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dollfacefantasy · 2 months

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Kiss It Better

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: on a day planned to be just for just you and leon, he gets called into work. it dredges up some old memories, and upon returning home, he wants to make it better by taking extra care of his baby bunny.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, cockwarming, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, hurt/comfort, reader copes with her past at the shelter

word count: 6.1k

a/n: yay leon and his baby bunny finally return. i hope this lives up to the first part lol which can be found here. i have another part planned as well if people are interested. as always reblogs and comments mean the world <3

“I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny.”

A statement Leon had said off-hand in the heat of the moment. Something he’d told you as a comfort, a way of warming you up for your first intimate moments together. He hadn’t put much thought into it before it rolled out of his mouth.

But damn, if only he’d known how true it would prove to be.

The words were ringing through his head right now as you dragged him through the mall on another Saturday he dedicated entirely to spending time with you. He’d already bought you a fair amount of stuff from cute frilly socks to pretty pink panties to some tiny t-shirts he knew he’d regret as soon as you used one to get your way. And now you were heading towards a shop tucked away in the farthest corner of the shopping center. His only hope was that the location meant it was the end of the line, the last stop on your trip.

From what he could see, it sold stuffed animals amongst other items that could clutter up his house. Luckily, the small plush toys seemed to be the only things drawing your attention. Your eyes scanned the rows before fixating on a specific one that sat on the bottom shelf. You crouched down to get and pulled it to your chest, standing up again so Leon could see your selection. His eyes soften as he notices your little cottontail twitching with excitement.

He can’t help the smile that spreads on his face at the sight. His sweet girl standing there with a small plush cow in her arms. The tufts of black and white fur jutted out the top of its head near a set of foamy horns. You looked up at him with puppy eyes, which he’d come to view as unfair since he’d chosen a bunny for a reason. But they worked on him all the same.

“Baby-” he starts, but you interject, predicting his argument.

“I don’t have a cow yet,” you plead, “It’s just one more.”

“Yeah, this one is just one more. And so is the next one, and the one after that, and the one after fifty more of these things,” he teases.

“C’mon, please,” you beg, stepping close to him to lean against his chest.

“Is this your way of telling me you want your own bed again? You’re just gonna fill the one we share with more and more of these until there’s no room and I’m pushed to the floor,” he jokes.

“No,” you deny, “Plus I put them away at night anyways.”

“Most of them,” he corrects.

“Cause I need my bear to sleep,” you say with a little pout.

He swears he almost swoons. You’re too fucking cute. He knows he’s spoiled you rotten. You’re treated better than the average hybrid to put it lightly, but he was past the point of paying that any mind. That shelter he’d picked you up from never let you have stuff like this. In his mind, he was righting their wrongs, burying those sad memories with as much cute shit as he could afford. And if other people didn’t approve, if they thought he should keep you silent and on a leash, he couldn’t care less.

Looking down at you now, playfully pleading with him for that stuffed animal, he knew he could never treat you like that. He rolls his eyes and messes with your hair, gently scratching the base of your floppy ears.

“Fine,” he says, “One more.”

You all but cheer with your excitement, bouncing up to give him a fat kiss on the cheek. He takes the stuffie from you and walks to the register to pay for it. You walk, lacing your hand with his and swinging your arms back and forth.

He looks over at you and instantly remembers why he always ends up giving in. Why he can never say no. Now that you had opened up, he couldn’t get enough of you. He’d loved you before that day a few months ago, the day when he’d caught you during your attempt at self-soothing with his pillow between your legs. But since that day, a whole new layer of you had been revealed to him. The sweet and shy bunny he’d met at the shelter touched his heart first, but the affectionate and needy girl you’d allowed him to see owned it now.

He pays for your little cow, adding another bag to the collection hanging from his arm, and leads you out of the store. You tuck yourself under his arm, clinging to his abdomen.

“Thank you, daddy,” you say quietly and press a kiss to his chest.

His heart throbs at the sound of the sweet name you’d attributed to him months ago. He has to remind himself that you’re in public before any other part of his body reacts.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he says and strokes one of your ears with his free hand.

Once the pair of you reach his car, he loads your stuff in before giving you a pat on the ass as you climb in the front seat. You’re all smiles, and he couldn’t feel better. He gets in the driver’s seat and switches the car on. Your hand goes for the controls to the music right away. He always let you pick when you were with him. Each song acted as a little glimpse into you and what you liked.

As you’re selecting one you like, he feels a buzz in his pocket. He fishes his phone out as you share some of the stuff you like about the song you put on. You then start asking him where you’re going next, but the plans slowly begin to unravel as he reads the message displayed over the picture of you he had as his screensaver.

“Shit…” he mutters to himself before looking back up at you. Your ears droop in tandem with his face dropping. “Baby, I gotta drop you back at the house. I gotta take care of some stuff at work for a bit.”

He sees the disappointment in your eyes, and it kills him.

“But… I thought you took the day off,” you say. Your mood rapidly depletes. It wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be a day where he was all yours. Twenty four hours where the D.S.O. laid no claim on him.

“I did, but I’ve told you how it is sometimes. I can’t get out of it some days,” he says.

“But you already stayed late all week. What else do they even need you for?” you ask. It may be irrational, but you can’t help how your mind floods with a sense of abandonment in the moment. You knew Leon would never do that, but the years you spent in that shelter had done a good job of convincing you otherwise.

“Just some formality stuff. I’ll be as quick as I can. You know I wouldn’t choose working over being with you,” he says.

Now he’s the one pleading. Your ears are flat on your head, and your eyes are fixed on your seat below you. He knows you feel wounded now even though you’re holding it in.

“If you’re mad it’s ok,” he whispers and reaches out to stroke your jawline, “You can be upset, honey. I won’t get mad at you. I know you were excited about today.”

As much as you had opened up, he could tell you still shied away from showing too much negative emotion. He knew you’d gone through some punishments at the shelter you were still too scared to talk about.

“It’s not your fault,” you say and shrug, dejection all over your features.

He sighs and starts the car, pulling out of the parking space, and heading towards the house. “I know it’s not, but you can still let out some frustration. I wouldn't think you’re ungrateful if that’s what you’re worried about. You wouldn’t get in trouble,” he says, keeping his tone gentle.

You bring your feet up onto the seat and retreat into yourself a bit. With a simple shake of your head, he knows the topic has closed.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drives down the road. It drips with the frustration that he’s letting you down. He can’t reach inside your head and pull out the negative effects of the shelter. He can’t tell the D.S.O. to fuck off and let him spend as many hours as he wants with his precious girl. All he can do is pull into the driveway and watch you get out of the car, your posture slightly slumped with the encroaching feelings of loneliness. You pull your shopping bags from the car. At least you give him a little parting kiss so he doesn’t feel completely emaciated.

He watches your sad trudge into the house before taking the car back out of the driveway and down the same road in the opposite direction.

Inside the house, the silence dominates you. You pad down the hallway to the bedroom that had once belonged solely to Leon. Dropping the bags of clothes near the door, you then hop on the bed and toss your new little cow up near your other pillows. Your eyes linger on the ceiling. You’d become familiar with the insignificant bumps and ridges above that provided a distraction on sleepless nights. Nights where you just needed to tune everything out and count them to avoid being haunted by the past.

Before Leon had taken you in, you always imagined you’d enjoy the quiet of a real home. The shelter always echoed with loud cries of sorrow, screams of anger, and whimpers of hopelessness. You’d lie on the thin mattress tucked in the corner of your area and try to dream of the days your bed would be lush with pillows and blankets, decorated how you liked and surrounded by the peace of you and whoever had chosen to love you.

And now those days have come. They’re real. You didn’t have to deal with the constant atmosphere of despair or the looming threat of punishment for acting like a human being. So why was it so easy for you to tumble into sadness like this? Why did the quiet no longer mean sanctuary but rather the absence of the person you loved most in this world? You could never work it out. It was too hard. Any time you tried you ended up spiraling into even more self loathing. Because there’s nothing to be sad about anymore. There’s no reason to feel like this. That stuff shouldn’t bother you; it’s nothing more than a collection of ugly memories at this point. Why couldn’t you be grateful for the life Leon had given you? The man gave you just about anything under the sun you could want, so why did one minor inconvenience have to throw you off this badly?

The bags by the door didn’t make you smile anymore. They only brought guilt. You didn’t deserve them. All the gifts and love he lavished upon you would never make you into what you were supposed to be.

Your thoughts consume you for longer than you notice. The sky darkens outside, tinting the room with a violet haze. You lie on the bed under your self-made cloud of gloom for hours, not noticing how much time has passed until you hear the garage door closing and footsteps getting closer. You glance at the bedroom door as it opens silently.

Of course, it’s Leon. His eyes fill with concern at the sight of you. He’d seen you down before but never so deflated. His face now resembles how he looked when he caught you humping his pillow all those months ago, but it’s also distinctly different. He still has curiosity in his gaze, not able to pin down what exactly is the reason for the present circumstances. Though the reaction this time is more worried than surprised. Your present state doesn’t shock him; instead he feels a protective instinct flare within him.

He approaches the bed and sits next to your limp form. His palm rubs up and down your arm slowly. “Hey baby,” he says softly, “You doing ok?”

You look up at him and nod. Sitting up, you scoot to him and align your side with his. Your legs extend out in the opposite direction of him as your head rests on the curve of his shoulder. “I just missed you,” you say softly, your arms encircling the circumference of his bicep.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and starts rubbing your back. “You do anything fun while I was gone?” he asks.

“Nothing special,” you respond, “Think shopping made me sleepy.”

You speak with a soft tone of voice, attempting to further the idea that this was merely a bout of tiredness. His eyebrows rise with suspicion. As cute as you look with your cheek squished against his shoulder, he pulls your body around and seats you on his lap. His fingers sweep down your jaw and guide you to look up at him.

“You sure you’re just tired? Nothing else? We weren’t out for that long. I just wanna make sure you’re alright,” he says, trying to show you with how he speaks that it’s not an accusation.

But you remain firm in your convictions and nod. “Mhm, I’m already feeling better. I just needed a little rest,” you assure him and tuck your face against his neck.

It’s not a lie. You were feeling better now that he had returned, each passing moment had little improvement for your mood. But he knew something still wasn’t right. He strokes down the silky expanse of your ears while his other hand massages the base of your tail.

“Well, I missed you too, y’know? Couldn’t stop thinking about my sweet baby bunny the whole time I was at work,” he says.

You were already melting against his chest from the physical contact, but now a smile graces your features. “Really?” you ask, looking up at him again.

“Really,” he confirms, “I felt pretty bad leaving you all alone when it was supposed to be our day.”

“Oh, you don’t have to fe-” you start before he interrupts.

“No, I told you the day was gonna be for us. So how about this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your chin, “How about instead we make it a night for us? I’ll give you a nice bath, put you in some of the new stuff I got you.”

He kisses your head again, then your temple, then your cheek.

“Maybe daddy’ll even give you a special treat before you fall asleep,” he murmurs before kissing your lips.

Taking in a deep breath, you nod. You’re helpless when he treats you like this, disagreeing doesn’t even seem like an option.

“Will you get in the bath with me though?” you ask.

He grins and rises off the bed with you in his arms. “Of course. Anything for my baby bunny.”

The two of you head to the attached bathroom. He sits you on the counter while drawing the bath. Steam drifts up into the hair from the hot water pooling in the tub. He lights some candles, dims the lights, and lets you pick out the scent of bubbles you want.

You sit on the laminate countertop, lazily swinging your dangling legs as you watch him. He checks the temperature of the water multiple times and stares at the clear liquid coming from the bottle of bubble bath. Once that’s taken care of, it’s your turn. He slips your shirt over your head and your bottoms down your legs like you’re the most delicate thing on the face of the earth. Kisses land on your jaw as he pulls your panties off too and drops them in the hamper with the other articles of clothing. So meticulous about everything, at least when it came to you.

He scoops you up again and brings you to the bath, setting you down in the water before twisting the faucet off and discarding his own clothing. Then he climbs in behind you, slotting his body between yours and the cool marble.

“C’mere, baby. Nice and close to daddy,” he murmurs as he pulls you onto his thighs.

You sink into his chest. The feeling of his skin against yours is almost enough to make it all better, enough to make you forget about earlier. You nuzzle into his muscular front, making him smile. He strokes your face and takes care to avoid getting your ears wet.

Both baths and showers used to make you anxious, and he knew that. One of the details you had shared with him about your life at the shelter was having to share the space with all the other hybrids, including the bathrooms. You’d told him how much you hated it, and he could only imagine. He tried extra hard now to make both as comfortable for you as possible, pampering you like an absolute princess.

Thinking about all this, him going above and beyond for you like he always did, makes you turn more into his body. Your arms loop around him, and you place your head beside his, obscuring your downtrodden expression from his vision. Your chin rests on his shoulder as he returns the embrace and holds you closer.

“My perfect girl,” he whispers.

The words are complimentary, but right now, the second in particular stings like a blade. You nestle your face against the warmth of his throat and tighten your limbs around him, trying to drown out the bad swirling inside of you with the feeling of his flesh on yours.

He knows you’re still acting a little unusual. Maybe your heat was right around the corner and it had you feeling extra needy. Maybe you were just still a bit sad about missing out on a day with him. He wasn’t totally sure, but he just wanted to make it better. And the way you were starting to press against him, breasts flush against his chest and the warmth of your thighs pressing against either side of him had his cock starting to stiffen up.

“Sweet thing… you wanna feel a little closer, hm?” he murmurs, fingertips rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back.

You weakly nod.

“Is this close enough? Or should daddy get even closer? I think being inside would feel even better,” he whispers.

You nod again, this time with more motivation. “Please daddy,” you mumble.

“Of course. All you had to do was ask,” he says. He lazily strokes himself a few times beneath the water, getting himself a little harder before he lifts you slightly and slides in.

A soft moan drifts out of you as he lowers you again. You put your head back down on him and sit with the comfort of being full.

“There’s my baby bunny,” he coos in a low voice.

He also takes in the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. The feeling of your warm, wet embrace wrapped around him.

The two of you sit quietly for a while more, the bathroom silent except for the occasional trickle of water when one of you shifts. Flickering lights from the candles paint the walls in dim orange as the scent of the bubble bath takes over the air completely.

But to Leon’s dismay, your mood doesn’t seem to be brightening up. You don’t start squirming with the need to ride him like you normally would. You don’t get extra sappy with him and start going for more kisses or longing looks.

He reaches for the wash cloth resting on the brim of the tub and soaks it in the water. He squirts some soap onto it and gently rubs it up and down your back. He can feel your muscles losing some of their tension, but you’re still withdrawn. He continues tenderly cleaning you off while you sit with him inside you.

After a few moments more, not knowing becomes unbearable. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing, I’m-”

“You’re not just sleepy,” he interjects. His voice is still loving despite the confrontational manner of the conversation.

He gently guides you away from his body so you’re kneeling straight up in the bath. His eyes scan you over, trying to make this easier by figuring out what it is, but he can’t. He brings the wash cloth up to your chest and starts brushing it against your chest, between your breasts, and down your belly.

“I know something’s wrong, and I know you’re scared of talking about things like this. But I would honestly prefer you telling me what it is, even if it comes out harsh, to sitting here and trying to figure out what’s bothering you,” he says as he rubs your skin with the soft cloth.

“I don’t know,” you say timidly.

“I’m only asking because I care. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is. Seeing you hurting hurts me too, baby,” he responds.

“I’m not lying. I don’t know,” you say again, some defensiveness seeping into your words, “I don’t know why I feel bad. I don’t know how to tell you what’s wrong. I just- I felt sad earlier, and I know I shouldn’t feel sad which makes me more sad.”

He sees the panic rising in your eyes and hears your words becoming more rushed. In an effort to keep the situation controlled, he pulls you back to his chest, hushing your worries by engulfing you with his arms. You reciprocate the motion, eager to retreat from your emotions. He takes a pause to grapple with what you had just said.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t feel sad?” he asks.

“Because… because there’s no reason to be sad,” you answer.

“If you’re sad, then there’s a reason to be sad,” he says and looks down at you with growing concern.

You shake your head. “No, there isn’t,” you whimper. You start to feel tears collecting in your eyes while your throat feels like it’s constricting. “You make everything so perfect for me, and I can’t do the same for you.”

He’s beyond confused at this point. He feels a couple tears fall against his neck, and all he can do is hold you tighter.

“Woah, woah, baby, c’mon,” he says, trying to prevent more tears, “What are you talking about? Perfect? I don’t expect you to be perfect.”

“Yeah, exactly because you are perfect. You never push me. You never ask for too much. You never do anything bad, and I still get like this,” you cry.

“... Is that a bad thing?” he asks, still lost.

“No, but I just wanna be perfect for you too. You work so hard all the time at your job, and then you come home and you have to deal with me,” you weep and cling onto him more, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” he says in a hushed voice, “You’re exactly what I want. I couldn’t ask for anything more than you.”

“Yes, you could. You deserve someone who can give you what you give. You deserve someone who’s not fucked up by stupid stuff from the past,” you cry, “I’ll never be a perfect pet, and I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

His chest aches and tightens up when he hears that. He starts to pull out, figuring this wasn’t the time to be balls deep inside you, but you stay locked around him so he stays put.

“Sweetheart, you’re not… I don’t see you as…” he starts, being careful with his words.

You continue your quiet crying against him.

“You’re more than a pet to me,” he decides, soft but firm, “You don’t disappoint me ever. You can’t disappoint me because I don’t have expectations of what you should be. You’re not some dumb animal that I want to mold into a fantasy. I know you were treated like that before, but that’s not what you are to me. You’re my baby bunny. My little love.”

More tears spill out onto him. The bathwater ripples with the shaking of your body.

“You’re not fucked up,” he whispers, “That stuff you went through at the shelter, that’s a big deal. I don’t expect you to just be able to move on from that like it’s normal. You need some extra care, and I’ve known that since the first day you came home with me. It’s not a bad thing. It’s something I love about you. I’m not dealing with you when we do things like this. You’re not a burden to me.”

“Promise?” is all you can choke out right now.

“I promise, baby. Cross my heart and hope to die,” he murmurs and kisses your temple. He sighs and squeezes his arms around you before saying a little more amidst the quiet of the bathroom. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly how you feel. But I know how it is to get shoved into a life you didn’t ask for. To get expectations put on you that you can never meet. I don’t want you to feel like that with me. I love you, and I’m gonna love you whether you’re a perfect ‘pet’ or not. That’s not what’s important to me.”

You know he’s being genuine. You hold yourself closer and press a few faint kisses to his throat. “I’m sorry,” you cry.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers, “Just try and calm down for me, sweet girl. Take some deep breaths.”

You do as he says and work towards settling down. Your breathing slows, and the tears slowly stop. He grabs another washcloth and wets it. He guides your head up and gives you a small kiss before dabbing at your cheeks and cleaning your face of any remaining sadness. Your eyes flutter shut and relax under the loving care of his movements. He tends to your hair next, caring for it how you need.

Once your bath is done, he pulls out of you. You give him a little pout, bringing a smirk to his face.

“Patience, little one,” he teases before standing up with you in his arms.

He taps the stopper with his foot, draining the bathtub as he steps out. He sets you down so he can wrap a towel around his waist and then bundles you up in a big fluffy one. He dries you off and brings you in front of the mirror. He applies some product to your ears, something he’d gotten to keep them from drying out. You can’t help the smile on your face as his fingers gently rub down your long, fluffy ears. You can feel his love through his motions. He follows it with your hair routine, going through each step with precision and making sure to do it just how you like.

Before he takes you to the bedroom, his arms curl around your waist and he slots his head next to yours, gazing into your eyes through the reflective glass of the mirror.

“My baby bunny,” is all he says before pulling you out to the bed and laying you down on it.

He gets some of your lotion, a scent he’d become so familiar with. He rubs it all up and down your legs, taking time to lightly massage as he works. His hands glide all over your body, over your hips, up your sides, across your chest, and down your arms to your hands. Every inch of you was going to feel soft as silk if he could help it. The soft sighs of pleasure that come from you are enough to keep him thoroughly invested in the process.

When he’s finished, he plants a kiss on your lips and gets up. He heads to the door where you had dropped the shopping bags from earlier. He’s rifling through them, pulling out some new items you could wear to bed. He fishes out a cute t-shirt and some smooth panties when he hears your voice call to him.

“Wait, daddy?” you say.

“Yeah, baby?” he responds immediately, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Come back,” you request.

He looks at you curiously but stands up and walks back to the edge of the bed where you were sitting. Looking down at you lovingly, he holds your jaw and squeezes your cheeks. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna get dressed yet… Maybe I could still have my treat… if you want to,” you initiate timidly while grabbing the hem of his towel.

He smiles and breathes out a laugh. “Yeah? You’re feeling better and need daddy again?” he asks teasingly, letting you tug the towel loose. It crumples to the floor behind his legs and unveils his cock to you.

“Always need my daddy,” you say, looking up at him.

“Don’t I know it,” he teases.

He pushes you back on the bed and crawls on top of you. Leaning down, he kisses and nips at your neck. His hands squeeze your hips. You nuzzle the side of his head affectionately. Out of the corner of your eye you see him swat away the plush cow that sat nearby on a pillow from when you’d thrown it earlier.

“Hey,” you say, feigning protest, “That’s mean. He didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive me,” he says with a grin.

Your body is already exposed from the bath, and he takes advantage. He kisses down along your collarbone towards the valley of your breasts. His palms cup them at the sides as his lips coast over them. He always took his time with you when he could. He’d get to rush when you were in heat and soaked just from being in the room with him.

Your fingers lace through the strands of his hair as you draw in a sharp breath. He laves at your nipples and the sensitive flesh of your breasts. His tongue caresses along the curves slowly, building your anticipation and causing your tummy to start fluttering.

His hand slides down your body, dipping between your legs to seek out your center. His fingers brush against the velvet folds and feel how they’re beginning to grow slick with your arousal. He swirls around your clit before pressing down on the sensitive nub and rubbing. Your lips part as you mewl.

“Is daddy already making you feel good, baby?” he coos.

You nod as your face starts to morph into that pouty look you get when you’re worked up. He loves every second of it and continues flicking his middle finger against the bud.

“You gonna let me show you how perfect you are, hm?” he asks.

You simply whine in response and tilt your head back against the pillows.

“That’s my girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you get like this,” he says.

He swipes his fingers up and down some more until he feels you're wet enough and ready to take him. He was certain you could take it without as much prep. Over the last couple of months, you’d you’d shown him the phrase “fucking like rabbits” was true after all, but he liked making you feel like you needed it. He like dragging his tip against your entrance, teasingly prodding the head of his cock at your hole. He savored the way you whine and squirm for it. Just like you were doing right now.

He pushes it in you, a deep groan coming from him as he sinks in all the way to the hilt. The way your eyes flutter and droop drives him crazy. His arms cage you down on the mattress as his knees sink into the plush blankets for leverage so that he can start thrusting.

“Perfect fit, that’s for sure,” he grunts, “No one else can take my cock like you can.”

You nod, whimpering and holding onto him. “Made for my daddy,” you say before gasping.

“Yeah you were. My perfect angel bunny. Sent down just for me,” he says and starts rocking his hips.

You writhe within the confines of his arms. Your breasts push up against his chest as your back arches. He fucks into you deep as he can, just how he knows you like it. Gripping your wrists, he pins them on the mattress, keeping you secure and in place so that he can piston his hips against you without interruption.

His own head tilts back, eyes shutting and lips separating the smallest bit. You gaze up at him like he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Every bit of him makes you clamp around his length.

“Such a good girl,” he mutters, “This is just what you needed. Just needed daddy to breed you and get you nice and calm again.”

That word makes your fuse burn faster, and you nod vigorously. “Can’t help it daddy,” you whimper, “I’m just a bunny. Don’t know any better.”

“Oh, I know, baby. Sweet little bunny like you needs to be bred. You need daddy’s cock to function, don’t you? Nothing feels right if you haven’t been bred,” he says, picking up more speed.

“Mhm,” you squeak.

Your legs start trembling hard as he hammers into your sweet spot over and over. To stabilize you, he lets go of your wrists and places his palms on the back of your thighs. He’s pressing you so hard into the mattress it feels like you might drop through straight to the floor. You cry out for him again and again, spurring him on.

“Good girl. I gotta breed my perfect little bunny. Fuck you nice and full like you deserve,” he grunts. The bed creaks with the force of his movements.

He pants as he drills into you. His head eventually falls forward to your shoulder again, but his hips don’t stop rolling.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, you’re gonna end up with a whole litter,” he moans.

Your eyes roll back and your legs lock around his waist. “Need it, daddy. Please,” you whine and clutch at his shoulders.

“I need it too baby. Need to knock up my sweet baby bunny. Gotta get you nice and full so everyone knows you’re all mine,” he says.

You’re both almost at the peak, gripping each other as tight as possible, sucking in air like there’s a limited supply. Both of you are moments from snapping when Leon’s eyes screw shut, his mind clouded by images of you pregnant with his babies. It’s too much, and he’s snapping into you like he’ll die otherwise.

“You’re gonna be the prettiest mama to our perfect babies,” he moans against you before his body starts sputtering.

The feeling of his cum flooding into you is enough to throw you over the edge with him. You seize up, back arching off the bed like you're possessed. You babble out some words of love, but all of it gets lost. You’re so jumbled up from the high, you both can only cling to each other as you ride it out.

You’re still breathing heavy as you come down, and so is he. Puffs of his breath come out right next to your ear. He lazily kisses below the lobe as you come back to reality.

“You see how important to me you are? See how much I love you?” he murmurs as he carefully rolls over and brings you to rest on his chest with him still buried inside you.

You nod and peck his jaw as you settle against him.

“Good. I never want you thinking like that again. If you ever need a reminder of what I think of you, I want you to tell me, and I’ll give you this same reminder.”

“I will,” you agree softly as he strokes your back.

You’re both exhausted from the exertion and the long day. He’s content to just melt into the bed while tangled up with you.

“Gonna keep you plugged up for a while, baby. Gotta make sure it takes, my sweet girl,” he mumbles as his eyes start drooping.

You gaze up at him, pretty sure you have hearts in your eyes. Your doubt and sadness had been abated for now. You nuzzle him and kiss his chest before trying to get some rest yourself.

“Love you daddy. So so much,” you whisper.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x you

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florencemtrash · 3 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fifteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: ANGST... that's about the only major warning I can think of

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Jurian and Vassa took the attic and became scarce, but when night and day slid into one another you still heard her painful screams, muffled as they were by the magic that encased their room. It was a feeling more than anything else. A tension that gripped the House until it seemed to be sobbing. At sunrise and sunset without fail, Vassa’s body broke and rearranged itself, flesh turning to feathers and feathers to flesh. Before it had been a painless process where her body came and went in its various forms, but no longer. Now she felt everything alongside an itch deep within her bones that couldn’t be satiated by food or drink or anything else.

Go to the lake! Her body screamed. Go to Koschei! And then punished her when she didn’t comply. Like a beast had sunk its claws into her flesh, its waiting mouth only inches away from snapping. To stay away was a slow, agonizing march to death. To move close would be swift, but final, and somehow Vassa knew that if she gave into Koschei’s call, she would be lost forever.

