jeans, the tight fabric cutting into your hand as you pushed deeper until you felt the cool metal of Spencer’s gun.

“Don’t.”

The word cut through the air. Your grip on the gun tightened in an effort to keep your fingers from shaking. No words left your mouth as you carefully tilted your head.

In front of you stood Spencer, exactly as you had predicted. But unlike your predictions, he was on his own. Was he here by himself to personally arrest you? To revel in your loss?

You continued to stare at him, though you weren’t really seeing him. Your vision blurred by the tears that had welled in your eyes. You blinked them away, focusing on his gun, which he held tightly in between both hands, aimed straight at your skull.

“Is that a new one?”

He seemed taken aback by your question, glacing down to the firearm in his palms. When he looked back at you, you stood in front of him, mirroring his stance, gun directed at his chest.

“I like this one better,” you commented, clicking the safety off.

Spencer cocked his head, maintaining his unwavering eye contact. He seemed to be challenging you. You clenched your jaw, anger boiling hotter inside of you.

“Put the gun away,” he strictly ordered, though his tone remained unnervingly calm. It was too calm for your liking. He should be scared. At least show a sign of nerves. Instead he looked at you like you were a joke, like you weren’t capable.

“You’re not going to use it anyway,” he dismissively adds, fueling your anger.

“Yes, I will!”

Your voice taunted as you took a step forward. Your legs trembled at the move, your heart thudded painfully in your chest to the point of nausea. It was difficult to comprehend the next words he spoke, your ears ringing before you even fired the shot.

“You didn’t kill those people,” Spencer declared. The words sounded like he was repeating a scientific fact. Like it was the only possible truth.

He then called out your name.

The word rolled off his tongue like it was crafted just for him to say it. Akin to a gentle symphony. His pronunciation was just as soft and full with longing as it had been when he breathily whispered it into your ear over and over again.

“I would’ve!” you shouted out, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. You strode forward until the barrel of your gun pressed into his chest, jabbing the cold metal into his clothed skin.

He didn’t flinch. Instead of his breathing hastening, it slowed down. His eyebrows drooped as he looked down at you.

“I would’ve,” you repeat just as loudly, digging the weapon harder into him. Pity remained on his face and you couldn’t stop the tears threatening to spill again. Whether it was from frustration or sorrow, you weren’t sure.

“I would’ve, I would’ve, I would’ve!”

The words tumbled from your mouth like a mantra, each repetition feeling like the only way to catch your breath. With every spoken word, you hit his chest, though your punches weaken with every syllable.

Spencer continued to watch you, observing you as he gave you the space that you needed. When you looked up at him, his eyes were glistening, triggering something inside of you.

A sob broke free from your chest. Spencer’s gun slipped from his hand in reaction, falling into the sand with a muffled thud.

“I should’ve…” you choked out, the words a combination of an apology and a confession.

Spencer nodded compassionately, his hands reaching out to gently cup yours.

“Should’ve done it. Should’ve been me.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he spoke reassuringly, carefully taking the gun from your limp fingers and tucking it in his back pocket. His hands quickly returned to yours, without you even registering his movement. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry,” you softly cried. The words weren’t meant for Spencer, but somehow, he understood. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you against the spot where your gun had been only seconds ago.

Sorries became the new prayer you desperately muttered against his chest. Sorries to Natalie. Sorries for being weak. Sorries for not giving her the justice she deserved. Sorries for dishonoring her when she needed you most. Sorries for everything.

The apologies to others turned into a plea to receive them yourself. Sorry for making you so naive. Sorry for making you weak. Sorry for giving you the need to run from yourself.

Your head hung low against him, your grip on his shirt tightening, your lungs constricting like it was painful to breathe.

“You’re angry.” Spencer noted, noticing the change in your posture.

You sniffled against him, not having the energy to lie. “Yes.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair. The gesture made your stomach flutter.

You felt conflicted by his kindness. How was he able to hold you so tightly? To choose to stay by your side despite the mess you were.

The delicacy of his touch parallel to the fury still simmering inside of you.

“I am so mad,” you admitted in a resigned breath.

His hand slid from your head to your neck, gently cupping your jaw. “Let it out on me.”

You had to furrow your brows, not sure if you understood him correctly.

“I mean it. Your body is full of cortisol and epinephrine. Stress hormones,” he explained. “You need to be relieved of those.”

His fingertips trailed lightly over your arm, and you followed his touch with your eyes.

“Use me. Let me offer you relief.”

You stood frozen in place, swallowing the breathless laugh that almost escaped your lips, as you noted the genuine look expressed on Spencer’s face.

His eyes bored into yours, the hazel of his irises altering into a darker shade of brown.

Tentatively, your hands moved up his body, and only then did his heartbeat quicken. Your fingers continued trailing upward until you gripped his collar, the fabric soft in your tight grip. His eyes don’t leave yours, mouth just slightly agape as you pull him in closer.

Then you kiss him — hard.

*link to smut (pt. 2.5)

-`♡´-

The ventilation quietly hummed in the back of the motel room from the shower you had just taken. After the intimate moment on the beach, Spencer had convinced you to take him back to the motel you were staying at. “They’re all fast asleep. They haven’t noticed me leaving” he assured you.

It didn’t matter anymore if they knew your whereabouts, you’ve told Spencer everything anyway. How Natalie has been your bestest friend in college. How you were tied to the hip. How you never left each other’s sight — except for that one night…

You had cried in his arms, and he had let you. He held you close as you lay in bed. He comforted you with statistics about guilt and trauma, as you told him why you went to that reunion that night. It marked the anniversary of the week Natalie had died. Of the week you received an email from her: a final note. Telling you by the time you read this, she’d be long gone.

You hadn’t gone to her funeral. Didn’t even receive an invitation. You hadn’t been in contact with Natalie ever since she had called you from that party. You’d picked her up that night, taken her to the hospital, and left the second the doctors told you she’d be fine.

You didn’t tell Spencer this part. You only told him that you expected there to be a memorial at the reunion, a way for you to have a proper goodbye. Your heart had stopped in the same way it had years ago when you walked into the bar and found that there was nothing. Nothing but loud music, colored lights, and drunk people. It was as if Natalie had never existed.

Your ears had rang. Your breaths came in short pants. With all your might, you suppressed the rising panic attack, using the last bit of strength to walk toward the three men you’d spotted from the start. The men that had done this to Natalie. Who had killed her, although not with their hands.

Naive little birdie, Natalie had always called you. The sweet nickname now sounded more haunting as the three men stared you up and down. Your heart beated in expectancy, but then you noticed their dilated pupils. The way their breath reeked of hard liquor. Their lips still glossy with alcohol as they gave you a sluggish smirk. They hadn’t even recognized you. Naive little birdie.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. “It’s okay.”

You had shaken your head, the memories tearing apart into small pieces in your mind. Quickly, you had finished your story, telling him that after that moment, you didn’t have it in you to walk past everyone again. Too terrified to see the laughs on their faces. Instead, you marched straight to the emergency exit.

The both of you stayed quiet after your confession. The air hung heavy with silence, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“We need to talk about it at some point,” Spencer brings up.

You nodded. Spencer had been kind to you, given you the time to process, but the conversation was inevitable. You hadn’t killed anyone. So someone else had.

“Someone is trying to blame this on you. Someone wants to see you gone,” he softly whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.

The subject made you feel uncomfortable. You had thought about it before. Plenty of times, actually. But every time you did what you did best: ignore it. It wasn’t as easy to disregard when someone was looking you in the eyes, their pain so visible.

Still, you shrugged, brushing aside his comment. “It doesn’t matter. I wanted them gone, and now they are. It doesn’t matter how.”

“It does matter.”

The rise in his voice made you flinch, and he instantly cupped your hands, pulling you back to him. “‘M sorry. I’m just scared.”

It was strange to hear someone be so honest. Spencer had been honest with you from the start. He’d said that he would protect you, and he was still keeping to that promise.

You moved your hand to your hair, wanting to twirl the locks as a nervous habit, but then realized most of it was cut short.

“I guess we can tell your team tomorrow,” you settle on saying, swallowing as you envision their dirty looks.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows in a questioning gaze, leaning forward as he hid the small, grateful smile that lingered his lips.

You chuckled, feeling relieved by his response. You nodded your head against the pillow. “Really.”

The room returned to silence. Surely now deeply comfortable. No more questions that lingered in the air. The back of Spencer’s fingers lazily traced the side of your face. His warm hand trailed down the skin. His eyes flickered over your face, expression filled with awe as he grazed his fingers through your short locks. “Your hair looks pretty.”

A soft snort escaped you, “It looks horrendous.”

He responded with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but smile widely back at him.

“I think this suits you better. Not that I didn’t like your other haircut,” he quickly corrected himself, making you chuckle. “I like your face. The longer hair hid it. Now I can see you.”

Your cheeks warmed. Spencer did see you. Not just your appearance — he saw you. He had seen you from the moment your eyes had locked when he and his team had found you and brought you to the station. He had seen you before you’d even seen yourself. The thought of stopping your hiding, your fleeing, didn’t seem so scary anymore. Not when staying would bring you to him.

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a low rumble, followed by a louder one. Spencer’s hand slipped from your hair as he placed it on his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

A bright, childlike laugh bubbled from your chest. Spencer snickered, grinning from ear to ear. He bashfully brushed his fingers through his messy curls. “I havent really eaten since we’ve gotten here.”

“Let me grab you a snack.” You crawled out of bed, legs still a little shaky as you stood up.

“Do you have snacks in the room?

“No, but there’s a vending machine outside.”

He propped himself up against the pillows, his eyes following you as you made your way over to the bathroom where your clothes were bundled up on the tile floor. He let out a small sigh as you walked out of sight.

He naturally timed the minutes till the door creaked open again. You had washed yourself up in the sink, some water droplets still clinging to your neck. Your hair less frizzy now that it had been dampened. You wore your clothes from earlier, though one could tell they had been taken off of you multiple times.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, grabbing the key and some coins from the cabinet. And he believed you.

The door shut behind you, a cold breeze immediately hugging your skin. The LED lamps brightened the exterior corridor. The vending machine at the end of the walkway shone even brighter, catching your attention.

You walked straight toward it, curiously peering into the transparent door. You pressed the numbers for trail mix and beef jerky — something that could pass for dinner. You inserted the coin, impatiently bending down in front of the opening.

The rumbling sound of the machine was followed by a whoosh of air.

Then a sharp bang echoed through your skull.

Then you were gone.

-`♡´-

Shadows of bright lights flickered in front of your eyes, giving the illusion that you rubbed them too hard.

You forced your eyelids open, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying down, you would’ve stumbled. With effort, you scrambled yourself up into a sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

Four tiled walls enclosed you. The room resembled a lab: a sink with a counter to the left, an iron door on the wall right in front of you, and an air vent to the right.

A bitter odor entered your airways, making you scrunch your nose. You turned your head to the left — a little too quickly — the throbbing pain catching up with you, making you groan in pain.

Your hands shot to the sides of your face, trying to hold your head still in an attempt to stop the room from spinning.

A warm liquid coated your fingers. You pulled your hand back and saw it was stained crimson. A gasp left you, followed by a string of whimpers as you felt yourself growing faint.

You spotted a red first aid kit on top of the counter. On your knees, you slumped toward it, taking several breaks despite the distance only being ten feet.

With clammy hands, you clutched the counter, inhaling a deep breath before dragging yourself up. Your body hovered over the table, and you reached your arm out to pull the kit closer to you. You fumbled with the lock on the box. “Open up, please,” you begged to whatever God that was listening.

The acid smell grew stronger, and it was then that you noticed the small vial next to the first aid kit. Its contents contained a light yellow solid. Cyanide — poison.

The metal door creaked open, the sound stinging straight through your skull. You cried out as you fell to the ground. You backed away to the nearest wall, curling your knees to your chest just in time for the door to fully open. “Naive little birdie. You’re awake.”

PART 2.5

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harryslittlefreakk · 10 months ago

Text

favourite crime

summary: a chance meeting between y/n and her professor leads to a dare… which leads to a forbidden affair neither of them will forget

wordcount: 8k!!!! can you even believe it!!

warnings: smut (exhibitionism, foreplay) , inappropriate relationship (lol)

a/n: i love professorry & you guys voted for this one so i hope i’ve done him justice! this was going to be a one shot but i wrote so much more than i planned lol so it will be a mini series. please let me know if you enjoy <3

my masterlist and taglist can be found here 🥰

“I’ll give you £50 if you go over there.”

“Not a chance, Courtney. I’m not sacrificing my education for £50.”

“I’ll buy your drinks for the rest of the year then.”

You wrapped your hands around your glass, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. Your eyes had been glued to the back of your professor’s head since he arrived, jitters coursing through your body. He’d stayed frozen at the bar the entire time, a neat whiskey in one hand and his nose deep in a book.

“He’s so fucking sexy,” you muttered, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you watched the way his tongue jutted out just slightly, wetting his finger so he could turn the page. “Alright, wish me luck,” you beamed at your friend, sliding out of the booth.

You wove through the crowd around the bar, making sure to stay out of Harry’s sight. Your voice was barely audible as you ordered two drinks, a spicy marg for you and a neat whiskey for him. Even the roar of music and chatter was dimmed as your heart pounded in your ears, still watching Harry like a hawk in case he was suddenly joined by a girlfriend.

The coast was clear when you got the drinks, the barstool next to him still invitingly empty. You turned back to your table, pulling a mock nervous grimace as you held the drinks up in the air. After a final check for anyone heading towards Harry, you decided to make your move.

“What would a handsome young man like you be doing here alone?” you teased, slipping into the seat next to Harry as you set down a new drink in front of him. His eyes lingered on his book for a second before looking over at you, an expectant smirk quickly replaced by a frown.

“Miss y/l/n,” was all he managed to say, his mouth drying up as he scanned your body, green eyes lingering just a second too long when they met your cleavage.

“Professor Styles,” you replied, tapping the rim of your glass against his. “Cheers.”

“It’s wildly inappropriate to buy your professor a drink,” he told you, voice stern but a small smile playing on his lips.

You turned away from him, craning your neck to look around the bar. His eyes followed yours, brows knitted when you eventually looked back at him with a satisfied grin. “Just checking. No university higher ups here, so you’re free to act inappropriately.”

“Thank you for the drink,” Harry smiled, folding over a corner of the page he was reading before reluctantly closing the book.

