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melagnes · 3 days

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Heat in the Kitchen

Synopsis: After struggling to find a new apartment, you move in with Melissa. An intimate moment unfolds while cooking together when Melissa gently wipes sauce off your nose. Who knows what will happen next; after all, you were only roommates…

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

“Ughhh,” you sighed as you made your way into the breakroom for lunch. The weariness in your voice caught the attention of your colleagues, who turned their heads to look at you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Are you doing alright?” Barb asked, worry etched across her face. She set down her coffee mug, her focus entirely on you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, though your tone suggested otherwise. You dropped into your usual seat with a heavy thud, next to Melissa, who was in the middle of consuming her salad. “It just sucks. My lease is up in my current apartment, and I’m scrambling to find a new place. It feels like there is nowhere to live right now. Every place I’ve looked at is either too expensive or already taken.”

Barb’s expression softened, sympathy evident in her eyes. “Oh dear, that sounds really stressful. I’m sure you’ll find somewhere soon,” she said encouragingly, though the uncertainty in her voice was palpable.

“Thanks, Barb,” you said, offering a small smile as you took a bite of your sandwich. An awkward silence settled over the room, with the other teachers unsure how to ease your concerns.

Melissa had been quiet, her fork suspended mid-air as she studied your face. You felt her eyes on you and turned to meet her gaze. “What, Mel?” you asked, curiosity piqued by her intense focus.

“Stay with me,” Melissa blurted out, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of nervousness. “I’ve got a spare room you can rent. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s available, and I’d love to help you out.”

You stared at her, shock and gratitude mingling on your face. “Really? You would do that for me?”

“Yeah, hun,” Melissa said with a warm smile, her eyes softening. “That’s why I’m offering. You’ve been a great friend, and I’d hate to see you struggling.”

“Thank you so much, Mel,” you said, your voice filled with relief and excitement, even as you winced inside at her use of the word “friend” because you wished you were more.

“When can I move in?”

“How’s tomorrow sound?” she replied, her smile widening.

“Tomorrow works perfectly! This is such a huge help, you have no idea,” you exclaimed, leaning over to give her a quick, heartfelt hug. “Thank you, Mel!”

As you stood up to head back to your classroom, you felt a lightness that hadn’t been there before. Melissa watched you leave, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. Barb, observing the exchange, couldn’t help but notice the tender look in Melissa’s eyes. She smiled to herself, hoping that living together might finally nudge both of you to acknowledge the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface.

You walked down the hallway with a renewed energy, the dread of your housing situation lifting. Thoughts of packing and moving swirled in your mind, but underneath it all was a burgeoning hope that maybe, just maybe, this living arrangement would bring about more than just a place to stay.

The days leading up to your move were a whirlwind of activity. Packing boxes, organizing your belongings, and saying goodbye to your old apartment kept you busy and distracted from the nerves forming inside. You couldn’t help but wonder how living with Melissa would change things. Would it bring you closer together or drive a wedge between you? There was only one way to find out.

Finally, the moving day arrived. You loaded the last of your boxes into the car and took a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition. The drive to Melissa’s house felt unusually long, perhaps due to a mix of anxiety and the promise of something new. But as you pulled up to her house, a wave of calm washed over you.

With a determined breath, you knocked on the door. It swung open slowly to reveal Melissa, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “Um, hey… Welcome, I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of shyness.

“Thanks, Mel. I’m so grateful for you letting me stay here. Honestly,” you replied, feeling a surge of gratitude and relief.

As you stepped through the doorway, you couldn’t help but admire your new home. Melissa had a knack for creating a cozy and inviting space. “Mel, you have such a nice house,” you said, genuinely impressed.

“Thank you. I hope you settle in nicely. I’ll let you unpack your things, and I’ll make some dinner. How does that sound?” Melissa asked, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“That sounds amazing, thank you,” you replied with a smile.

You began to carry your boxes into the house, each step making the reality of your new living arrangement sink in. The house was a perfect reflection of Melissa—beautiful, warm, and welcoming. As you hefted a particularly heavy box, you caught Melissa glancing your way. Her eyes lingered for a moment, and you couldn’t help but notice her blush deepen. Your tank top was doing you justice.

After you finished unpacking, you made your way to the kitchen, where the tantalizing aroma of Italian cooking filled the air. Melissa turned around, a shy smile gracing her lips as she presented a steaming dish to you.

“I made lasagna,” she said, her voice tinged with excitement as she gestured toward the table,

You both took a seat at the table, your mouth watering as you eagerly dug into the rich, savory layers. Each bite was a testament to Melissa's culinary skills, and you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for her effort and thoughtfulness.

“Mmmm, this is so good. You are seriously the best cook I know,” you complimented her between bites of the delicious meal she had prepared.

“Don’t inflate my ego, amore,” Melissa replied, her cheeks flushing for the third time that evening. The term of endearment slipped out so naturally that it made your heart skip a beat.