You lingered at the base of the attic's staircase, your bare feet sinking into the soft rug until the sounds of cracking bones finally ceased. Three pairs of feet shuffled above your head and you heard Jurian’s faint whispers like a gentle push of air. When the door opened and Lucien emerged, you saw Vassa crumpled on the floor, now a bone-thin woman with dull, coppery hair and skin ravaged by scratches and pockmarks.

“Shhhh. It’s ok.” Jurian whispered, encasing her in his arms.

“I can’t,” her voice trembled. “It hurts. I-I-I’m burning.”

“Y/n?” Lucien frowned. The door slammed shut with a bang and you jumped backwards. You clutched a velvet pouch close to your chest and then slowly held it out to Lucien.

“It’s for Vassa,” you explained, trying to keep your eyes on his mismatched ones — one russet as river stones, one gold like the sun. He opened the bag and stared in confusion at the fine, white powder within, giving it a tentative sniff. “Morphine. Humans use it for pain.”

“I know of it.” Lucien’s frown deepened. “They get addicted. Take too much and they die.”

“She’s already addicted. That’s what’s happening isn’t it? Koschei’s drawing his power away to get her to return to the lake and every day that passes she’s dying.” Lucien tightened his fists around the bag, still skeptical. Vassa had endured enough. He didn’t want to have her endure this either. “The bag is enchanted and will never allow her to draw too much. Just enough to calm her hunger. If we’re lucky it might help her sleep too.”

Lucien stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists from around the gold drawstring, waiting for Vassa’s cries to cease. But they never did. And there you were standing in front of him, unwavering and expectant. There was a glimmer of stubbornness in your gaze. A sign of the hours you’d spent researching Vassa’s condition and acquiring the strange human drug, and your disapproval if Lucien didn’t accept it.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he whispered, “But please go. Vassa hates for anyone to see her like this. Even Jurian and I.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, disappearing down the stairs as quickly as you could. The next morning when the sun rose over the mountains and Vassa changed, you heard only the House’s usual breathings.

The House buckled under the weight of the Inner Circle’s secrets and the sheer volume of history that had occurred within its walls and between its occupants. It utilized its magic in clever ways — your door opened with a creak that wasn’t there before so that Azriel would always hear your comings and goings. Lucien would suddenly find his door locked and the curtains drawn on the days when Helion made surprise visits to see Y/n. Nyx would find himself ushered around by a broomstick that swatted his ankles when the adults were discussing private matters. It was all a great deal of work.

So it was a relief when Rhys and Feyre quietly moved their children to the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian, and when Mor and Emerie took the final steps in emptying their rooms and went to hide out in their city apartment. It was even more of a relief when Helion returned to the Day Court, but not before throwing a heavy threat in Azriel’s face that if he should ever hurt his daughter again in any way, shape, or form, he’d strip the wings off his back.

Meals at the House were tense, quiet affairs, something not even Feyre, Elain, and Nesta’s sisterly conversations or Cassian’s light-hearted humor could ease. Elain stayed close to Lucien’s side, one hand always on his arm or resting against his back or brushing against his, but that didn’t erase what the Blood Duel had done to his trust in Elain. He was kind, but guarded, especially when Azriel was in the room. But it was more than she could ask for because it was more than she’d ever given him in the beginning.

You and Azriel were worse off.

You were speaking once more, but your words were always laced with a bit of apprehension and Azriel’s were always filled with sorrowful hope. Conversations were dull, short, and didn’t even begin to brush the surface of all the things you should have been talking about. You were terrified not of the Shadowsinger, but of his opinion of you. Did he want you so he could fix you? So that he could feel needed? So that you could be another one in a list of females he burned through?

It never truly seemed like that was the case, but you also didn’t trust yourself when it came to your emotions. You had told him once that you couldn’t imagine having a love like Feyre and Rhysand’s, or Nesta and Cassian’s, and you still meant it. You were a matchstick and he was flint, and you didn’t know what would happen to you after he had lit you aflame. For all you knew, you were already burning and this wonderful thing you’d had with Azriel would live and die with nothing more than the memory of an embrace in Rhysand’s office to show for it.

But oh how you ached to touch him again. To hold him like you had before and to have him return the gesture just as strongly.

You stiffened when Azriel’s hand brushed your arm, warmth bursting out from the point of contact.

“I’m sorry.” Azriel whispered, and he was talking about more than the wine he spilled when he reached over the table.

You spared him a glance, the first real look you’d given him in two weeks. The flagon slipped from his hands, and if it weren’t for his shadows catching it an inch above the floor, the room would have been doused in burgundy red.

“Does Lucien know?”

Rhysand looked up from his papers. Missives from the Darkbringer army and Illyrian troops up north clogged his desk, all begrudgingly accepting his orders to prepare for what could amount to another lengthy war. Letters thrown back and forth between the seven courts added to the chaos, all of them war-weary and desperate for a path that wouldn’t lead to bloodshed.

You took up the center of his room and stood so quietly he hadn’t even noticed you until you spoke. It had been eating away at you for days since Lucien’s arrival. Every time you two saw one another or spoke, you tried to scrounge for clues that would reveal whether he knew he was Helion’s son and whether he might suspect you were Helion’s daughter as well. The other members of the Inner Circle had been tight-lipped about that secret, a skill you now knew they all possessed with alarming dexterity.

“Does Lucien know he’s Helion’s son?”

Rhysand slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples with one careful hand. Finally he said, “Yes.”

The answer knocked the breath from your lungs. You’d been expecting the opposite. “Does he… does he know about me?”

Rhys sighed and shook his head. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

“How long has he known?”

“Six years. Feyre was the one to tell him. She was actually the first of us to recognize the similarity, believe it or not. But then, no one ever dared to give weight to the rumors surrounding Helion and Aurelia Vanserra while Beron was alive.”

You rocked back and forth on your feet, breath shaking as it entered your body. “Six years. Six years and you never thought to tell Helion that he has a son? I thought you two were friends?”

Rhysand tensed. “I’m Lucien’s friend as well and he begged us to never speak of it - to live as though we’d never learned that secret. And I keep my secrets. We all do.”

“You and your family have made that very clear in the time that I’ve been here.”

“If you mean Azriel—”

“Don’t play dumb, Rhys, you know I’m talking about him.” Tears pricked at your eyes, adding to the humiliation that had coated you like a film ever since you’d seen his memories about Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. “I don’t—” You swallowed thickly, “I can imagine how you must have all been whispering behind my back about Azriel and I. How you must have found it so pathetic the way he charmed me when I was really his fourth choice.”

“That’s not true.” Was what Rhysand was going to say. But he didn’t need to. Azriel said it for him.

Your face lost all color, any bravado melting away at the feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles like ribbons of silk. You could feel him in the room and that quiet darkness he carried around with him as inherently as if it were stitched onto his body.

Azriel was shaking. Shaking. With anger, turmoil, or grief — you couldn’t name it. All you knew is that one moment you were standing in Rhysand’s office, all velvet upholstery and suave, expensive taste, and the next you were in Azriel’s room.

Everything smelled like mountain air. Maybe it was the gothic windows that stretched into the vaulted ceilings, stained glass opening out onto a personal balcony with deep blue curtains fluttering in the breeze. But you were sure that even with the windows barred it would smell the same. It would smell like Azriel. If you threw open his wardrobe you’d come face to face with a wall of black. Lots and lots of black. Black suits he hardly ever wore. Black fighting leathers. Black leather jackets for everyday. Black trousers. Black boots on the floor. Very practical. Very Azriel.

If you dug through his dresser drawers you’d find black boxers and socks to match and no shortage of knives and daggers hidden behind wooden planks or in leather sleeves nailed to the bottom of his desk. But at first glance you only saw three weapons in plain view — Truth Teller, blade down and stuck in the wood grain of his desk beside a pile of reports, and two obsidian blades hanging from the wall beside his midnight blue bed in the shape of an “x.”

The smell — Azriel’s smell — calmed you, at least up to the point where you turned to find him standing less than six inches away, hazel eyes boring into yours. Then your pulse skyrocketed. You were certain that if he only looked down to your heart he’d see it pounding against your chest like a drum skin ready to burst.

“That’s not true,” he repeated earnestly. “And don’t you dare believe it. Not even for a second.”

His eyes jumped back and forth between yours and before he could stop himself, his hands were grasping yours in a gentle hold. The leather gloves were soft and supple beneath your fingertips. You wanted to rip them off so you could feel his scarred hands again.

“You weren’t meant to hear that,” you whispered, suddenly feeling small. That angry humiliation went up in a puff of smoke and left you shy and uncertain.

Azriel gripped your hands a little tighter and you watched as tendrils of shadow worked their way up your arms and got lost in your hair. “But I did,” he said breathlessly, “And I need you to know that it’s not true.”

“Azriel—”

“I know—” he was shaking his head, “I know what Helion said and I won’t lie and tell you that I’m perfect or that I’ve made any smart decisions about love in the past — I’ve not make a single one — but… but Y/n you’re not a fourth choice. You’re not something broken that I’m trying to fix or some fantasy I’ve fallen for.”

His hands shook and despite the gloves his hands still felt sticky and wet. Slick with your blood. The burning scent of iron in his nose.

“You’re the most real thing in the world to me. You’re—” You’re my mate. The words crawled up his throat like acid and it just felt wrong. He would say those words to you. He would. But not now. Not like this. He came up with something else. “Y/n, please tell me you believe me. Please.”

And there you were. Falling all over again. Burning like a matchstick on fire. The flames slowly eating away at you bit by bit. You wondered what would happen when you finally hit the ground, or when you ran out of length. Would he still hold you like this? Would you still feel real to him?

“How am I meant to know, Azriel?”

You’d always been good at books. You knew the ways in which these stories worked where the themes and plot points had been preordained and written with the purpose of being tied up in a neat package by the final page. People were very different. They were unpredictable and chaotic and they could lie through the skin of their teeth and believe they were telling the truth. And that was the problem wasn’t it? Because you still believed every word that came out of Azriel’s mouth, and his hands still felt like they were keeping you tethered to this earth when sometimes your powers and the memories that came with them made you feel like a whisper on the wind. Weightless and at the mercy of something you couldn’t control.

“You can trust me. You can know for yourself.”

He pressed your hand against his cheek and you wanted to cry at the faint pricks of stubble beneath your skin and the sharp curve of his jaw.

He wanted you to use your power on him. He wanted you to learn all the ways he wanted you. All the ways he loved you.

But you couldn’t do it.

Azriel panicked when you remained silent, staring at him and at his hands like you were frightened. All at once he was back on the streets of Velaris, cobblestones shaving away at the skin of his palms as he dragged his way up to you inch by bloody inch, fighting against a body that was too broken to move.

He couldn’t remember what it felt like when he’d stabbed you through the chest and dropped you on the street. Everything between the moment he saw Andrian’s clear-cut eyes to the moment he saw Rhysand’s horrified gaze was fuzzy and dark. But that made it worse because now in his nightmares he could imagine all the ways he’d hurt you, each version teeming with the same level of horror and possibility as the previous one.

He let you go and hated himself when you stepped back, your hand slipping away.

“I won’t… I won’t hurt you again, Y/n. I swear on my life. I’ll-I’ll make a bargain, I don’t care. I would sooner die than let something like that happen again.”

I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.

“Y/n, please.”

I am not broken. But I am afraid.

You fled from his bedroom.

The air had a bite to it now with winter descending. The snow line on the mountains dipped lower and lower each day, creeping like ivy down a brick wall.

Elain never wore gloves. Not when she was gardening. It was something she and Ione had in common. She liked the feeling of her strong hands, the callouses on her palms and fingers that she’d earned all on her own. She grunted, slamming her shovel into the soil and feeling the microscopic chips of ice give way when she kicked down on the blade. It was too late in the season to be planting tulip bulbs. If she’d been in Velaris she would have done this four weeks ago. But it was alright with her. She knew the value of hard work, and she had enough hope for the future to believe that even though she was late, she’d have something beautiful to call hers come springtime.

“It’s time for that conversation I was telling you about,” she said cryptically, as was her way.

Lucien dropped the final basket beside where Elain now knelt in the dirt, her pale pink dress dirtied and littered with her own handprints. The brown bulbs rolled around like oversized chestnuts, the kind that he’d be roasting over a fire right now if he were still in Autumn Court. Instead he was here, lingering in a Court that had never felt like home. Then again… he’d never felt at home in Autumn, Spring, or the Human Lands either.

He straightened up and wiped his hands clean on his trousers, golden and russet eyes trailing over the River House’s grounds for this mysterious person he was meant to speak to.

There.

The faint swishing of black robes behind a dark green topiary tree. He should have known Elain had been talking about you.

You cracked your knuckles and rehearsed the words you’d scribbled out earlier that day and then set to fire in a maddening loop. You’d been restless with the truth of Lucien’s parentage and you couldn’t believe that the others had held their tongues so readily. As it was, without Azriel’s company to help quiet your mind, you’d dug into this new piece of information like a starving animal and couldn’t let go.

Was this a good time to tell him? Would there ever be a good time to tell him? You had no idea.

Somewhere in the attic, you knew Vassa was itching to take to the skies like the burning comet she was. Every night she shivered in Jurian’s arms, the morphine barely able to take the edge off the humming in her bones, and every morning she let him lock her away in her cage. It was getting worse and worse trying to keep her from succumbing to Koschei’s influence. Even now you thought you could hear her keen cries whistling from the attic like ten thousand arrows launched into the air.

Somewhere else, in a secret, hidden place you knew nothing about, Andrian had finally been imprisoned. Andrian with his bent neck and silver, candy-floss hair and bloody little hands.

You shivered and jumped back five feet when Lucien called your name, kind eyes narrowed in concern. His shirt was loose and open and the sweat on his body rose like mist off his skin. He was his mother’s son first, Helion’s child second, and fire still ran through his veins. The chill did not touch him.

He tipped his head to the side, red hair spilling out from the messy way he’d tied it up and away from his face. A brutal scar ran through his eye like a fissure, starting at the center of his brow before clawing its way down his jaw like a lightning strike frozen in time. But for all the cruelty he’d been dealt with in life, his eyes were gentle, even the mechanical one that whirred and flashed in the sun.

They were even kinder when he looked at you. You with your inquisitive gaze and curious nature, like a stray cat that couldn’t help but linger too long at doorways. One foot inside, one foot ready to run and hide. He’d caught you watching him at dinners, and he’d catch himself staring when you walked around the house with a book in your hand, so utterly absorbed that you would bump against doorways and bang your hips against sharp corners.

“Elain told me about you. Did you know that?”

You blinked in surprise. “What did she say?”

“Elain… Elain doesn’t always speak clearly. Much of what comes out of her mouth can feel eerie or discomforting. But, she told me before we left for the Night Court that I would be happy I came. That I would never regret the things I learned on my trip.” He tilted his head even further, looking more and more like a fox with each turn of his face. “And she mentioned a bird. A bird with ink-tipped wings and eyes like a crow.”

You flexed your fingers, well aware that the tips were smudged with ink, the nails bitten down to the quick.

“Someone clever and cautious who’d been hidden away their whole life and needed to see the sun.”

You felt stripped bare. That strange vulnerability that comes with being summed up in so few words had you feeling airy. Like one sentence could be enough to carry the weight of the three centuries you’d lived and never buckle.

“I know you’re Helion’s son. I recognized it the moment I saw you.”

Lucien stepped back, scarlet brows shooting up into his hair with alarm.

You hesitated, then continued on cautiously. “I recognized it because I would know my father’s face anywhere.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I KNOW IT'S A CLIFFHANGER ENDING BUT I NEEDED TO BREAK EVERYTHING INTO CHAPTERS SOMEWHERE AND I'M GOING TO TRY AND GET CHAPTER 16 UP BY WEDNESDAY SO I DON'T LEAVE Y'ALL HANGING FOR TOO LONG. HAVE MERCY!!!

The good news is that Chapter 16 is already mostly written, I just need to edit it all to make sure things flow smoothly. Also, LUCIEN KNOWS NOW AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sorry for the Azriel angst... but it's delicious, no?

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #I know the fandom has a toxic shipping culture around Elain/Lucien/Azriel in particular #leave me alone all right #I am going to write the couplings as makes sense because this is a READER X AZRIEL FIC #but also i don't stand for a lot of the Elain slander #smells of sexism to me sorry not sorry just let the girl be #obviously she's not perfect but she doesn't deserve the absurd amount of hate she gets #thanks for coming to my ted talk

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dovedewdrop · 1 month

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Scratch My Back

Masterlist

Joel Miller x reader

word count: 889

Summary: The tide is pulling you under, just like it has plenty of times before. Your husband helps you communicate.

A/N: I’ve been struggling with my mental health & looking after myself for a long, long time and I was getting myself all psyched up to get a shower but I didn’t end up getting in and decided to write this lil thing that I’ve been thinking about for a while! I hope you enjoy it and if anyone out there is reading this and is struggling too, just know that you are not alone and that if Joel Miller were real, he would scratch your back❤️

Also thank you so much for 100 followers🥹🫶🏻 really brightened up my spirits a lil bit💓

Warnings: No Outbreak. Depiction of poor mental health. Sadness. One big loving man (it’s Joel Miller) (Not a warning but I didn’t want it to seem all doom and gloom😅) No use of Y/N.

To Joel, it was just a Wednesday, your day off. To you, the ceiling was caving in. Before he left for work you were sound asleep, your thoughts at bay, laying still against the sand, he placed a gentle kiss to your temple before rolling out of bed. Now that you were awake your thoughts were thrashing against the cliffs, the mental whiplash you were facing ultimately draining your body of all its energy.

You watch the clock on the bedside table blink from one minute to the next. You thought about all if the things you should probably be doing; showering, tidying the house, preparing that home cooked meal you’d been promising your husband for over a week but all you could do was slip in and out of sleep, that was the safe option, the one that would keep you somewhat sane until he returned. You didn’t want to bother him, didn’t want to text him those three words because you knew he would stop everything for you, everything would be put on hold so that he could soothe you and you didn’t want to add that onto the ever-growing list of things to feel bad about. So you waited.

“Honey?” His voice reverberated off the walls, the sound of his gentle tone floated up the stairs. You didn’t have the energy to shout back, the sound of his boots hitting the wooden steps told you that it wouldn’t be long until he was by your side anyway. He took in the sight of the drawn curtains, the sight of you facing them, still in your t-shirt and underwear and you felt the bed dip behind you, the warmth of his body encompassing yours, his scent filling your scenes.

“Something happen?” A gentle kiss placed to your shoulder blade, the feeling of his lungs emptying and filling behind your back soothing you. You shook your head, allowing a silence to draw over you both as Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you further back into the curve of his body. He was always so patient with you, so tender.

“Scratch my back.”

Scratch my back, a cry for help. A promise made between two lovers. A rule established when you’d first started dating. Joel knew that you struggled with your mental health, you’d opened up to some extent, brushing him off with a ‘I’m having a tough day but I’ll be ok x’ text in the beginning, even then he gave you your space.

One week in spring however, everything was not okay. He hadn’t heard from you in four days, no text and definitely no phone calls. At first he thought that this was your way of letting him know you were no longer interested and selfishly, he couldn’t let it end that way. So after days of mulling it over and chewing his bottom lip raw, he drove over to your apartment and that’s where he found you, dark circles engulfing your eyes, threatening to swallowing them whole, hair unwashed, apartment flooded in gloom.

He took a bath with you, washed your hair as best he could. The spring air still had a slight chill to it so he’d made sure your new set of pyjamas were on the radiator ready for bed and he laid with you in silence until you turned into his chest and he felt the wet of your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt.

“You don’t have to talk to me.” He pressed a kiss into your hairline. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to talk to me, I mean obviously you can, when you feel comfortable and ready to but there is something I want you to do for me baby,” another soft kiss. Your eyes travelled up his face to finally look him in his eyes, those soft brown eyes that made you fall in love with him in the first place. All you could do was give a small nod, you would do anything he asked. “I want you to come up with a word or a phrase,” he continued, “so that when things get bad and you don’t feel like you can talk about it…” he trailed off, his hands drawing shapes up and down the length of your spine.

“Like a safe word?” He let out a huff of air at that, a small smile adorning his face.

“Yeah, kinda like a safe word, so I know that you’re safe,” his palm came to rest on your cheek, thumb cupping your jaw, “up here,” and his fingers tapped gently on the side of your temple.

“Scratch my back,” It was soft, the way it came out, tears threatening to spill over, “because if you promise to scratch mine, i’ll always scratch yours.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling then, the last thing you wanted was for Joel to see you like this and to become his burden, but the way he’d shown you such care and compassion made your head feel a little less foggy, you wanted to promise that you could do that in return, that it wouldn’t just be him constantly looking after you.

“Oh sweet angel.” Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks now, pressing a light kiss to your nose and then your lips.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #dovedewdrop writes

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billiedeansbitch · 3 months

Text

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 (𝐬𝐟𝐰)

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Note: this one's been sitting in my drafts for so long now I don't actually remember anymore what was going to be ending because I left it like halfway but uh, I stirred my brain for something and came up with some angsty shit you're welcome. (And it's smut free! Yay!)

Warning/s: grief and loss.

You pushed your chair gently as possible but you were tired, exhausted and drained, so it scraped the floor, the sound scratching your ears. You winced and muttered an apology half-heartedly for the noise. You felt her gaze lift from her plate to look at you. “Are you done?” she asked, still watching you. You hummed and nodded, bringing your plate to the sink. Words ceased to exist after that.

When you returned to the kitchen table she was done as well. You watched her pick up her plate and deposit it to the sink, you helped her around cleaning the kitchen, both of you moving in silence and keeping your way out of each other but as you wiped away the table and she was tucking the chairs back in, you felt her warmth against you.

You didn’t look or react. Keeping it all in a tight lid jar. You resume to wipe the table until the faint marks disappear to your heart’s content. She didn’t say anything either. She was first to withdraw, though her hand fleetingly brushed the small of your back and you turned. You turned to look at her, you couldn’t resist the temptation nor you had the will to just ignore it.

That at least you let yourself to devour. And despite the constant arguments these days, you still couldn’t wait for the moment where your eyes met.

Your heart was hammering against your chest. You felt as though you were about to faint, there was sadness in her eyes, nervously fidgeting with the ring on her finger. “I’ll be in the study if you need me.”

You gave her a nod. You saw her eyes slowly falter from looking at you down to her feet, ashamed. “Wait” you wanted to say however your lips remained pressed together. She left, taking small steps to slow down, waiting, still waiting for you to say something and silently hoping but you didn’t until she was closing the door of her study and paused, just thinking, she should leave it half opened remembering how you always stick your head in just to check for her. The fond and bittersweet memory rendered her helpless from all the guilt.

It was a little later, maybe past ten o’clock when you abruptly awoke to the sound of shuffling, the vague noises from the television stopped, the room was dim without the vibrant colours from the screen. “You fell asleep,” the voice said, unsurprised, it knew…she knew and she paused whatever she was doing in her study to check on you.

You hummed, rubbing the sleep off of your eyes. You felt her hand on your shoulder, silently asking you to get up. You had half a mind to hold her hand right there, to savour the feeling of her touch and kiss it. Kiss all the pain away. But you decided against it, afraid it would be too much. So you stood up.

It felt cold–your hands, you looked at them, and they were empty. So lonely and empty. It broke your heart. You wanted to hold her hand but she was so far away, walking in front of you.

When was it going to end?

She called your name softly as you unconsciously sank deeper into the abyss of your unending thoughts. Your name, not my darling, my sweetheart, or my love. Once more, your heart broke. You miss it, the way she would affectionately call you names, drawing the biggest grin on your lips and you would leap into her arms, burying your face into her neck. You miss her.

“Yes?” you looked up to see her undoing the pins in her hair, her blouse was half open and untucked from her skirt. It reminded you of the bliss as you two ran around the house, going after each other barely having any clothes on and giggling like girls once you cornered her–you knew for a fact she let you and not because you were swift and strong enough to pin a 6’3” woman with a body mass twice as yours were–and then you’d kiss her and she’d kiss you back, both breathless in the end with smiles on your faces.

She asked if the set of pyjamas she laid for you on the bed were to your liking. Your cheeks warmed, and you told her it was perfect. Little by little, you reminded yourself, everything would be better.

You sucked in a breath, fingers automatically unzipping your dress from the back but getting stuck halfway. It was little inconveniences like this one that really felt like the last straw after a particularly having a bad day that struck a nerve, “The fuck is your problem!” you muttered, trying to pull the tab down but it won’t slide.

Larissa saw you getting upset over it. It was one of your downsides—getting easily frustrated over the most mundane things when you couldn’t do it right the first time—she interfered, tapping on your shoulder and telling you to turn around before your head could explode in anger.

She smoothly pulled it all the way down, her eyes following the path of skin it revealed, she longed to feel you with her lips.

Larissa stayed there for a moment, unable to retract herself from you. She thought that maybe if she kept herself close to you, like this, her sadness would melt away, that her longing for you would shrink even just by an inch. Her arms ached to hold you. She wanted to kiss you. Fill you in with so many kisses until you decided it was enough. She missed you.

And you missed her so much—that, perhaps, was actually your last straw. You broke down, tears spilling from your eyes that you tried so badly to conceal with your hands on your face. The little sobs came, the shaking of your breath and light twitches of your shoulders.

She pulled you in her arms, gently giving you time to resist. You showed none and willingly buried your face on her chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” the words repeated again and again, broken in between with sobs and sharp intake of breaths.

“I’m sorry we lost the baby.”

It stung like a freshly cut wound for Larissa. She never blamed you, she never breathed out a word about the loss of your child, not a single one. She sat in this awful gown after the procedure was done, unblinking. Not a twitch of emotion or a tear. She somehow turned cold and completely shut the world down. It all changed, she changed.

And she blamed herself.

Every time she’d see your face she was reminded of how hopeful you were, how full of life and physically vibrating with happiness when you found out she was pregnant. She should have waited for at least a month to tell you Incase this didn’t work out like the others but she had a feeling. She had this hope, something she didn’t feel before so she told you and it felt so fucking stupid of her.

“We could try again,” you said, kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in her lap, “He’ll answer our prayers. He will. I know he will.” But she had had enough of it, she no longer believed.

“Larissa, please say something. Tell me anything.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m done.” she wiped the lone tear from her cheek, and stood up. It hadn’t been a week since she was released from the hospital, her body had not recovered from the loss. It still felt like it was there–the little flutter. It was making her insane.

“Where are you going?”

"To work. I'm not going to sit around crying all day. I told you I'm done."

That day, it felt like you lost her more than anything.

She pushed you away and you let her. Now you danced around each other, with intensified longing behind your eyes, your fingers twitching to touch, craving to reignite the fading memories of what you two once were.

She held you tight against her, giving into the needs of her body, of her soul. She let herself heal as the warmth engulfed the dead parts of her.

Little by little, she hoped it would get better.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems imagine #gwendoline christie imagines #principal larissa weems #gwendoline christie #billiedeansbitc

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pricklepearbloom · 3 months

Note

Ooh I love it I want more ruby/az 😍

a/n: FINE twist my arm! (jk I love Ruby and Az and I love YOU!)

masterlist

Windows Open

Pairing: Azriel x OC (Ruby)

Summary: Azriel can’t sleep without the windows open

Word Count: 900 (just a short little baby blurb!)