You snatched it from his grasp, a mocking gasp falling from your lips as you flicked through the tattered book. Almost every page was dog-eared, the spine broken and sellotaped back together, half the book bent out of shape from water damage. “You’re an English teacher. And you treat your books this way?”

He chuckled, stretching out an open hand to silently ask for his book back. You clutched it close to your chest, hands splayed across the book to protect it from his touch. “You can’t be trusted with it anymore.”

“This is so inappropriate,” Harry muttered, covering his smirk with a tanned hand as he shook his head. Every second you spent at his side felt like a step closer to unemployment, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn you away. After all, you were in a bar out of town, and the likelihood of anyone seeing you was low.

You grabbed a napkin while he mused, pulling him out of his thoughts when you shoved a hand into the pocket of his slacks. Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise as you pulled out a pen, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He couldn't help the rush of adrenaline he felt at your touch, sparks tingling where your fingers had brushed against his thigh, the silk lining of his pocket suddenly warm.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure as he leaned one elbow against the bar. "I think it's time you head back," he said, his husky voice tinged with a mix of amusement and apprehension. The tension between you was palpable, and he knew he needed to put some distance between you before things went too far.

You scribbled something on the napkin, folding it in half and slotting it into Harry’s book, taking time to lovingly smooth out the crease he had folded into it before handing it back to him.

“Nice seeing you, Professor,” you winked, downing the remainder of your cocktail and setting the glass down next to his book before making your way back over to your table.

Harry watched as you sauntered back, your hips swaying in time with the music. There was an air of danger about you that lingered just out of his reach, intrigue creeping through his bones. He’d noticed your natural charm from the day you joined his class, the way you were a friend to everyone who gave you as much as a glance, and an enemy only to the girls who cared more for their looks than their popularity. You’d always submitted good papers, asked important questions, and listened when he asked you to stop your incessant chatting to the people around you. But he’d never noticed this side of you, and now that he had, he didn’t think he could go without it.

With a final glance over in your direction, Harry finished his whiskey and stalked out of the bar, desperate to cool off before he got carried away with the idea of you.

By the time you looked over at him, he was gone, and your friend was interrogating you about what had happened.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, drawing on your greatest acting skills to feign a pout.

“I don’t buy that for a second,” Courtney poked, grinning excitedly as your frown morphed into a smirk.

“You can’t tell anyone, I mean it.”

“Swear on my life.”

“I gave him my number,” you grinned, unable to keep your cool for even a minute.

Courtney gasped, banging her hand down on the table. “You didn’t!”

“I did. But I don’t think he’ll use it,” you laughed, silently hoping that he would.

—

You’d checked your phone the entire way home, waiting for a text that might never come. But the second you climbed into bed, reluctantly accepting your love affair had died a premature death, your phone let out the most glorious little ding it ever would.

unknown number: did you get home safe?

You thrashed around the bed for a second, jaw snapping so low it could have smacked against the floor. You read and reread the message, eyes wandering over every letter.

y/n: safe and alone if that’s what you’re asking

You watched as the little white dots appeared and disappeared, over and over again, until they finally vanished for good.

But you’d already taken it further than you’d ever planned to, so you added Harry’s number to your contacts, and called him.

He answered after a few rings, his voice low and husky when he finally spoke. “You shouldn’t be calling me.”

“And you shouldn’t be answering,” you teased, giddy at the realisation that you were now having a late night phone call with the hottest man on the planet.

“How else am I going to tell you how inappropriate this is?” Harry sighed, though you could hear the reluctant amusement lacing his words.

You rolled onto your front, grinning at your phone like a love drunk teenager. “You can tell me to back off if you really want,” you offered, fingers crossing in a desperate plea for him to do the exact opposite.

He stayed silent for a minute, the cogs almost audible as he weighed up the pros and cons. “It’s already gone this far,” he murmured eventually. “Thank you, by the way. For the drink and the bookmark.”

You bit down on your lip in a desperate attempt to control your grin from splitting your face clean in half. “That’s two gifts from me now, what do I get from you?”

“You get to keep your education and not be reported to every higher up there is,” Harry laughed.

“And what else?” With every word you felt like you were falling deeper into cuckoo land. It was so out of character for you, never the one to blindly make your move on a man. And not just a man, the professor you’d harboured a juvenile crush on for the entire academic year.

“Nothing else. You’re bad news,” Harry replied. You pictured him sitting with his phone in hand, a stern frown and warm smirk juxtaposed on his chiseled face.

“Am I really?”

“Definitely.” Even the sound of his voice had you weak at the knees. You’d never make it through tomorrow’s lecture, melted to a puddle in your seat within five minutes.

“Maybe you should delete this number then.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve saved it,” Harry replied, his turn to tease now.

“Well then what are you worried about? There’s no evidence of your crime,” you mocked.

“Don’t call it a crime.”

“Can I at least be your favourite crime?”

Harry sighed again, a real exasperated sigh this time. Your grin fell as he stumbled over what to say, the potential repercussions of your chase suddenly weighing heavy on you both. “Look, I’ll be honest with you here y/n, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Harry confessed, his voice soft as he spoke.

“Can we not just worry about it later?” It was a plead you hoped the both of you would take notice of.

“Not when my career hangs in the balance.” He went quiet again, only shallow breaths and the drumming of his fingers audible from the other end of the line. “Meet me in my office at the end of the day tomorrow,” he finally muttered. “And not a word of this to anyone.”

“Goodnight, professor,” you smiled, heart pounding so violently you feared it could burst through your chest as you ended the call.

Either he wasn’t done with you yet, or he was really done. And if the tone of his voice and the reluctance that laced it gave you any clues, you had your money (and hopes) on the former.

—

You spent the whole morning in a daze, pulling your phone out every few minutes to check your message history in case you’d made the whole thing up. It felt like a bizarre fever dream, an alternate reality you’d stumbled into. Every time you saw the read the text from Harry your heart skipped a beat, doing nothing to calm you. Whatever he wanted to see you for was eating away at you, your fate resting in his hands. You didn’t even notice the campus barista calling your name, over and over again as your head and your heart argued loudly in your mind.

When you finally snapped back to reality, grabbing your coffee with a stream of apologies tumbling from your lips, you saw Harry watching you, an amused smirk curling the corners of his mouth.

You winked at him as you left the cafe, unnoticeable to anyone but him, but just enough to make him uncomfortable.

“He looks good today,” Courtney mused, pushing open the lecture hall door and leading you towards the nearest empty seats. They were too near the front for your liking, especially today, but at least Harry couldn’t miss you.

“How do I look?” you asked Courtney, glancing down at your outfit. You’d tried to be cute, in case that swayed him towards fulfilling your dirtiest desires, but not too over the top. You weren’t going to force him into bed if that isn’t where he wanted to end up with you.

“Like the little slut you are,” she teased, grinning as you rolled your eyes.

“He told me to go to his office at the end of the day. What if I get there and he’s sitting with the head waiting to grass me up?”

“Then you can blame me,” Courtney smiled, always ready to shoulder your academic and personal failures.

“What if he’s not?”

“Then you can thank me.”

You rested your chin in your hands, eyes glued to the head of whoever was sat in front of you as you grumbled and groaned. You were too busy freaking out to notice Harry coming in, his eyes continually flicking to you as he set up the projector.

“I really want him,” you groaned, just loud enough for the words to reach Harry’s ear, a tiny blush creeping up his cheeks as he read your lips.

“Silence, please,” he called out, eyes still locked on yours with his lips curled into a barely noticeable smirk.

He kept his eyes trained on you the entire class, not even attempting to look away whenever you caught him staring. If you were crazy, you’d notice that he’d paid a little more attention to his appearance that day. His brown curls were pushed back with a little gel, his ringed fingers falling to his side every time he reached up to brush a hand through his hair. He’d ditched the v-neck sweater for a crisp white shirt, hints of tattoos you didn’t know he had poking through the material.

You didn’t even notice it was the end of the day until your subconscious carried you out of the crowd of students heading for the exit, and you found yourself knocking on Harry’s door.

He called you in, straightening up as you pushed open the door and looked around expectantly. The university higher ups weren’t there to escort you off campus immediately, and you felt a little weight fall off your shoulders.

His office was quaint, littered with books and notes. Harry sat behind a tower of papers, an old fashioned table lamp illuminating his desk in warm orange hues. He waited for you to sit down in front of him, grinning as he handed you an uncapped pen. “I thought you could help me with some marking since you’re so desperate to harass me outside of lessons,” he smirked, nodding to the stack of papers.

“Any excuse to spend time with me,” you muttered, grinning as you dropped your bag down next to you. Harry handed half of his pile to you, and you work silently for a while, your mind running a million miles an hour. He hadn’t shut you down, hadn’t made any effort to tell you to stop. And he found a way for you to spend more one on one time together.

Harry cleared his throat suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Need to ask you something,” he murmured, setting his pen down on top of the paper he was working on.

You looked up at him silently, brows knitted and pouted lips falling open as you waited for him to continue. He was shifty, eyes squinted as if he didn’t want the words to come out. “You’re not trying to get something, are you?” he paused, tensing up in his seat. “Like… I don’t know. ‘Let me get some dirt so i can blackmail my professor for good grades.’”

His mouth hung open as he waited for you to reply, watching you go from confusion, to anger, to hurt in the time it took you to comprehend what he said.

You rubbed a hand over your face, trying to maintain your composure as you took in the weight of his words. “If that’s what you think then-”

You stood up, pulling your bag onto your shoulder. Harry jumped to his feet, circling around his desk as he read the hurt in your eyes. “It’s not, I have to ask-”

He reached out, grabbing a hold of your sleeve as you turned to walk away. Part of your brain willed you to stay, to not cause a scene and show him the immaturity that came with being tangled up with a younger woman. But you couldn’t stay there, not with him and his absurd view of you.

You pulled out of his grip, shrugging your sleeve back into place. “That’s not who I am,” you murmured, heading for the door as quickly as your shaky legs would take you. You left Harry standing there dumbfounded, face screwed up as you tried to make sense of him.

“Come on, please. Just one little boogie,” you pleaded with Courtney, already rifling through her wardrobe for something to wear. You’d promised each other to slow down with the nights out this year, try and use your evenings for important things like studying, or swiping through each other’s Tinders. But you were still a little pissed off, just enough that you required a best friend boogie to shake it off.

“Fine.” Courtney rolled her eyes, dragging her body off the bed to get changed.

The bar was busy when you got there, as noisy and as crowded as it was on the weekends. You groaned as you sunk into your seat at a corner booth, too irritated to deal with handsy men and having to shout about your problems over loud music.

unknown number: are you home?

Your phone lit up as you pulled it out your bag, a scowl taking over your features as your eyes gazed over the words.

unknown number: ?

“Who’s that?” Courtney asked, searching your frown for answers as you turned your phone face down on the table.

“Who do you think?”

“What the hell happened in his office?”

“Nothing, seriously nothing. He asked me if I’m trying to get dirt on him. So I can get better fucking grades.”

“It’s a valid question,” Courtney shrugged.

You groaned, holding your head in your hands. “I know it is. I’m just offended that he thinks I’m that kind of girl,” you explained.

“I’m sure he doesn’t. But if anything were to happen, there’s more for him to lose.”

“Well I don’t think I’d be finishing my education anywhere near here if it ever got out.”

“No, you’d be the town whore. Young women would come from all over the world, desperately seeking advice from their hero. Professors would fear even looking you in the eye,” Courtney teased, well prepared for your dramatics.

“You’re making me regret it before it’s even begun.”

“Stop pursuing him then.”

“You’re the one who dared me in the first place!”

Courtney patted your arm fondly, swilling the last of her drink around the walls of the glass. “While you’re brilliant company, I’d rather have a full glass while I talk to you. Same again?”

You picked up your phone hesitantly, as if it would detect your fear and automatically message Harry. He was too confusing, messing with your head already despite having spent less than an hour with him. You didn’t want messy, but somehow you needed him.

You threw your head in your hands, groaning as you peeled through your fingers. Courtney was taking too long, and naturally your eyes found her twirling her hair and grinning in the direction of the man with his arm around her waist.

He was cute, the exact kind of beachy blonde man you knew would leave Courtney in love after five minutes. She turned to look back at you with wide eyes, her excitement palpable even through the crowds between you.

You gave her a thumbs up, smile only faltering when you spotted a familiar face behind Courtney, the same brown curls that seemed to haunt your every move. Harry looked up from his phone at just the right moment to catch you staring. Busted. His warm gaze met your frosty glare, his cheeks tinged pink as his eyes focused on you.

You couldn’t exactly continue to ignore his texts now, especially with your phone quite clearly placed in front of you, so you broke eye contact, glancing down to type out a text to Harry.

y/n: no, busy riding the university head at the minute. thought i’d do go for the big dog 🤷🏻‍♀️

unknown number: come outside .

You watched as Harry slipped out of his booth, stalking towards the entrance. And like a little lap dog, you followed, eager to know what he had to say.

You slipped an arm around Courtney’s waist as you passed her, whispering in her ear about getting some fresh air. She nodded, but her eyes were glazed over, too deeply interested in this man to really hear what you said.

Harry was leaning against the wall outside when you reached him, head turned upwards towards the late evening skies. You stood next to him, back pressed against the brick with your eyes resting on him. Scanning over his features like it was the first and last time you’d ever see his face. The little mark of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, curls in tatters after a full day of running his hands through them every five minutes. He was attractive from the second you first set eyes on him, but most of his pull was in his personality. You didn’t know much of him, but what you did know was charming. He always told a stupid dad joke at the start of class to draw everyone in, his feedback was always positive even on the worst essays. No one ever felt stupid or less than around Harry, he made that his mission. And yet somehow now you felt like the most ridiculous little girl, chasing after someone she can’t have just for any benefits it might bring.

Harry had turned to face you at some point during your musing, silently watching your features soften and then change, moulding into different emotions as the cogs turned in your mind.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he started, shifting his body slightly as you looked back out onto the street.

“Then you shouldn’t have asked an offensive question.”

You knew you were showing your age, only aiding his perception of you, but you couldn’t help acting petty for a minute. You weren’t the adult in this situation, not the one who needed to be mature.

“I’m sorry. I just needed to know your intentions before-”

“You had every right to ask.”

Harry frowned, mouth opening in preparation to disagree with you before your rambling cut him off.

“No, you did. A lot more is at stake for you, I should’ve thought about that before I- I didn’t think you’d accept the drink, but you did, so I pushed, I was-”

“Testing the boundaries,” Harry finished for you.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t think we’ve hit them yet,” Harry mumbled, pulling his gaze away from you. You kept making him shy, painting an uncomfortable blush upon his skin, trailing goosebumps down his back. He was supposed to have the power here, yet he felt completely surrendered to you.

“Do you still want me to help you with marking?”

“If you want to. Was actually really helpful for me today.”

Your phone started buzzing in your hand, a stream of texts flashing up on the screen. “Courtney says she wants to go home with her new boyfriend, he has a roommate who can ‘have’ me,” you told Harry, face screwing up as you read the last words.

“That sounds nice,” he chuckled dryly, glancing down at his watch.

“Sounds horrific, no thank you. Haven’t even had my boogie yet,” you groaned, quickly tapping a similar yet softer message to Courtney.

Harry turned on his heel, stalking back towards the entrance of the bar as you dawdled behind him, eyes still glued to your phone screen.

“Where are we going?” you asked, following him to his table. Courtney was leaned against it, the new drink she’d meant to bring you long forgotten next to her. Her new lover was attached to her like a conjoined twin, his lips hitting places you’d dreamed of finding Harry’s. “Your table’s been taken over,” you mumbled, watching as Harry interrupted the snogging session with a firm tap on the back of the beachy blonde’s head.

“Y/n, Josh. Josh, y/n,” Harry beamed, inwardly cringing at having to explain his connection to you and Courtney.

You shot her a puzzled look, mouth hanging open as you looked between the three of them standing across from you. Courtney’s face mirrored yours, smile morphing into a smug smirk as she realised. “He’s your roommate?” she asked Josh, thumb pointing towards Harry.

“Yeah. How do you-?”

“Story for another time mate,” Harry laughed, patting down his pockets to check he had everything before leading you out of the bar.

—

“Did you plan this?” you laughed, cocking your head in mock suspicion. Josh and Courtney had disappeared into his bedroom before you’d even taken your shoes off, leaving you and Harry alone for the evening. In his house.

It was cute, a tiny but spacious two bed. He had books littering every surface, all as tattered and worn as the one he’d been reading in the bar. And the shut of him fixing you some dinner, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder… it was a good job you were propped up against the breakfast bar for how weak your legs had become.

Harry held his hands up in defence, turning round to look at you. “I swear on my life, no. I invited Josh out for one, he went to get our drinks and they must’ve bumped into each other at the bar.”

“Why did you go back to the same bar?”

“Why did you?” Harry countered, the pasta water bubbling dangerously high as he abandoned the jumble of pots and pans on the hob, leaning on the countertop in front of you.

“I asked you first,” you smirked, reaching out to swat at his face. He caught your wrist in one quick movement, pinning your hand down between you both.

“I’m older.” Harry cocked his head to the side, a playful curl tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was something soft about him, an air of domesticity that you dreamed about in a man but rarely saw.

You wrapped your fingers around his, pushing your hand against his until they sat just between your faces. “How old are you?”

“I am… old enough to be your teacher,” Harry grinned, pulling his eyes from your face to frown at your hands. “Are you seriously trying to arm wrestle me?”

You felt his arm tense up, his grip on your hand tightening as he slammed your hand back down on the countertop, a laugh rising out of him. “Seriously,” you frowned, making no attempt to loosen your grip on him as he rounded the breakfast bar, stopping when his face was only inches from yours.

The food was long forgotten, the pasta water sizzling as it overflowed onto the hob. Neither of you noticed, too enthralled by your proximity and the crackle of tension in the air.

“Thirty four,” Harry replied finally, his breath tickling your skin.

It didn’t matter anymore. He could’ve been fifty, seventy even and it wouldn’t even reach your ears. You couldn’t think with him this close to you, couldn’t force your brain to do the mental maths when the scent of his last coffee of the day lingered on his breath, the woody notes of his aftershave clinging to his shirt, deep grey ink drawn onto the inches of exposed tan skin.

“Dinners ruined,” Harry murmured, nodding his head back towards the hob, eyes still glued to yours.

“I’m not hungry,” you whispered, breath hitching as Harry moved closer. He cupped your jaw, running his thumb along your lower lip. And then he was moving around the corner, stepping into you as you opened your legs to let him closer. Your heart was hammering in your chest, eyes wide as you stared up at him.

Harry’s lips had barely met yours before the smoke alarm set off, barely given you a taste of him before he was across the kitchen, stabbing at the smoke detector with pain etched into his features.

Your eyes met when the wailing finally stopped, his frustration turning to amusement as he looked up towards the ceiling. “Maybe that was a sign,” he smirked.

You rested your head in your palm, brows knitted as you watched him lean against the sink, too far away from you. “Maybe we should follow the universes rules,” you whispered. “So you shouldn’t cross this,” you pointed to the breakfast bar.

“What if I need to get to that side of the room?” Harry countered, throwing his head back on his shoulders.

“You can ask me to pass you something.” But he was already moving closer, already rounding the countertop. And then his lips were on yours again, your makeshift barricade already forgotten. He was stronger this time, his tongue faster as it wrestled against yours, the sweet nectar of his mouth like honey as he kissed deeper into you.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, pulling away for a second to catch your breath.

“No, we shouldn’t,” Harry echoed, pressing fervent pecks to your swollen pout.

“It’s really bad.” The words were tumbling out like a reminder to you both, your brains final plea for some display of sanity before it went too far.

Harry’s hands were wandering over your body, his eyes locked on yours as his mouth trailed down your neck. “I fear the line is too far behind us now,” he murmured, husky voice muffled against your throat. You were sure he could feel your heart working overtime to try and calm itself down, thumping against the walls of your ribs as if it were about to break free.

“I can’t see it”, you mumbled, tangling a hand in his hair. You were panting, your mouth gaping open as Harry’s fingertips clawed and kneaded at your doughy hips, his other hand cupping the nape of your neck. His mouth was magic, his tongue grazing over the spots his teeth would nip as he moved further down your body. It was as if he’d been starved for years, your skin his lifeblood, the food he so desperately craved.

But footsteps at the top of the stairs broke your spell, you and Harry forced to tear yourselves away from each other like repelling magnets. You could see the regret in his eyes, the hesitance of his touch as it left your body. He stumbled across the room to the sofa, throwing himself down as if physically pained to be out of your reach. You forced a smile onto your mouth, straightening out your skirt as Courtney rounded the corner into the living room.

“Nice night?” you smirked.

“I was just explaining to Josh that we’re being responsible now. Which means no sleepovers with boys you meet in bars, especially when you have classes the next day,” Courtney shrugged, putting on her best puppy dog eyes for you.

“I’m not your mum,” you laughed, turning to face her properly. “If you want to stay then stay.”

Courtney’s eyes flicked to Harry, as if waiting for him to tell her to leave. “Stay,” he told her, raising his eyebrows suggestively to Josh. “Even if it’s a bit weird,” he mumbled, low enough for only you to hear.

“Text me!” you called after Courtney, though her and Josh were already running back up the stairs for round god-knows-what.

“You can stay too if you like,” Harry told you, settling back into the sofa cushions.

“Mmm, maybe not. One boundary crossed in a day is enough, no?” you shrugged, busying yourself by fiddling with a loose thread on your tights.

“Who said anything about crossing boundaries?” Harry smirked. He passed your jumper to you when you rolled your eyes, grabbing his keys from the side table as he stood up.

The air was tense when you got in the car, only speaking to direct Harry to your flat. His fingers danced along your thigh at every red light, his eyes lingering on you every time he glanced to the left.

“It’s just here,” you murmured, gesturing to the building ahead of you. You didn’t know why you kept talking yourself out of something you so clearly wanted, something that came to you both so naturally. It was right with a hint of wrong, wrong with a little right. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of something you so desperately craved.

Harry pulled into your driveway, questions written all over his face. You looked at him wordlessly, setting your hand on top of his.

“Do you trust Courtney?” he asked, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

“With my life.” It wasn’t Courtney finding out that bothered you, and he knew that. If you were sloppy, anyone could see you together and realise what was going on. Or worse, other students could find out and use it against him in the very way he’d accused you of. Or worse still, you could be only one of many students he did this with.

“Then as long as we’re careful, there doesn’t have to be consequences,” Harry murmured, somehow knowing exactly how to dispel all of your worries. “Unless you’d rather leave it where it is. No harm, no foul,” he offered, squinting slightly as he tried to gage your reaction. He so desperately didn’t want to leave it, to put it aside as a twenty-four hour romance, never to be spoken of again. But it was clear that neither of you wanted to suffer the consequences.

“I don’t know if I can just close that door,” you sighed, the thrill too addictive to put aside. “Keep an eye on Courtney for me, please,” you whispered, slipping out of the car before you could manage to confuse yourself further.

He stayed outside until you get in the door, a small smile playing on his lips. You hadn’t wanted to leave it, and you weren’t trying to get something out of him. It was still dangerous, still as threatening to both of your lives, but you were both in it.

—

You’d barely met Harry’s eye for the entire class, willing yourself to forget he was that hot before your foolish desires turned into something unforgivable. Even still, your legs had carried you to his office at the end of the day with urgency. The warm glow of his lamp was too familiar, the woody aftershave you could smell from outside the door too inviting. You stepped into his office silently, pushing the door closed behind you.

“Hi,” Harry smiled from behind a stack of papers. He watched as you pulled out the chair in front of his desk, dropping into it with a content grin. “I had a very fun chat with Josh this morning.”

“I bet. What did he say?”

Harry halved the papers in front of him, placing the smaller pile in front of you. His fingertips brushed against your hand as you reached for the top one, lightning bolts streaking through your skin from the point of contact.

“That I’m a creep. And someone should’ve told him yesterday,” Harry grinned, reluctantly moving his hand away from yours.

“Did Courtney not say anything?” you laughed, screwing your face up as you imagined that conversation. Harry shrugged, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“I can’t believe she’s stayed at your house,” you cringed, nose wrinkling as you thought about it. It was enough of a boundary crossed to stay there if you were sleeping with him, but to have your professor know you’d been having sex under his roof… eurgh.

“You could’ve stayed too,” Harry murmured, shifting his marked papers to the empty space beside him.

“You know I couldn’t, Harry.”

“Remind me of your reasons.”

You turned the name plate on his desk round to face him, pointing at the word ‘professor’ with raised eyebrows.

“That didn’t stop you kissing me.”

“It was an act of charity!” you protested. “How can you turn down an old, lonely man who keeps trying to kiss you?”

Harry chuckled, leaning his forearms on the desk. “I’m old and lonely now?”

You nodded, a tiny smirk emerging as you chewed on the end of your pen. The more you got to see the playful side of Harry, the more you needed him. He seemed to have just the right dose of everything you wanted, your perfect man right in front of you and yet just out of reach.

“If that’s what it takes to kiss you, I’ll gladly be the oldest and loneliest man in the world,” he mewled, eyes sparkling as he leaned closer, his grin only centimetres away from you.

But then came a knock at the door, leaving you both springing away from each other once again. Harry cleared his throat as he walked over, straightening himself out as he tried to come up with a million plausible reasons why you would be in his office.

You craned your neck to see who had chosen to interrupt that moment. It another student from your class, asking about the assignment he’d set that day. You’d never spoken to her much, and from the way she was flicking her hair at Harry, you probably wouldn’t push for a friendship. Something lit up inside of you when you watched how professional and curt he was with her, a far cry from how he’d ever acted around you.

He got rid of her fairly quickly, wishing her a good weekend. Harry slammed the door behind him, giving it a second before walking back towards you. He stopped in front of your chair, crouching down just centimetres away from your face.

“I have a proposition. I think my house will be occupied this weekend, and it doesn’t seem like luck is on our side here. Why don’t we go somewhere? Out of the city obviously. If you’d like,” he was blushing slightly as he spoke, his fingers anxiously tapping on the armrests of your chair.

“That would be nice,” you smiled, the fire inside of you only growing warmer at the thought of spending proper alone time with Harry.

He leaned forward, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to your lips before flashing you a grin. “Sorry. Just had to do that once,” he mumbled.

You watched as Harry circled around his desk, hips swaying in mock seduction when he felt your eyes on him. “Did you ever notice me before?” you asked, curiosity lacing your words.

“Of course I did.”

“No, like, notice me, notice me,” you were gesturing wildly, hoping he’d catch on to your insinuation. Asking a man if he ever fancied you was embarrassing even for you, never mind if you had to physically spell it out for them.

“I never thought about you that way, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re my student, it never crossed my mind,” Harry told you, placing his glasses at the of his nose as he resumed grading.

“But now?”

He paused for a moment, gaze dripping with lust as it dragged over your face. “Now… I am beginning to think about you that way.”

‘Beginning’ was good enough for you. You leaned back in your chair, lips curling into a satisfied smile as you fiddled with the pen cap, anticipation coursing through your veins.

“You realise you’re supposed to be helping me? You’ve only graded about four papers,” Harry teased, head nodding towards his towering ‘finished’ pile.

You thumbed through your pile, counting under your breath as Harry watched with an amused smirk. “Five, actually,” you shot back.

Harry’s only response was to raise his eyebrows, arms folded across his chest as he leaned back in the seat. “You shouldn’t be rushing me anyway. The longer I take to grade, the more time you spend with me,” you grinned.

Harry stood up again, circling around the desk to tug your chair - with you still in it - next to his. You looked over at him as he sat back down, his eyebrow raised as an amused giggle bubbled out of you. “You’re clearly distracted by looking at me,” he shrugged, grinning as you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop the laughing fit.

“Now I’m more distracted by my proximity to you,” you grumbled, tearing your eyes away from Harry to stare back at the paper. That lasted all of 5 seconds before you were turning to face Harry again, knocking your pen against his shoulder to get his attention back on you. “Since you never replied, do you not want me to take forever, so you get to spend all that time with me?”

“Do you think I’m ever going to run out of papers?”

“You could always stop setting assignments,” you shrugged.

Harry swatted at the tip of your nose, his eyes bright behind his tortoise shell glasses. “You are just full of suggestions that all end in me being unemployed.”

“You chose this career,” you murmured, voice faltering as Harry placed a finger under your chin, pulling you up to face him properly. “I wouldn’t mind if you took forever,” he smiled, his eyes dark as they landed on your mouth.