The cold night air whispered over Ruby’s arms making goosebumps erupt up and down her arms. Her body shivered to try and shake off the breeze, burrowing in further into the covers and closer to her own personal furnace. Her mate, Azriel. Who, for whatever reason, cannot sleep without the windows open. It drove Ruby batty. As someone who got cold very easily, she couldn’t stand sleeping with the windows open. Ruby glanced over at her lover, sound asleep with an arm thrown across her waist snoring without a care in the world. Her eyes narrowed in slight contempt at his ability to sleep while it was practically snowing in her bedroom.

Her eyes shot over to the wide open window, biting her lip considering the probability that she could sneak out of his arms to close the window. He was completely asleep right? A loud snore ripped through Azriel making a fond smile etch itself onto her face at the obvious answer. Yeah, he’s definitely asleep, she mused to herself. She gently grabbed his hand that was wrapped around her waist and, as slowly as she could, she lifted it and started to scoot away from his grasp.

Subconsciously detecting the movement, Azriel’s hold tightened on Ruby, tucking her even closer to his chest. Ruby froze and waited a few minutes until she heard the snoring start again giving her the confidence to try again. She lifted his arm and wiggled her way out, slipping out of bed to tiptoe her way over to the window. Without the protection of the covers or Azriel’s body heat, Ruby’s shivering increased tenfold. She reached up feeling the freezing top of the window pane pulling down slowly so as not to wake Azriel up. The window started squeaking as she pulled it down and her body tensed so she made the split second decision to pull it down the rest of the way quickly.

Once it was shut, she let out a breath of relief and turned around to head back into bed, hopefully to fall back asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. When she returned back to bed, her eyes met Azriel’s opened and trained on her. A sheepish smile found its way onto her face “it was cold.” she said simply. Azriel’s lips formed into a thin line on his face, eyes darting back and forth between hers. “I’m sorry, I just-” he cut himself off, obviously hesitating to finish his thought. “What is it?” Ruby asked quietly, brows furrowed on her forehead.

Azriel took a deep breath before pushing on. “When I was younger, I was kept in a basement. No light. No people. Nothing. Every day I felt like I was being buried alive because the darkness felt like it was pressing in on me.” Azriel’s eyes shuddered close at the feeling of Ruby’s hand finding its way into his hair, lightly scratching his scalp giving him the comfort and courage to keep on. “Before the shadows found me, I was terrified of being kept in the dark, terrified of being contained like that. I can’t believe all of these years it’s still affecting me but because of it I just… I can’t-” “You can’t sleep with the windows closed.” Ruby finished softly understanding dawning in her eyes. “I’m sorry my love.” Ruby could practically see the self loathing take over Azriel making her shake her head vehemently. “Don’t you dare apologize. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I just thought… I don’t know, maybe you liked the sounds of the outside or got warm at night?” Azriel chuckled softly. “I wish. Still it’s not fair on you to make you freeze or keep you up every night just because of my baggage.” Ruby tilted her head in contemplation. “Maybe not, but I think I can take that on. Plus, maybe you’ll just have to hold me extra close to keep me warm.” She lifted her eyebrows up and down suggestively.

Azriel’s shoulders visibly lowered relieved, a smile drawing on his face before he pulled her in close. “I can do that” He nestles his head into her neck inhaling her scent deep into his lungs. Ruby’s eyes shut in contentment before shooting open in realization, “wait!” She pulled away from his grasp and quickly opened the window before trotting back into bed finding a soft expression on Azriel’s face. “You’re too good for me.” He whispered into her ear, tucking her back into her place in his arms. She shook her head, “You deserve all of the love in the world Az and I’m honored to be able to give it to you.” She kissed his strong jaw before they both fell into a deep sleep for the night.

The following day, Ruby found a box with a bow on it sitting on her bed. Inside was a heated blanket that she clutched to her chest, feeling a warm rush spread through her chest. Knowing the cause was not from the blanket she sat on her bed basking in the fluttering in her stomach.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #no beta we die like men #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #if this doesn't make sense #dont tell me #love you guys

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litfeathers · 1 year

Text

Before Hunter's Palisman Observations... Before Lilith's Letter... Before Luz's Diary Entry...

A witch's quill scratches on paper, her eyebrows furrowing in thought as she fills a well-worn book with her thoughts and desires and fears.

She smiles at the yellow bird who is fast asleep on her extra pillow, and with a snap of her fingers extinguishes the light spells that had been illuminating her cozy bedroom.

She sleeps.

She dreams…

She dreams of a strange world. A world without magic. A harsh world of rules, and penance, and fear.

A man stands in front of a bonfire, the glow of the firelight dancing on his wild blond hair. He is surrounded by a screaming crowd, torches and pitchforks and fists waving in the air.

"No," she begs. "No, no, no, no."

She calls his name over the cacophony of violent chanting, her voice muffled by the roar of the growing conflagration.

He turns.

She screams.

Blood. Smoke. Fire. The flash of a knife. It all happens too fast.

He is gone.

...and she wakes up.

Welcome to Evelyn's Journal.

Credits: -The phenomenal cover art was drawn by the absolute legend @bananadramaaa. Thank you so much for your help! -The script and Evelyn's voice were written and recorded by Birdie (that's me!) -It's probably pretty obvious, but this project was directly inspired by the audio recordings a few of TOH's VAs did for one of Dana's charity livestreams. Look them up if you have never heard them. They are fantastic!

The audio and script will also be available at AO3 on (or some time after) Sunday, March 26th. You may find it at litfeathers if you would like to give this project some love over there too!

The complete script can be found under the read more, so you may follow along if you wish.

Grab a snack and get comfy. We have an almost 15 minute runtime! Enjoy! 🔥🪶

Scaburary 10th

I had to cover for Bileadona at work. She never showed up for her shift, and so Goldie and I were forced to make an unexpected trip to Bonesborough.

Extra disappointing, since I was planning to spend the afternoon in the garden with my sketchbook. I wanted to redo my blue jay drawing, as I am not quite satisfied with it.

Ah, well. I’ll draw in the garden tomorrow.

Scaburary 11th

UUUGHHH DAMN RAIN!

Goldie has been moping and staring out the window at the sizzling forest all morning, desperately wishing she could have her early morning flight through the trees. I have given her a handful of seeds to help her feel better. She seems pouty still, but has cheered up slightly. She is currently ordering the seeds from most to least appealing. Heh. This should take her a while.

Only two days are left!

Scaburary 13th

Work, work, work. I couldn’t stop watching the sunlight and shadows slowly move across the library floor and sighing impatiently. Bileadona happened by my cart as I was shelving books, and asked why the calendar at my desk is so strange. I told her it was an old-fashioned solar calendar from the bloodievil period. She didn’t seem to buy it, but didn’t push the subject.

I also made a quick…detour before I went home. Just to say hello to some dear friends. Some very special friends who are going to severely regret their actions from last week.

*evil witch cackle*

As an added bonus, I finally managed to nab one of their…creative drawings of me. It is now proudly displayed on my living room wall, just above the couch. Truly, it is a work of art, and I am humbled by their kindness.

I just hope they find my return offering just as humbling ehehehehe.

I have been getting more and more excited for every visit to the Human Realm. Not that I have been there recently. I most definitely have not. Don’t be absurd.

But anyway. This week has dragged endlessly! I cannot wait for tomorrow.

It’s nice to have a friend.

Scaburary 14th, Human Realm year 1623

Today was nice.

It was a Friday in Human reckoning, so Caleb and I enjoyed the usual supper on a blanket in the snowy woods. I made sure to include dragon bacon sandwiches and deviled griffin stew in the spread, as they are his favorites. And of course, a thermos of hot apple blood to warm us up. It was a marvelous feast!

He looks a bit better lately. His skin is less pale, and the shadows under his eyes are less prominent.

The moment I landed at at our spot, Caleb immediately asked me if I had anything to do with the recent vandalism of the Gravesfield meetinghouse. I plead innocent. He grimly informed me that someone had scribbled all over the siding, and that one of the drawings bore a striking resemblance to Goldie. I expressed my deepest sympathies for the poor soul who would have to clean it up. He further informed me that the words “Evie was here” were scrawled over the front door. I told him that since my given name isn’t Evie, it’s Evelyn, he was clearly looking for another culprit. He grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me dead in the eye, and told me, in the most fed-up of tones, that the drawings could move.

“Huh,” I said. “In that case, it sounds like you might have a witch on your hands. I hear they are pretty tricky to deal with, but seeing as you are such an expert witch hunter, you surely won’t have a problem rooting her out!”

At that he made such a ridiculously frustrated face, I could no longer hold in my laughter. It was the look he gets where his cheeks flush and his nose flares. The red even reached his ears this time! Fantastic.

He gave up at that point. He just sighed deeply and shook his head. But I could tell he was desperately trying to hold back a smile.

While we enjoyed our meal, we got on the topic of weather. After my previous deception, he didn’t quite believe me when I told him that rain boils in the Demon Realm. When I cast an illusion to show him a typical Boiling Isles thunderstorm, his eyes lit up brighter than the sun. As fun as it is to tease and banter with him, I think I vastly prefer those quiet moments between us. When the storm clouds lift from his eyes.

*trails off*

I can tell he’s lonely.

Last week, while we were on our owl watch, he mentioned offhandedly that he hasn’t received a proper hug in years.

I was about to feign ignorance and pretend to not know what a hug is, until I realized that…err. Well, we are two galdorpeas in a pod in that regard, aren’t we?

And no, I did not offer myself up. Because some walls are built for a reason.

Caleb is surrounded by pitchforks and torches and prying eyes.

His village is dangerous.

His brother has been asking more and more…questions.

I know I shouldn’t keep doing this. I know I can’t keep doing this. There is a line, and I am terrified that I am gleefully dancing towards it, and one day I am going to be unable to stop myself from crossing into something…

*deep sigh*

…something I cannot come back from.

I am unwilling to admit this anywhere but here. And this is difficult to write, even if my eyes are the only ones that will ever read it. But…

He scares me.

Hah! How silly is that? We’re the closest of friends. I am a powerful adult witch. And I am scared of him?

It makes no sense. Witch hunter my butt! I trust him completely. He is kind. Sweet, even. No matter how much sass and grumpiness he sprinkles into his words, it is abundantly clear that his heart is made of pure gold. His smile could melt snow. His soft words could tame the wildest slitherbeast. His laugh is pure music.

*embarrassed cough*

So, then. Why the fear? Why have I been finding myself so on edge around him lately? It’s incredibly frustrating.

Words are difficult to get out. My pulse quickens when he sits too close. I can no longer look him in the eye without my face heating up. What else could cause this but fear? It is clearly my body warning me that what I am doing is incredibly foolish.

Or perhaps it’s just the apple blood.

*sighs in frustration, then there is a long moment of silence*

No. I’m not that naive. I know it’s not the apple blood. It’s just that…I’m…

I’m not ready.

I don’t have much more I would like to say on this topic, so I suppose I shall end this entry and tuck myself into bed with a good book. Perhaps Goldie would like for me to read her another story.

Here’s hoping for some nice dreams. Titan willing.

Goodnight.

Scaburary 15th

I had the day off from work. I tried to draw in the garden, but my redo of the blue jay sketch came out even worse than the original. I ended up spending most of my day on the couch, half paying attention to a book I could barely focus on enough to read.

I had dreams last night. Dreams I absolutely refuse to relive by writing them down.

Please. Please, please, please let tonight be better.

Scaburary 16th

Oh, Titan. I hate this.

I have made a decision. A decision I am absolutely miserable to be making.

It’s something I can absolutely not back out on. Something I should have done ages ago.

Something I should have done before I got…attached.

No matter what, this will end in pain. But it must end. Before he is harmed. Or worse. I know what I must do. But it hurts. I have to protect him. This week will be rough. Please wish me luck and courage.

Scaburary 17th My chest hurts. My eyes are sore. Everyone has been giving me space at work. I am sure they can tell something is very wrong, but no one has pried. At least I managed to keep it together until I was halfway home. Be proud of my fortitude.

After I was done being sorry for myself, I got an idea. I am unsure if I will be able to follow through with my plan. But if I can find my courage, perhaps I can at least try.

When we say our goodbyes, I can at least ensure Caleb still has a friend.

I haven’t carved a palisman in years. Not since I made Goldie with Mother and Father. And not since they…

*chokes up for a second*

I don’t even know if I remember how. But there is a grove of healthy palistrom trees in the backyard. And I still have my knife.

I even know what he would want.

Fine. Tomorrow I will start carving.

Scaburary 18th I opened my journal to write, but I have nothing substantial to say. This week has been miserable. I wish it were Friday so I could get this over with. Goldie keeps offering me seeds to cheer me up. I’m sorry, Goldie. I appreciate the gesture, but not everything can be fixed with a tasty seed.

Scaburary 19th I sent Goldie to deliver my final rebus message. I got such an excited response back, I nearly lost it again. He has heard a saw-whet owl in the woods by the fields. He wants to take me out there to listen for it. Sounds lovely. I suppose it’s nice to look forward to one last owl watch. What should I do with the remaining Titan’s blood? Dispose of it? Donate it to a researcher? All I know is that I cannot keep the vials. Lest I be…tempted. I’ll miss the birds. Caleb’s gift is drying on the kitchen table. I wonder what wish he will make.

Scaburary 20th I am surprisingly calm. There is something to be said for allowing yourself to…feel. To let your emotions exist, acknowledge them, let them out. That isn’t typically how I operate, but perhaps it can be advantageous to…sometimes…occasionally…not bury everything? As much as I hate to admit it. I was even able to laugh at Goldie’s antics. She brought home a rattle worm and pretended to feed it to our new scarlet friend. She even feigned offense when he refused her gift by remaining silent and wooden. Silly bird! I don’t know what I would ever do without her. I think I will be fine. Once the dust settles. We will all be fine.

Scaburary 22nd I do not know where to start. It is late evening. I am sitting here in bed, journal in lap, as usual. But Goldie is perched on my shoulder instead of her usual spot on my extra pillow. Because my extra pillow is occupied. It is occupied by a blond human and a small red bird. Oh. He just reached out in his sleep to hug my waist. I suppose I’m trapped now. I’ve never been so happy. I’ve never been so happy, and yet so anxious? I can’t stop smiling. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling or swooning or giggling since last night! How embarrassing. How completely and utterly embarrassing! ...Goldie, I know you are reading this. I can hear you laughing! Quit it! I think I’m still in a bit of shock-GOLDIE THIS IS PRIVATE. I haven’t quite processed any of this-I KNOW YOU CAN FEEL MY EMOTIONS AND HEAR MY THOUGHTS! I DON’T CARE! YOU’RE STILL BEING NOSY. WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE WERE BOTH SO OBVIOUS? I SAID STOP LAUGHING!!! Fine. You were right. Is that what you wished to hear? Are you happy now, you smug little feather brain? Good. Anyway. Where was I? Everything happened so…fast. The last 24 hours have been absolutely wild. And terrifying. And…intense. But I think I can finally admit something important, even if it’s only here for now. Let’s see if I can manage to actually write it. Goodness, my hand is shaking. Alright. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Here goes… *swoons a little* I’m in love. Goodnight, everyone. Sweet dreams. *snaps fingers, and light spells are extinguished* Sung: You are not alone No matter how far you have flown Together we feel we’re at home In darkness light shines in your bones *As she hums the song fades out*

#The Owl House #Evelyn Clawthorne #Wittecouple #Witteclaw #wittewife #Birdie Chirps

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inamagicalhallucination · 3 months

Text

wrote this quickly in class os it may not make sense fajkfj but i had the thought and needed to share:

Dazai hadn’t really meant to do it. He hadn’t meant for it to escalate this way.

He didn’t know why he did it.

Things had been tense recently. Abstractilly Dazai knew it was not anyone’s fault but his own. He didn’t know why. Everything had been going so well and suddenly Dazai couldn’t breathe. Being near Kunikida made his stomach churn.

They hadn’t had a real fight in months. THey went to work together and came back together. Dazai had his own apartment but most of his things (as few as they were) had moved into Kunikida’s. When Kunikida bought new things for his apartment he asked Dazai’s opinion. Dazai himself could buy things and place them on the bookshelf or the coffee table and Kunikida wouldn’t mind. They woke up together. Had breakfast together. Kunikida knew how he liked his coffee (he didn’t) and he knew how Kunikida liked his. If Kunikida stayed back at work, Dazai usually came to his apartment anyway to wait. It was all very domestic. It was all so very nice.

Dazai had clung to that nice-ness of domesticity with all his might. Anytime his thoughts turned dark he was able to redirect them. And if he couldn’t he’d find his way to Kunikida and take in the gentleness he looked at him with and focus on the now, the present.

There hadn’t been a trigger – not really. He’d just walked into the office one day, a little after Kunikida who had an early meeting and let him sleep in. He’d looked at the wooden desks, at Atsushi humming to himself as he typed, at Ranpo munching on his candy, at Junichiro and Naomi setting up, at Kyouka and Kenji conversing and suddenly he felt as if he could not fit in his skin. When Kunikida came into the office, he’d been too frenzied from the bad meeting to do more than nod at Dazai.

And then suddenly Dazai had to get out, he had to leave. He didn’t though, not wanting the unneeded attention it would draw. Instead he scratched at his arms and tried to focus on his work.

He left before Kunikida. He stopped in front of Kunikida’s apartment. THen he walked past it on his own.

He didn’t know why.

Kunikida called him when he got home and Dazai told him he’d just missed his own futon, his own space. There had been a heavy silence and Dazai knew that Kunikida could see through it, but Kunikida didn’t comment.

Dazai appreciated the space for all of an hour before his thoughts spiraled further.

How often could he do this? How often could he leave Kunikida and expect him to stay unbothered – to welcome him back with open arms?

Gradually Kunikida’s worry would turn into a heavy sort of irritation that would fade into tired anger. Gradually, Kunikida would not acknowledge him coming back with more than a glance. WOuld take out the minutes he’d saved into his schedule wherever he could for Dazai to focus on his work. Gradually, Dazai would wear him down.

And when that thought hit, it wouldn’t leave. He smiled and laughed as normally as he could, but he knew Kunikida noticed the distance that had come in between them. Dazai only came over when Kunikida asked, only stayed when Kunikida said to and even then tried his best to leave. He thought it was logical at the time. TO create the distance himself before he could ruin Kunikida, before he could take everything Kunikida had and keep asking for more, more, more.

He ignored and dodged all of Kunikida’s attempts to talk.

It had gone on for a week.

Being near Kunikida made his stomach churn with anxiety, waiting for him to look at him with nothing but a vague disinterest. Kunikida continued to try and pull him towards him and Dazai continued to pull away.

Today, though, he’d come into Kunikida’s apartment. He hadn’t meant to. But he felt terribly lonely and bitter and he wanted to be selfish for a bit more. He knew he was the worst, taking more of Kunikida and then wrenching away again, but he could not stop himself. Could not humanize himself.

So he’d walked in. The apartment looked different. It was vague, barely noticeable - probably why Dazai hadn’t noticed in his view visits. But it was different. A few things weren’t in their place, a few things were lopsided. Kunikida did not make mistakes like that. And Dazai knew that this was because of him. He was what was bothering Kunikida. He’d probably led Kunikida to think that Kunikida was the one who did something wrong.

He couldn’t breathe. In his attempt to fix this, he’d made it worse – there was no justifying it to himself anymore, he made everything worse. Kunikdai had been nothing but loving, but kind, but gentle, in a wya Dazia didn’t deserve, but he had gone and fucked it all up. Why hadn’t he led Kunikida to the realization that Dazai was taking too much? Why did he ruin everything?

His gaze ended on the picture on the side table next to the couch. It was a picture of them. It was moved slightly to the left and Dazai could picture Kunikida picking it up and putting it back. Picking it up and trying to think of why Dazai was pulling away – what he had done. OR perhaps he was looking at his past foolish self who thought someone likeDaza was worth loving.

Dazai hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t even realized he had until the sudden rush of self disgust had wavered at the sound of the frame breaking where he’d thrown it. He’d started at it. Then he grabbed another photograph, and another, and before he knew it he was throwing everything he could get his hands on, an uncontrollable rage, a deep deep sense of misery. He heard someone screaming and it took him a while to realize it was him.

When he could breathe again, when he dug his nails into his skin and watched them bleed and could finally breathe, he looked around at the destroyed living room – at Kunikida’s living room. Dazai felt helpless. He reached shaky hands to the first photograph he’d broken, cutting his hands on the glass as he tried to put the broken pieces of glass together again, as he tried to fix it. But the pieces were too split and he could do nothing. He clutched at his shirt, at his arms, at his hair and pulled and pulled and sobbed and screamed again but none of the pictures would fix themselves up. He didn’t know how long he sat there. Kunikida hadn’t come back yet.

He wished he could peel off his skin. He wished he could scrub off the dirt but no matter how much he could scratch at his skin, he’d still feel dirty.

Eventually he stood up and dragged himself to the bathroom. He filled up the bathtub, and sat in the water. HE closed his eyes – he could see Kunikida’s face when he came in. He didn’t move. Time slipped him.

A door opened. It closed after a long time. Or maybe it closed after a second. Or maybe it didn’t close or open at all and Dazai had imagined it – he had thought Kunikida had come home a few times, but he hadn’t.

He heard soft steps but nothing more and he sighed thinking it was another trick his brian was playing. He was sure it wasn’t kunikida until the bathroom door opened and Kunikida stood there. Dazai gazed at him. He couldn't tell what he was thinking – he could always tell.

Kunikida stared at him. Dazai looked away, shame filling every inch of his body.

“Come on,” Kunikida said, voice too quiet and too loud and nothing like Kunikida, “let’s get you out of there.”

When Dazai blinked again, Kunikida was draining the water from the tub. He was sitting on the edge, leaning against Kunikida’s arm. Kunikida ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the wet locks and said something as he walked out. Dazai stood there, letting Kunikida take off his clothes and pat a towel onto him and then dress him in sweats and a sweatshirt. Then, Kunikida pulled him out of the bathroom. He tried to look at the living room, but found that he couldn’t. Anytime he turned, Kunikida was there or was pulling his gaze away.

Then they were in Kunikida’s bedroom. Dazai was sitting on the bed, Kunikida was kneeling behind him, drying his hair with a towel.

“Do you want to order tonight?” Kunikida asked. Dazai shrugged.

“‘m sorry” he mumbled after a long pause, looking at Kunikida through the mirror, but dropping his gaze.

“Okay,” Kunikida replied. He pulled Dazai back and let Dazai rest against his chest. “You’re okay.”

He wasn’t. Kunikida knew it too. He let himself melt against him, anyway.

#kunikidazai

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ramp-it-up · 2 years

Text

A Point of War

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader RPF

Summary: Chris plays dirty when you have your first big fight as a married couple.

This is part four of the A Starting Point Series.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI. SMUT, RPF. Consensual angry sex, edging, cock warming, orgasm denial, voice kink, angst, a lil bit of degradation, a lil bit of pain kink, back scratching, thigh riding, oral, (m/f) receiving, sloppy toppy, Angst, sexual day dreaming, breeding kink, kiss and make up. Not Beta’d.

A/N: I have so many WIPS, but this ask made me break a long streak of not writing.

Thank you Nonnie! ❤️

Notice: I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

DO NOT COPY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.

Chris awakened you early to make you late this morning. You’d only had two hours of sleep, but he didn’t care. Sleep deprivation was a tactic of war.

He languidly rocked his cock deep inside you, stroking his heavy member through your folds until you were both almost insane. Chris had edged you both all morning, stopping before either of you could cum, and making you warm him until he was ready to do it again.

After three times of bringing you both to the edge of heaven, both of you were desperate.

“Please Angel… just say you agree. Then we can both delight in married bliss.”

Chris was between your legs, digging you out, your legs around his waist as his thick mushroom cap and veiny shaft sleeked in and out of your tight, wet channel.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. And you’re so beautiful for me when you c-”

Chris looked in your eyes and clenched his jaw. He couldn’t speak. It was almost enough to make you cum. But you just shook your head.

He shook his in response and frowned, moving his lage hand up to cup the side of your face. You pouted and he pushed his thick thumb between your lips and you sucked it greedily, causing him to pulse inside you.

He stopped and you could feel his cock pounding. You whimpered around his thumb and your saliva slipped down your face and his palm.

“I can’t.. I’m gonna…. Don’t you wanna…?”

The Boston came out as you were stripping away his resolve. You opened your mouth wide and swiped your tongue around his thick digit lewdly, then closed your mouth to suck if from palm to fingertip. You moved your hips to try and get him going and Chris’s hand gripped you tightly, sure to leave marks later.

“My feisty, stubborn Angel. It only makes me want you more.”

You glared at him.

“The answer is still no, Chris…

Chris squeezed his eyes shut as a drizzle of precum escaped out of him. He started panting as he fought the urge to let go and fuck you into the mattress. He needed release as much as you did, but you were both too stubborn to relent.

Chris rolled his eyes at the sensation and saw the clock on the wall.

“Shit, Angel. I’m gonna be late.”

He bent down and whispered into your ear, knowing what his voice did to you.

“All you gotta do is say yes, and we can both get what we need.”

He rotated his hips to give you all of his dick. You gripped his shoulders and drew your nails down his back, drawing welts and a little bit of blood. The sensation made him groan and pump into you hard a few times, giving you hope of victory until he stopped.

Chris slipped out of you and rushed into the shower, dodging your epithets and the pillow thrown at him. You tried to make yourself cum, but you were so frustrated and needy that it didn’t work.

When he got out, you just walked past him into the shower, dodging the kiss he tried to give you as you passed by.

When you emerged, he was gone, leaving you a note that made you cry.

Now, seven hours later, you shifted in your seat and felt how deliciously sore you were. You wanted to relent, but the principle of the matter was what was important, not your wanton body and his huge, thick dick hitting your spot….

Damn. It would feel so good to just give in. You sighed. You were angry at him after this morning; not just angry, you were incensed.

It didn’t help that you were trapped in an ASP partners meeting ahead of a big campaign for mid-term elections. So, you sucked up all your feelings and tried to be professional, sneaking a look at him through your lashes.

You frowned slightly to find him watching you with a barely perceptible smirk.

Damn him.

You took a breath, hitched with desire, and straightened in your seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw Chris open his mouth slightly to breathe, and it was your turn to smirk.

“Alright, on to the next order of business.”

Mark looked around the table as you looked down at your notepad, trying to collect your thoughts on the meeting. You were not trying to make eye contact with Chris. You’d managed to avoid him most of the day, and had come into the conference room at the last minute to be on time for it, grateful that the only seat available was across the table from him.

You were on the edge, and Christopher Robert Evans put you there. Before you knew it, you’d spaced out. Your pussy throbbed as you thought of the last time he skillfully ate you out as you sucked his cock. 69 was his favorite position, and you knew that putting the end of your pen in your mouth might just remind him. You subtly flicked your tongue around the fat end of the Montblanc pen and heard Chris cover a moan with a fake cough.

Chris’ deep baritone made your clit quiver when he spoke up.

…” I don’t know, Joe. Why don’t we ask Mrs. Evans?”

You glared at Chris and then realized everyone was watching. You cleared your throat and suppressed the urge to roll your eyes at him. You sat up even straighter.

“Run that back for me again Joe?”

You ignored Chris’s smile as Joe made his point again and you answered him, giving your opinion on the issue and a possible solution so smoothly, everyone would think that you were the calmest person on the planet. But you were plotting war.

You successfully ignored your husband as the meeting was wrapped up and started to leave the conference room as Chris called you over to him, Joe and Mark.

“Y/N! We want to talk about your idea for a second.”

You gave Chris a bright, fake smile and he subtly shook his head at you. Mark spoke up when you made your way over to them.

“You made some very salient points, y/n, let’s get moving on those right away.”

Mark was impressed with your work, as always.

“Agreed,” intoned Chris, who nodded at you and tried to hold your eyes. You narrowed yours, knowing that he’d made his voice a little deeper on purpose.

But you weren’t going. The tension was obvious. You continued.

“Thanks guys. I can do that, but I would need…”

When you gave them your list, they all nodded.

“Sounds reasonable, let’s you and I sit back down at the table and hash it out. Mark, Joe. Can you guys take the 4:30 call for me? Give them my apologies?”

Joe nodded and proceeded out of the room.

“They’re gonna be disappointed, but I’ll try to do my best impression of you.”

Chris and Mark laughed at Joe’s joke, but you just continued to smile.

Then Mark made to leave, smiling at you two, knowing, but amiable. He and Joe admired the way you handled the press and lack of privacy since your relationship with Chris was announced.

You’d weathered the whirlwind of a three month engagement and an equally short marriage to one of the most famous men in the world like a champ. Once Chris’ friends and partners were told what was up, they saw the bond between you and Chris and it all made sense.

What Mark also sensed was that Chris was about to get the business, so he left you two alone.

When the door closed, you dropped the smile and moved to the furthest point away from Chris on the conference room table, sat down, and opened your pen again, ready to get to work.

Chris sighed and walked toward you.

“Let’s hash it out then.”

You’d started writing even though you knew what he was referring to. You saw America’s Ass sit down on the table next to your notebook out of the corner of your eye. You kept writing.

“So are you giving me the silent treatment?”

You looked up at him, the look in those blue eyes threatening your resolve.

“I’ve responded to everything you’ve said to me Christopher.”

You held his stare, your own jaw ticking under your clenched teeth.

He drew in a breath.

“‘Christopher.’ Damn, I am in trouble.”

Chris chuckled, but you were resolute.

“Maybe I should call you, ‘Mr. Happy Wife, Happy Life.’”

Chris stood up.

“Why are you still so adamant? You want the fight. Am I that wrong for wanting you to take my name? I’ve been waiting to call you Mrs. Evans for what seems like forever. Excuse my giddiness for finally being hitched to the woman I love more than anything in the world.”

You looked up at him and studied the look on his face. He looked wounded. But you didn’t buy it. You stood up as well.

“You’re good. Acting the victim. Except for the fact we talked about this, Chris! “

You wanted to keep your maiden name for your professional life. Chris didn’t like it at all, but didn’t push it until late last night, the night before your first day back in the office together as man and wife.

Hence the argument that lasted until very late and then the hours-long edging session early this morning. That was war. You thought he was incorrigible when you were dating, Chris was so much more frustrating as your husband. You felt that nothing you could do would satisfy him.

“I’m sorry that I’m not living up to your fantasy of me. But you knew what you were getting. And still you insisted on getting married.”

Chris’s face contorted. His heart was in his throat.

“Why do you insist on doing that?”

Chris threw his hands up and raised his voice, moving toward you. You cringed. He immediately backed up and sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“I love you Y/N.. I wanted you to be my wife from the moment I saw you. And I just wanted…”

He sat down in the nearest chair, loosening his tie.

“It doesn’t matter what I wanted. Never mind. I don’t care what you call yourself. As long as you’re by my side.”

He looked up at you and you could see that he was genuinely hurt. Your heart sank as he looked down to his lap.

“You win. Ms. YLN.”

He looked broken. And you felt terrible.

You walked toward him and stood between his legs.

“Chris.”

He was silent.

“Mr. Evans.”

Still no answer.

“Boss.”

He huffed and smiled slightly, shaking his head. He looked up at you.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. You have a right to be called anything you like.”

He was sincere.

You leaned over and kissed his forehead, brushing away the hair that had fallen there after his hands wrecked it.

“I just want to be called yours.”

You kissed his nose, and then his lips as you sat down on his knee. One of Chris’s hands went up to curl around your waist and the other rested on your thigh at the hem of your pencil skirt.

“I love you. And I just got scared. I’m sorry.”

Chris’s eyes searched your face as his hand slid up your knee, long fingers almost reaching your moistening heat. You remembered your earlier hunger.

And so did he.

“Angel…Let me make it right, baby.”

He moved his lips to your neck and started peppering it with kisses, his hand reaching for your breast and teasing your nipple. You moaned as you arched your back, causing your rear to shift and make contact with the bulge in his pants.

Chris deftly moved you facing away from him, so that your legs were separated by his knee and your warm cunt was against his thigh. Both hands were on your blouse, fingering your now achingly hard nipples through the silk and the lace of your bra.

You whined and started to move on his thigh, arching your back into him and kissing him over your shoulder. You pulled away and he chased your lips as you started unbuttoning your blouse. You turned your head as Chris leaned down to your neck again.

“You know, I’ve had a fantasy of sucking you off under this table?”

Your voice was a sexy rasp that made him rock hard. Chris swallowed as he rubbed your breasts in the sheer lace La Perla bra. His forefingers and thumbs tortured your nipples as he hummed in your ear.

“Hmmmmmmm?”

“Can I suck you off under this table?”

His eyes moved over toward the door. Yours followed his.

“How much do you want to bet that no one would dare come in here knowing we were in here. Most of them have gone home. Mark and Joe are across the building. And if anyone finds us, so what? We’re married.”

You smirked as you stood up and took your shirt and bra off. The late evening sun through the windows shone on your skin as you sank down on your knees, clad in only your skirt, and cast your eyes down. Your nipples were hard as you waited for Chris to summon you. He admired you there and then moved quickly.

You smiled slightly as you heard his belt buckle clank and his zipper being opened.

“Suck me off, Mrs. Evans.”

You looked up and smiled at the impressive organ in front of you, crawling back between his legs as he slid his hand up and down his shaft a few times. You kissed up the side of his cock to the tip, which you took into your mouth before letting it slip out to moisten your lips. Then you spit on it and slurped it up again, bobbing while looking up at Chris. You moaned and deep throated it, causing Chris to moan deep in his own throat.

You enjoyed your power, so you took his cock out of your mouth, kissed it, smiled and spit on it again and started sucking hard, slurping and jacking it with your hand.

“Ah! Fuck!”

You pushed it deep in your throat and pulled him out slowly, going further and further until your nose was at the base of his cock.

You started up again, and Chris let you slurp and tease him as you jacked just the tip into your mouth. When you spit on it yet again was when Chris finally pushed your head down, causing you to roll your eyes and gag.

“Swallow.”

He held you down and you spluttered and spit on him as you came up for air.

“Choke me with it, Boss.”

Chris obliged, cursing softly as you felt his cock pulse precum down your throat.

“So sloppy in the office. Such a nasty slut for my cock, Mrs. Evans.”

“Ummmhmmmm,” You moaned and then pulled off and started sucking his balls as you jacked him faster, your saliva the perfect lube for the hand job.

When you started sucking his cock again, looking up at him as you went deep, you felt his balls draw up.

“Those eyes, Angel, shit. I need to cum.”

You straightened up and rubbed your breasts around him, smothering his dick into an erotic hug.

“You gonna fuck my face?”

“Shit!”

Chris grabbed your head and pistoned up into your mouth and down your throat, gagging you and soon shooting warm salty cum for you to swallow.

You swallowed it all like a good girl, and then leaned back on your knees smiling up at him. Chris grabbed your arm and hoisted you up on the table, pushing your skirt up around your waist, spreading your legs and moving your panties to the side. His head was between your legs in an instant and you moved your skirt out of the way as you watched his tongue slide out to meet your pussy.

As if in revenge, Chris looked up at you with those blue eyes of his as he lewdly licked a stripe from your ass to your clit, circling and then drawing it between his lips to suck. Then he closed his eyes and moaned.

He made out with your cunt until you saw stars. When he inserted two long thick fingers, palm up, easily reaching that sensitive spot inside you. You were gripping his hair at the roots with your hands and his fingers were deep in your pussy.

Both your fingers and Chris’s were curled and giving each other pleasure, causing both you to shoot your slick into his eagerly awaiting mouth. And his dick to be rock hard again.

Chris stood up and smiled at you as he wiped his mouth which was wet with your slick.

“Love that Angel food.”

Chris winked and you laughed, but not for long, because Chris spun you around and bent you over the conference room table and moved your panties to the side again.

“Talk about fantasies about this table. This is mine…fuuuuccckkkkk…”

Chris lined up with your sopping wet cunt and pushed in completely in one stroke, your wetness easing the way, but your orgasm having made you tight around his cock.

Chris dropped his head to your back and huffed for a second as his dick jumped.

“I… you never give me a chance to think…”

Chris kissed along your spine as you arched your back and tried to wiggle your ass to encourage him to move. His hands held you still.

“I know you had your implant removed….I just want to be sure… I don’t want to force you…”

Chris finally had to move because your whining and your movement was too much for him.

“Do you wanna have my….. Fuck…. Angel….”

Chris started pounding you like his life depended on it.

“Do you really wanna have my…. Shit.”

His hips stuttered.

“My baby…. Gotdamn it…”

Meanwhile, you were grabbing the table, trying to find something to hold on to before you floated away. You reached back for Chris’s tie, which had been dragging up and down your back as he fucked you. You pulled it, making him lean down toward you.

“Fuck yes… I want to be full of your babies, Chris…. Please!”

Chris started going even harder, tapping on the door to your cervix with his long, thick cock.

“Yeah? You want to be pregnant, Mrs. Evans?”

“God…yes…. Please…”

“Gonna be full and round with my kids?... Fuck… Tits all full… shittttt…..”

Chris licked his lips. He couldn’t take the image of you pregnant and shot his spend against your walls. He slumped against you and you sighed, happy beyond words.

“Can we get this moved into the house…”

You giggled as you said it and Chris laughed with you, relieved that you were on the same page.

“We’re gonna have to do something with it. It’s a write-off now.”

He stood up and got himself together while watching you lay on the table with a smile on your face.

Then, he straightened your panties, making sure to cover your cunt to keep his cum inside you. He picked up your bra and your blouse, and carefully helped you to get dressed as you sat on the table. Finally, he kissed you on your nose and your forehead as you stood up, legs wobbly. You hadn’t realized that your strappy heels were still on your feet. Chris had.

“C’mon, let’s go finish this at home.”

Chris moved to leave and you pulled on his tie again.

“Hey. I love when you call me Mrs. Evans when we’re not at work.”

Chris raised his eyebrow.

“And when we’re fucking at work.”

Chris chuckled.

“How about Mrs. YLN-Evans in professional settings?”

Chris smiled at you.

“That sounds amazing.”

You gave him a sweet peck on the lips then you pulled back to look in his eyes.

“And our babies. They’ll be Evans all the way.”

Feedback is a joy forever! TIA for comments & reblogs! 💕

#chris evans #ask dj #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x black reader #asp fic #a starting point fic #chris evans fan fic #chris evans x reader #a starting point series

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etherealising · 2 months

Note

( hope I’m requesting this right ) can we get a mini part 2 , or however long you want to make it , of baby and carmen first night together of intimacy -🐻

🐻 anon bestie you requested this perfectly! also i wasn’t sure if you wanted emotional intimacy or physical intimacy but there’s both sooo…moments by victoria monét heavily inspired the writing 😉

for reference this scene takes place during interlude 2: anyone who had a heart BEFORE the Polaroid scene!

wc: 3.5 (can’t write anything short to save my life)

A sliver of sunlight peeking through the blinds seemed to be aimed directly into your eyelids, whatever peaceful dreamland you’d been in was slowly snuffed out as the bright rays assaulted your sleep. You couldn’t remember falling asleep but the slight ache between your legs as you stretched was enough to remind you what had you so exhausted, a grin painted your features as you thought back to Carmy cleaning you up before helping you into an oversized tee shirt you’d packed.

A slight scratching noise could be heard somewhere above you. As you allowed yourself to fully wake up, for a moment you thought you were just hearing things but as you titled your head up your body your eyes caught sight of Carmy. He sat with his back propped against the wall, pencil in hand as he worked in some type of notebook. It was quiet as you watched him trying to understand what he was, watching from your position laying down how his veins popped out with every grip of the pencil.

You smiled watching how entranced he was, his entire focus was taken up by the notebook. The only other movement aside from his hand moving across the page was the slight way his eyes danced across the page. You hadn’t realized his attention turned to you until you felt the heavy caress of his thumb across your cheek.

“Hey.” Carmy’s voice caressed your ears in a whisper.

As you looked up at him the smile on your face seemed to grow tenfold the longer you held his gaze, “Hi…why are we whispering.” You watched as his shoulders moved up and down in a shrugging motion, a small smile lining his lip as his eyes fell back to the notebook in his hands.

You scooted closer to him doing your best to get a glance at his notebook only for him to move it from your line of sight as he placed the notebook on his nightstand before turning his body towards yours, giving you his full attention. Your eyes narrowed at him and your smile might have grown even wider. “Were you drawing Carm?”

Carmy rolled his eyes, your question wasn’t much of a question at all. The way he hid his sketchbook was obvious enough to you, it was a habit he’d picked up when art became one of his hobbies, he’d only show you his finished works. But recently he hadn’t had any finished works and today was the longest time in a while he got the urge to indulge in his creative outlet.

“How’d you sleep.” His eyes roved over your face, there was a glow about you he couldn’t quite place, a glow that was hard to capture in the confines of paper and graphite.

You scoffed your hand reaching out to playfully shove his shoulder, “Great actually, what were you drawing?”

Carmy gave a non-committal shrug, this moment reminiscent of many you spent together in your younger years…well aside from the physical intimacy. “You can see it when I finish.” His words were punctuated by his hand finding yours in the space between your bodies, neither of you brave enough to admit how this whole encounter didn’t feel like it was just a one-time thing.

“Please Carm it's been years, feed a girl's curiosity.” It was pitiful but you hoped a good old-fashioned guilt trip would force the man's hand.

Carmy’s eyes darted around your face, the time the two of you were apart easily showing there. It wasn’t that you looked old beyond your years now or something, but you were a woman now and the fact that the two of you had experienced adulthood without each other and it was Carmy’s fault would always haunt him. “You make me nervous.”

The words that left Carmy’s lips gave you whiplash, your eyebrows pinched together as you sat up moving to rest your cheek and part of your chest atop Carmy’s thigh looking up at him as you tried to understand when you ever made Carmy nervous. “I make you nervous?”

You hadn’t meant for the question to sound as incredulous as it did, but you were curious how you’d unconsciously been affecting the man. Carmy gave a small laugh at the look on your face, he didn’t think the idea was as far-fetched as you believed it to be. His hand moved down to caress the side of your face losing himself in the moment before he spoke, “Baby look at you… you're beautiful.” A heartfelt smile raised to his lips as you playfully rolled your eyes, but he needed you to know it wasn’t all just physical for him.

“You’ve always made me nervous ever since we were kids.” Your eyebrows raised in surprise, eyes darting around his face for any tell that he might be lying. “You were just so fuckin cool to me you know?” The sound of your quiet laughter tinkling through his room caused Carmy’s smile to grow infinitely wider.

Carmy allowed his eyes to trace around your face for a moment, his mind doing the mental math to try and figure out how he’d gotten so lucky to have ever met you. “You’ve always been so headstrong and independent,” he paused committing your features to memory. “You're book smart you’ve got the degree you always wanted. You write fuckin profiles and think pieces for a living, that used to just be a dream for you.”

The shyness was evident on your face as you avoided his, not sure if you could deal with whatever emotion was swimming through his eyes as he looked down at you. Not sure you wanted to give yourself that hope. “And you’re one of the greatest up-and-coming chefs Carm, looks like we both got what we wanted.”

Carmy’s smile dimmed for a moment as he listened to your words. Carmy hadn’t got everything he wanted but he also had enough sense to know that voicing that thought wouldn’t ever be fair to you considering he made his decision clear about a relationship.

His thumb never stopped its gentle caress on your cheek as the two of you spoke, “And you always know exactly what you want, there’s n-no indecision you know exactly what you want and you go after it…it makes me nervous.”

You didn’t need any further explanation to understand what he meant, and you were thankful that he was wise enough to mince his words. But you couldn’t help but wonder why you continued to subject yourself to this hurt, this hot and cold routine the two of you had going on. You were worth commitment, you deserved commitment, and knowing that the one person you’d felt truly, genuinely in love with was opposed to giving you that was one of the worst truths you’d ever been faced with.

Carmy could see the emotions souring your face the longer you were quiet. At one point in time, it used to be so easy for him to talk to you, and sometimes it took a little pushing. But now even as he had you in his presence for the first time in years he still found that whatever fears and insecurity he still needed to work through was what stopped him from speaking his feelings for you into fruition.

“Baby,” he paused waiting for his eyes to find yours his landing on the soft faux smile you were putting on for his benefit. He sighed the longer he stared down at you before motioning for you to sit up, his arms helping to maneuver you in the position to sit in his lap. The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer before both of his hands found purchase on your cheeks a smile gracing his lips at you just being there physically with him.

“I…I’m so proud of you Baby.” He held your face in place as you tried to wriggle out of his hold emotion easily overcoming you. “C’mere.”

You did as told face easily pressing into the space between Carmy’s neck and shoulder. You felt the warm press of his lips against your temple as one hand stroked your head and the other moved up and down your back. You sank into his arms automatically unaware of just how much you needed this hug, there were plenty of things for you to miss in the time lost between you and Carmy, but his hugs would probably always be at the top of the list.

You pulled away to let him know that you’d felt the same sentiment for Carm and the life he made for himself. But you never got the chance as he captured your lips in a soft kiss, it wasn’t messy there was no tongue. It was really just both of your lips slotted perfectly together like they were designed for each other.

Carmy’s hands were still on your face as he slowly pulled away his eyes still closed as he relished in the tingle your lips left behind. Neither of you spoke just staring at the other with a plethora of emotions swimming through the eyes of the other. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of you that your first dalliance together would be the only one that happened while you were in New York, it was easier that way. But the longer the two of you sat in silence, eyes glazed over as you drank each other in, the air charged with tension, it was obvious the agreement was null.

He pulled you flush against him as your lips met once more, the softness of the kiss was still there yet the urgent undertone couldn’t be denied. It was tentative but the slide of Carmy’s tongue into your mouth lit you up, your hips rocked dangerously into his pelvis, a strangled groan leaving Carmy’s lips as his hands dropped to your hips selfishly rocking you against his now semi-hard cock as he chased the ecstasy you’d bestowed upon him earlier.

The need for air drove the two of you apart, though it did nothing to quell the movement of your hips. Shockwaves pulsed through you with every brush of your clit against Carmy’s throbbing cock, the stimulation proving to be too much for him as his blunt nails dug into your hips, his head falling to rest against your collarbone as ragged breaths escaped him.

“Carmy,” his name left your lip in a soft cry the underlying question in your tone obvious to him as he nodded his head against you rapidly. Neither of you wasted another minute after he tapped your hip twice to give home space. It was almost comical how quickly Carmy shoved his boxers down his leg not even bothering to fully remove them as they sat at his mid-thigh.

You’d meant to pull your shirt off but watching as he hastily pulled his tank top over his head and the hunger in his eyes was a firsthand experience you needed to savor. Your frozen appearance didn’t deter him as he found the hem of your shirt pulling it off of you so fast it sent you careening backwards.

Carmy’s hands found your hips to help you regain your balance an embarrassed smile gracing his face as he realized how eager he appeared, the look enough for you to devolve in a fit of giggles, his hoarse laughter following after.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” You could tell he was beating himself up internally as he avoided your eyes, hand moving to right the chain against his skin that’d gotten tangled.

Your eyes lingered on the chain before your hands quickly moved to his neck, Carmy’s hands dropped thinking you were fixing it for him only to be surprised as you held the glimmering gold chain in your hand and sent him a small smile before clasping the chain around your neck.

“How do I look?” Your voice was teasing, hoping to alleviate whatever lasting embarrassment Carmy may have felt. Your eyes searched back in forth between his as he eyed the way his chain delicately kissed the skin on your neck.

Carmy knew you were a vision, but at this moment, seeing you straddled atop him completely naked wearing nothing but his gold chain, he was sure you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Made just for him. The scene awoke something in him as his fingers reached up to trace the path his chain made around your neck before his hand ensconced the area gripping your neck with a firm hold and pulling you down to meet his lips.

If you weren’t already surprised by the sudden movement, you were surprised as you tasted his tongue against yours. Both of your tongues languidly massaging each other, Carmy’s hand against your neck squeezing every so often sending your mind in a spiral.

No words were spoken as you raised to your knees, Carmy’s free hand diligently helping to guide you forward. The kiss broke the moment you gripped Carmy’s cock to line him up with your entrance. There was no hesitation just a look of confirmation shared between the two of you as you gradually sank onto him. Your mouth dropped open in a quiet cry as he bit his lip head falling back against the wall.

One of Carmy’s hands moved to grip your hip, while the other found purchase just under your breast. Garbled words slipped out of his mouth and if he wasn’t stretching your cunt so deliciously you might have tried paying more attention.

You gave him a seconds reprieve before putting your thigh muscles to work. Slow bounces to start as you reveled in the way he stroked your walls, head thrown back as your clit brushed against his pelvis bone just right.

“Baby…I-I can’t,” his words cut off in a groan as you sped up your pace, clenching every so often at the intoxicating ache his cock offered you, hitting exactly where you needed him to.

Carmy pulled you flush against his body, his forehead finding purchase against your collarbone. Something about this position was different from the last time as he squeezed his eyes shut doing his best to last as long as he could, whatever control he had earlier felt like a fluke, he could have come this time from the dry humping alone. He wanted to warn you but each slap of your perspiring skin against his thighs tempted him.

He’d hoped not watching you would help but instead, your soft cries of satisfaction had him twitching even more inside of you. Carmy moved to raise his lips to lavish your collarbone in love bites, but as he opened his eyes he got an eyeful of the way your cunt so easily swallowed his aching cock.

All it took was mere minutes of Carmy’s eyes focusing on how easily you slid up and down his cock before he felt streams of his sperm spurt inside you.

“Fu-fuck!” He was sure his grip would bruise you and he knew he should’ve felt bad, but he couldn’t rationalize anything with the way your cunt continued squeezing out whatever he had left to give you. The pleasure slowly began to feel painful as he descended from his high consciousness enough to realize you were so lost in it all that you hadn’t noticed what just happened.

“Baby…Baby.” The second call pulled you from the daze you were in, your glazed eyes finding his blissed-out face, the sight of him causing you to stop.

Your chest heaved up and down as you stared at Carmy with confusion, unsure why he would stop something that felt so good. You did your best to catch your breath before speaking, “Is everything okay?” Your voice was hoarse as you watched Carmy’s body flush a darker shade of red than it already was.

Carmy nodded signaling for you to give him a minute as he rested his hand against your chest for a few moments trying to work up the courage to tell you that the five rhythmic motions of you bouncing atop his cock was all it took to bring his release.

“I…I uh came.” You did your best to school your features at his admission but you were sure you hadn’t done a good job with the way his cheeks flamed with color. “It was too much. Y-you in my chain and I…I wanted you to get off too but I just…”

You smiled at his shyness, you raised yourself off of him slowly making sure not to make any sudden movements. As soon as you were up far enough for him to slip out you sat between his legs, your own falling on either side of his, “Carmy honey, I promise it's not as bad as you think it’s actually…kinda hot.”

You knew the words made him feel shyer than he was already feeling but you weren’t lying. Knowing Carmy came from just a few minutes of stimulation sent warmth racing through you. “You know,” you paused gently drumming your fingers against his thigh. “There are plenty of other ways to make a woman come.”

Carmy’s eyes found yours before the feeling of your fingers drumming against his thigh drew his attention. He watched with rapt intrigue as your finger traced from his thigh, delicately tracing across the sheets beneath you before delicately circling your dripping entrance. Carmy could feel your eyes watching his every move but he was so focused on your finger gentle circular motions to care.

The bob of his Adam’s apple was apparent as you slowed the circling motions before your middle finger found any excess cum leaking out of you and both fingers began to easily fuck Carmy’s cum back inside you. No matter how sensitive Carmy was at that moment the twitching of his cock was enough evidence of just how much he enjoyed the show you were putting on for him.

Garbled moans escaped you as you picked up the pace squelching noises filling the room as you fucked yourself with reckless abandon. Your head fell back wanton huffs of breath escaped with every pump of your fingers.

A clipped whine left you, you weren’t greedy but this would never be enough, even as you began to grind down on your fingers. A surprised gasp ripped through your body as another finger joined the fray the length and dexterity of the finger had your eyes flying open, mouth slack-jawed as senseless words babbled out of your mouth.

The hunger with which Carmy was looking down at you as he helped you fuck yourself would be seared into your mind long after you left this room. Your eyes met his as his skilled finger probed the spot you could never quite reach.

There you sat speared open on Carmy’s bed in New York as he helped you fuck yourself with his cum, fingers moving in and out in perfect timing with your own. The feeling was too much but not enough all at once, tears pricking your eyes as you could feel your release hanging on by a thread.

You weren’t sure what came over him but you felt Carmy’s hand roughly grip the back of your neck as he pulled you forward lips finding yours, as his finger kept pace with your own. The feeling of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip was all it took for your cries of ecstasy to fill the room, tears streaming down your face at just how overwhelming this experience was.

Carmy pressed his forehead to yours as your body trembled with aftershocks of your orgasm. Your sweaty chest rubbed against him as the arm you were leaning on finally gave way to exhaustion, your body melting into his as he helped maneuver you to lie down against the mattress.

You felt boneless, your whole body on cloud nine. Carmy nuzzled his face into your neck placing small encouraging kisses all over the place. His hands reached to gently wipe the tears off your face a small smile sent your way as he just watched you, your body far too tired to give the look on his face a second thought.

Carmy settled down next to you, eyes landing on the Polaroid he’d gifted you in the process, the vision of you deserved to be frozen in time.

a/n: uh so this definitely got away from me…someone take away besties writing privileges 😅

also this is part of my 1k celebration i’ve left it open for a little longer for anyone else who wants to send in a request!

#etherealising’s 1k celebration #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto smut #carmy the bear x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fic #the bear x reader #the bear x you #fem reader #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

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magicxc · 2 months

Text

Safe Word Ignored

Pairings: Survey Corps x Reader

Word Count: 2606

Warnings: DUB CON, NON CON

A/N: As the name suggests this excerpt will be non con so do proceed with caution or not at all.

For a softer, consensual version of this, check out my aot x safe word headcannon.

Safe word - sparrow

Eren - Eren strikes me as rather dismissive. He’s not necessarily nasty about it, but he’s also not too interested in opposing views, especially when he feels this good.

Face buried into your supple skin, Eren rocked his hips repeatedly into your warm walls, melting with each stroke he delivered. You smelled so soft and powdery - his favorite scent on you actually. He could stay like that forever, inhaling your hypnotic fragrance while your pussy squeezed him just right.