Harry’s thumb was running across your bottom lip, swiping a tiny bead of spit over it until the rosebud skin was reflecting the glow of the lights. Your heart was hammering in your throat, almost willing someone to catch you in such an innocent yet inexplicable position. You stayed frozen for a few minutes, eyes caressing every shape on the other’s face, until Harry sucked in a deep breath, springing to his feet. “Let’s go,” he grunted. “Walk over to the bus stop and meet me there.”

“Are you kidnapping me?” you laughed as you slipped into the passenger seat.

“Damn. You got me,” Harry grinned, his smile not quite hiding the frustration in his eyes, his eyebrows knitted as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Couldn’t take one more second in that fucking office,” he groaned, tires squealing as he sped away from the bus stop.

He was a man on a mission as he raced across town, desperate to put as much distance as he could between you and the university. You stayed silent, the anticipation threatening to burst out of you if you dared open your mouth.

You couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment as he pulled up in a secluded car park, any signs of life obscured by overgrown bushes and trees. You so desperately wished for Harry to take you home, to do the things that you’d dreamed about.

He lead you over to a bench just behind the trees, wildflowers and unkept grass tickling at your bare legs as you set next to him. He was still silent, brows still knitted in frustration as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, flicking open the lid and holding it out to you. You took one, eyes flitting between the box and Harry’s face as he watched you.

“Only when I’m stressed,” Harry murmured, answering your puzzled look. You handed the lighter back to him, turning to face him fully as you exhaled the first drag. “And you’re stressed why?” you asked, watching the frustrations fall from his face as a wisp of smoke trailed over the pair of you.

“Because you’re dangerous,” he smirked, watching the ash fall as he tapped the cigarette. The remnants of chipped nail varnish on his fingertips, the prominent veins in his strong hand. You never thought watching someone smoke could turn you on, but the growing wet patch in your panties was proof that there wasn’t a thing Harry could do that wasn’t overwhelmingly sexy.

“How?”

Harry turned his attention back to you after a beat, resting an arm behind you on the bench. “Because you look at me like that,” he groaned, his voice husky as he spoke. “You sit there with something so filthy yet innocent in your eyes, making me want you when we both know you’re out of reach.”

He dropped his cigarette at his feet, stumping it out as you took a final drag of yours before mimicking him. “I’m not out of reach,” you whispered, reaching up to push a curl from Harry’s face.

“I can’t have you,” Harry murmured, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling until you were straddling his thighs. His hands found your hips as you settled on top of his bulge, the cotton of his trousers melding to the slick coating your panties. You wrapped your arms around his neck, relaxing into his touch.

“You already do.” You knew what Harry was saying. You just couldn’t bother caring any longer about who might see you, or what would happen when you’d given him your all and yet couldn’t take it any further. He was exactly the kind of person you shouldn’t get involved with, and if you were a better person, you would have paid attention to that rather than finding yourself perched atop his thighs, leaning into his mouth as he pressed urgent kisses to your neck.

His fingers traced a question along the neckline of your jumper, his green eyes pleading with yours to let him uncover more of you. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t function for a second longer unless Harry released some of the energy built up inside of you. All you could do was grab a hold of the curls at the nape of his neck and hope what Harry saw in your eyes was permission.

He wasted no time in yanking down the top of your jumper, taking your bra with it until your nipple was exposed, inches from his lips. You ground down on his hips as he took you into his mouth, breathy moans clawing their way out of your throat as his tongue swirled around the pink bud. His hand was squeezing as he suckled, the perfect blend of hard and soft. Your whole body was electric, lightning bolts sending shudders through your system from where he touched you.

Harry’s lips popped off your nipple, his fingers still groping and massaging the exposed skin of your breast. He kissed his way back up to your jawline, his free hand slipping under your skirt. “Gonna do so much to this body when I have the time,” he murmured against your lips, pushing his hips up against yours. The moan that slipped past your parted lips was animalistic, your fingertips clawing for a hold on Harry’s crumpled collar.

You let his forehead push against your cheek, putty in his hands to be molded to whatever he needed you to be. His lips met yours with pure desire, your whole body limp as you succumbed to him. His lips, his touch, his cock throbbing under your core, it was too much to bear. The evening breeze that trailed over your exposed skin barely made a dent in cooling you down, did nothing to alert you to where you were or who you were with.

You reached down, leaning back until your shaking hands met the cool metal of Harry’s belt buckle. His hips bucked, nudging his clothed tip closer to your core, drawing a deep moan out of him when your fingertips brushed over his length. “Not here, princess,” he groaned, sinking his teeth into your swollen bottom lip.

You wanted to touch him, to make him feel as needed as he did to you, to feel the burn as his cock broke through your walls. The disappointment that throbbed through your core was short-lived though as his fingers moved to your entrance, plucking your panties to the side as your slick coated his lap. You were soaked through, ready for him in a way that you’d definitely be embarrassed by later. His fingertips had barely grazed you, yet you were writhing and panting as if you’d never been touched before.

You dipped your head onto Harry’s shoulder, reluctantly pulling your hands away from his hips as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your gasp was quietened by your lips pressing into his collar, your teeth tugging against the material as he rubbed slow circles over your sweet spot.

You barely managed to croak out a plea for more, your voice failing you as every muscle in your body contracted, your walls begging for Harry to touch you deeper.

He answered with a groan, shifting you in his lap until two fingers sunk into you, piercing through the tension in your core. You were rocking against his hand, lips ghosting along his jawline as you chased the high you were already so close to. Every buck of your hips pressed your clit into his palm, the contact making your hair stand on end. He was electric, his fingers fucking into you with a power that almost had you fearing what he could do in bed.

You were burning, your heart pounding in your ears. It was too loud, the sound of your slick, your moans and Harry’s breathless pants mixing together in a filthy symphony spurring you closer to your release. You wanted more of him, for him to fuck you in every way possible, but it was overwhelming. You couldn’t focus, pleasure rolling through your body in waves as his mouth found your nipple again, the added sensation pushing you over the edge. You were too weak too hold on, too close to do anything other than succumb to your high, tensing in his hold as you cried out his name.

It echoed around your mind, your eyes screwed shut as he rode you through it, your inner walls clamping down on his fingers. Your thighs were still trembling as he pulled his hand from your core and pushed his fingertips past his lips, sucking every bit of your come from them.

You were frozen, staring at Harry through heavy eyes with the ghost of a smile curling the corners of your mouth. You felt lifeless, trapped inside a body that didn’t feel like yours, even as he tucked your exposed breast back into your jumper and pulled you into his chest. You’d given him everything you had, and you’d happily stay on that bench in your blissful bubble for the rest of your life.

“Should get you home,” Harry murmured, his voice as he pressed a kiss into your hair. You hugged him tighter, unable to get up and walk away even if you wanted to.

eee guys what did you think ?! this was a bit choppy and weirdly written but 🤪 it will all come together in the next part

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7 @harrystylesluverrrr @cohnfusedarling @ell0ra-br3kk3r @stylesfever @stylesbrock @harry-nialllover @fanfic-whore

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #professorry #harryslittlefreakk #harry styles masterlist

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were-wolverine · 1 year ago

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batfam/dc fic recs

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34594006/chapters/86113789 birdflash, batfam, yj & titans team, talon!dick keeps adopting people

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35671243/chapters/88939798 batfam, dick is taken by william cobb, good brother jason todd, pov jason & dick

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42905253/chapters/107791386 batfam, time travel, 15y/o and 20 y/o jason swap places, all the batkids (minus duke), discowing

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30951686/chapters/76441190#main batfam, jason is magically turned 15, jason & bruce, jason & dick

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071939/chapters/50129498 batboys, birdflash, damijon, alt reality with no batman, villain au but not really, dick jason tim & dami centered (fav of mine)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40843479 minor birdflash, batfam, dick kills the joker in arkham, jason pov

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812065 batfam, talon!dick saves robin!jason

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17024694/chapters/68542389?view_adult=true batfam, talon!dick, coffee shop au

https://archiveofourown.org/works/840565?view_adult=true birdflash, time travel shenanigans, wally time travels w/o warning all the time but always to a version of dick

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33840772 birdflash, talon dick grayson, young justice!dick, batbrothers tim and jason

https://archiveofourown.org/works/525987/chapters/931106 batfam, the team, birdflash, gotham academy, young justice!au

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15756108 batfam and bruce’s bathroom, superbat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18329522/chapters/43390649 batfam, superbat, batkids calling bruce ‘dad’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16599113 superbat, bruce gets turned into a kitten, clark takes him home

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14159745/chapters/32636481 jayroy, neighbors au, single parent roy, secret identity & miscommunication

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37824247/chapters/94444957 birdflash, white collar au, wally west is neal caffrey, dick is a little shit

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2724655 birdflash, white collar au, soulmate au, dick grayson is neal caffrey

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919062 superbat, JL bbq and identity reveal

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096913 birdflash + batfam stuff, no capes au

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699210 birdflash, nightwing!dick & civilian!wally

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942745 mini-robin being chaotic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17470007 birdflash, fix-it, soulmate au (bruises&scars)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45381850/chapters/114180319 talon!dick, young justice au, open ended (my fic 😅)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37157692 batfam & in-laws, birdflash jayroy timkon etc. (another one of my fics 👉👈)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37462546/chapters/93491716 robin!dick & harley quinn, yj!dick & hq show!harley, harlivy (last one i swear, aka it’s also mine)

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huramuna · 1 year ago

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wine red, tears gold - chapter 1.

king aegon II x baratheon ofc

a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.

word count: 4.6k

aegon wasn't as badly injured from Rook's Rest like in canon in this AU, he has a few burn scars near his torso but wasn't crippled / bedridden.

this is for my 100 followers poll. it was supposed to be a oneshot but will be a mini series in 3 or 4 parts. this is my first time writing aegon and it will also be somewhat of a character study.

thank you for 100 followers and everyone who participated in the poll. love <3 thank you @randomdragonfires for beta reading, mwah mwah.

content: smut (specifics below cut), canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn

its been so long - the living tombstone • nobody - mitski

chapter specific warnings: awkward sex, p in v, virginity loss

Every day felt like a new restraint, a new button added to the collar choking around Aegon’s neck. He had done it– he had freed the realm of the false queen, his half-sister– and lost almost everything to do so. When did it end? When did he get to relax and run the realm as he saw fit, since they so intended to have them at the helm. He wore the conqueror’s crown, wielded his sword and bore his name and yet he couldn’t do as the conqueror actually did. Rule. He felt more like a dog than a dragon these days; but that was just a pattern in his life. They wanted him when they needed him and he was to shoulder their burdens as eldest son.

His grandsire kept breathing down his neck to secure another wife, another heir, another alliance brokered with another pompous house.

“Listen to me, Aegon,” Otto began, his fingers laced together as he sat at his desk. He had summoned Aegon to the Tower of the Hand– he was summoning the King, rather than the King summoning him. Somehow, his council had let Otto weasel his way back into the position of Hand, Aegon’s mother in tears, pleading for it. There wasn’t anyone else fit for the job since Criston had died– and he was never really fit for it anyhow. “We must move quickly to provide you with a new wife. The realm won’t remain stable if we tarry in producing an heir for the throne.”

Aegon sat in the seat across from him, feeling more like a child than a King. He twisted the signet ring on his pinky finger. “It’s too soon. It would be an insult to Helaena.” he replied, not looking up at Otto. Helaena had only passed a few moons earlier and the wound was still fresh for all of them. Aegon never loved her like a wife– how could he, they were too different, too young– but he cared deeply for her as his sister and the mother of his children. Even thinking about taking another wife this soon felt like a betrayal. He would be like his father then.

A small huff and a rustling of papers was heard– Aegon was still too distracted by his signet ring, the thin light filtering through the half drawn blinds, causing a small glint off of the bronzed metal. He didn’t want to look up to see the expression on his grandsire’s face, he knew it was one of disappointment. Aegon couldn’t remember the last time that someone hadn’t looked at him with contempt, disappointment, melancholy.

“You must understand. You have a duty to the realm–”

“Fucking duty– don’t speak to me of it. I’ve done my duty for enough lifetimes. I let you put me on the throne and usurp my sister and look where that’s gotten us? Everyone is fucking dead, Otto. Jaehaerys, Maelor, Helaena, Aemond,” he paused for a moment, lifting his head up to meet the Hand’s gaze head on, “Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey– do I need to proceed? The majority of our bloodline is wiped out because of you and your ambition.”

Otto snorted, standing up from his desk slowly. He grabbed a decanter of wine, pouring them both a goblet. “You misunderstand. Everything I’ve done has been… for our family’s legacy– for the realm,” he placed the glass stopped back into the carafe, “Don’t you dare act as if I am not hurting for the loss of family– but war is war, boy. People die. It is unfortunate that… the ones close to us did. But we can’t live with our head in the clouds any longer, there is a realm to run and the crown comes with responsibilities. A wife and heir are one of those paramount responsibilities.”

“I have an heir. I still have one remaining child– Jaehaera is my heir. I deem it.” he spoke quickly, staring at the goblet of wine. He had reduced his intake of alcohol since the war ended– but the need for it was always there, always aching. He suddenly felt parched. Giving Otto a haughty stare, he took a sip from the glass, feeling his muscles instantly relax.

“Don’t be daft– have you so quickly forgotten what happened when the King last named a female heir?”

“It wasn’t that Rhaenyra was a woman, Otto. People would’ve learned to adjust if…” Aegon took another sip, clearing his throat, “If she hadn’t been infatuated with her freak of an uncle, you would’ve been able to control her easier, hm? It's always been you and mother behind the crown these past two decades– not me, nor my father.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Otto griped back, gripping his glass, “Don’t speak of things you know nothing about. Rhaenyra–” he stopped, taking a breath, “Rhaenyra is dead. They’re all dead, you’re right. But there is still the whole of the Seven Kingdoms requiring a leader, especially now. A leader with a united front with a queen and babe. I won’t argue further on this matter.”

Aegon acquiesced. He would rather deal with Otto’s venomous viper tongue talking him into things he didn’t want to do now instead of his mother visiting him hours later in hysterics– he couldn’t bear it. Alicent was more of a mess now than ever. “Fine. I leave this in your very capable hands,” he stood up, swiping the whole jug of wine, “At least find me a pretty one.”

–

She was plain, unbelievably plain. Long, curled brown hair desperately in need of a trim, a poorly tailored dress that needed to be more fitted at the waist, stature too small and unremarkable to stand up to anyone of importance. Oh, and picked cuticles, the spots of red eking out from her nail beds. Mayhaps she and his mother would get along just jolly, then. She was to be his prospective wife and bear him more heirs. He wanted to shove it back in the council’s face and say he has an heir, his only living child, Jaehaera. Melancholy and withdrawn as she was, she was his heir.

The council disagreed, allowing Borros Baratheon to shove his last unwed daughter at him like a piece of meat that no one wanted.

Her eyes wafted up to glance at him, every move of hers uncertain, cautious. She was so deathly aware of each minute gesture, her posture having to be adjusted to straighten every few minutes.

Lyanna Baratheon wasn’t of prominent knowledge and reputation like her sisters, aptly named ‘the Four Storms’ – she didn’t remind Aegon at all of a stag or a doe, but rather something more diminutive and easily killed, like a prey animal. Mayhaps a rabbit– it would be an apt description, as she had giant eyes, brown –almost black– in their hue, a shiny glaze over them as she stared at the ground. Every so often, their eyes would meet, brown to violet, and she would look apt as Aegon thought she was.

A rabbit begging for its life.

Borros Baratheon stood beside her, murmuring something into her ear. He was a boorish oaf of a man who couldn’t even read– Aegon wasn’t the brightest star in the sky when it came to matters of literature, that’d always been his brother’s realm, but atleast he could fucking read. He thought it quite hysterical that his house sigil was that of a Stag when Lord Borros reminded him more of a boar. Mayhaps he should change it.

As he continued to whisper to his daughter, her expression went from sordid to panicked, then back to sordid. She wasn’t very good at masking her emotions– she would need to learn if she were to survive at the Keep. The tips of her fingers twitched slightly and she was obviously holding herself back from tearing into her nail beds.

“Lord Borros,” Aegon broke the tension, “Perhaps I should show your daughter around the gardens while you speak with my grandsire. We have the most beautiful gardens here and I’d imagine that Storm’s End wouldn’t have something quite as grand,” he glazed over Borros’ blank stare, “due to the storms, of course.”

Lord Baratheon adjusted his doublet, which was far too small for him— did the Stormlands not have a proper fucking tailor? — and nodded, “Yes, that would be amicable. It would do some good to familiarize yourself with one another before the wedding in a week’s time.”

Aegon’s throat felt parched. He knew that they were speeding things along but he didn’t anticipate it to be this fast. Grabbing a bottle of wine from a nearby servant, he descended back to Lyanna, intent on whisking her away as quickly as possible. Not because he found her particularly interesting, rather the opposite, but he needed an excuse to get out of the room. The insistent thrum of his pulse in his neck was all too loud. His arm looped under Lyanna’s, “Come, my lady,” he hummed, trying to seem like he was somewhat collected and kingly and not on the edge of chugging the entire carafe of wine and smashing it over the next poor fucker’s head. “To the gardens.”

He practically strung along the poor girl, who hurriedly agreed and tried her best to keep up. “Y-yes, your grace,” she mewled, her feet tapping on the ground at irregular rhythms as she hung onto Aegon’s arm, bouncing against the stone walkway toward the gardens, “King’s Landing is… very beautiful, my king– your subject must be very pleased.”

As they descended the cobbled steps down to the garden, Aegon eyed her warily, “Did your father tell you to say that?”

“N-no, not exactly–”

“He did. Anyone with half of a brain and a working nose knows that this accursed city smells of shit. You shouldn’t lie, my lady. You’re quite bad at it,” he took a small breath as he looked at her expression– the poor thing was on the verge of tears. “You will get better in time,” he continued with a slightly softer tone, “This Keep is full of great liars and you don’t seem… too much like your father. I am sure you will pick up quickly. How old are you?”

“Nineteen, your grace.”

Aegon resisted giving a derisive snort, instead uncorking the wine bottle and tossing the stopper into the grass, “You’re quite young, then,” he took a swig, feeling the bitter tasting liquid coat his mouth, “All the better for heirs. Or so I’m sure that we’ve both been told.”

In truth, some would consider her a bit late in age to be married– but Aegon didn’t care as long as he wasn’t robbing the cradle like his father did to his mother, or Daemon to Rhaenyra. He was twenty-six himself and tried to remember what he was like when he was nineteen; he couldn’t exactly pinpoint an exact memory. It was mostly a blur.

“I am… hopeful to provide you with many healthy heirs, my king,” she replied, her words sounding rehearsed. She is as poor of an actress as she is a liar, then. She paused for a moment, looking at her hands, “I… do not wish to replace the late queen, her grace, Helaena– I merely wish to fulfill my duty to the realm and my family– I am terribly… sorry to hear about Helaena, my king. As well as your prince brothers. War is a terrible thing.”

Aegon blinked profusely a few times. Her words after her pause sounded genuine– mayhaps she is capable of thinking for herself. She seemed… softhearted, even if a bit naive. He regarded the bottle in his hand for a moment, swishing it around. No one had really apologized to him for his losses– the enumerable amount of them he’s gone through these past few years. They all bowed their heads and wouldn’t meet his gaze, as if their blood was all on his hands. Mayhaps it was. He swallowed, his mouth pursed in a thin line, “... War is indeed a terrible thing, my lady.”

They walked for a few hours around the garden, talking about various things. Aegon still found her quite boring and uninteresting to look at– she wasn’t ugly by any means, and could be considered pretty, but she was just so terribly plain that it bored him to tears. Her speech was all faux and he tried to eek out any genuineness to her words through different subjects– all to no avail. It seemed the sore subject of Aegon’s family was the only thing to break her from her carefully crafted script.

Eventually, they parted ways– for the better, he thought. She was a fine match, a fine age, a fine vessel for his seed to produce a royal heir and whatever other innocuous thing his grandsire needed from him.

What a terribly dreadful life he’s let himself sink into.

That night, he drained two bottles of Dornish Red, falling much into the same state of mind he had when he was nineteen. Wandering to the Street of Silk, he whored and drank himself into a state of sloven mania.

In the midst of his drunken ramblings, he wondered if he could ever find someone who would truly love him or if his opportunity had already passed.

–

The wedding followed in the timeline that Borros and Otto had set– as quickly as possible. The council dipped into the coffers to make it happen, it was to be an extravagant event, a new beginning for the realm. Artisans, fine bakers and cooks were all hired to make the wedding a facet, stringing up red, green, yellow and black banners, making dozens of delicate pastries and even cooking six turduckens to line the tables.

It was all lavish and opulent– and Lyanna could not feel more out of place. The past week at the Keep had been a whirlwind of planning, gown fittings, flower picking. Her sisters were there in attendance, speaking up more than she on what to pick. It was fine with her, as she couldn’t bring herself to care for it. The gaudiness of it all made her feel ill.

She had only met with Aegon the one time, the first time. Lyanna felt she made a terrible impression— she was so nervous that day that she’d vomited twice that morning, all while her father screamed at her to get it right, to say exactly as he told her to. For the most part, she had done just that— played the perfect little puppet for him and said all those empty words that meant nothing.

She was meant to see Aegon at least three more times before the wedding, as there were a few dinners arranged between their two families. He had been absent for all, his mother citing that he was unable to attend for various reasons but nothing overtly specific.

Alicent Hightower was a nice lady— she was warm to Lyanna, talking to her at the dinners when no one else had bothered. She was the person who Lyanna felt most comfortable with in the Keep and was grateful that she was to be her good-mother. Alicent was a bit frayed at the ends from the loss of her other children; she was haunted, her eyes constantly red-rimmed and murmuring prayers under her breath.

The morning of the wedding, Lyanna was summoned to Alicent’s solar to get ready.

She knocked on the door, “Your grace— it’s Lyanna.”

“Come in, my dear,” she called out, a maid opening the door to let her in. “How are you feeling this morn?” Alicent was perched on the settee when Lyanna came in, and immediately rushed over to her, taking the young girl’s hands in hers.

“Quite nervous,” Lyanna responded, her hands quivering ever so slightly, even under the warm touch of Alicent. “May I speak plainly, your grace?”

“Of course,” she ushered Lyanna to the loveseat and had the maid pour them both tea, then promptly shooed her out. “It’s just us now, speak your mind, sweetling.”

“I-I am afraid that… Aegon will not like me. I fear I didn’t make a good first impression— he seemed quite bored of me.”

Alicent took a sip of her tea, giving a small sigh. “I will do you the favor of not sugarcoating words and speak plainly like you have done with me. Aegon will not like you,” she pursed her lips into a thin line, twisting the signet ring on her finger, “Aegon is a creature of debauchery and sin— and you are a good, pious girl. You are like oil and water.” her brown eyes met Lyanna’s, her expression softening. The two women had a fast camaraderie, praying together each morning in the Sept. “You… may not love him, or even like him— but there is a duty upon you to fulfill. It is a burden we carry as women, my dear. We are always behest to the men in our lives,” she stopped, her eyes glazing over with a far-away look, “I don’t mean to be discouraging. You are a… good hearted young woman and I believe you can channel that into something positive as the Queen.”

Lyanna felt her stomach quivering at Alicent’s words, her skin flushing. “I… appreciate your plain speech, your grace. I just… do not wish to displease him.”

Alicent’s mouth twitched at each end as if she were mulling something over. “It will be hard to please him, my dear. You are nothing like the women that usually please him,” she wiped a hand down her face, “You remind me so much of myself, Lyanna. Pushed into something you are… ill-suited for. You’re a sweet and kindhearted girl and I don’t wish for you to tear yourself apart on the inside and feel as if you’re not good enough for him– you are, you are too good for him, too pure, too-” Alicent took a measured breath, “You are not what he wants and you never will be, my dear. It will do you well to know that now rather than years later. There is always someone else in their eyes– women like you and I do what we can. I pray you will find things that keep you happy.”

Lyanna picked up her tea cup with trembling hands, taking a sip. There seemed to be more to Alicent’s words than them just being about Aegon– but she didn’t want to push it. Dipping her head, she thanked her good-mother-to-be once more.

–

“Wake up, wake up!” a voice boomed, rousing Aegon from his haze as a carafe of cold water was poured on him. The girl latched to his cock like a leech let out a shrill scream and scrambled away.

“Fucking hell– who the fuck?” Aegon slurred, blinking profusely half a dozen times before his vision came into focus. It was one of the Kingsguard, one more behest to his grandsire than him– and his grandsire, Otto, who had the now empty container of water in hand.

“Wake up, you ingrate,” Otto growled, grabbing his grandson by his collar, hoisting him up onto his feet, smacking his cheek gently. “Your wedding is in two hours and you’re passed out in a whorehouse. You’re the king, for the Seven’s sake– I thought you left this debauchery behind, atleast have your whores at the keep instead of being in these pits of sin.”

“You can put a number of different hats on a bear, you know,” Aegon slumped against the wall, “Many kinds of hats; a hood, a felted dante, a linen coif, a cowl, a straw hat, a jester’s garb– heh, that’d be quite funny–”

“Is there a point to your drunken babbling, Aegon?”

“Yes, ah– you can put many types of hats on a bear and change its look but at the end of the day, its still just a fucking bear,” he straightened out his stained tunic, “Point being– you can stick a crown on my head, put a sword in my hand and put me through a war to keep me on that fucking throne but guess what, grandsire, I am still just a bear at the end of the day.”

Otto stared at him, brow furrowed. “You aren’t a bear, you’re a dragon and a king, so act like it. You are getting married in two hours and you look like a sloven mess. You’re lucky that Borros is as blind for power and recognition as he is or he would take his daughter back to Storm’s End and you’ll be stuck with the next best choice.”

“That boring rube of a girl was my best choice? I must be fucked, then, either way.”

Otto and his Kingsguard dog dragged Aegon back to the keep, and observed while maids scrubbed him clean, red and raw. He was put in a nicely fit green suit, his House cloak strapped to his shoulders. It was a whirlwind of events that led up to the doors of the Sept being opened and Aegon ushered in.

His stomach churned and he felt sixteen again, forced to wed his sister. He remembered being hardly conscious throughout the ceremony, fumbling over his cloak and practically smothering Helaena in it.

He looked down the aisle at Lyanna, who was dressed in a pale yellow dress with long, flowing sleeves. She had a high collar with black lining and antler embroidery all over the garment. It was actually well fitted this time, likely thanks to his mother, and it turned out she actually had a figure, with plush hips and a well-endowed chest. Her brown hair was half up, half down with an assortment of intricate braids– it reminded him of how Rhaenyra used to wear her hair and he wondered who thought to style it like that, and he wondered if he was the only one who noticed.

As he walked down the aisle, he saw his mother in the front row– she was crying, thumbing a pendant in the shape of a Seven Pointed Star.

The ceremony was a blur to him, as he put the cloak over her shoulders and sealed their union with a kiss– a chaste one. She tasted like lavender tea. As he pulled back, he noticed that her eyes were rimmed with tears, and he felt the familiar sting of tears in his own eyes.

The feast was much the same, as he drank himself into a numbing stupor. He only had one moment of clarity, as some of the rowdy guests began to poke and prod at Lyanna, talking about the bedding ceremony. She looked visibly uncomfortable, picking at her nail beds under the table. Something about the sight of her discomfort and pain stirred something in Aegon that he couldn’t name– maybe he was feeling sentimental from the alcohol, but a surge of possessiveness flowed through him. He wasn’t known to be possessive, much the opposite in fact. But the egregious actions of these men pawing at his wife– their fucking queen, mind them– making disgusting insinuations. If she were a whore, it’d be different– but she was so… innocent, so coerced in all of this just as he was, it felt wrong.

Aegon snapped, slamming his cup down, “There won’t be any fucking bedding ceremony,” he growled, “My wife and I will be retiring to our chambers– alone. And if… any one of you lays another paw on her, you will lose it.”

Lyanna stared at Aegon, those huge brown eyes wide. Her lips were parted slightly as he once again strung her along the halls to his– no, their– chambers. She was shaking.

Once in their chambers, he let go of her, uncorking another bottle of wine and taking a swig. “I presume you think that this is where I will fuck you, hm? Stick my prick in you and make an heir and we will all live happily ever after like a child’s storybook.”

Lyanna stared down at her feet. “It… it would be… the duty of husband and wife to consummate–”

“Fuck duty! I’m not going to fuck some weepy eyed maiden because my old fuck grandsire said so. I don’t have need of you in that way.”

Her hands were trembling as she unlaced the back of her dress, her movements autonomous– she was doing what she thought she should be doing in this situation. She began to undress, slipping her gown off and leaving her in her silken shift, which didn’t leave much to the imagination. The sight of her body, soft, stirred something within him for a moment, like a spark trying to ignite kindling.