Your long nails slid down his back incessantly, stiletto shaped nails no doubt drawing blood from his tender skin. Eren was no stranger to scratches on his back, in fact he welcomed them, the marks an ego boost and a great addition to his battle scars. But these scratches signaled something else entirely, something a lot less elated.

Your strangled moans are music to his ears. But the record scratch comes in the form of the safe word, just barely audible enough for him to hear.

“Huh?”

“Sparrow.”

“Sparrow? Oh honey, no! Just hold out a little while longer for me, yeah?”

Face cradled into his fingertips, Eren swept away at your wet cheeks, pushing forward until he had reached his peak.

Do you really need the safe word? he thought to himself. It’s me. Safe words are meant for strangers or friends with benefits, testing the waters of what feels best. There’s no need for that in a committed relationship. Your partner should know exactly which buttons to press to get yours ticking and by the convulsing of your body, it’s safe to say that Eren’s found yours; yet again.

“Honey, I know what you want before you can even think it,” he boasted.

Why would he give you what you want when what he wants makes you both feel great?

Levi - Levi’s blunt can sometimes double as your mean. While you're used to his word choice, it feels very different to be on the receiving end of them.

Sweaty bodies molded into one, you couldn't tell where yours started and Levi ended. Your skin had begun to stick to the sheets and droplets of sweat gathered in dots littered around your forehead. Head sinking into the pillows, you couldn’t find the strength to raise it up if you wanted to, sad attempts to connect your lips to Levi’s long gone. Though the feeling was great, it had slowly started to take its toll, your body unable to keep up with Levi’s stamina.

“Sparrow,” is the safeword that so wearily tumbles from your lips, exhausted beyond comprehension.

“Really?” Levi questions. “I didn’t peg you for such a weak brat”

The sentence stings and you find yourself too tired to retort, tears kissing the back of your eyelids at Levi’s harsh words. While you were ready to tap out, you supposed offering your body was the least you could do in support of humanity’s strongest soldier - opting instead to lie there until he was finished; hoping that sleep would find you soon after.

Erwin - Erwin isn’t much for the long talking, therefore radio silence is all you get from him.

Thighs clamping his face firmly between your legs didn’t quite give you the reprieve you were looking for; Erwins thick muscle relentless against your clit. He works his tongue to perfection, your pussy dripping its praises in the form of soaked sheets. But it’s not enough for Erwin, its never enough for him. Ever the achiever, it takes more than shaky legs to get him to ease up, your vision darkening on multiple occasions at the sensory overload.

Teeth scraping against tender lips, you’re hesitant to mutter the safe word, but the next rush of fluids has you screaming it before you can stop.

“SPARROW, UHNNNN SPARROW. FUCK!”

Tongue reattached to your pussy, you just about passed out at the discomfort; what once felt so heavenly now feels borderline sinister. Twist and turn as you might, Erwins heavy hands pressed firmly against your thighs to hold you still, intent on eating to his heart's content.

Black dots dance around your vision, relief filling you to the brim. It doesn’t take long for the next wave to hit, knocking you unconscious as you welcome the darkness with open arms.

Connie - Connie hates the idea of you using the safe word but he hates the idea of stopping even more; so he’ll pacify you with soft words of encouragement until he’s finished.

In the heated moment of roleplay you found yourself bent over Connie’s knee, a stinging sensation left behind after each slap to your ass. Hands clamped over your lips at first stifled light giggles, excited at the persona Connie had picked up - now they stifled your groans of discomfort, eagerly waiting for your 'punishment' to be finished.

thawck

Oh that seemed to do it. The final slap to your ass had tears sliding down your cheeks quicker than you could stop them, your feet shuffling about the floor to get a good balance. But Connie’s arm tightened around your waist, another crackling smack booming throughout the room without missing a beat.

“Not you running," Connie chided. “Bad girls don’t get to avoid punishment.”

“M’sorry Con, but it’s just too much."

thawk

“Sparrow,” you squeaked, lips quivering from the tingling ache.

“Awww buttercup,” he condescendingly cooed, rubbing soft circles on your butt. “You talked all that big talk earlier and now you’re calling it quits? C’mon just five more minutes, can you at least give me that?”

Hesitantly, you nod your head, lips tucked carefully between your teeth as you stared at him through wet lashes.

The eery grin that he sends your way is indication enough that his five more minutes will last anything but; and it did. For how long you couldn’t tell, but you’d definitely be sore as hell in the days to come.

Jean - Jean can get gaslighty for sure. It's to the point where you begin to question using the safe word in the first place.

The moisture that gathered between your thighs was the cherry on top of the pride that swelled within you for making Jean feel so good. His breathy moans, his heaving chest, his fluttering eyelids - it gave you such a dynamic feeling. And apparently it did the same to Jean, his high so good he intended to chase it.

Hands buried in your hair, he used it to guide your plump lips to the very bottom of his shaft, the spongy feeling of your throat he once described as ethereal. Jean was a big boi and by all means required some prep; prep you weren’t entirely done with.

So the unexpected intrusion hits your esophagus in all the wrong ways, the feeling pushing your gag reflexes past its limit. The gurgling of your words and the spit that eases you down his dick no doubt makes for a delightful experience only it has you feeling the opposite.

Fists tightly balled, you use them to beat against his legs, hitting just hard enough to catch his attention.

“Talk to me my love, what’s the problem?” he asked, hands still bobbing your head, only a little less vigorously.

Enough time goes by to where you realise he’s not letting up, so instead you try your best to mumble out the words around his dick.

“Sp- sparr- ow,” is the best you can manage under the circumstances.

And as muffled as it came out, there’s no doubt that Jean heard you, disappointment clear in the lengthy breath he blows past his lips. You’re sure he’s annoyed, but what's the point of the safe word if you can’t use it?!

“You do love me, don't you?” he asks in between bobs. “You are mine are you not?”

Fingers gathering your hair into a ponytail he pulled it back, just enough that the head of his dick rested on the tip of your tongue, steely eyes glaring into your soft ones.

“Uhh huh,” is your mumbled response.

“Then why would you put me in such a predicament? I’m so close already my love, couldn’t you stay put a little while longer?

Wide doe eyes meet his, trepidation keeping you from uttering the word once more; his shaft wasting no time in making a home at the very back of your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for Jean to loudly sing his praises, his boisterous moans dripping from his lips the same way his precum drips down your throat.

“There ya go. Good fucking girl,” he commends. “Besides, girlfriends can't say no.”

Onyankopon - Ony can come off snarky and sarcastic to mask his irritation.

Sex with Ony typically felt hot and sexy. The pure lust and raging desire usually made for a good time. It felt like a movie scene where the couple was so eager to be with one another that it got messy - missed kisses, sloppy hair, wet lovebites, tangled limbs.

You tended to be in lights, camera, action heaven but today felt unusual. Understandably prep was a must when it came to Ony and you hadn't have much of that in the heat of the moment. It wasn't until he was fully seated inside of you that you’d realise the wetness at the center of your core simply wasn't enough.

His thick fingers delve into the softness of your flesh, dragging your hips up and down to a fierce rhythm. Eyes clamped shut you bounced until the feeling had become too much; too intense to ignore.

“Sparrow,” is what you breathlessly pant through thrusts.

“The fact that youre not my wife bothers me at least once a day,” he confessed. “But how can you be when you pull shit like this.

“Ony I-“

“Do you really want me to stop?” he taunts between languid thrusts.

Ony had slowed down considerably from the overwhelming force that he once delivered to your pussy, reaching up to swirl his tongue around the lobe of your ear. It soon lands on the sweet spot beneath it as his thumb rubs figure eights on your clit.

“Is that what you want mamas? Hmm?”

Intellect had long since left you and now all your body could focus on was the mind numbing sensation. No matter how good it felt, a break was still in order but Ony wasn’t in the mood to be convinced.

Reaching up to the shell of your ear, his lips ghosts against the tip whispering, “yeah, that’s what I thought. The ‘a’ in my name stands for always right; now gone ahead and come for me.”

Reiner - Reiner can't think of a way to justify his lust over your comfort so he’ll opt for tuning you out, physically if he has to.

The squelching of your pussy made it clear that Reiner was putting in work. Your body would happily create the moisture it needed if meant that he could drive into you at the angle that made your eyes cross over. While you normally didn’t mind helping Reiner with a little stress relief, today he'd made you feel low.

Physically you felt euphoric, but mentally you felt degraded. You felt cheap; almost like someone he threw money at to remedy his frustrations. He’d treated your body so recklessly it brought tears to your eyes; scared to blink at the off chance that you wouldn’t be able stop them from flowing. So you settled for the safe word instead.

“Sparrow,” you whispered.

Face scrunching in confusion, it was the first emotion that you were able to clock aside from the blank stare he previously offered you. His thrusts never waivered and you briefly wondered if he had heard you. Lips parting to utter the word once more, Reiner planted his hand over your mouth, grunting out his disapproval.

Shock stiffened you to a standstill, feeling only the way that his hips drove into yours. You lied there, taking every thrust and listening to every moan. Reiner continued to touch you in all the ways that brought you pleasure, and when you finally found yourself tipping over there edge, there he hovered; a twisted smile curled onto his lips.

Armin - Armin is distraught, but somehow not enough to comply. He’ll apologise profoundly while still inside you.

Armin loved having sex with you. The feeling was immense, but it was the actions that brought him the greatest satisfaction of all, like how you would wildly writhe beneath his body when you were almost to the finish line. He enjoyed seeing you reach out for him when you wanted to feel close, moan his name after he'd made you so cock drunk that it was all you could muster up the strength to repeat, cum around his dick over and over again, sink your nails deep into the flesh of his skin - Armin looked forward to it all.

Hands tugging on the clamps attached to your nipples, he admired how sexy they looked. Swollen enough to seep through the clamps, it took everything in him not to dive down and add to the excitement, his thoughts racing with ideas on how to make you feel even better. Thrilled at the possibility that your lust would trickle down at the base his dick, he just about came right then and there.

But the enjoyment wouldn’t come this time around as the clamps added a layer of pain that felt far from blissful. If anything they hurt, and combined with the tugging you figured it best to cut the night short.

“Sparrow,” is what slips from the confines of your throat.

Ashamed is the emotion that you make out across Armins features, but not for the use of the safe word, rather it seems to be in response for his lack of concern.

"Ohh sweetheart, I'm so sorry," he repeatedly murmured.

Forehead pressed into your cheek, his tears mixed with yours as he rode himself to completion, apologies never ceasing even as he went flaccid inside you.

He could scream his regrets until he was blue in the face, but it meant very little when his body found pleasure at the expense of yours; especially considering that he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

Floch - Floch will outright blame you for feeling so good. Shame has no place in his house nor heart.

Floch was an ass man through and through. He loved claiming you in the forbidden hole. And you’d gladly comply; giving your heart and your body in service of him. It was one of those things where his pleasure intensified yours.

The grunts and growls, moaning and howling - you were always a soaking mess long before he could make you cum. However, this time felt a little different. You couldn’t place it exactly but you just weren’t feeling sex at the moment. You’d held out for as long as you could, hoping that maybe you needed to be warmed up a little more, that maybe Floch just needed to lay into you just right; but, nothing.

“Sparrow.”

“No can do sugar,” he scolded from above you. “You see I’m just getting started and I ain’t letting up until I’m done.”

You wanted to be shocked, to be disappointed, but unfortunately you weren’t the least bit surprised. Floch had this determination about him to see things through to the bitter end, even when all the odds were stacked high against him; even now when you strongly opposed his selfish desires.

But he somehow always managed to get what he wanted. And there he stayed, buried to the hilt as he continued to thrust into you from behind, smugly whispering about how good you squeezed him, as he kissed along your heated skin.

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lambertdiary · 9 months

Text

Under The Influence

A/N: Hey! So this is was requested originally to @fluentmoviequoter: "Hii I'm utterly in love with your writing and I have a request for dalton ♡♡ basically he tries weed for the first time because he heard it help with sleeping sometimes. But he had too much and doesn't understand how he feels so he calls reader and is rambling on the phone then actually tells the reader he had weed and he wants company because he hates being alone. And then he just basically is like touch starved and is asking reader to play with his hair, hold him, play with his hands, and then he just ends up confessing his feeling for reader. If any of that makes sense 😘😘😘" unfortunately, they don't take this type of requests but when i read this i was absolutely obsessed with the idea so i knew i had to write it! i’ve never done weed so i’m sorry if this is not accurate. also i downloaded the entire movie just to get this gif, it was totally worth it. anyway pls let me know what you think!

Word count: 2.1+

Warnings: drug use, language

MASTERLIST ✩ SEND ME A REQUEST

Dalton wasn’t the type to draw on drug use at all, but the sleepless nights were getting to him. The stress of school, his social life and the basics of keeping himself alive were enough, he didn’t wanna deal with constant weariness on top of all of that.

A few days prior, he overheard a few of his classmates talking about smoking weed before going to bed, they said it helped them relax or sleep better so as soon as he went back to his dorm he did a little research. Turns out they were right.

He couldn't stop thinking about it, especially at night when he couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep, not for a long period of time anyway. His problem was so bad he saw it as a success if he slept for two hours, so he knew he needed to consider his options. And right now, he was straight up curious to try a little pot.

He didn’t know how or where to get it, but he knew someone who did.

“Come on, Chris, just this one time” He begged, putting his hands together and giving her his best puppy eyes.

“Ugh, fine” She replied annoyed “But don’t be weird about it”

“I won’t, I promise” Dalton watched excitedly as Chris pulled out her phone and sent out a text.

“What are you gonna do anyway? Paint something on acid?”

“No, just sleep” He simply said.

Chris looked at Dalton again, visibly confused “What? That’s how you’re gonna waste it?”

“No, I’m not gonna waste it, I just heard it helps with sleep so I wanna give it a try” Dalton explained almost offended, scratching his neck nervously as Chris stared at him.

“Right” She replied slowly “Do you have a pipe or something to smoke with?”

Dalton’s eyes wandered around his room “No” He didn’t really think about the preparation process.

“Well, get one” She snapped “Or I guess I can lend you one of mine if I can get your stuff for tonight”

“Tonight?” He blurted out in surprise.

“Yeah, it’s not like you asked for world peace here, relax” She stood up and started to walk out of Dalton’s dorm “I’ll let you know later though, don’t miss me too much” She said before closing the door.

Dalton pulled out his laptop and started watching videos on how to use the smoking device and other basics on how to do it for the first time. It didn’t seem too crazy, definitely nothing special, it was for a reasonable purpose anyway.

The hours went by and he kept himself busy with school work, but that didn’t stop him from checking his phone every five minutes, hoping to see Chris’ name on the screen. Nothing yet, but maybe it was for the best.

It was now nighttime and as he got a hold of his phone, he was about to text his friend asking for an update, maybe he was still on time to cancel his unusual request, but before he could open their chat he heard the door swing open.

Dalton jumped and rolled his eyes “I thought we talked about using that key…”

“Hey! Be nice, I got you a present” She squeaked, pulling a little bag out of the pocket of her hoodie.

Dalton didn’t know how to react, he thought he was excited but now he was having doubts “I… thank- thank you” He stammered.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem thrilled about the weed you practically begged for” Chris sat on the free bed across from Dalton.

“No, I am. I’m just a little nervous, I guess” He replied, brushing his feelings off with a chuckle. He took the bag from Chris’ hand and examined it.

“You'll be okay” She dropped a few more things on Dalton’s hands, a pipe and a lighter “Now, you are gonna need these, after grinding it-”

“I know how to do it”

“Ooh… I’m impressed” Chris teased and Dalton rolled his eyes again “Well, I hope the tutorial you found is good cause I’m gonna need these back” Standing up, she walked towards the door “Now if you excuse me, I have a bag of my own that’s not gonna go to waste” She turned around to give Dalton one last look “Go crazy, but don’t be stupid”

“Thank you!” He yelled before Chris shut the door behind her.

He went back to the video and did exactly as the guy explained. After having the grounds ready he thought about the possible outcomes, but honestly getting a full night of sleep didn’t sound so bad. Unsure on how much he should smoke, he poured the contents of the bag and packed the pipe, carefully so as to not drop anything. He held it for a moment, debating whether or not he should actually do it.

‘Fuck it’ He though to himself before grabbing the pink lighter.

He brought the pipe up to his lips and applied the flame to the end of the bowl, inhaling like in the video. He coughed after the first time, but he kept doing it, the coughs decreasing with each puff. He did it one last time and he felt… nothing, really. Was he doing it wrong? Was he scammed? He decided to give it another puff just to make sure. Still nothing.

Defeated, he dropped everything on his desk and proceeded with his bedtime routine. Grabbing his essentials for a shower, he stepped out of his room and into the communal showers. He wanted to take his time but the lack of privacy made it impossible for him to relax, so he quickly did his thing and after he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stared at himself in the mirror. Did he always feel this nauseous after a shower?

“Hey, how is it going?” Some random dude greeted him as he entered the room.

‘Oh no, does he know I just smoked something?’ Without saying a word, he swiftly walked back to his dorm, feeling the judgy eyes on him. Opening the door he noticed the smell of his room, it was so strong he was worried the entire building knew about this. He opened a window to ventilate the space but when a random headache hit him, he closed it again. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, feeling anxious. What if this was his last day on earth and he was just alone in his room?

Dalton: Hey, are you up?

Dalton texted one of his friends, Y/N. If there was someone he needed to see before dying it was her. He kept his eyes on his screen as he waited for a reply. After a minute of not getting one he grew impatient and hit the call button instead.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, don't worry, I’m doing some last minute homework, you know how it is” Y/N chuckled, putting her pen down for a moment.

“Right” Dalton replied in a whisper.

“Why? What’s up?” Y/N stood up and stretched her legs, she had been sitting there for a while and her body was aching.

“I… have a situation”

“Is everything ok?” She sounded a little worried.

“I’m okay…” He stopped for a moment, not sure if he wanted her to know what he had done, honestly he just wanted to see her.

“What is it then?” She insisted.

“Promise me you won't laugh” Dalton sat up and he felt himself get dizzy again.

“Dalton, just tell me”

“I had a little bit of weed” He finally admitted.

“What?” Y/N was in pure shock, she never thought of Dalton as a stoner.

“It's not what you think, I heard it helps with sleeping and you know my situation, uh- when it comes to that so-”

“So you had weed on a school night?” She interrupted him.

“Y/N-”

“Sorry, uh- are you okay?” She tried to be supportive but it was hard when she had so many questions.

“Come over”

“Right now?”

“Please”

“Um- I don't know…” She hesitated looking back at her unfinished homework.

“What if I die tonight? You would feel really guilty you didn’t come over” Dalton heard Y/N sigh on the other line and he knew for a fact she was rolling her eyes.

After a moment of silence, Y/N finally agreed “Fine, but don’t die” She hung up and grabbed a few things before leaving her dorm. It was a really short walk and she didn’t think she would stay there for too long.

When Dalton heard the confirmation from Y/N, he quickly stood up and looked through his drawers, trying to find something to wear. He was feeling hot (even though he just took a cold shower) so he decided on a tank top and shorts. His head was still spinning and unfortunately lost his balance as he finished getting dressed, but immediately got back on his feet when he heard the door.

Knocking a couple of times, she heard the loud thud coming from inside, followed by steps getting closer to the door.

“Thank you for coming” Dalton said as he opened the door.

“Are you ok-” She was interrupted by Dalton’s embrace “Oh”

They closed the door after fully entering the dorm and Y/N took Dalton’s hand, dragging him across the room to make him sit on the bed “Jesus dude, open a fucking window, I could smell this from the entrance” She joked as she struggled to open it.

“You could?” Dalton’s eyes widened and Y/N suppressed a grin, something in the softness of his voice made her heart skip a beat, completely oblivious to her own feelings.

“How much did you have?” She then examined his desk, looking at the empty bag and the mess of burned grounds around the pipe.

“Like, the whole thing”

Y/N turned her head to look at him again “You’re kidding”

“What?” He anxiously asked.

“Dalton, you smoked this entire bag?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“Dude-”

“Chris didn’t say anything about how much I should have so-”

“Chris gave you the weed?”

“Well… yeah, but I asked for it”

“And I take it you’ve never done this before” Dalton shook his head slowly, reaching for Y/N and taking her hand forcing her get closer, he opened his legs so that Y/N could comfortably stand between them, and as Dalton embraced her again, Y/N’s hands went to his wet hair and started brushing it with her fingers.

“I’m not feeling very good” He whispered against her.

“Yeah, I bet” She then grabbed Dalton’s head and made him look up at her, keeping her hands on the sides of his head “But you’re not gonna die, this is gonna wear off, you just have to give it time”

“Alright” Y/N chuckled at how Dalton looked like a lost puppy “I wanna lay down”

Y/N climbed on Dalton’s bed and positioned her back against the wall, helping Dalton get comfortable as he softly collapsed on her lap “So, who told you to try weed before bed?”

“No one, I heard some kids talking about it in class” He explained, closing his eyes “I didn’t want this to happen, I just- I wanted to actually sleep through the night and not feel like I was a walking corpse the next day… Well, now I would prefer that, weed does NOT make me feel relaxed at all”

Y/N smiled again. She never would’ve thought someone’s rambling could be so… endearing “I can see that, next time try to take it slow”

“Nuh uh, I’m never doing this again” He stated, using a firm tone.

Her eyes looked down at him with affection, stroking his soft hair as he rested his own eyes. And despite what he just said, he looked peaceful for the first time in a while.

“Y/N” He said softly, blinking his blue eyes open and looking at her. Whatever kind of effect he was on at that moment, he knew for sure it wasn’t from the weed.

“Mhm” Y/N hummed, smiling down at him.

“Y/N” He repeated, slower. He lifted his hand and it landed on her cheek, bringing his thumb up and down as he brushed her soft skin. She panicked as she realized what he was about to do.

He opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything Y/N quickly stopped him “If you’re going to confess something, I would very much prefer you didn’t do it under the influence of weed”

His face turned red and he closed his eyes to try to hide the embarrassment “As you wish”

#i know that’s not dalton but…#that’s as close as it gets #dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fic #insidious #insidious the red door #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fluff #ty simpkins #dalton lambert imagines #insidious 5

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lambsouvlaki · 9 months

Text

For the Hell of It - Mine

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: T, they're naked but not up to anything.

Word count: 1,333

Summary: A quiet conversation in bed, after Jason and her spend the night together for the first time.

Masterlist

They lay naked and sprawled around each other on Jason’s bed. The sweat on their skin had cooled and the soft sheets were tangled haphazardly.

He felt more relaxed than he had been in years.

He lay crossways from Andy, while she sat against the headboard, dyed a soft gold in the half-light of the table lamp. His head rested on one of her thighs while the other leg was carelessly slung across his chest, bent at the knee. He draped an arm over the calf in front of him, enjoying the softness of her skin. She played with his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and drawing contented little hums from him.

She kept threatening to go shower but had made no move to leave. Good. He had no desire to let her go, or any intention of moving at all within the next twelve hours.

He had been so afraid if he made a move it would all be ruined. Their friendship tarnished with the awkwardness of a boundary clumsily stumbled over with no way back.

Yet here she was, hair mussed and body languid in his bed, leisurely inspecting the book on his bedside table.

He had never been inclined to half measures. In for a penny.

“Be mine,” he said.

She looked up from Scalzi’s Old Man’s War. “Okay.”

He had expected demurring. Hesitation. Rejection’s kinder faces.

“Only mine,” he said, wary. He’d had his flings. Rose showed up every now again for a good time. But just about everyone he’d ever been with had been with Dick first, and usually again after. He didn’t want that this time.

She put the book down and looked at him with slight consternation.

“Jason, I’ve been yours alone for a while now.”

His eyebrows rose.

She scoffed. “And here I was worried I was pathetically obvious and you were just being gracious.”

“...I didn’t want to assume.”

She smiled at him. Then she blinked and spoke quickly, “Not that I was just hanging out to get laid. Your friendship means the world to me, if this doesn’t work out I am still going to care about you.”

“I know that.” He idly rubbed her leg, massaging her thigh. He’d had dreams about these legs. He always woke up feeling like he’d crossed a line. “But you said you weren’t interested in anything. With anyone.”

“Sure, two years ago. What about you? I thought you didn’t want anything either.”

He shrugged. “It was easy to say that before what I wanted was right in front of me.” He tilted his head, looking up at the ceiling. “When we met, I didn’t have a civilian life. Jason Todd existed only in the sense that Red Hood had to sleep sometimes.”

The hand in his hair curled gently against his scalp. “And now?”

“I don’t want to live like that anymore.”

“So what do you want? From me?”

He looked sideways, eyes tracing up her leg, over a thatch of curls he was now on good terms with, and up her naked chest to her face. He quirked an eyebrow.

She hit him with a pillow.

He laughed.

“Besides that,” she groused, pulling the pillow back and tucking it behind her. “We spend so much time together that my friends are convinced we’ve been banging all year anyway.”

“...Are they?”

“I, uh, may have shot down Chelsea with more vehemence than necessary when she asked for your number.”

He grinned. “Jealous already, sweets?”

“I wasn’t jealous. I was… invested.”

“Sure. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

She sighed and slouched some more. She looked so good, relaxed like this, so unaffected. He spent too much time around hyper-competent, over-trained paranoid maniacs who couldn’t relax if their life counted on it. He counted among them. The only reason she hadn’t complained about the gun strapped to the headboard that had to be digging into her back was because she was wonderful.

“I swear I didn’t mean to give her the impression we were dating. I got waspish and she drew her own conclusions.”

Guilt twinged in his chest. He rubbed circles into her skin with his thumb.

“You remember that guy who used to be in your study group? Scraggly ginger beard, shared a history paper?”

She tilted her head in thought for a second. “Ed.”

“He liked to talk about all the things he wanted to do to you when it was just guys in the room.”

“Oh.” she scowled. “Gross.”

She didn’t need to know the graphic fantasies he described, or the black rage Jason felt at the knowing little smirks shared with the other men she hung out with. People who called themselves her friends.

“I chased him off. Gave him the impression you and I were something more than we were.”

The hand in his hair stopped moving. “Did you just?”

“He was a dog. No respect for any woman.”

“Ah. But he respected the threat of an angry boyfriend?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted.

“High-handed of you,” she commented. “When I stop feeling all warm inside I’m probably going to be annoyed about that.”

He kissed her knee. “Sorry I told a creep that if he ever talks about my girl like that again I’ll break his jaw.”

“I–No you’re not,” she said, a hand over her mouth to ineffectually hide a smile.

“Na, I’m not. I meant it then and I mean it now. Are you gonna keep pretending you don’t like it when I’m possessive?”

“Hm. Probably too late to make it convincing.”

“Much too late.” He’d been made emphatically, delightfully, aware of how much she liked it when he called her his less than an hour ago.

He twisted and climbed up her body, resting between her legs. She grazed her hands down his sides as he dragged himself up to her head. Her skin pressed against his felt so good and warm. It wasn’t errotic, but it was profoundly intimate. He looked up into her eyes.

“My girlfriend doesn’t have to fend for herself. I won’t tell you what to do, but I get to tell fuckheads to look elsewhere or have their eyes removed. That’s what I want. Let me take care of you the best I can.”

She breathed a light, “oh.” She traced his scarred eyebrow. “Okay.”

He leaned up and kissed her.

It felt so natural. He liked doing that very much.

She pulled back a moment later, and looked him square in the eye. “I want you to give my number to whoever you go to for your emergency, middle of the night surgeries.”