“We don’t have to do this, Lyanna,” he murmured, using her name for the first time. He put down the wine bottle. “We can wait.”

“N-no! Please, I want to– please,” Lyanna whispered, practically pleading for it, as if she wanted to get it over with. “Please.”

Aegon rubbed a hand down his face. “Get on the bed then. Lie on your stomach.”

She did as she was told, laying flat on the bed on her stomach. She clutched some pillows as a lifeline.

He knew he should warm her up, he knew that they should want to touch one another, he should want to see her face– but he didn’t. He couldn’t bear to look at her face, or touch her for longer than was necessary. He barely shimmied down his trousers before he began poking at her entrance with a half-hard cock, partially trying to give her a moment to get used to the sensations, and partially trying to find where he was supposed to stick it– he knew, of course, he’d fucked his way through King’s Landing and then some, but he hadn’t fucked many maidens, and especially not when he was blind drunk.

Eventually, he hit home and slid into her, his movements slow at first. He could hear her whimpers and knew they weren’t of pleasure. It reminded him of his wedding night with Helaena where they’d both cried– all the memories of that night came flooding back, causing him to falter.

Lyanna looked back at him, her eyes puffy and red, “I-Is it over?”

Aegon swallowed sharply, cringing as he stared at her. The moment of arousal he had– purely from stimulation alone– was gone now, his half-hard erection deflating completely. “Fuck– yes, it’s over.” he didn’t have the heart to tell her that it in fact had hardly started before it was over– and not in the good way. He pulled out of her, taking in a deep breath as he walked to the water basin and soaked a cloth with warm water, offering it to her. “Wipe yourself– it will help with the… pain… and blood.”

She took the cloth, wiping away the remnants of their half-fulfilled consummation. “I-I’m… sorry,” Lyanna whispered, sniffling, “I know I am not what you want.”

His mouth was pulled into a thin line as he turned away. “You’re right. You aren’t.”

They fell into bed next to each other and Aegon’s mind was swimming as he tried to sleep. He didn’t know what he wanted. He never wanted any of this– he just wanted to be a kid again with no responsibilities, with all of his siblings, even Rhaenyra– he would’ve… he would’ve been nicer to all of them, he wouldn’t of picked on Aemond, he would’ve gotten to know Rhaenyra better, he would’ve played with Helaena’s bugs, he would’ve taught Daeron all of the secrets of the castle. He would’ve told his grandsire to fuck off when they were to crown him and had Sunfyre char him to a crisp and given the crown to Rhaenyra.

He would’ve been loved then.

He just wanted to be loved.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing #wine red tears gold

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pokeberry5 · 4 months ago

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Hello, it's me again, still on my Tim dive. I wanted to know if there's any other comics you'd recommend! I've got Young Justice on the list but aside from that, nothing much. Doesn't have to be Tim specific though I have grown so fond of him. Thanks in advance!

hello again!

prefacing this with the fact that my recommendations are going to skew towards tim's earlier experiences and mostly bat-titles just because that's what i've managed to get through

i think you said last time that you'd already read robin 1991 which i love as a short and sweet introduction to tim's character

batman: contagion and batman: legacy -- LEGACY MY BELOVED I LOVE SO MUCH. contagion is the disaster pandemic storyline (which. yeah.) with legacy as the fallout/continuation, but i love it because it has so many almost whump fic moments. also catwoman-robin teamup and nightwing-robin-huntress teamup <333

batman: gotham knights: transference (which is batman: gotham knights #1-12) is a series of poignant character studies on the main characters associated with batman at the time (e.g. nightwing, robin, oracle, batgirl) and batman's thoughts on his relationships with them. i also really like the framing of the arc. you'll see. typical bruce repression fuckery.

huntress 1989 is a standalone mini-series introducing helena bertinelli. it's darker than what i usually enjoy, but i found it to be a tightly written story on trauma and self-actualization. what really made it stick with me is the (imo) suprisingly sensitive narrative and visual treatment of helena's childhood assault.

i haven't read it myself, but batgirl 2000 has been on my reading list for a long time. it's cassandra cain's title.

as some more random recs:

i recently read brotherhood of the fist which is a 5 part crossover centering around connor hawke with some banging dick & tim moments (green arrow 1988 #134, detective comics 1937 #723, robin 1993 #55, nightwing #23).

i'm very fond of the ridiculousness that is batman: failsafe (batman 2016 #125-130). i love jorge jiménez's art, i love sexy killer robot batman, and i do think it's an earnest exploration of how bruce conceptualizes and dichotomizes the role of his robins in his life. i also LOVE the noir/watercolor visuals of the accompanying I AM GUN mini.

i'm gonna toss in detective comics 2016 #1034-1046 which i read with absolutely no context for the sake of dan mora wet cat batman 👍 you too can be eminently confused :] but the art and writing is pretty solid!! i think it's like the bridge between infinite frontier and fear state.

#i love tim dearly but the genre conventions of american comics post 80s tend to skew darker than what i prefer #especially post nml from what i've heard #so it's been slow going #i dont have the buoy that is the hype and hope of shounen ;-;#comic recs #red talks #asks #i hope this is helpful!#dc

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necrotic-nephilim · 6 months ago

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I’m gonna be honest I didn’t realize the new 52 messed with Kon that much till I read your post and now I can’t get over the potential. I’m a Tim/Kon girly at heart so I would devour anything you write exploring the 52 vs typical Kon. Also Time being in a clone sandwich is 👌.

the new-52 messed Kon up SO bad it's ridiculous. like, to the point i would personally argue he's a completely unrelated character to pre-Flashpoint/Rebirth Kon. his personality, his suit, his origin, all different. the only real similarities are the name and powerset. and even New-52!Kon's powers are slightly different from pre-Flashpoint!Kon. New-52!Kon is a clone of a future version of Jon Lane Kent, cloned by N.O.W.H.E.R.E. to provide genetic material to Jon Lane Kent, whose body was not handling being half human/half Kryptonian well, it was a whole thing. New-52!Kon is also where we get the infamous "Kon-El means 'abomination of the house of El' and Kara basically named him a slur in Kryptonian culture" tidbit, because that is the only time that's canon. (originally Kon-El was a name gifted by Clark to accept Kon as his family way back in the 90s) he also never went by Conner Kent. New-52!Kon just straight up didn't have any real human identity or connections, outside of being very close to Tim and some Titans.

the very TLDR of Kon's history is: during post-Crisis/pre-Flashpoint, a clone called Superboy is created by CADMUS. at first, he's considered to be a clone of a dude named Paul Westfield and is not Kryptonian whatsoever, he was simply made to look like Superman and only has Tactile Telekinesis as a power. then, it was made canon that actually he was a clone of Lex Luthor and Clark Kent, but Lex hid this fact and slowly, Kon developed more Kryptonian powers. he's given the name Kon-El by Clark, and is taken in by the Kents, getting the name Conner Kent. then Flashpoint happens, we get the New-52, and we're given the above version of Kon-El, who is a clone of Jon Lane Kent, created by N.O.W.H.E.R.E. who has mostly very strong telekinesis powers and some Kryptonian powers. he's with the Titans for a bit, then at the end of the New-52, he kills some aliens and feels bad about it so he decides to fuck off and is never seen again, it's presumed he's dead but never confirmed. then Rebirth happens and DC makes Jon Kent the current Superboy, we get Supersons and all that, and it's assumed that no version of Kon-El exists. just at all. he's not around whatsoever, Jon is our only Superboy. *but* in 2019, we get a new Young Justice run and the pre-Flashpoint Kon-El is back, and we're given the explanation of: Kon got accidentally teleported to this alternate realm called Gemworld and then Flashpoint happened, and since that was a Crisis Event that changed the timeline, the poor lad got *erased* from the timeline, causing most people to *not fucking remember him* and for him to remember a timeline that no longer exists. some of the Young Justice team vaguely remember him, Ma and Pa Kent remember him, but notably, Clark *does not remember him*. it's not an issue of "Clark ignored Kon in favor of Jon" it's an issue of "Kon was erased from the timeline and didn't exist for years bc he was stuck in Gemworld and Clark just doesn't remember Kon or Kon's timeline" which to me, is far more tragic but i digress. since then, Kon has been back and is present in most significant Superfamily runs, with his own recent mini-series, Superboy: Man of Tomorrow. (which was very good btw)

so basically: the New-52 fucked Kon up so bad they wrote him out of comics for years and then brought back the pre-Flashpoint version, but never *explicitly* killed the New-52 version off. so hypothetically, it's possible that there are currently two characters existing in the DC universe named Kon-El who have been Superboy. and like i said above, one of New-52!Kon's only real significant relationships was with Tim, it was the only thing the New-52 managed to get right about Superboy, his closeness to Tim. they have a *lot* of moments that read incredibly queer. and ofc, it's just outright confirmed in Dark Crisis: Young Justice that Tim had a crush on pre-Flashpoint!Kon at some point. so while comics are intent on pretending New-52!Kon doesn't exist, i am intent on putting Tim in a clone sandwich.

because i do think it's fun to play with Tim having genuine feelings and potentially a relationship with both of them. and the fucked up nature of him not fully *remembering* his relationship with pre-Flashpoint!Kon (which is a canon thing, in YJ(2019) Tim has vague memories of Kon he's struggling to piece together and understand why he cares about this guy he doesn't recognize so much) and how frustrating that is for Tim. he knows he loves Kon, but it's all foggy besides that. and so it's even *more* fucked up if Tim dated New-52!Kon before he got emo and ran off into the unknown. obviously in canon no one has told current Kon about New-52!Kon bc comics are doing the good ol' tried and true of "sweep that shit under the rug" but for fanfic, i think it's fun to ask the question of: would anyone *tell* Kon? especially Tim? who now remembers dating both versions of them? would he admit to Kon that briefly, he had another Kon? how would Tim cope with that and move on? personality wise, they could not be more different. they dress and act and look different. they're not the same person, but there's certainly a questionable factor of Tim's dating history including two Kon-Els.

the idea i've had for a while is Tim slowly starting to date pre-Flashpoint!Kon again. it feels familiar and like home. and Tim has grieved and accepted that wherever New-52!Kon is, he doesn't want to come home, he didn't love TIm enough to stay and try. so Tim takes the Kon he has, and genuinely has a happy relationship. like for once, life is good and things almost make sense for Tim. but then, of course, New-52!Kon comes back. he decides he wants to try again and he finds Tim. only to find well. he's been replaced. and technically, he's been replaced with the *original* that he didn't even know *existed*. and if being a clone is bad enough, that just makes it a hundred times worse. because imagine knowing you're actually the second Kon-El your boyfriend who you never *technically* broke up with fell in love with. that's gotta give you some kind of complex.

so i think it's fun if both Kons try to step back and let the other Kon date Tim. both of them have reasons to feel like the "replacement" or "fake" Kon, and it makes them incredibly awkward with each other. do they count as the same person? bc they definitely don't *feel* like the same person to each other, but with weird timeline stuff, who can really say. them settling on an awkward throuple that's really meant to be Tim just dating them both but somehow they end up dating each other too is so fun for me. they both feel like imposters to the Superboy name but are so deeply in love with Tim Drake, it's the one thing truly connecting them. and then of course, Tim feels bad in that somehow, he's betraying both of them for having feelings for the other. but they make it work, with a lot of awkward angst and miscommunication. i just think it'd be fun. very difficult to write to get all the weird timeline nuances down in a way that's understandable in a fanfic (bc you can't just. infodump like i did on this post) but doable. also difficult to tag, because even though i argue these are two different characters, i'm pretty sure Ao3 groups them under the same character tag. so it'd be difficult to convey it's not *really* as selfcest-y as it would imply. comics, man. DC will never acknowledge New-52!Kon again, and he's admittedly a terrible adaptation of Kon-El, but. i think he was sort of neat in his own right and i'd *love* for DC to just inexplicably bring him back and make the current Kon deal with the consequences of all that. and them make Tim kiss them both. obviously.

#necrotic answerings #timkon #how do I tag this ship i'm so serious #kontimkon #I fucking *guess*?#also just plain Kon/Kon could be neat as well #I don't view it as selfcest. but like. I understand if ppl do #also if I got some details wrong i'm so sorry #I was tipsy writing this.#new-52!Kon you were a disaster child but come back from the war I miss you.#i'd need to reread the new-52 superboy and teen titans run to write this #just to be sure I've got a solid grasp on his character #pre-flashpoint!Kon I understand just fine he's my son I've read most of his content #new-52!Kon. eeeeeh. i've read it. years ago. and I'm not even sure if I actually read it all through or just bits and pieces #I hated him when he existed be like. he fucked up Kon so bad we fucking lost Kon for a couple years #but in hindsight. he had potential.#also if you want another bizarre fun fact about the new-52 #Tim was never Robin in the new-52. he went straight to being Red Robin.#also his parents are alive and in witsec. do with that what you will.#weird times.#I guess new-52!Kon could've been erased by rebirth but I don't think he was?? bc characters have recalled his existence so?#hypothetically he *should* exist???#and if he doesn't #*oh well* I do what I want #DC you may not care about the implications of your retcons and reboots but I do. I do.#I want more fandom acknowledgement of Kon getting fucking erased from the timeline and no one remembering him #yes it's fun to make Clark a bad dad #but Kon was forgotten! by almost everyone! that's also fun!#young justice (2019) isn't the *best* comic ever but it's still solid! lots of good Kon whump I tell you.#he was fucking going *through* it that run I tell you. by God.

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artficlly · 10 months ago

Text

a dish served cold (mini series - part three)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x reader after the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. fate brings you to crimson junction for a reason, and that reason is bucky barnes.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, guns, violence, kidnapping, mention of death, head injuries, choking, creepy men, period typical attitudes, outlaw bucky, alcohol, bounty hunters, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: part three. this section is a little shorter but next weeks part is the longest in the whole series :) let me know your thoughts. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen, Mister.”

You held your gun steady as the man took slow, deliberate steps towards you, tsking with a shake of his head. Rocks and flecks of sand crunched beneath his leather boots, spurs jingling softly with each step. As he grew closer, you drew your rifle higher and closer, aiming at the point between his eyes.

These were the group of men from Crimson Junction—the ones who were always followed by a cloud of smoke. The ones Barnes had been wary of. The ones he had warned you of.

Bounty hunters.

“I acknowledge that you’ve done well, Miss…?” He trailed off in question, his hands motioning outward on either side of his hips. You could see the glint of metal attached to his belt.

“Nellie. Nellie Chase” You lied curtly, raising your chin.

“Miss Chase… well. Like I said, I acknowledge that you’ve done well, but… I’ve been trackin’ this man for weeks now, and all that effort can’t go to waste now. I’m sure you understand.” The man provided you with a beaming smile as he spoke, his yellow-stained teeth glinting in the light. One of his companions to his side loudly chewed his tobacco with a cruel smirk, the other crudely hacking and spitting onto the ground in front of you.

You narrow your eyes at their group. Your heart was in your throat, but nevertheless, you persisted. “You don’t think I’ve also been trackin’ him for weeks? I got here first; you’ll just have to move on, friends.”

The man chuckles, shaking his head. “Listen. This is how I see it. You ain’t gonna be able to bring in this vermin by yerself… I mean, look at’chu.”

“I think you would be singin’ a different song if I were a man.” You counter, cocking your head to the side. The men bark out a laugh at your words, one going as far to clutch his stomach as if winded.

“Oh, Miss! This is not’uh case of your sex! I am speakin’ facts, this man here, this outlaw…” He gestures at Bucky, who remains on his stomach with a scowl etched across his face. “Why he is what, twice yer size, triple? How is a little thang like’chu gonna march him all the way to a jailhouse?”

You were beginning to think this bounty hunter was rather too fond of the sound of his own voice.

“Yah look like a bright young thang, yah must know where I’m comin’ from… a good place—a, uh… place of concern. Wouldn’t want a pretty young thang like yerself gettin’ hurt by a brute like him, now would we?”

You exhale sharply through your nose, your posture still poised and stiff as you keep your distance. “Well, I might say I am thankful for your concern, but I fear it’s misplaced. I do not need assistance; what I need is for you and your men to get out of my way.”

“Ah. Stubborn. I suppose you couldn’t get far in this nasty bounty business without having some guts.” He pauses, as if musing. “Say, I will make you an offer, Miss.”

You paused at that. Did these men truly think you were like them? A bounty hunter? In your silks and lace, neatly swept-up hair, and adorned with jewels? Maybe they thought you were deep under-cover to disarm him with your wit and charms. But you weren’t playing a character, despite the small lies about your name and background. This is who you were raised to be.

In that moment, you decided it might be best to keep up your cool and collected charade. God forbid, these men thought you were anything different. Any woman knew the risk of being vulnerable around men who claimed to be gentlemanly—that instinct reached further than just the west. It rang true in any city or country.

“I hope that offer is you leavin’, or I will be forced to shoot.�� You threaten.

“Now, now. I was going to offer you a cut of his bounty, right here and now. All you have to do is hand him over… consider it a formality for findin’ him first.”

Mind racing, you consider your words carefully and play along. “How much of a cut?”

“Hmm… say, what, ten percent?” The man offers.

You shake your head, continuing to play along until you can come up with something better. “Ten? I put in as much hard work as you trackin’ him.”

“I admit, trackin’ is hard work, but we both know that once you’ve caught them, keeping them caught is harder. Don’t be a fool, take the cut so this don’t get messy, darlin’.”

The man chuckled, though you knew his patience was growing thin. His men looked at you with features akin to a snarl. You doubted you could shoot them all in enough time without taking a bullet yourself—nor could you run away with Barnes in tow without a fight. You chest twinged in response to these thoughts. A few weeks in the desert, and you were already contemplating murder.

These people had corrupted you.

Due to your focus being solely on one another, none of you noticed as Barnes raised himself from his belly and sprinted deeper into the canyons.

There was a momentary lull, a calm before the storm, the men’s mouths agape in shock. You all watched, locked in place, as the outlaw zig-zagged between rocks and vanished behind a sharp clifface. You had to suppress a laugh at the obscenity of it—three bounty hunters so busy bickering with you that the bounty had slipped away.

“After him, you fuckin’ fools!” The leader growled at his men, who hurriedly turned on their heels and chased after Barnes. “And don’t shoot him! We need him alive!”

As the man faced you once more, you could see that any gentlemanliness or amusement had been washed away. A fierce rage marked his features, creases deep in his forehead as he scowled at you. His eyes narrowed as he took you in, still poised with your rifle.

“As for you, you had your chance.”

He moved towards you swiftly, making wide strides, shortening the distance between you in mere seconds. Caught off guard, you fumbled with your rifle. You hadn’t quite been given the time to process the inevitability of shooting a man. You were not a killer. You were raised to defend yourself, yes, but a murderer you were not. The brief pause you took to mourn your innocence was futile because, as you committed to a life with your hands bloodstained, you found you were already too late. The man grasped the barrel with his large palm, twisting it from your grip with a grunt. The two of you wrestled before you realised he was easily overpowering you.

Releasing the rifle, you turned to retreat in the direction of your mare, who stood patiently waiting. The man pursued you with unwavering persistence, grasping your arm as he tugged you backwards. Instinctively, you yanked your arm back vigorously, so hard that you feared you had ripped it from its socket. Muscles and tendons ached at the sudden force, the momentum sending you stumbling over your own feet. Falling to your knees, the earth bites painfully into your bones, sending a shock wave strong enough to clatter your teeth.

Mouth agape, you look up at your attacker, unarmed and defenceless. He raises the rifle in one solid swing, bringing the butt down against your temple. You register a deafening crack, followed by an overwhelming pain that hurtles down your skull and spine. Your head jolts as the world turns sideways. You don’t feel yourself falling. Everything goes black.

—

The first thing you noticed was the scent of smoke.

You clung to it—the earthy, smouldering taste that overpowered your senses. You were half caught in a dream, half caught in reality. You were aware of the voices that circled you, the crackle of fire, and the howling of the wind through the canyons. A blissful ignorance engulfed your being, accepting the darkness as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Only as the struggle to open your eyes became alarming, an up-tick of your heart did you truly begin to question everything. You didn’t recall lighting a fire or falling asleep. There was a drilling pain that radiated across your skull, and the skin around your temple and cheek was itchy and tight.

The crackle of the logs burning was muffled, and the distant sound of talking and laughter finally startled you from your sluggish state. You didn’t recall lighting a fire or falling asleep. You did not recall having company either. Bleary-eyed you blinked. The sky was dark, with a few stars glittering overhead. The warm glow of the fire illuminated a set of tents, and three men huddled around, drinks in hand.

Your head lulled, pain radiating down your shoulders and spine as you dared to take in more of your environment. Your vision was sideways, curved, and hard to interpret. Shapes and static swam across your view. Your brows drew together, a frown across your face as you stared at a man sat tied to a post only a few paces away. You squinted at him, trying to focus. He stared back at you blankly. Barnes.

You knew him. The outlaw fleeing west. How many times had you looked across at a bounty board and seen his likeness? You held onto his name, repeating the syllable over and over in your mind. You could remember the metal of your gun in your hands, the heat of the sun… then that searing, cracking pain that arced across your skull. The events mere hours earlier clicked into place

The fogginess cleared, replaced by the biting chill of the evening wind. The cool air was sobering, as if your entire body had been dipped into a cold bath. The ache in your skull grew, and you winced, dried blood cracking as your skin pinched.

You went to move, only to find your hands tied tightly at the wrist, the layers of rope intricately wound over your skin. With a small groan, you rolled yourself onto your back, trying to find a point where the world didn’t spin so vigorously as to assess your rapidly concerning situation.

“Yer awake. Damn, sweetheart, thought I’d near killed ya. You were out fer so long.” The sneering voice of the bounty hunter spoke from over your shoulder, the scent of whiskey strong on his breath.

With slow, deliberate steps, he walked around you. You kept your mouth shut as he crouched down in front of you with a sigh. His dirty hand reached out, pushing a fallen strand of hair from your face. You swallowed hard, keeping his gaze. His hands grazed over the dried blood across your cheek and temple, and he chuckled as you flinched away.

“I did think about leavin’ ya, after all the trouble ya caused us. Nearly lettin’ Barnes over there escape because you was too busy yappin’. But I am a gentleman. Couldn’t leave a pretty lady like yerself injured and defenceless in the desert… where anyone could find you.” He leant over you as he spoke, his head tilting as he inspected your head wound. You grit your teeth, your gaze fixed on the stars in the far distance.

“Figured you’d be less trouble like this. Couldn’t have ya followin’ after us when you woke up and tryna steal Barnes from under our nose, now could we?” The man takes a long swig from a metal flask.

He stands once more, and you expect him to leave you in your misery. Instead, much to your horror, he grips your shoulder as he tugs you into a sitting position. A small gasp leaves you as you are jolted upright, your neck and head stinging, and the world swirls around you.

Your captor laughs at you before offering the metal flask to you with a sneer.

It takes a few seconds for your vision to stabilise. Your eyes focus on his gesture; hesitantly leaning forward, you opt to accept the small kindness. Maybe the whiskey would help with the headache beginning to pound behind your eyes. The man chuckles, tipping the liquid into your mouth. You swallow it down with a slight wince. It burns your throat.

“Good girl.” He mutters, patting your thigh through your ruined skirts. The whiskey turns sour in your chest, and a nauseating feeling of repulsion rises at his words. You grimace as the man leans towards you once more, towering over you with an ugly sneer. His hand grips your chin, forcing your face upward as his breath fans across your face. You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m sure havin’ a pretty lady like yourself around will lift morale, huh?”

The burning nausea rises from your chest into your esophagus, your heart pounding in your ears as you feel him grow closer and closer until his face is inches away from yours. You contemplate squirming, maybe even lashing out, but you are frozen in horror. The sickening sensation rises higher and higher in your throat, dread settling comfortably across your bones. By some miracle, he pulls away. The chill of the night fills the space where he once stood.

You peek through your lashes, watching as he looks at you over his shoulder, illuminated by the firelight. "Oh, and you better not run, sweet girl. ‘Cause next time I won’t hesitate puttin’ a bullet in that pretty skull of yers.”

You look away, your eyes searching for some type of escape. Despite your desperation, all your stare manages to find is Barnes, who had front row seats to all that had happened. You meet his gaze and find that his usual stoic nature is replaced with a look of rage.

You did not know if that fury was directed at yourself or your captors, but you did not dare to speculate, let alone ask.

—

You desperately wished to be rid of the dress you wore. Your outfit had worked well for keeping away the chill of the night, but now the layers of fabric were suffocating in the desert sun. You longed for some looser or even a wide-brimmed hat. You only had a handkerchief to keep the sun off your neck. Your face and head were exposed to the beating rays, and your skull felt as if warm soup sloshed around inside. Your hair was half-loose and matted with dust and blood; the once elaborate style and pins were lost in the mess.

You could not imagine you were pleasant to look at, but it did not seem to change your captors attitudes.

You sat squeezed atop an unfamiliar horse. Your hands were bound, looped over the horn of the saddle. One of your captors, the leader who you had come to know as Pierce, sat behind you, his arms looped around your waist, one hand squeezing your thigh.

They did not allow you to ride alone, out of fear that you would somehow manage to bolt. Instead, you were subjected to hours of cramped riding, with the stench of whiskey, gunpowder, and sweat overwhelming your senses. The man claimed to be a gentleman, but you could not notice how his hands often wordlessly wandered across your body—your thighs, waist, and chest. It was as if he were creating a map, a perfect image of what he believed lay beneath the fabric.

For hours, you envisioned all the ways you could kill him. You hoped he would choke on the whiskey he so cherished or fall from his horse and crack his head open from the fall. You hoped his friends would turn on him and put a bullet into his gut. Then you would question those violent thoughts, were you growing corrupted by these men, as you had feared? Or was it the sun and misery aiding the frustration and rage that bubbled beneath? Sometimes you hoped Barnes might escape and somehow kill the men who tormented you both, just so you could avoid the consequences.

You could not imagine why your thoughts drifted to him so often. Maybe it was his long stares and his quiet observance of everything unfolding. You imagined that if he did somehow escape, he would not offer you much pity.

Even if you were treated without much respect, Barnes’ predicament was far worse than your own. His hands were bound behind his back, and a noose was around his neck. He walked on foot behind the horses, sometimes tugged along by the captors if he lingered too far behind. Once he had tripped, he was dragged across the ground, rocks cutting into his skin, until he found his footing once more. You had only been able to watch on in horror, stuck in the saddle as he struggled, breath choked by the noose.

And for the first time, you felt a small piece of sympathy for the outlaw.

Maybe a quick death for him out in the desert would be a mercy.

PART FOUR

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #wild west au #western au #cowboy au #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel #a dish served cold

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queerryan · 3 months ago

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>My< ideal Batman Cinematic Universe

Batman: Year One

Batman the Long Halloween

Batman and Robin (TV Series) Season 1 (Dick Grayson) — Establishing the villains and other heroes even

Teen Titans origin movie.

Batgirl Movie

World's Finest 1

Batman and Robin Season 2 ending with an 3 episode arc of Robin becoming Nightwing

Nightwing Solo movie, moving to Bludhaven with Titans cameos.

Batman and Robin Season 3 (Jason Todd)

Batman: the cult

Batgirl 2 (introducing the Gotham Sirens)

Batman and Robin Season 4, ending with a Death in The Family Arc

Dark World's Finest 2 (Clark trying to help Bruce deal with Jason's death as they solved a mysterious crime)

Another Batman movie introducing Cassandra Cain, but not including her as a recurring character yet.

Gotham Sirens Movie

Batman and Alan Scott team-up movie (because I think this would be interesting since Alan Scott was Gotham's first hero)

Batman Death of the Family

Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying (Movie)

The Oracle Movie with Black Canary (foundation of the Birds of Pray)

Batman and Robin Season 4 (Tim Drake) — in the mid season establish Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown as a recurring character. End the season with an Arc leading to No Man's Land.

A Young Justice 98 show set in between Tim's season.

Oracle and Bagirl (Cassie) movie set a few days before No Man's Land

No Man's Land 1 (Batman Focused)

No Man's Land 2 (Robin, Stephanie and Oracle Focused)

No Man's Land 3 (Batman and Batgirl Focused)

Batwoman Movie

Batman and Robin Season 5 — First 3 episodes is Tim's parents finding out he's robin and forbidden him of continuing,then the rest of the season would be Stephanie’s Robin arc, with batman training her and Cassie. Ending with Stephanie faking her death.

Batman and Robin Season 6 — Tim Drake again. Stephanie's comeback midseason.