He cocked his head. “I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“And if you can’t? This has been eating me since I found out you’re Red Hood. If anything happened to you, how would I know? Would I ever know?” She blinked quickly, a sudden influx of emotion in her eyes he hadn’t been expecting. “I can’t protect you. You don’t need my protection. That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

He rested his forehead on hers.

It was against Bat protocol. It put a huge amount of faith in her and demanded trust from him that left him feeling exposed and aching in a number of directions.

He’d already made his decision.

“Leslie Thompkins. The clinic in the Alley. I’ll have you added as an emergency contact. And Alfred already has your details, I’ll tell him you’re the first call when I’m seriously injured.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

He kissed her again.

“Okay,” she said, when they parted.

“Okay.”

He slid his head into the crook of her neck. Her arms hung loosely over his back and he wormed his around her waist, between her and the headboard. His eyes closed.

“I’m gonna go have a shower,” she said, letting her head roll backwards.

“Sure you are,” he said, not moving. “Off you go.”

“I mean it this time.”

“Uh-huh.”

They fell asleep together soon after.

Next>>

#Jason loves with his whole heart #he doesn't know how to be any other way #pillow talk #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x oc #red hood x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #my fanfic #dc #for the hell of it #fluff

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tenpintsofsundrop · 11 months

Text

Dreaming Of You

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader

Part Two: Our Past, Our Present, Our Future

Summary:

After having an argument with Gar that nearly ends your friendship, you decide to finally get over your fear of using your own powers and finally embrace them. If you do things just right, you could finally get everything that you (and Gar) have ever wanted.

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut, (Slight) Angst and Fluff. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 18,000

Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.

List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general emotional angst (due to the reader and Gar having emotional distance from having an argument at the end of the other chapter), (very light) canon level violence, mentions of medical experimentation/medical torture, the reader character has medical trauma from years of illness, mentions of medical debt, manipulation and emotional abuse (from Doctor Caulder toward Gar and the reader), mentions of burns/burn scarring, mention of the reader being abandoned by her parents, mentions of vomit (no graphic descriptions), the reader character has a seizure, (likely) improper first aid performed for a seizure, the reader has chronic illness/chronic pain, use of prescription medication, the reader is more feminine (wears lacy underwear), the reader has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns.

This chapter contains smut - both dream fantasies and played out sexual acts. The reader character is mute but all consent is enthusiastic and clear, biting/marking kink, some dirty talk, semi-public sex (having sex in the communal area of a house - also, coincidentally, the sex fic I have read where characters have sex in a space that just happens to have a camera in it), scent kink, oral - reader receiving, multiple orgasms (reader receiving), (slight) overstimulation (reader receiving), hair pulling kink (Gar receiving), it’s implied that the reader and Gar are virgins but it’s not lingered on and it’s not a plot point of the fic, unprotected sex, creampie, penis in vagina sex, rough sex, (idk how to phrase it?) marriage kink/commitment kink, passionate sex/love making, Gar calls the reader ‘wife’ (in a fantasy sequence), some mentions of blood (the reader scratches Gar’s back and draws blood by accident), I believe that’s it.

A/N: This turned out way longer than I intended. But I love it and I really hope that you guys do too!!

...

After the argument, you didn’t see Gar for the rest of the day.

When Dick came in to check on your progress with training, he immediately questioned why Gar was missing. You made up a lame excuse about how he had been feeling sick (which had to be translated to Dick by Jason) and Dick complained that all of you had to learn to ‘work through’ things like illness, but at least he didn’t question why Gar had locked himself in his room for the rest of the night and didn’t come to dinner.

After you had washed the dishes and sulked through the rest of your nightly routine, you considered knocking on Gar’s bedroom door before finally going to bed yourself - but you just couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

You had truly hurt him, and you weren’t sure how you were going to recover from it.

As you laid in bed that night, so strung up with guilt that you couldn’t sleep, you stared at the ceiling. Of course, all you could think about was Gar.

You thought back to when you had first met him - going over those first days of your friendship in your mind. The undeniable way that the two of you were drawn so close together. In friendship or in that unutterable, constantly denied romance - the two of you were soulmates.

And you had fucked it all up.

You missed your best friend so badly. You wondered where it had all gone so wrong.

…

You felt lucky that Doctor Caulder had taken you in.

Before him, before the serum, your last chance at moving out of the palliative care ward would have been offering your body as a live cadaver up for experiential treatment. It was something that might have put a dent in your medical debts, but it also would have meant a lot of pain and torture as your body was used as a trial for vastly experimental medicine and treatments - none of which were guaranteed to prolong your life as the deadly brain tumors grew to consume your brain, seemingly trapping you in a loop of pain and torture for those last few years that you had.

At the time, Doctor Caulder was a savior to you.

He used the money he had from his dense inherited wealth to pay off all of the medical debt you had acquired from your lifetime of illness, giving you only one very small catch in the face of this intense generosity. He wanted your consent to try out his serum on you, claiming that it would either do nothing to change your condition, or it would be the magical cure-all that you had been looking for.

(He conveniently let out the fact that in your state of unwellness, with your weakened body, there was a large possibility that the serum could overwhelm your senses, stopping your heart - but that was a risk he was more than willing to take.)

Honestly - while you didn’t believe him - you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him down.

You had no other options, after all.

After he injected you with the serum and you woke up with your sight fully restored, you were shocked. It had somehow shrunk down the tumor in your brain enough that it was no longer pressing on your optic nerve, and you could once again experience the world in full, glorious vision.

It was something you were entirely excited by as you arrived at what would be your new home. Doctor Caulder had described it as a ‘vacuum of scientific advancement against the bureaucracy of the world’. Naturally, you had expected some kind of cold looking industrial building, another medical center that you would be trapped inside for years to come.

You certainly hadn’t thought that it would be a sprawling, gorgeous Victorian mansion in the secluded, peaceful countryside.

He brought you inside and set down your bag. You were too busy marveling at the details of the architecture, the stunning antique decorations, taking it all in after years of being deprived of sight to truly notice anyone else in the building at first.

You didn’t notice anyone else there until Doctor Caulder spoke to him.

“Ah, Garfield, I’m glad I caught you.”

You turned at the sound of someone’s name being called. Caulder had warned you that you would be living with several other people - people who he had helped and was continuing to help with their ‘unique conditions’.

When you looked over at him, the person that Doctor Caulder had called Garfield, the only truly unique thing you spotted about him was his bright green hair. That, and the fact that he was startlingly attractive.

Garfield paused his footing halfway down the hallway as Doctor Caulder spoke to him. When he turned back around to give the man his attention, you noticed that he had a candy bar poking out of his mouth as he held it there between his teeth, and a pair of large headphones over his ears with some kind of handheld gaming system in his hands. He reached up and moved one half of the headphones off to the side when he realized his full attention was needed. Then he bit off the candy bar, moving to shove the rest of it, mostly still wrapped, into the pocket of his large green hoodie.

“What’s up, Chief?” He asked, his mouth obviously stuck together by the candy and some chocolate slightly smeared on the side of his mouth.

“Garfield, please don’t talk with your mouth full.” Caulder - apparently the Chief, quickly scolded him.

You guessed that he found it rude because he was more uptight and proper, more old fashioned. But it was something that you easily found adorable and charming.

Garfield hung his head in shame and made a clear effort to swallow, running his tongue over his teeth to somewhat clean his mouth before he spoke again.

“Sorry.” He mumbled quietly. “Did you need something?”

It was then that he really eyed you up and down, as though he had just noticed you standing there.

You felt entirely out of place, but tried your best not to look nervous, and simply smiled as his eyes landed on your face. You noticed a small tinge of pink come over his cheeks when he finally made eye contact with you. His eyes made a quick jolt back to the carpet, obviously nervous and not wanting to linger on you.

“I’m sure you’ve heard Cliff mention my newest patient.” Doctor Caulder told him, gently motioning toward you. “Y/N will be staying with us for the foreseeable future while I explore her condition and any affects the serum has had on her.”

Garfield nodded at this. The wild tendrils of his green hair bobbed in a very adorable way with the motion, and you suppressed a giggle because of it.

“I’ll need you to show her around and help her get settled in for now, because I need to go up to my office and work on some notes while everything is still fresh in my mind. I’d like not to be disturbed for the next few hours, is that clear?” Doctor Caulder ordered, his voice calm, but oddly stern.

Garfield’s face twisted slightly into a frown, as though he was afraid of the possible consequences if he did disturb the man. But nonetheless, he nodded once again.

“Understood.” He said simply.

Doctor Caulder gave him a curt nod and then walked up the stairs, leaving you in the hands of your seemingly meek, very handsome tour guide.

He stepped toward you, and then realized the game console was still beeping in his hands. So he pushed a few buttons, shutting it off, and then he shoved it into his pocket as well before he slid his large headphones to sit around his neck.

“Hi, I’m Garfield. You probably heard that. But you can just call me Gar. I prefer it.” He rushed these words out in a puff of air, seemingly still very nervous to be in your presence.

You nodded at this. Before you could communicate in any way that you wouldn’t really be ‘calling’ him anything because of your mutism, he let out a huff - something akin to a nervous laugh and steamed rolled right into more conversation. He didn’t really seem to mind your silence.

“Y/N, right?” He posed, easily remembering your name from when Doctor Caulder had introduced you.

You nodded once again, giving him a small smile.

“That’s a really pretty name. It matches you. I mean- I-” He stumbled over his words, clearly nervous that he had unintentionally said something flirtatious. “I’m supposed to introduce you to everyone, right? Come on.”

He then took you on a tour of the sprawling house, his chatter filling the air in a most perfect way. The more he talked, the more he seemed to gain confidence around you. He became filled with energy, fueled by the things he was saying. Especially when he spoke about the house and the daily life that he lived there, pointing out the different rooms and where you could make yourself comfortable. His words filled the space so well that he didn’t seem to notice the fact that you couldn’t talk.

As he took you on the tour, you came across the different eclectic members of the household and Gar introduced you to them. And you very quickly came to realize what Doctor Caulder had meant by ‘unique conditions’.

If you didn’t have your vision freshly restored in order to see it, you likely wouldn’t have believed it. But they were very real.

Gar introduced you to Cliff - someone who looked more like a machine than a man, squeaky joints and all. But it quickly became apparent to you that he had a shining personality underneath all that metal, and his humanity wasn’t easily defined by something like rust and bolts. He was working on a half-disassembled car in the large garage, and Gar explained to you how the mostly mechanical man was an ex-racer who had gotten into a bad accident and been put back together by The Chief.

He then introduced you to Larry - who was in the kitchen, baking some kind of very tall, very impressive multi-layered cake (apparently in celebration of your arrival). He made a comment about you ‘being rather quiet’ and you just shrugged. They would probably be amused later when they found out why.

Larry didn’t want to comment much or explain the reason that his entire body was covered in bandages, and you understood why. In your mind, you assumed that he had been badly burned and the bandages covered some kind of scarring. The visual reminded you of people who had passed through the palliative care ward with severe burns over their bodies and didn’t survive long because of it. But he seemed to move without pain and he was obviously thriving, so whatever Doctor Caulder had done for him - it had worked.

Gar tried to introduce you to the last member of the household - Rita - but when he knocked on her bedroom door, he was met with silence. He simply told you that she likely wasn’t feeling well. And that you understood deeply as well.

The house tour extended down into the basement, because Gar was very excited to show you his room. You couldn’t bring yourself to disrupt his rolling speech or dampen down his swell of excitable energy.

He was showing you some of his movie posters - something for a movie called Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein. It was a movie you had never heard of before, and you only found yourself truly paying attention in order to learn about it now because Gar spoke about it with so much enthusiasm.

“-it’s considered one of the first examples of parody ever in cinema, an effort to take horror, something that truly terrified audiences at the time, and turn it comedic. Like shining a light on that monster under the bed so he’s no longer scary. It’s brilliant.”

Gar rambled on, his breath almost entirely escaping him as his enthusiasm overpowered his lungs.

You couldn’t help but to feel a swell of fondness as you looked at him.

His passion was so intensely palpable, it gave you goosebumps. It was a very old film that you likely wouldn’t have taken an interest in. But the way he talked about it - like it was revolutionary, like it was the most interesting thing in the world. It made you want to watch it ten times just to get to know him better, just to have a small taste of the passion that he felt so epically for it.

You didn’t know it then, but feeling his overwhelming enthusiasm spreading in the air was the beginnings of your very intense crush on him. It was the moment that you started falling for him.

“You know originally, Lou Costello scoffed at the idea of even making-” Gar suddenly cut himself off, a look of dawning crossing his features. “Woah, I’ve been talking for such a long time, haven’t I?”

Technically, yes.

But you would have been perfectly content to stand there and listen to him talk for hours more about this film or any of the others related to posters that he had on the wall. His enthusiasm and the way it was backed up by factual knowledge made him endlessly interesting to listen to.

In response, you simply shrugged.

Yes, he had been talking for a long time. But - you enjoyed listening. His tone and the abrupt way he had cut himself off made it sound like he had burdened you with his ramblings, and you weren’t sure why.

“Sorry.” He giggled, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I’m probably being so annoying. I haven’t even let you talk about yourself at all. What - what kind of movies do you like?”

He seemed nervous suddenly, as though he had become self conscious in the conversation.

You filled with nerves as well, coming to the realization that you would now have to communicate to him that you couldn’t talk.

You motioned toward your throat, hoping he would be able to see the scar from the surgery that had stolen your ability to speak so long ago. Rather than understanding, Gar’s face knit with confusion.

“What, did the sea witch steal your voice?” He asked. The action reminded him a lot of that cartoon mermaid, desperately tapping on her throat, trying to explain to others why she couldn’t speak. “Do you need a kiss from a handsome prince to get it back?”

The words escaped him before he could stop it - and then he realized that it sounded entirely more flirtatious than he intended.

He bit his lip nervously and you let out a giggle. You became entirely overwhelmed by your own nerves, and your undeniable attraction toward him. If you were feeling at all bold, you might have leaned over and kissed him in that moment. But something in the back of your mind told you that it was rude - that he hadn’t truly meant it, that it was strange to come onto him so soon after meeting him.

When the awkwardness swelled inside of him, he rushed to speak again.

“Sorry,” He blurted out. “That was probably insensitive. If you’re really mute, that’s like a disability, and you shouldn’t make jokes about people’s disabilities-”

You vigorously shook your head, meaning to tell him that ‘no, I liked the joke’.

But his eyes instantly grew wide, believing that you were shaking your head negatively, believing that he was truly being insensitive and rude.

You raised your hands and began explaining it in sign language, and he sighed in defeat.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I don’t - I don’t understand.”

Then, a look of dawning came over his face so strong it was almost as if a cartoon lightbulb appeared over his head. He then rushed into the other room - there was some ripping of paper (what you didn’t know was him ripping pages he had used out of a notebook so that you wouldn’t see them). After a moment, he rushed back toward you, thrusting a notebook and a pen in your direction.

You took it happily, and began writing.

‘Yes, I am completely mute. Yes, it is technically a disability. And yes, I did think your joke about the sea witch was funny. But… I don’t think a kiss from a prince will fix me.’

You passed it to him and after he read it, he gave a small chuckle.

“Yeah, that wasn’t so smooth on my part.” He said. “What happened? To your voice?”

You explained it to him. You spent a long time passing the notebook back and forth, explaining things to him about yourself and your life.

You told him how you had been ill for as long as you could remember, and it had only gotten worse as you progressed into your teen years. And eventually, the mounting medical debt became too stressful for your parents so they abandoned you and disappeared with no way for creditors to track them down. They had left you orphaned in the most cruel way.

Gar’s eyes danced with tears when he read this. You didn’t know it then, but he vowed to himself that he would always be by your side. He would be the one person who never left you, no matter what happened in life that might try to draw the two of you apart.

‘Can I ask you something?’ You scrawled out, passing the notebook to Gar with careful curiosity on your mind.

“Yeah, anything.” He replied.

‘Why are you here? What is Doctor Caulder helping you with?’

You were tempted to add on something about how he ‘looked normal’ - but you didn’t want to accidentally insult him.

“My condition… it’s uh…” Gar stuttered through his attempt at an explanation, and confusion flooded your features. “It’s probably just easier if I show you?”

You nodded in acknowledgement that you understood, and Gar put the notebook aside and stood from the couch where the two of you had been seated, talking for hours.

“Would you - uh - would you mind closing your eyes for a second?” He asked, once again draped in that nervous energy.

You hesitated for a second, but then complied. You weren’t sure how him ‘showing’ you would go if you had your eyes closed. But you trusted him to harness in that condition - whatever strange ability the serum had given and not let it hurt you. You felt safe around him even though you had only known him for a short time. And you wanted to make him comfortable rather than arguing about it.

You were curious when you heard some gentle rustling, and you cringed slightly when you heard what sounded like the cracking of bones. You hoped that whatever he was doing, it didn’t cause him any pain.

Your curiosity became too great and you opened your eyes when you heard a low rumbling. If you weren’t mistaken, it sounded like the purring of a very large cat.

Shock instantly overtook you when you opened your eyes to see that standing in front of you in the middle of the carpet - rather than Gar - there was a very large tiger with bright green fur. When your sight had been restored, you never, ever thought that this would be one of the first things you would get to see.

Your first instinct was to pull your feet up onto the couch, and the tiger - which you quickly had to reason was Gar, who had somehow shifted his body into a different form - hung his head in shame when he saw the fear overtake your body. You didn’t want to be afraid of him. You shouldn’t be, right? He had been nothing but kind to you since the two of you had met. He wouldn’t use this odd power to endanger you.

When you looked into those large animal eyes, you saw nothing but kindness. And you couldn’t resist the urge to step off the couch and lean out, petting a hand gently under his furry chin.

It was then that you were struck with the realization. The dream you had of being married to a large green tiger - it had likely meant something.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on it.

Instead, you scratched under his chin and he purred, and you giggled at the fact that such a large, possibly terrifying animal was so docile under your touch.

(When Gar transformed back, you would deny that you snuck a glance at him changing back into his clothes. And you would definitely deny that you became obsessed with what you saw.)

…

Later that night, you met Rita when she came down to join everyone for dinner. She was a lovely, sweet woman. She was actually the only person (aside from Doctor Caulder) at the table who understood your ASL, though she didn’t seem eager to explain where she had learned it. You knew that everyone in the house had somewhat of a painful past, so you didn’t bother to ask.

The cake Larry had made turned out beautiful. A towering masterpiece that everyone had to purposefully crane their necks around as they spoke to each other. You couldn’t help but marvel in wonder at it and the rest of the amazing spread he had made. Gar told you that it really wasn’t that out of the ordinary, seeing as cooking was Larry’s favorite hobby.

You felt slightly bad for Cliff - seeing as he sat with an empty plate in front of him. But he seemed to show up to the meal mostly out of habit, family obligation, and a slight curiosity to get to know you. So you tried your best to answer everyone’s questions and be welcoming to the new friendships.

You enjoyed the meal well. Everything was delicious, and compared to the food you once ate on the ward - it was heaven. Everything seemed to be going perfectly.

Larry cut the cake and made sure that you got the first slice - which you selected from the towering variety of many different flavors. He cited that he didn’t know what your favorite flavor was, so he made a good variety as insurance. The taste of lemon was sweet on your tongue and you were enjoying yourself - when one of the lights began flickering.

It was just a few flashes above your head, just for a few moments, but it was enough to send a sharp pain shooting through the middle of your forehead and instantaneously cause a wave of nausea through your stomach. You dropped your fork onto your plate with a clatter, and everyone craned their necks around the towering cake to look at you. Gar immediately got up from his chair to rush to your side, wondering what was wrong.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly.

Your senses were overwhelmed by dizziness, a horrid feeling that your eyes were churning inside of your skull. Sharp waves of pain radiated out from the middle of your forehead and seemingly caused the world to turn wildly underneath your feet.

You didn’t know that the harsh unwellness was visible all over your face - from your unpleasant expression to the light layer of sweat that had so quickly formed over your skin.

You shook your head, attempting to confirm to him that you were not okay. But this only caused the pain to worsen, and you held back a harsh gag, trying your hardest to keep the amazing dinner inside.

“You need to lay down.” Gar said quietly.

You felt safe under his touch and you let him guide you as he pulled out your chair. He put one hand around your back and used the other to take your hand as he helped you up and guided you away. You let your eyes fall closed against the harsh light as his hand came to rest on your waist, a calming comfort against the harsh pain throbbing through you. You let yourself lean on him for support as he did as promised - took you to lay down.

You were partway up the stairs when a voice disrupted you.

“Garfield.”

Doctor Caulder called after him harshly, causing Gar to pause his movements. You leaned on the bannister and kept your eyes closed. You had to concentrate hard on willing yourself not to vomit while Gar was distracted with the conversation.

“This is an important opportunity to study her condition, you should be taking her to-” Caulder began to argue against Gar’s actions, but he was cut off.

“She needs to lay down.” Gar argued quietly. “She’s had a long day. She needs rest. You can do your studies tomorrow.”

You didn’t know it, but this was the first time that Gar had ever gone against the man on anything. Doctor Caulder stood there in shock at Gar’s sudden shift in attitude while Gar put a hand on your lower back once again and helped you the rest of the way up the stairs.

He helped you into bed and pulled the covers over you. And then he got a hot cloth to put on your forehead, and got a bucket to put beside the bed in case you did throw up. It was then that you knew you would never feel properly cared for again unless it came from him.

When he thought that you weren’t paying attention, half sleepy and half drowned in the pain, he leaned down and laid a gentle, timid kiss on your forehead, right above the cloth.

…

Later that night, after everyone had fallen asleep, Gar snuck out to town and picked up a book on ASL. He was especially careful that his teeth didn’t pierce any of the pages.

He used the rest of the night to study, and he greeted you the next morning with a tray of gentle breakfast food (porridge, hopefully something that wouldn’t aggravate your upset stomach) and Advil. Despite the pain throbbing through your head, you broke into a beaming smile when he signed the words ‘good morning’ to you.

It was then that you realized just how much you were going to have to suppress your feelings for him.

…

Later in the day, Doctor Caulder was carrying out his tests as promised.

He had you in a different part of the basement - in an area that essentially looked like an operating room. Just seeing the tables and all the cold medical equipment triggered a lot of your fight or flight instincts, but you tried your hardest to remain calm. Especially because Gar was by your side, even though he likely could have been playing video games or doing something else a lot more fun. He told you that he would stay by you the entire time to make sure that you were comfortable.

You tried to relax and trust the process.

Doctor Caulder had adjusted the table, propping up the top of it so that it was much more like a chair. And he had wheeled in a large machine that consisted of a series of lightbulbs - something that turned out to be a strobe light, set to make specific patterns. He had taped several electrical probes to your head, ones connected to an EEG machine. Although he knew that this procedure was likely to trigger a seizure, he said that it was important for it to occur because your neurological problems were closely tied to your powers, and the areas of the brain that the serum had affected. He said that it was something important to measure - even if a seizure happened.

“Just face forward, and keep looking into the light.” Doctor Caulder explained. “It will go through a series of flashing patterns. I need you to try your hardest to keep your eyes open, and stay focused. It’s important that we record your brain activity while this is happening without disruption.”

You nodded in affirmation. You weren’t looking forward to the pain that it would cause considering that your head was still thumping with a migraine from the night before, but if he considered it necessary, you would do it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Gar asked. “How do you know this isn’t just gonna cause more harm?”

He was standing beside the table, holding your hand, and you were entirely grateful for his presence there.

He had seen the way you had reacted to a relatively dim chandelier bulb flickering at dinner the night before. He thought that this would be disastrous.

“Garfield, if you continue to question me, then I’ll have to ask you to leave.” Doctor Caulder told him curtly. “You can’t keep disrupting the process like this. We need to move forward.”

Doctor Caulder glared at Gar, giving him a moment to make his choice. To see if he was going to speak up and argue or remain quiet. Gar looked to you, wanting to see if you were truly okay with all of this. Nerves boiled in your stomach, but you feigned a smile, and squeezed his hand tighter, assuring him that you needed him there - right by your side.

Gar then nodded at Doctor Caulder, who stood behind the machine with the lights and turned it on. Gar flinched hard against the lights as they began to flicker. He turned his head away and closed his eyes, but he kept a tight hold on your hand.

Though it went against every screaming, pained nerve in your body, especially the ones pulsing through your head - you fought to keep your eyes open. Your carefully tuned hearing picked up on the scribbling needles of the EEG machine, Gar’s breathing. You could even hear the electricity sizzling in the bulbs as they went through three long flashes and then turned off. Three long flashes, and then off.

You survived the first pattern well before it switched to two quick flashes and then a period of seemingly prolonged darkness - something that wasn’t any more than three whole seconds in reality.

The moment that it switched to the intense, rapid strobing - you felt it. The tingling in your hands, the dizzying haze that said you were only moments away from having a seizure.

You had no time to warn either of them, especially considering that this was the first seizure you had post-serum, and it had unexpected size effects.

As your muscles became tight and your body began to violently seize, the house itself began to quake around you. It was as though the building were at the epicenter of a violent earthquake. Later, Doctor Caulder would come to the conclusion that your seizures now caused ‘rapid bursts of psychic energy’ to be released from you, completely uncontrolled by you. He realized that you would be needed to put on a high dose seizure medication to prevent any further incidents.

In those moments, though, it was chaos.

Between the shaking of the house underneath you and the unpredictable seizing of your muscles, you quickly rolled off the table. Gar easily caught you in a moment’s notice. Across the room, Doctor Caulder made a similar movement - reaching urgently to catch the EEG machine before it fell off of its own table.

When the quaking stopped, and you were left quivering in Gar’s arms, he couldn’t help but to feel a rush of disappointment as he saw the obvious play out before his eyes - Doctor Caulder was far more eager to save his data, to preserve the research that you had given him than to actually take care of you - his patient who was clearly in need.

“What was that?” Gar breathed out, looking from your unconscious face to the surrounding room. He didn’t think that it was a large coincidence that an earthquake had struck at the exact same time as your seizure and had lasted exactly as long.

“I believe that her powers were responsible for that.” Doctor Caulder theorized. “We’ll likely have to do more research to fully comprehend it-”

He abruptly cut off his own words when the scribbling needles of the EEG machine stopped.

Gar began peeling the probes off your forehead and Doctor Caulder only looked up toward you when the EEG flatlined as it was disconnected.

“Garfield, what do you think you’re doing?” Caulder barked at him.

“We’re done right now.” Gar said, his voice choked off by his anger. “Clearly, this isn’t helping. She needs rest.”

Gar resisted the urge to say more. He resisted the urge to berate Doctor Caulder for harming you. He resisted the urge to swear. He resisted the urge to threaten to run away with you - taking away Doctor Caulder’s precious source of research so that the two of you would never be seen again.

He had no clue that his anger was so intense that it flared up in his eyes, threatened to invoke his transformation against his will.

He felt calmer when he looked down at you, and petted a hand across your forehead. Although you were forced into unconsciousness because of the seizure, you looked peaceful and calm with your face so still, your eyes closed and your muscles finally relaxed. He hoped that you would feel better soon.

That was the day Doctor Caulder decided to start keeping a tranq gun near the operating table.

…

Things were quiet for a few days after that.