Under the Red Hood movie

Red Hood: The lost days mini series.

World's Finest 3

Batwing Movie

Batman Solo mini series: Bruce Wayne Murderer and Fugitive.

Batman Vs the Court of Owls (Part 1)

Nightwing Vs the Court of Owls (Part 2)

Red Hood and the Outlaws 1 season. (Preferably Artemis and Bizarro, but it would be fun to include Roy too)

Batman and Red Hood Team-up movie

Robin Solo movie — Tim Drake's losing his Parents (not by Captain Boomerang but by another villain), being adopted by Bruce

Red Robin movie

Batgirl (Cassie) Solo Movie

Birds of Prey Movie (with Cassie as a member)

Batman Vs Two Face (Helping and Saving Harvey)

Batfamily final Movie Part 1

Batfamily final movie Part 2

No Damian Wayne content because I hate him.

In no particular time period but other 2 titans movie can happen in between all of this. Obviously characters aren't stuck to appear In their solo projects, they can be secondary characters or cameos in other projects. Some Characters not mentioned like the villains, Talia and the League of Assassins would appear in the Batman and Robin series.

This is MY personal ideal universe, I obviously have some preferences in characters like every fan, don't take it too seriously.

Also Cassie and Steph would date and Tim could have a mini arc in that Boarding School where he also flirts with his male classmates and even other villains. No Bernard because I think he's boring.

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pinkiemachine · 10 months ago

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hey!! i saw some of ur posts on my feed, and im just wondering, what is the gotham files series u have going on? is it like a recap of the storyline or something else? :3

So Batman: Gotham Files is the name of a tv show pitch of mine. Basically, if Warner Bros. came over to me and said, “Here’s the DC franchise, go nuts,” I would then begin to create a new DC Animated Universe, starting with Wonder Woman: Heir to Olympus—Wonder Woman’s first ever animated tv series. At first, it would have two seasons, and then we’d move on to Dawn of Superman, which would also go for two seasons, before finally reaching Batman: Gotham Files. It would also go for two seasons, and then we would launch Justice League: Heroes Rising for one, maybe two seasons as well, and then The Mighty Teen Titans for two seasons. From then on, it gets very complicated, because not only are we going to continue making seasons for DoS, HtO, Gotham Files, Heroes Rising, and TT, but we’d also kick off a Flash show, a Green Lantern show, and possibly an Aquaman show, but I’m still figuring that one out at the moment. Not to mention, there would be mini series too. Like, Supergirl’s Lost in Space years, and Red Hood and the Outlaws, and then there’s Young Justice as well. I’m still in the process of making a detailed timeline that tracks everything and keeps the ages and events straight, but it’s coming along.

Why am I doing all this writing? Well, let’s put it this way: I walked into this big, old Victorian Manor, and it was full-to-bursting with junk. There’s a lot of really good, really cool stuff in there, but it’s over-crowded, there’s mold growing, there might be some rats, and it DESPERATELY needs to be cleaned out. This is a metaphor. This was me when I tried to walk into DC. A normie, just trying to enjoy the franchise. I looked at the comics… and they’re a mess of conflicting timelines, retcons, reboots, world-ending events, changing backstories, and so many characters that it is dizzying. Then I looked for something more digestible, like the tv shows or movies.

…

I did not like the movies.

I like the OG Teen Titans cartoon…

That’s basically it.

I’m trying to watch Justice League, the animated series right now, I’ve seen the original Superman film from the 70s, I’m starting to watch the live action Lois and Clark show from the 90s, I want to get into Batman the animated series, but 1: a lot of these shows don’t feature all the characters from the comics, especially the ones I’d like to see depicted in a show, and 2: they’re all disconnected from one another, with conflicting backstories and different takes on different characters.

I am tired. It is so much work to just try and get into the DC fandom. Let alone stay there.

So I took it upon myself to perform a public service. I told myself, I would roll up my sleeves and write a new DCAU from the ground up. One where even the most normal of normies could jump in and learn about these much-beloved characters and enjoy them. One where the timeline was untangled and there’s a proper beginning, middle, and satisfying end. I will tell the most complicated interwoven story in the history of television just to appease my need for organisation in this forsaken franchise!

…

I feel passionate about things…

Anyway, hope this clears everything up :)

Gotham Files post 1 👇

#dc #dc comics

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h4n47105 · 3 months ago

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Gotham University's recently handing out flyers that they're in a dire need of an extra photographer. This year's new batch of students are twice the amount than last year's— Of course, he's gonna use that opportunity for his covert mission; just to make sure the rumour of an upcoming villain roaming the academic halls will stay as a rumour - nothing more. Or so he thought. He's got himself in a fickle, truth to be told. There's no way Bats is gonna let him extend this ridiculous gig more than he requested.... or can, he?

Haven't officially seen Tim Drake yet in any animated series/comics but saw a few panel cut-outs of him in Pinterest so it's safe to say that I'm very interested in his character!! Heard that he'll be in Young Justice some time soon so very excited!!

The mini comic (very rough, will clean it up soon!) is what I envisioned how Tim Drake would meet NEOBUNNY's civilian alter ego - Hana Anderson, just about her first year at Gotham U about to end. Something something blooming relationship but is blocked by their dual lives ☝ (thinkimg of the ship name...neored? red bunny? mmm...many choices...)

#h4n47105 art #dc x reader #dc x oc #dc oc art #dc universe #dcu #tim drake #NEOBUNNY! Anderson

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myown-worstenemy-2003 · 5 months ago

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Play It Again, Play It Again, Play It Again

A/N: Part two of the mini-series! As always I hope you enjoy it as much I did writing it! I love seeing feedback! And feel free to request something! Let me know any feedback that you have! If you feel up to it send me a request and I will do my best to give it justice!

Summary: You're invited to a party by one of your new friends. Let's see how the night ends.

Word Count: 1963

It had been a couple of months since you had broke things off with Billy. Since that you've kind of tried to keep to yourself but everyone needs someone to talk to, especially to make it around here.

What made it better was that you met a couple of mothers when you would pick up Rhiannon from daycare, and started your own friend group. All of them were around your age and their kids were already playing with Rhiannon during daycare anyway. Nancy had a brown-eyed shaggy-haired boy named Theodore. Piper had a little curly-head girl named Rosemary. And then there is Robin, she doesn't have any children but she comes and picks up Theo or Rosie every now and then, even both sometimes.

It was nice that you and Rhiannon had some friends in town finally. Especially Rhiannon, you didn't want her to be lonely.

But at this particular moment you weren't sure if you were happy that you had friends anymore.

"Come on (Y/N)! You never leave the house unless it's work or taking Rhiannon somewhere! You need to have fun sometimes!" Robin tried to convince you.

"Yeah, I'm sure I can tell you what you do everyday. Get up, get Rhi and you ready, take her to daycare, go to work, pick up Rhi, have dinner and then go to bed," Nancy said watching the kids play on the playground.

You sigh, because she was right. You don't do anything fun that doesn't surround Rhiannon.

"Who's gonna watch Rhi though? I can't really afford a babysitter right now. I can barely afford daycare as it is."

"Piper's mom is going to watch the kids, I'm sure she won't mind watching Rhiannon," Nancy suggested and Piper nodded.

"I don't know guys," you hesitated, parties have never been your thing. The last time you were at a party that's when Rhiannon was conceived and here you are.

"(Y/N), you are 24. We are never gonna be this young ever again. Just this once and if you don't like it, you can leave and we'll never ask again," Piper chimes in, sitting on the bench next to you with a book on her lap that she hasn't touch since she got here, "We all need to let loose every once and a while."

The girls nodded, you groaned, "Fine. I'll go but only for two hours. That's it."

"That'll work! You'll have fun, I promise!" Robin said excitedly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You were on your way to the party. Riding with a friend from work. Dressed in something more warm and comfortable than it was cute since #1 it was October and it was cold during the nights; #2 you weren't really looking for anything right now since your thing since Billy. You were just there to hang out with friends and maybe meet some new people.

As you approached you noticed that there were a lot of trucks and some haybales, and everyone else was parked on the other side of the road. You didn't even think about bringing your own chair. You figured that there was going to be enough going on that you might not need it. But past you was too ambitions compared to present you so was full of nervous at the moment.

How the hell did you do this when you were in college?

Jessica put the car into park and got out and you followed suit.

"Hey I'll see you around? Around 1?" Jessica said with a smile. You nodded and smiled back.

You stood outside of the car for a second to catch your breath.

"It's all good. Everything will be okay. Just three hours. Yeah, only three hours and then you can go home," you hyped yourself up. You brushed yourself off (like you had dirt on you) and headed toward the crowd of people gathering around the bonfire.

"There she is! I wasn't sure you were going to show!" Robin said as she walked up to you and hugged you, "Here's the rest of the gang for you to meet!"

"Everyone this is (Y/N)! Be on your best behavior!" she said, jokingly, you heard some laughing and a, 'Booooo'.

"This here is Vickie, she's my girl," Robin introduced you to a ginger with freckles. You shook her hand, "Nice to meet ya."

"You know Nancy," Robin said and you hugged her as she came up. There was a nervous looking man behind her with brown hair, Robin said, "This is her husband, Jonathan. Theo looks like him."

"I can see it," you smiled and shook his hand too. Piper came up next, "I'm so glad that you made it! We want you to have fun too."

"Thanks, it's good so far," you smiled.

"Oh yeah!" she said, she turned to look behind her, "This is my husband, Eddie. It's where Rosie gets the curly hair from."

"Hey there, I'm Eddie, like she said, nice to meet you," Eddie said, he had long wild curly hair with a denim vest over his leather jacket.

"I like your pins. Iron Maiden is the best," you said as you looked at his pins.

Eddie literally beamed, "Thank you! I collect them from music stores. These are my favorites."

"Really cool!"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Dude, have you met (Y/N)? She's awesome!" Eddie said to Steve.

"Is this another fantasy person that I'm supposed to learn?" Steve asked. Eddie looked at him with a weird face, "No, she's real man. She's friends with Piper and the others. She over there."

Eddie pointed to where a girl was sitting by herself on the tailgate of Piper's truck. Her legs swinging as she watched the fire crackle.

"She's got to have a boyfriend here. No way that she doesn't," Steve said, looking around for someone that was looking for her, "Is she Joe's girlfriend?"

"No man, Piper said that she's single. Not really looking for anything at the moment, just new friends," Eddie explained, "Buuuuut...you should try and make more than friends."

"I can make friends with her," Steve nodded and walked toward you.

"Good job babe," Piper said as she came up next to Eddie and fist bumped him and watched what was about to happen.

Steve walked up, "Hey, this seat taken?"

You looked over to the new voice.

Not going to lie, he's pretty cute.

You smiled, "Not at all," you slid over to make sure that he has enough room to sit.

"My name's Steve," he said as he sat down, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N)," you said smiling.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

God how am I already falling in love with this woman already?

"Honestly, I love new wave music! The Cure is probably my favorite from the bunch as of right now, but that changes from month to month," you said, talking to Steve.

You've been talking to Steve for what felt ten minutes but it's actually been hour. You could do this all night.

"You know, I think that-" Steve started but then a familiar song came on the speakers and you're eyes lit up, and you jumped off the tailgate, cutting him off.

"This is my song! I've been listenin' to the radio all night long, hopin' that it would come on and here it is!"

You hold out your hand, "C'mon, come dance with me."

Before Steve could say anything, you grabbed his hand and dragged him up. He tried keeping up with you but he was too distracted by you to keep up. You had a carefree smile on your face and your body was moving in ways that was very bad for his groin area in public.

As the song came to an end, you kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you for dancin' with me."

"Play it again!" Steve yelled to see if someone could rewind the tape and start it over again so he could gain the courage to ask you out.

You smiled and yelled, "Play it again! Play it again!"

You both laughed and then heard the next song play, looking at each other almost in a trance.

"I-" Steve started to say but you looked down at your watch, "I had a lot of fun tonight Steve but I'm afraid that I have to go."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, not really wanting you to leave just yet but understanding.

"Yeah, I gotta check on my-" you hesitated, "my pet. She's not used to being alone this late."

"I understand. Let me walk you to your car?" Steve offered.

"I actually rode here with one of my coworkers. So I guess I need to find her."

"I'll help you, who is it?"

"Jessica Cooley," you answered starting to look around for her.

"Jessica? She left already. Left with Matt Hargrave about an hour ago."

"What? You're kiddin'. I guess I'll ask someone else for a ride," you said a little upset.

"I can take you home," Steve offered, really hoping that you would take him up on the offer.

"Are you sure? I don't want to burden you. I can just have Piper or someone take me home," you said hesitant because you didn't know him, but you had a feeling that you could trust him.

"I'm sure. Come on, let's get you home."

You smiled, "Okay thank you."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You were looking out the window, thinking about something to start a conversation but you couldn't think of anything that wouldn't be considered small talk or just bad in general.

That was when Steve turned on the radio and you started singing along to (I've Had) The Time Of My Life.

It didn't take too long to get to your house, maybe three songs if you remember correctly, but for some reason it felt like it was taking a little longer than usual. And you weren't upset by it at all. It had been five songs already and you sang along to every song that had came on the radio.

But it was only when you getting ready to pull on your street was when Steve started to scan the radio, almost frantically.

"This is me," you said and Steve pulled into the driveway and put the car in park.

"Thank you for the ride home, I really appreciate it. I don't have cash on me right now, but I can run in and get some for gas?"

"It's no trouble at all. I don't want money. But if you really want to pay me back, let me take you out on a date?" Steve asked wearing a charming but hopeful smile on his face.

You smiled, "I would like that."

He smiled, "Sounds great, how Friday? Dinner and a movie?"

You nodded your head, "I would love that."

"Cool, let me walk you to the do-," Steve said and just as he said that, your song came on the radio.

"No way! There is no way that this song would play twice in one night!" you exclaimed excitedly.

"Come dance with," you said as you got out of the car. He followed you and started dancing in the headlights.

It was like straight out of a movie. Everything was perfect, the lights, the song, the weather, and you.

As the song started to fade out, you got caught up in the passion of dancing and the feeling of it, you kissed Steve.

It was just like everything else, the kiss was perfect.

When you broke the kiss he looked at you and said, "I'm gonna call the DJ right now and get that song played again right now."

You threw your head back laughing, "Goodnight Steve, thank you for the perfect night."

He smiled, "You took the words right out of my mouth."

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