Doctor Caulder said that he needed time to go over the results of the EEG, and he didn’t want to induce anymore seizures in you for fear that it might bring down the house. So he did let you rest.

But in the interim, he didn’t check up on you or attend to any of your medical needs. He locked himself in his office to contemplate the science of it all while Gar stuck by your side. He held the bucket and rubbed your back while you puked, he held a hot cloth to your forehead when you needed it. He held a spoon up to your lips to feed you because your hands were too weak after being rocked by such a harsh seizure.

After a few days, you were almost thankful to Doctor Caulder for it. You and Gar were growing incredibly close so quickly because he refused to leave your side, and you had never felt so lucky to have someone like him in your life.

You hesitated when Doctor Caulder called you into his office upstairs.

He made a poor apology for the incident with the lights. He said that he was sorry for causing you pain, but it was ‘necessary’ to explore your condition, to map your brain and find out how the serum had affected you.

He said that the next step would be further exploring your strange powers. The powers you had accidentally discovered while transitioning out of the hospital. When one of the nurses had been attending to you, you had looked into her eyes, and you couldn’t even fully identify the feeling at the time. But suddenly, you knew this shocking, painful information. One of the other patients on the ward who you had come to know as a friend wasn’t going to live much longer. And when you had asked the nurse about it, she had accused you of snooping, reading through files - because the information was supposed to be confidential.

But Doctor Caulder - who had witnessed the conversation - easily saw it for what it truly was. An unnatural power given to you by his serum.

He then called Gar into his office as well - someone you obviously trusted and could work well with.

He set it up as a game.

He had written down several things on flashcards. You and Gar would sit across from each other, and Gar would read one of the flashcards, fully capturing the idea in his mind. And then you would use your powers to try and push into his mind - figuring out what was on the card without him ever speaking a single word or giving any hints.

As you sat across from him, preparing to begin, you were incredibly hesitant.

‘Are you sure about this?’

You wrote this as a message to Gar on one of the blank index cards. They were intended for you to write the answers that you retrieved from his mind during the ‘game’. You intentionally held back with the message, not fully describing your worries. You wanted to ask if he was okay with you breaching the privacy of his mind, but you were worried about Doctor Caulder seeing it, because you knew the man didn’t like to be questioned.

You flipped it around to show Gar, and he simply nodded after he read it.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Gar assured you with a smile. “It’s just a game, right?” He grinned. “It’ll be fun.”

You didn’t quite think so. But you tried to take on his positive attitude.

“Let’s begin.” Caulder said. He was standing behind Gar in a very imposing manner, reading the cards as well to ensure that he didn’t flub the answers just to please the Doctor.

Gar picked up the first card and read it, and he concentrated on it for a moment, making sure that the idea was focused in his mind. He gave a small nod, and then looked up toward you, knowing that he had to make steady eye contact with you in order for you to use your powers.

Pushing past your discomfort, you did as you had been instructed. You stared deep into those big beautiful brown eyes, and you purposefully breached the surface into his mind. The first thing you were met with was a rich visual of several golden retriever puppies frolicking in a field of grass, happily yipping and prancing around, almost tripping over their clumsy new feet.

You soon withdrew - even though it was a happy scene that gave you joy, you knew that you had the answer. You had an unconscious grin on your face, and that easily made Gar giggle as you flipped over the message you had made to him and wrote down your answer on the other side.

‘Puppies’

You lifted up the card and showed it to Doctor Caulder, who took a glance down at the card in Gar’s hand (which said ‘DOG’). He nodded at you, his stern face not flexing for a moment to show any sign of positivity. He picked up a clipboard from a small table on the chair beside Gar and began furiously scribbling.

“Continue.” He said, not looking up from his fast paced notes.

Gar looked down at the next card, took the same moment of concentration, and then looked back at you with a small grin on his face.

This time, rather than feeling like you were committing some kind of crime or doing him a grand disservice, you looked into his eyes and pushed into his mind with a gleeful joy - as though the two of you were sharing a delightful secret.

The next rich visual you saw featured Gar himself. He wore a pair of tight jeans and a leather jacket with some red tee shirt underneath, and he walked up to a red car - a very fancy, vintage looking car. He opened the door, got inside, and adjusted the mirror to look at himself before he stomped on the gas pedal and the car sped away with a screech. It was a very ‘cool guy’ moment, something that made you giggle because of the stereotypical absurdity of it.

When you drifted back into the real world, you went to the next index card, and had more of a difficult time figuring out how to phrase your answer.

You went with:

‘Driving a car?’

When you held it up to show Doctor Caulder, he checked Gar’s card, which simply said ‘CAR’. He frowned, and you thought that you had gotten the answer wrong.

“You have to concentrate more, Garfield.” Caulder scolded him.

Gar’s face dropped into a frown, and it made your chest twinge with sourness. You thought that a face as sweet as his should never have to frown.

“You got it right.” He told you quietly, before flipping to the next one.

You nodded. You hated the way that Caulder treated him. If you could scream at the man, you would.

Gar waffled for a few moments, looking at the card with blank eyes before he then looked up at you. There was a slight glassiness swimming there that told you he was ready to cry, along with the hesitation of a quivering lip. You wanted to end the entire exercise and simply retreat to the basement to play video games with him, but you knew that Caulder likely wouldn’t let you get away with that.

So you continued.

You used your powers once again, purposefully entering Gar’s mind.

You were surprised by the scene you were met with.

It was a vision of you and Gar - it was almost like a beautiful painting, like a fantastic daydream.

You were off in some grassy field, seemingly the same place the puppies had been. Lush greenery, boundless blue skies, warm sunshine that you could almost feel tingling against your skin. The two of you were holding hands - and the most peculiar thing that stuck out to you?

Your attire.

Gar was wearing a formal black suit with a green tie and a green vest to match his naturally wild green hair. You were wearing a long, lacy white dress that you couldn’t mistake for anything other than a wedding dress. There was a bundle of flowers looped around your head in a large crown, with a long, flowy lace veil going down your back, and a bundle of flowers in your free hand that wasn’t holding his.

It was a wedding, a marriage.

At the time, however foolish it was, you didn’t consider the scene to be any specific desire on Gar’s part. You simply thought that he was trying to communicate the idea - the concept to you. You thought that it was just part of the game.

When you pulled yourself back to reality, you felt entirely confident in your answer as you wrote it down.

‘A wedding’

When you flipped it over to show them, you were grinning proudly.

Gar’s face immediately dropped - embarrassment clutched at his stomach and panic overtook him. Caulder sighed with annoyance as he looked at Gar’s card, which said ‘WATER’.

Before any further discussion of it could be had, Gar dropped the cards and they scattered over the floor. He rushed out of the room, moving so swiftly that he was practically a blur. Doctor Caulder called after him, complaints wafting through the air.

You didn’t care to listen to the man. You got up and chased him, almost tripping over your own feet to get to him.

You caught him as he zipped up his jacket, clearly ready to escape out the basement door and go into town (something he told you he was not permitted to do, but often did anyway). You stepped right in front of his path. He sighed hard through his nose and tried to dodge you, and you stepped in front of him and kept blocking him. Eventually, he was forced to look up at you.

It was then - when you saw the look of a truly kicked puppy spread across his features, naked embarrassment lingering in his eyes - that the truth clutched at your stomach. You got the sense that what you had seen was truly private.

Part of you wanted to prod at him about his desires and ask why he had been thinking about that. But a larger part of you worried far more about the fact that you had upset him with the freakish invasion by your powers, and you wanted to remedy it. You wanted to save this amazing new friendship.

With the index cards and pen still in your hand, you quickly wrote a message to him.

‘I’m sorry.’

You wrote down, and then quickly flipped it to show him.

“It’s fine.” He huffed, clearly eager to escape the conversation.

Once again, he tried to dodge around you.

Once again, you blocked his path.

And then, you wrote down something else to show him.

‘It’s not fine. I shouldn’t use my powers on you like it’s a game.’

“The Chief needs to explore your abilities, right?” Gar sighed quietly.

‘Not at your expense.’ You reasoned.

Gar was silent when he came into this information - like this was the first time he had ever truly considered that the Chief’s methods were unethical.

‘We should make a deal. I shouldn’t use my powers on you unless it’s an emergency. Your mind should be your private space. I don’t get to go poking around in there for fun.’

You scribbled this down with haste, feeling very emotional about it. Then you handed it to Gar.

He gave a small smile and nodded after he read it.

“That - uh - that sounds fair.” He said, chuckling nervously. “And we… we don’t have to talk about what you saw.”

You both nodded and dissolved into giggles at this. And then, he took off his jacket, and fired up his X-Box so he could teach you how to play Cuphead to help the two of you forget about the whole thing.

…

Back in your room at Titans Tower, so long after those first amazing days of your friendship with Gar - you fell asleep deep in thought about him. You couldn’t stop going over those early days in your mind. Thinking about all the intense kindness he had given you when the two of you had first met.

Thinking about all of it truly made you realize how badly you had fucked up. You genuinely wondered if your friendship with him would ever have any chance at recovering from the cruelty you had shown him.

You were genuinely stuck between a rock and a hard place. You thought that if you told him about the things that had happened - about the visions you had seen - even if you stressed to him that it had been by accident, then he would feel that you had violated his privacy. He would be wounded by you seeing into his mind and not reporting it to him right away. He would be upset that your powers had put a wedge between the two of you. And now, he was upset because you had stolen his secrets and you weren’t confiding any of yours in him.

You were a bad friend. And you didn’t know how to make it up to him.

You woke up the next day feeling like crap.

You quickly realized that Gar was avoiding you. He did finally come out of his room because Dick banged on his bedroom door, demanding in a harsh voice that if his illness was really that serious, he needed to get it checked out. And Gar came out shoving a hoodie over his head saying that he was fine - while wearing the saddest expression you had seen over his face in a long time.

When you placed a coffee cup down in front of him as a peace offering - dark roast filled one third with vegan marshmallow flavored creamer, just how he liked it - he distinctly ignored it. He didn’t even look at you as he got up from the breakfast bar stool, taking nothing more than a dry piece of toast for breakfast before he stormed off toward the training room.

He placed himself in a secluded corner of the gym with his headphones blasting music, doing harsh pushups and pummeling the punching bag. He was making it very clear that he wanted to be left alone. And even when Dick called all four of you into another room for a verbal quiz on The Art of War (where you wrote down your answers on a white board) - Gar refused to make eye contact with you.

Even when you drew a satirical comic of Dick’s Robin cape being propelled by a fart (that you labeled ‘pent up aggression’) - Gar’s face didn’t flinch from the hard stone it had been set into. It made Jason snort water out of his nose and caused Rachel to call you both ‘immature’. And it got you a verbal lashing from Dick and three weeks of washing the dishes - by hand. So not worth it considering that Gar hadn’t even cracked a smile.

Gar’s cold indifference toward you rolled right into dinner. Gar didn’t flinch or try to take sides when Jason and Rachel broke into an argument about what had happened during game night. Jason brought up how stupid the concept of the game had been and he and Rachel began arguing about the rules.

(“If I’ve never seen the movie before, I should get a new question!”

“That’s not how it works, dickweed! Trivia is supposed to be difficult because you don’t know the answers!”

“So not true. Trivia is a test of memory. How am I even supposed to remember the answer if I don’t know the damn source material?!”)

The argument lasted long enough for you to finish your meal.

When Dick realized they were debating who was the true loser of the bet you had made, he pointed out that regardless of any bets, you had to do the dishes as punishment for the dumb little drawing you had made. You didn’t care all that much as long as it got Jason and Rachel to shut up - but Jason was all too smug about it as he handed you his plate. Once you had finished cleaning up, something you found oddly calming, a nice distraction from the chaos of the last few days - you found yourself wandering to Rachel’s door.

Much like you, she didn’t talk about her powers often.

Especially not since she had been tricked into summoning her demon father to earth and then she had been forced to kill him because of what he did to all her friends - the people she considered family. But you knew that like you, she had some kind of capability to see into other people’s minds - to delve into their memories or walk the long, winding halls of their thoughts. You knew she might be the only other person on earth who might be able to understand what you were going through. Someone who could give you some kind of solid advice about it.

After steeling yourself with a sharp breath, you raised your hand and knocked, waiting to see if she would even answer. The music that she was playing stopped, and after a moment, she opened the door, a look of surprise knitting over her features when her eyes fell upon you.

“Y/N.” She greeted you in a quiet voice. “What is it?”

‘I need to talk to you.’ You signed to her. You had some hope that she would understand what you meant, but her face was immediately overtaken with confusion.

“I’m sorry - I.” She sighed, quickly cutting herself off, looking for the right words to explain it. “Between Dick’s whole list of mandatory reading stuff, and the sparring practice… I’ve been meaning to, but I haven’t had any time to study sign language,”

She had genuine regret in her voice, which you could appreciate.

You exhaled through your nose, a deep sigh.

You gently pushed past her, inviting yourself into her room to settle in for the conversation. It did frustrate you that ASL wasn’t just a common language that was taught in schools, especially because it was psychologically proven that it was easy for toddlers to pick up on it with their brains being at a developmental age for it. It frustrated you that sometimes it was difficult for you to communicate with the people around you. But you tried not to let it get to you often.

You got your cell phone out of your pocket, gesturing with it to let her know you would be texting her the things you needed to say. It was a simple, easy system. You invited yourself to sit on her bed, flopping back among the messy, unmade dark sheets as you carefully chose and typed out the words you needed to say. Rachel settled back into her desk chair, turning on her music once more, adjusting the volume to a low hum that settled into the background. You recognized it as the Arctic Monkeys and silently admired her taste in music.

‘Have you ever accidentally seen something you regret?’

You sent the message. It took only a moment to race through cyberspace and you heard Rachel’s phone ping where it sat on the desk beside her.

She picked up the phone and looked at your message. She then looked back at you with her eyebrows knitted tightly, a mixture of confusion and deep thought pulling them tight together.

“Well there was that one time I accidentally walked into the bathroom when Jason forgot to lock the door-” She began.

You cut her off with a raised hand and a pair of wide eyes glaring her down.

You looked back to your phone and began typing another message, wanting to clarify what you meant.

‘With your powers. Have you ever seen something with your powers that you didn’t want to see?’ You typed it out quickly, hitting send.

Rachel read it over, placing her phone against her chin pensively as she contemplated the answer.

“I… I don’t know.” Her voice was thick with thought. “I used to have these horrible nightmares. Almost every single night. And now I realize that those nightmares are what led me here. And I wouldn’t have been able to stop Trigon if I hadn’t seen those things.”

Your throat tightened up.

You and Rachel had never really talked like this before. You almost felt bad asking her for advice, knowing your problems were very different from hers. Quite pedestrian compared to the woes of somebody who had literally stopped the apocalypse and saved your life, and everyone else’s. You were worried about a school girl crush and she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Why, what did you see?” Her curiosity leaked through her lips. She had quickly connected the dots to realize that you wouldn’t be asking questions like this if you hadn’t seen something of significance.

Naturally, you weren’t going to tell her the details. Not only because the things you had seen were incredibly graphic, revealing, and private, but because you did suspect that she had some kind of small crush on Gar. And you didn’t want to crush her small hope of being with him and make her upset. Especially considering you had seen what she could do when she was upset.

You opened the one-way text conversation and thought for a moment, carefully contemplating what you would tell her.

‘I saw something private. Something I probably wasn’t supposed to see.’ You sent the vague words, and she read them over quickly.

“What, like a sex dream?” She posed.

There was a laugh on the edge of her voice, as though she was only joking. But the accuracy of the comedic prod scared you. You wanted to change the topic quickly - before she truly sniffed out the truth.

‘Doesn’t matter.’ You sent quickly. When she saw the three small bubbles pop up, indicating that you were typing more, she simply waited. ‘Have you ever felt weird acting on information you’ve gotten from your dreams? Doesn’t it feel like cheating the system? Like you should just shut up and pretend to be normal?’

Rachel sighed, a sharp breath that clung to the insides of her throat. She placed her phone down in her lap and leaned back in her desk chair, swaying slightly with the swivel of the rolling chair’s base.

“I don’t think any of us can just pretend to be normal.” She noted quietly.

Rachel’s words were calm and wise. It was something she had probably realized about herself a long time ago. It was a truth you had yet to fall to. You caught glimpses of the future in your dreams, you could see things about people they never dared to admit to themselves. You were in love with a man who could turn himself into a tiger at will, and yet, your heart still cried for something that resembled ‘normal’.

Rachel saw it written all over your face - that warring. And more of that oddly aged wisdom came pouring from her lips before she could stop it.

“What’s that saying?” She pondered aloud. “‘What’s normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.’”

It was a saying you had never heard of before, but it was oddly comforting in those moments. The idea that ‘normal’ means something drastically different for everyone.

When you didn’t say anything, didn’t pick up your phone to start typing, Rachel continued.

“I mean, I don’t know if I’m supposed to be the spider, or the fly, but…”

She trailed off for a moment, getting lost in thought. She looked up at you when she had found the proper words, her eyes filled with a steely determination.

“Look, somehow, I saved Dawn from a coma.” She firmly reminded you. “She didn’t give me an open invitation to go poking around inside her brain, but she needed me. And I needed her. I know having the ability to see inside people’s minds can be weird. But you shouldn’t just go around pretending you can’t do it because you’re afraid you’ll hurt people’s feelings, or whatever. You could save their lives.”

You knew the information you had obtained wasn’t exactly life saving, but she had a point. An excellent one. Maybe the reason your powers were acting up like this was because Gar was reaching out to you. Maybe it was because he had felt the same way about you for a long time now and he didn’t have the guts to tell you either. So unconsciously, he was reaching out, trying to show you his feelings so he wouldn’t have to risk getting hurt.

‘Thank you. That actually really helps.’ You sent the message and gave her a smile, hopping off the bed and leaving the room once again.

…

You had some time to kill before going to talk to Gar.

You really wanted to talk to him this time - truly wanted to conquer everything you had been holding back over these past few days. So you were hoping that everyone else would be in bed asleep so they couldn’t interrupt the two of you.

You took up some of the time with a nice, long shower. Which was partially interrupted by Jason banging on the bathroom door, complaining about how long you were taking - once again. And you took your time getting ready afterwards.

You did your hair neatly and smoothed nice smelling lotion all over your skin. Of course, the thought did occur to you that the ‘conversation’ could lead to you and Gar having sex. That’s what had been so prominently on his mind for the past few weeks. That thought likely did influence your decision to put on a pair of skimpy, cute lace underwear and forego wearing a bra underneath your pajamas. A thin matchy cotton tank top and shorts set.

Your stomach was ripe with bubbles, absolutely full of air and anxiety as you sat on your bed, waiting for more time to pass. There was a book in your hand that you barely knew the name or contents of as you tried to kill more time. Your eyes flicked over to the clock. It was almost one in the morning. Surely you had waited long enough.

You didn’t bother with socks or slippers, your cold feet eager and quiet on the floor as you sneaked your way to Gar’s room. You were surprised to find empty, his wide open door revealing a messy, unmade bed without him in it. You hovered in the doorway for a moment, almost losing your courage and going back to bed.

But then your eyes landed on his nightstand.

There was a wide picture frame holding the picture of him and his parents. And tucked into one of the outer creases of the frame’s wood was something else - two photobooth pictures of the two of you. The pictures were from the first time he had snuck you out of the house to take you to the arcade at the roller rink. You had taken the other two pictures off the set of four, and always kept them in whatever journal you were currently working on.

Seeing the memento kept so close to him, so dear - it filled you with a fresh wave of confidence and desire. You turned around, determined to find him. Luckily, there weren’t that many places to check.

The kitchen and living space were empty. The bathroom was empty and the doors to the security room were shut - meaning Dick was likely in there, researching something, occupied. The only other place to check was the training room.

Gar was in there, putting himself through another rigorous training routine. Clearly he couldn’t sleep with the fight the two of you had still weighing on his mind. And he was quite a sight to behold.

He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxing gloves and black sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips. He was pounding away at the heavy punching bag, clearly trying to take out some of the frustrations that you had caused to run ramped inside of him. He was aglow with sweat, the tips of his green hair hanging down in his eyes, sticking to his forehead. His tight abs were slick and shiny in the light in a way that made you want to lick your lips.

His attire easily revealed the delicious cut V of his hips and even a slight bit of pubic hair where he hadn’t properly tied up his sweatpants, and they were beginning to slip slightly due to his activity. You could see a rather impressive bulge, signifying that he was definitely not wearing any underwear. It swung around freely as he worked, punching hard at the weight bag. You had to force yourself not to become distracted by the movement of that mighty snake inside his pants - especially now that you knew what it felt like against you when it was throbbing and hard.

He either hadn’t noticed your presence yet or didn’t care to interrupt his workout to acknowledge you.

“If you came to train, don’t let me bother you.”

Gar huffed quietly when he finally paused his movements for a moment. He sounded so entirely wounded, and the words caused pain to radiate through your chest. He leaned down to pick up his water bottle between the two clunky foam gloves without taking them off. He took a large gulp from it while he not-so-subtly eyed you through his peripheral vision, clearly waiting for your reaction.

“Apparently that’s all I am to you lately.”

He added on after he swallowed the water, deadly quiet. His words were barely louder than the metal creaking as the punching bag continued to swing from the residual momentum. But you heard him absolutely clear.

The sentiment weighed on your heart like a pound of bricks.

You knew there were no words to explain it to him. You knew he would still be angered at you for using your powers on him without permission, even if it was by mistake. You couldn’t explain how it had been a mistake, how it had only been with him. You still didn’t know exactly why or how it had happened.

After he gulped down a healthy dose of water, he tossed the bottle aside and rose to his full height. For the first time all day, he finally cast his attention over toward you. His face was set with one of the most sullen expressions you had ever seen. You hadn’t seen him this upset since he had attacked that man back at the asylum. Every bit a kicked puppy, as you looked at him, you tried to find the right words, but came up empty. You almost turned to walk away, almost burned dry of the courage you needed to face this.

But with Rachel’s words still ringing in your ears, you looked into his glassy eyes, and for the first time in a long time - you pushed into the quiet realm of his mind purposefully. You needed to dig to find something that would help you. Something that could remind you of how perfect you were with Gar.

You were surrounded once again by the thick, plush world of his own imagination.

Even if it wasn’t that different from the world you lived in.

The two of you were in the training room, with him wearing a blindfold as you practiced the unorthodox drill that was assigned to you. You got in a few good hits with the practice sword in your hands, and ultimately tackled him to the ground.

The two of you ended up in a position that wasn’t too different from the reality of the day before. Though it was playful and light, rather than hypersexual and startled.

You pinned him down with your thighs on either side of his waist, your hips sitting dangerously above his. Your body weight was balanced partially on your knees and partially on him. You held your wooden sword to his throat, poised in a threat you would never carry out against him.

He swallowed hard, his throat muscles jerking underneath the wood. You knew it was more because of the rising heat your compromising position was causing him and not because he was actually afraid of you. Or perhaps him being just a tiny bit afraid of you turned him on that little bit more.

You let out a laugh as you tossed the sword away, leaning in to take off his blindfold and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“What was that for?” He asked, regarding the unique new affection you had never really shown him before.

‘Kiss it better.’ You signed, before leaving in and leaving a deeper, more heated kiss fully on his mouth.

You forced yourself out of the thick, hazy daydream then.

This was the answer. No words would be able to fix this - you needed to kiss it better.

‘Kiss it better.’

You repeated this to yourself in the real world, confirming it as the truth.

Gar read the signs you performed and - out of context - it draped him in hopeful confusion.

He continued to stare you down with that delicately confused look enveloping his features as you marched across the room toward him, your steps over the cushioned mats of the floor filled with pure determination.

He wondered if he had read your signing wrong, or if you were really planning to kiss him. Part of him thought you were going to hit him, or finally flip out on him for whatever perceived crime he had committed. And when you did it - he could hardly believe that it was truly, finally happening. That it wasn’t some dream.

You reached up and grabbed him by both sides of his sweat damped head. And after years of waiting - you pulled him into your lips.

Without hesitation, going on the pure fire in your belly, you kissed him.

You channeled every ounce of raw need that had built up since the first time he had sucked you into a daydream where he so ferociously kissed you. His shock was evident at first. His whole body went stiff under your touch, which almost caused you to pull away. But a small moan rang out from the back of his throat - something that made you instantly dizzy with need. It made your lips seek out his with even more force, making your grip on his head clamp down as if to not let him escape.

He began to kiss you back with just as much ferocity as he had in his dreams - echoing out another moan as he truly appreciated the taste of your lips.

You felt him move but you didn’t open your eyes to look. You heard the tearing of velcro as you gnashed your teeth across his top lip and then latched onto the bottom one. Behind your back, he was taking off the boxing gloves, throwing them somewhere on the floor with a careless, quiet thump. Then his arms were around you, snaking around your waist. His flat palms went up the back of your shirt like impossibly hot magnets and pulled your body to his. He closed the small gap you had left for fear of being rejected - he welcomed you into his world with the utmost sincerity.

Your shirt stuck to him because of the sweat he had worked up, and you wanted it off immediately. You wanted all your clothes off. You wanted to feel the naked rawness of the bulge you could feel swelling against your hip. But for now, you were too distracted by the other sensations he drowned you in to even consider pulling away to strip down.

You were too caught up in the wicked work his tongue was doing as it snaked past your lips. You were obsessed with the loving way his hands held you. You lavished in the heat of his body as it radiated out against you like a wildfire. One of his hands was sprawled out in the middle of your back underneath your shirt. The other cupping the back of your head like you were the most beautiful, delicate doll he had ever had the pleasure of holding in his life.

Eventually, both of you were forced to pull away from the kiss - succumbing to that formidable human breath.

“Is this real?”

Gar said quietly, seemingly almost more to himself as he pulled away from your lips.

You opened your eyes, running a hand down to gently cup his cheek. He felt your gaze on him and opened his eyes. For the first time in days, he stared into your eyes so intimately and the dream became real.

“Are you forreal right now?”

These words were a bit louder.

Not loud enough to break the sacred bubble of hot mingled breaths, spit, and sweat you had created. He wouldn’t dare do anything to shatter this if it was just another sleepy fantasy. But even if it was a fantasy, he still wanted to ask for your consent. That much you realized.

Hesitantly, you tore your hands away from his glistening, flushed skin to formulate your reply.

‘I want you.’ You told him simply.

Without another moment of hesitance, he used the strong hold of his arms around your torso to take you to the ground.

You wrapped your legs around him upon instinct. Your arms came up to clasp around the back of his neck as your ankles fumbled somewhere on his back. The action unintentionally drew your hot centers closer together.

Gar bringing you down elicited a surprised squeak from you, which staved off into light laughter as your back met the mats. The laughter was easily echoed by him, deep and hardy. The sound turned into a playful, pleasurable growl into your neck as he ran his teeth along the skin there, nipping, marking his territory. You didn’t think his growling would ever be so sexy to you - but fuck, the noise ran a shock up your spine. It made your pussy clench around nothing and sent a wave of wetness into your underwear.

This was going to be fun.

“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Gar grunted into your neck, his voice already deepened by the cloud of his lust. His tongue licked a hot path down your skin into your cleavage. His hands ran down your sides to grip your hips through your shorts, his touch feeling blazen through the material.

“Wanted you.” He groaned, sounding so lust-drunk already. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

You had some idea.

But just hearing him say it, feeling the words vibrate against your skin made you moan for him. It made your fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulder blades. You were desperate for some kind of anchor on the plane of reality to assure yourself that you weren’t lost in the depth of another beautiful dream.

You were vaguely aware of the fact that there was probably a camera somewhere in the room. Maybe multiple cameras seeing what Dick’s personality was like. Hell, Batman was the one who had designed and built the place and Dick was only teaching you guys what he had been taught. He probably used the footage of you guys training to review your weaknesses so he could make you better - build better soldiers.

But all those thoughts melted out of your mind the moment that Gar lifted up your shirt. He continued the wet trail with his tongue down the middle of your stomach, stopping once and a while to make sloppy kisses against your skin. You knew exactly what his intentions were when his hands curled into the waistband of your shorts and underwear all at once.

Your legs fell limp as he started to pull them off.

A fresh wave of heat surged through you, making you absolutely drunk as he tossed your clothes behind him. He poised himself between your bent knees, kissing up your thigh with a tight hold on it, holding himself up with the other hand.

“You smell so fucking good.” He growled out, low, heavy under his breath. You moaned out, only getting drunker with his words. “Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you.”

You didn’t have a moment to sign to him, to give him some kind of encouragement or permission before he was diving in. He got low on his knees, wrapping both his hands possessively around your thighs. He leaned some of his weight on his elbows and from what you could see - canted his hips toward the mats, fruitlessly humping against the softness, seeking some kind of relief.

He used his hands to spread your legs - not that it was much of an effort. Your legs practically fell open at his touch. You whimpered hard in the back of your throat as you felt his breath fanning out over your wet pussy. A heavy moan swelled on your tongue when he licked a broad stripe across you from your hole to your throbbing clit.

“Shit, you taste so fucking good.”

He hoisted your legs over his shoulders so your feet rested comfortably on his back, laying so he was more flat on his stomach, clearly getting comfortable. He laid a few tender kisses on the inside of your thigh. Then he looked up at you with dark, ferocious eyes.

“Just, ah… smack me on the head if you want me to stop, okay?” Gar told you.

Clearly, he was saying this for your safety - putting in a failsafe in case you changed your mind or became overwhelmed. But it came off as a sharp, pleasant warning of what was to come.

Your pussy throbbed and you only ached for him to hurry up, biting your lip as you looked down at him. You nodded briskly, communicating that you understood his words. You had a feeling you most certainly wouldn’t want him to stop.

Gar’s fingers dug into the tenderness of your thighs as he ducked his head down, latching onto your swollen, needy flesh. He soon brought a whole new definition to the words ‘eating pussy’. Like with everything he did in life, he did with the utmost enthusiasm and passion. He lapped at you, put his beautiful pink lips around you and sucked. He kissed your pussy just as passionately and wholly as he had your mouth.

He shoved his tongue between your folds and dragged it in long, languid strokes. Clearly he was eager to lap up every last bit of your essence that he could - eager to devour you. He moaned into your pussy, moaned just as loudly as if he were the one being pleasured. It made the vibrations of his tongue on your clit even more deadly. Your hands were on his hair in a minute, both of them grabbing up as much of the gorgeous green as you could and holding tight. The action pulled a rumble from deep in his chest as he was satisfied by the pleasant pain of you tugging at his roots.

“You’re so fucking good.”

He moaned into you, and you echoed back a high pitched noise that you hardly recognized as your own.

“Everything about you is perfect. Every inch of you is perfect.”

His grip around your thighs became even more possessive, his fingers digging into you hard enough to leave marks. Your lust clouded brain couldn’t clock the pain. You could only enjoy the view of his gorgeous hands gripping your skin. He labored over your clit, determined to make you cum. He flicked his tongue hard and fast over your clit as his hot breath fanned over you in quick, lustful pants. The orgasm washed over you so suddenly, a rubber band snapped from his actions. The tension had been built up over weeks of him living inside your mind, torturing you through lustful dreams.

Your back arched, every muscle in your body pulled tight. Your thighs quivered and spasmed around his head as he continued to grip them hard. Your mouth became a mess of foreign noises that sounded daft and dumb to you but were absolute music to Gar’s ears.

He chased you hard the whole way through it, shoving his tongue deep inside your throbbing cunt so he wouldn’t miss a single drop of your juices as they flowed out of you. You thought perhaps he might come up for air when your orgasm subsided. The aftershocks were still shaking your thighs, one of your hands falling to lull by your side, the other petting fondly through Gar’s now even messier hair. But it seemed you were wrong. He was just getting started.

He growled with a feral hunger, the noise making your hips jolt, unintentionally canting toward his face as a whimper fluttered from your lips. He lapped at you in a drunken, lazy way for a few moments before he went back to eating your pussy with a renewed kind of starvation.

Nipping at your swollen pussy lips in a way that made your entire body jolt, forcing his tongue inside you and fucking you with it while his nose bumped at your thrumming clit. Your second orgasm built up so quickly on top of the first. Your fingers curled in his hair as an unspoken signal to it. The feeling of your nails digging into his scalp only driving him to makeout with your cunt with an even deeper desire.

He soaked up your practically pornographic moans with reverence. The wear and tear on your extremely damaged vocal cords began to hurt your throat, but the noises were absolutely unstoppable as they poured from your lips. His talented tongue was forcefully driving the moans and whimpers from you. He loved the feeling of your fingers ripping at his hair, leaving a pleasant sting across his scalp. He didn’t let up at all as your second orgasm plowed through you.

He wasn’t satisfied even as your voice was echoing the wrecked, harsh moans of a third.

He had you panting, your lungs struggling for air. Your muscles twitching with the excess of adrenaline and electricity. You whimpered pathetically as he tongued over your intensely sensitive clit again. Deciding it was time to give in, you reached over and tapped him gently on the top of the head.

He looked up at you with those beautiful, wide brown eyes. This time not a lick of innocence or confusion anywhere to be seen - his irises completely overtaken with a deep, primal lust.

You crooked your finger at him, motioning for him to come back towards your face. He kissed the inside of your thigh a few more times. He unintentionally smeared your sticky wetness, which had gathered on his lips in a heady, thick coating, across your skin.

“I love your pussy so fucking much.” He murmured into your skin.

Hearing him spout such filthy words without shame sent another wave of heat rolling through your belly. You had no idea how you were still so needy after cumming so many times, but Gar had easily done that to you.

You reached over and gently tugged on his hair again, bringing his attention back to you. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you knew exactly what you wanted, but you didn’t know how to ask for it. Surely, there had to be a sign in ASL for intercourse - but you just didn’t know what it was. You had never felt the need to look it up before now. You decided to improv, knowing that Gar would get the meaning either way. He always understood when it came to you.

You raised your hands, making a partially closed fist with one hand and sticking your finger into it. You knew that it was probably a rather juvenile motion. To make your point perfectly clear, you mouthed the words ‘fuck me’ in an exaggerated way, hoping it would be easy enough for him to pick up on.

“You want me to fuck you?”

He gently shucked your legs off his shoulders, sitting up on his knees. He wiped your essence off his mouth with the palm of his hand, a delighted, surprised expression falling over his features.

You nodded swiftly, enthusiasm spreading across your face, biting your lip as you could barely contain a giddy smile.

“I mean, I don’t have a condom or anything… should I go find one?”

He moved slightly as if to get up and leave you, but you were quick to trap him, hooking your knees around his thighs and squeezing tight. This touch was a good enough signal to bring his attention back to you.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ You signed to him, firm and final.

He clearly wanted to question you, but there was something heavy dancing in your eyes, and he didn’t want to ruin the moment by pushing it.

(You were infertile. Just another thing your illness had taken from you. If it meant this moment with Gar would be a bit more worry-free, then you’d take it. If it meant he would break up with you down the road because he wanted kids that you couldn’t have… then you’d just enjoy the time with him that you were given.)

“Okay.” He breathed quietly.

Your attention shifted dramatically when his hand moved to adjust his cock in his pants, which was straining harshly through the fabric. It was a long, thick outline like a shadow beaming out from the black fabric, with a damp spot at the tip. Fuck.

Eating you out had turned him on so much that he was leaking precum into his pants, quite a lot of it. You latched onto your bottom lip at the sight of it. You couldn’t help but to outright stare now that you were allowed to look - lavishing your eyes over the thick, magnetic outline of his beautiful cock. His hand gripped it once more, adjusting himself, trying to make his throbbing cock more comfortable where it strained against the fabric. It made the sight even hotter somehow, and your eyes jumped up to his to see the almost shy look on his face. Even after what he’d done, he was shy about you staring at his bulge.

‘Show me.’

You egged him on, trying to be encouraging. You wanted to play up the obvious desire that you knew was prominent on your face by pouting your lips and batting your eyelashes for him. He raised his hand to the edge of his pants, but his muscles strained, hesitant still.

As a show of good faith, you sat up slightly, peeling off your tank top, which was now stuck to you with sweat. Your skin appreciated the cool air of the room, and your ego preened at the way Gar’s eyes devoured the newly revealed skin.

He let out a harsh breath before he stood up on the spot and took his pants down, letting them fall to his ankles and kicking them away.

“I thought you might laugh at me.” He said quietly, insecurity racking his voice. “Because… ya know… the carpet matches the drapes.”

Laughing was the last thing you were thinking about doing.

As you laid there, propped up by your elbows, staring at him, your mind could only focus on how entirely fantastic he looked. His body was so perfect, his muscles built, building up more each day with the training. His whole body covered in perfect, smooth skin, surrounding a gorgeous, filthy prize that you had only dreamed about being this amazing in real life.

His cock sprang out from a nest of green pubic hair - which yes, ‘the carpet does match the drapes’. But you found that to be nothing to laugh at. There was absolutely nothing laughable about the gorgeous, nine inch monster that stood proudly in front of you - smooth skin covering hardened, gorgeous flesh just like the rest of him. With a drooling, bright pink tip just ready for your lips to be wrapped around it.

‘Why would I ever laugh at such a beautiful prize?’ You told him, assuring him that you held nothing but admiration and lust for his body.

A light dusting of pink came over his cheeks, absolute flattery from your words. He dropped down to his knees once again. His cock bobbed so deliciously as he moved, and you knew that would be so whipped by the ability to have it. When Gar realized the power he could hold over you with sex - you would be done for.

“Jason thought it was pretty funny.” He shrugged, his voice gruff with the memory of it.

‘Jason is a clown.’ You assured him.

The conversation was cast aside when he gripped your ankles, playfully tugging you across the mats toward him - something that caused more giggles to erupt from your throat.

Then, he was hovering over you on his hands and knees once again. With one hand beside your head, the other came over to grasp your chin with two fingers. It was so light and careful compared to his previous touches. He peered down into your eyes, making your stomach seize up with the sheer amount of love and affection he stared you down with.

If you didn’t feel the same way for him, you might have backed down from the towering might of his feelings. You might have been tempted to run from something so divinely grand and beautiful. But no - you wanted to be his. You wanted to make him yours.

‘Take me.’ You mouthed.

Your hands were numb and useless at your sides. Your body was stilled by the cosmic depths of his affection, hoping your silent lips alone would be enough.

Gar leaned down and swept your mouth into a kiss. His thumb on your chin rubbed sweet circles on your skin as his lips smoothed into yours. Your tongue reached out to eagerly dive into the cavern of his mouth. Soon his touch was gone from your face as your hands woke up to find him, to reach out for the perfection of his body.

You eagerly sought out to touch his arms, his back, his ass, anything you could reach. He used his hand to hoist your knee gently over his thigh, opening you up to him. Then he poised his cock perfectly at your hot, leaking entrance.

“You sure about this?” He breathed across your cheek, pulling away from the kiss to ensure your consent one last time.

You nodded with the most frantic posture you could muster, impatient breaths spilling from your nostrils and pouring across his clammy skin.

Satisfied with this, he rolled his hips forward. Finally, after weeks - no, years - of waiting in quiet agitation for him, you became complete.

Even with his massive size, his cock slid easily inside you.

Your pussy was readied by the many orgasms he gave you, your muscles relaxed and naturally slicked up for him. He fit perfectly like he belonged there, your hot inner walls pulling him in. Your hot cunt clung to his cock in a way that made him groan deeply into your neck. The feeling made his buttocks tense as he pulled together his last ounces of self control to not lose it - to not pound into you like a careless sex doll. You were perfect, and you deserved to be treated perfectly.

“Fuck, you feel so good around my cock.”

He groaned, leaning down on his elbows. He trapped you completely in his warmth, pressing his body firmly into yours from chest to chest to where he was smothered deep inside you.

“You’re so fucking perfect. Fuck, Y/N.”

You dug your nails into the muscles of his back - hearing your name on his lips with such a gravelly desire making your pussy squeeze around him. After a few restrained moments, he finally pulled his hips back and began to move. It started off as a slow, deliberate grind, a slow drag of his hips into yours, but it quickly became unhinged. Not that you minded one bit. You wanted to tempt that animal inside him - you wanted to see his rougher side.

The sloppy sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room as he hammered his hips into yours. The sounds almost completely drowning out the quiet wave of your pathetic whimpers and his possessive growls. He tried to trap the sounds in the skin of your neck, while gnawing mindlessly at your skin, sure to leave some kind of mark on you.

He was impossibly heavy and hot inside you, hitting all the best spots. His cock drove more electricity into your nerve endings and absolutely milked you for everything you could give. His knees pinned open your thighs where they jolted and jumped, your body so overstimulated from your previous orgasms that they wanted to clamp shut on his hips to keep him from moving. Your unconscious wanted to pin him down and hold him there - wanted to hold him inside you so that you could feel so impossibly full forever.

And then, just as you felt another orgasm coming to form like a screeching fire in your belly, he dared to raise his head from your neck, dared to look into your eyes.

Before you knew it, you were tumbling once again through the thick curtain of reality and into his mind. You were pulled against your will into another one of his fantasies.

In the fantasy, you were on your back, still, completely naked. You were slicked with a sheen of sweat with his thick, pulsing cock deep inside you. But this was slightly different. The material under your back was most certainly a mattress - plush, more giving than the stiffness of the padded floor of the training room. It had an almost too soft layer of silk sheets covering it that your skin stuck to unpleasantly with the sweat.

Your hands were poised on Gar’s chest, your nails digging into the skin there, leaving light marks. One of the things that stood out most to you about this picture was not the fact that Gar was having a fantasy about fucking you, but the ring on your finger. Seeing as this was his mind, he was the one who had put it there. Quite clearly a wedding ring or an engagement ring. It was beautifully ornate, poised on the correct finger for marriage. It held a bright green stone in the middle - green like a certain someone special to you.

“Fuck, I love you so much.”

Dream Gar moaned as he pounded into you, his hips taking on a sloppy rhythm as his orgasm drew near.

“My beautiful wife. Mine. Finally fucking mine. You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?”

‘I’m yours.’

You found yourself mouthing the words without even realizing it, whipped out of the fantasy world so harshly once again. A very small part of your mind wondered if it had been a small slice of the future that you had seen or if it was simply a conjuring from Gar’s imagination.

You didn’t have the time to think or care, because your body went into overdrive. The Real Gar’s forehead was now resting on your tits. His hands created a tight grip on your hips as he pounded into you harder, harsher, deep grunts spewing from his lips each time his cock settled back inside you.

“Please cum for me, Y/N.” His words came out as a whining beg, something so wonderfully small from the man splitting you open on his cock.

He kissed between your breasts, his thumb coming to rub harsh circles on your clit, sending jolts right through you.

“Cum on my cock. Please.”

With the vision still hot on your mind and his words searing through you, the orgasm tore you up like a rabid animal. It was like nothing else you had ever felt in your life - like your entire body was on fire, being entirely consumed by Gar, by his touch, by his love for you. Finally being owned by him, finally having the one thing you wanted, needed most. Finally having him, full and whole.

You screamed so loudly it hurt your throat, something you knew you’d be feeling for days afterward. Your whole body shook around him while your eyes screwed shut, your head tilting backwards as the pleasure was exorcized from you.

You felt a hot dampness under your fingertips that you recognized as blood. In the back of your mind, you realized that you had gripped him hard enough for your nails to cut him - but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, it only spurred him on more, if the deep, ferocious grunts pouring from his lips were any indication. He was absolutely wild as he chased his own orgasm, breath fanning out in hot grunts against your breasts as he bucked wildly into your spent, tired hips, making your muscles twitch with bitter overstimulation.

“Fuck! Y/N!” He cried out as he came, finally spilling his thick, hot cum inside you.

You let out a small moan at the feeling. It became even hotter when you felt his cum pooling around the base of his cock, where you were connected, and leaking down between your cheeks. He lingered inside you for a few moments, petting his hands up and down your sides while your hands laid numbly on his back. He pecked small, delicate kisses across your clavicle that were almost an irony to the whole interaction. It made you smile.

You were quickly falling tired from the massive aerobic exercise and post-orgasm haze, disappointed by the fact that you had to get up and make your way back to bed. You hoped Gar would let you sleep in his. It came as a bitter shock when he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and cold as he moved away from you so suddenly. When you blinked, he was standing, bending over with his back to you as he picked up his pants and righted the legs so he could put them back on.

What he did next came as even worse of a shock to you.

“I - uh… I understand if you don’t want this to affect our friendship.” He said, just loud enough for you to hear him. His tone was flat, completely void of emotion.

“I totally get being horny and just… needing someone. We’ve been locked up here for weeks, and like. Like you said, Jason’s a clown.” He let out a laugh, but it was hollow and tired. He clearly didn’t even think his own words were funny.

The words were so strange in those moments they took far too long to process through your sex-hazy brain.

Was he really insinuating that you might go to Jason for sex? Was he trying to… let you down easy? Was he saying that he only wanted to be friends? Friends with benefits?

Was he seriously saying that he didn’t love you?

Your head was spinning with questions as you propped yourself up on your elbows, your whole body stiff as those beautiful, orgasmic chemicals faded away. It left you tired, shocked, and… feeling used. Your eyes scanned over Gar’s back as he tied up the drawstring of his pants. You focused on the dark red, deep, partially bleeding marks you had left. You had marked him, whether he liked it or not. You had some claim to him. You should.

“I’m gonna stay for a while and finish my workout.” He told you quietly. “Do you need help getting back to bed?”

When he came over and offered you a hand, you brushed it away. For the first time ever, you felt cold and unaccepting of his touch. You felt angry with him. How dare he invite you into his mind, show you how much he cared about you - how dare he fuck you with so much love and passion and then try to brush it all off as if it were nothing?

‘I’m fine.’ You told him, hoping your coldness could come across in tired, limp handed signing.

You forced yourself up on quivering knees and then onto your feet. You gathered your clothes where they had been carelessly tossed and shoved them back onto your used, dirty body. You would have preferred a shower first, but you preferred the precaution of drapery in case you did run into anyone on your way to the bathroom.

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

These were Gar’s last words to you before you stormed out of the training room, going to the bathroom to ruminate on the whole experience by boiling yourself in hot, steaming water.

…

You thought about it for a long time while you were in the shower.

Just stood there, under the hot spray and let your mind concentrate on the things Gar had said. He had fucked the living daylights out of you, ate your pussy like it was his fucking job. He was apparently having daydreams about doing so while calling you his fucking wife, and then once it was all said and done - he backed down from it. He told you that he ‘understood’ if you only wanted to be friends.

He was afraid.

It was like everything else in his life. He could transform into a fucking tiger, but he was afraid to bite people. He didn’t want to use the fantastic power that had been given to him. For years, he hid away with Doctor Caulder, a man who emotionally abused him and manipulated him. He had been too afraid to stand up for himself, too afraid to leave the house and chase the things he really wanted.

And with you. He was clearly terrified you were going to reject him. He wanted a life with you, he wanted to worship you. He wanted you and your heart, he wanted your everything. But he was too afraid to voice it. He was too afraid he’d look like an idiot if you didn’t feel the same way.

That’s probably why he had unconsciously reached out to you, unconsciously broadcasted his fantasies to you whenever you were near. And you’d thought it was your stupid powers acting up.

Just like with kissing him to initiate that amazing sex - you were going to have to shake off your fear of rejection so that the two of you could be together already.

…

You woke up the next morning with a pounding migraine.

Even with the preventative medications Doctor Caulder had prescribed to you to help with your seizures and migraines, the tumor that still lived inside your brain did get to torture you occasionally. When you lifted your head from your pillow and saw the gray, gloomy sky looming over San Francisco, the raindrops racing down your window, it didn’t take you long to figure out the cause of your pain. You groaned, falling face first back into your pillow, not wanting to get up.

The ever present pain from coming from your head was topped off by soreness that had spread through your whole body - undeniable evidence that what happened between you and Gar last night wasn’t just another dream. Dreams don’t have consequences. Especially considering that your pussy was aching hard, still sore from having his impressive length splitting you open. On top of it all, your throat was stinging with an almost flu-like ache from having screamed so much through your surgery damaged vocal chords.

You really hoped Dick would let you have one day off from training. You probably could have gotten through it with just your body being sore. But the migraine was already ravaging you, already turning your stomach sour with systematic nausea.

You heard a knock on your door and sighed quietly.

You had just barely hoisted yourself into a sitting position by the time the person entered. Squinting through your tired eyes, you were able to makeout a flash of green and immediately knew that it was Gar.

“Hey, you don’t look so good. You feelin’ alright?” He knew the look that always settled upon your face when you were overtaken with such intense pain. He hardly needed to ask. “Where’s the bottle?”

You motioned toward the drawer that held the item he spoke of - your hot water bottle, which you used to help ease the bitter pain of a migraine. He opened and closed a few drawers before he found it. Your eyes gently closed against the harsh light pouring in from the hallway, too sensitive to the light to actually look at him.

“It’s okay, lay down.” He told you, his voice a comforting lull past the aching thrum in your forehead. He patted your thigh gently through your blanket, and you eased back onto the bed, throwing a forearm over your eyes to block the light. “I got it.”

He went to the kitchen and filled the rubber bladder with boiling water, returning quickly with it and a glass of water. You took the now very hot water bottle. You gave him a small moan of gratitude as you placed it down on your pillow and pressed your forehead into it.

In a practiced routine that only spoke to how much he loved you, he closed the bedroom door, blocking out the harsh light of the hallway. And then he walked around the bed to close the curtains, blocking out any potential light from the outside. He placed the glass of water down on your nightstand with a harsh clink that only radiated through your skull so painfully because of the migraine. Then you heard him open the nightstand drawer, digging around for your medication.

You trusted that he knew which ones you needed right now. You trusted that he didn’t need your advice on how to take care of you. It was something he knew well after so long.

You felt his fingers brushing your open palm, then felt the round tablets of your medication left there as he pulled away.

“Sit up and take these.” He said quietly, voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid to hurt you with a single decibel.

He used a gentle grip on your forearm to hoist you into a sitting position, and you swallowed the medication dutifully with the water he’d brought.

“I’ll tell Dick you need to sit out of training today.” He explained quietly. “You need anything else?”

‘One thing.’ You signed to him, your hands weak and tired.

Though your pain was disruptive, and you were glad Gar was not acting any different after what had happened last night, you couldn’t wait any longer before doing this.

Before he could question what that thing was, you leaned in. Your lips easily found his in the darkness and you planted a smooth, gentle kiss on his mouth.

‘Don’t wanna just be friends.’ You signed, opening your tired, painful eyes to see his reaction to your words. ‘I love you. I have loved you for a long time now.’

A broad smile came across his face, his expression of pure joy practically glowing in the darkness.

“Yeah. Awesome. That sounds amazing. I love you too.” His voice was slightly louder now, his joy overriding his caution for your hypersensitive, pained ears.

He felt absolutely giddy - this was what he had been waiting for, dreaming of for so long. He wanted to climb in bed with you and lay by your side for the rest of the day. But he knew that he needed to attend to other things, and more importantly - you needed your rest.

“Get some rest now, okay?”

He tucked you into bed, made sure the covers were up over your body, full and warm with the hot water bottle under your head before he left the room once again.

It wasn’t long before you heard voices coming from down the hall.

“Where’s Y/N? We’re doing balance drills in ten minutes.” Dick’s gruff voice echoed down the hall, very obviously directed at Gar, who he’d sent to wake you up.

“She needs the day off. She’s got a wicked migraine and she needs rest when it gets like this,” Gar told him simply, hoping Dick would respect him at his word.

“We don’t get days off, Gar.” Dick pressed. “All of us have to train through pain, or injury. Do you really think some psychotic asshole is gonna care if you have a little headache while they’re trying to kill you? Do you think they’re just gonna come back another day? Do you think they’re gonna stop shooting at you if you have to stop and bandage your boo boo?”

His words cut through you, causing a sallow pain to rise up in your chest. It was something you’d been hearing since your childhood - since your treatments and hospital stays had caused you to miss too many days off and your teachers quickly stopped taking pity on you. You had always been told to just work through your pain, that the world won’t stop for you. You considered getting up and just going to training. You wanted to tough it out just to show Dick that you could, that you could puke into a garbage can and keep going, that you could boot and rally.

You heard footsteps coming down the hall, and in your pain heightened sensitivity, you heard the metal of the doorknob shift as someone put their hand around it. The sound of Dick coming to get you out of bed anyway.

He didn’t get the chance, though.

“Leave it, Grayson.” Gar’s voice growled - a harsh, sharp sound that you had rarely ever heard from him before. “You don’t understand what she’s going through, and I won’t have you pushing her until she pukes on the floor just to satisfy your ego. She already trains harder than you ask and you know she could probably kick your ass,”

You heard a harsh sigh, a deep breath through nostrils - Dick’s surrender. His footsteps disappeared down the hall, and Gar’s followed shortly after.

Your heart bloomed with affection, awed by the blanket of protection he had put around you.

You really were his. You always have been.

...

When Gar was getting dressed after his shower later that day - he came across a small box in his underwear drawer. It was the ring that Rita had given him before he left Caulder House, a very expensive looking vintage piece from her days on set. Gar tried to insist that he couldn’t take something so nice, so sentimental from her. But she had closed it tight into his palm with the promise that it would be yours someday - that he would use the polished emerald ring to propose to you.

Of course, she saw that big, beautiful, dangerous thing brewing between the two of you from a mile away. Gar considered marching down the hall and giving it to you right then there. But he tucked the box back into his drawer. In honor of Rita’s vision - he would make it old Hollywood, romantic.

He had plenty of time.

THE END.

...

Final note: yes, I used to be @/pinkchubbiebunnie.That is still my username on AO3, and this is my new blog. This is one of my old fics, so please don’t accuse me of stealing it if you see this. I have added some new scenes and elements to it (hence, why I have split it up into two parts) so if you recognize me by this fic and if you’ve read it before, I hope you enjoy re-reading it in its newly improved form. Feel free to follow me if you’re interested in my fanfiction and thoughtful discussions of the media that I enjoy.

#sundrop writes #gar logan x reader #gar logan #garfield logan x reader #garfield logan #titans #dc titans #dc titans x you #dc titans fanfiction #dc titans x reader #titans fanfiction #titans x reader

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sundrop-writes · 5 months

Text

Dreaming Of You

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader

Part Two: Our Past, Our Present, Our Future

Summary:

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut, (Slight) Angst and Fluff. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 18,000

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

A/N: I still think this is one of the most iconic things that I have ever written lmao. I love it so much and I'm so proud of it. Anyway, enjoy the repost.