“You should teach me how to cook one of your dishes next time. I love to cook, I just don’t cook Italian that much,” you said, eager to share one of her passions.

“Oh, I definitely will, hun,” Melissa said, her smile widening.

As the evening drew to a close, the two of you settled into a comfortable routine. The initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a sense of effortless companionship; living with Melissa was surprisingly easy.

Over the following weeks, your relationship with Melissa deepened. You found joy in the little things—sharing breakfast, chatting about your day, and laughing over silly jokes. Melissa’s presence was a constant source of comfort and happiness.

One evening, Melissa finally decided to teach you how to make one of her favorite Italian dishes: homemade gnocchi with tomato and basil sauce. The kitchen was filled with the fragrant aroma of fresh herbs, garlic, and simmering tomatoes, creating an inviting atmosphere that made the house feel even more like home.

“Alright, let's get started,” Melissa said as she showed you how to knead the potato dough and roll it into small, delicate pieces. She then guided you through shaping the gnocchi with a fork. “These little ridges help hold the sauce better,” she explained, deftly demonstrating the technique with her fingers.

Melissa was hypnotizing as she cooked, and you just couldn’t get enough. Her presence was soothing yet electrifying, a combination that made your heart race.

“Now, for the sauce,” Melissa said, handing you a wooden spoon and positioning you in front of the simmering pot. “It’s all about balance. We need to let the tomatoes, garlic, and basil meld together perfectly.”

You carefully added the ingredients to the pot, the vibrant colors and rich scents mixing beautifully. As you stirred, you became deeply focused, trying to get the consistency just right. So focused, in fact, that you jumped when you felt Melissa’s hands on your arm.

“You got a little somethin’ here,” Melissa muttered as she cupped your cheek.

You froze, taken aback by the sudden intimacy of the moment.

Melissa’s thumb slowly brushed the sauce from your nose, and you watched, entranced, as she brought her thumb to her lips and sucked the sauce off.

“T-Thanks, Mel,” you stuttered, feeling your heart pound in your chest. You both began to lean in closer, the space between you shrinking as an unspoken connection pulsed in the air.

Just then, the sound of pasta boiling over broke the spell. Melissa quickly moved to turn off the stove, muttering, “Damn pasta,” under her breath. You both laughed, the moment diffused but not forgotten.

The meal was a success, the gnocchi were soft and pillowy, perfectly coated in the rich, flavorful sauce. As you both sat down to eat, the atmosphere was charged with unspoken feelings. Each bite seemed to carry the weight of what had almost happened, you almost kissed Melissa, and Melissa almost kissed you.

“That was incredible, Mel,” you said, savoring the last bite. “You’re an amazing teacher.”

“Well, you make a pretty good student,” she replied, winking at you. “Maybe next time, we’ll get through a recipe without any sauce on your nose.”

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you at her teasing. “I’d like that. Maybe you can teach me to make your tiramisu next?”

“Oh, I see you’re aiming high,” she teased, leaning back in her chair. “I suppose I can share my secret recipe. But only if you promise not to get distracted.”

“Deal,” you said, grinning, though you knew it would be impossible not to get distracted by her captivating face—her full lips that frequently curled into a playful smirk, her vibrant green eyes that seemed to see right through you, and the way her fiery red hair framed her features so perfectly.

That cooking session was not the last of Melissa’s teasing. As the weeks went by, these cooking sessions became a cherished routine. Each of Melissa’s flirtatious comments made your bond stronger, while simultaneously driving you crazy.

“Hey, chef,” she called one evening as you were chopping vegetables. “Try not to chop your fingers off. I kind of like them the way they are.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you shot back with a smile. “I’ll try to keep them intact.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes glinting with humor. “They’re quite useful, you know. Especially for stirring sauce. Or… other things.”

You choked, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at her suggestive tone. Melissa laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction, “What’s wrong Mia? Cat got your tongue?” she teased, using the affectionate Italian pet name that made your heart flutter every time you heard it.

Days turned into weeks, and the playful banter between you two only grew. The chemistry was undeniable, a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer with each passing day. You found yourselves sharing more than just meals and chores; you shared stories, dreams, and secrets. The connection between you deepened, and with it came a growing awareness of the feelings you both harbored but had yet to fully acknowledge.

One evening, you settled onto the couch to watch a movie. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV casting a cozy ambiance. As the movie played, you found your attention drifting away from the screen and towards Melissa. She was sitting close, her presence warm and comforting.

As the movie “The Parent Trap” played, you found yourself completely engrossed in the plot—totally not distracted by the redhead who looked strikingly like Melissa.

“Ha, she kind of looks like you Mel,” you chuckled as you glanced between the TV and Melissa sitting next to you.

“Huh, really?” Melissa inquired.

“Yeah, she’s sexy,” You glanced at Melissa with a smirk on your face.

Melissa rolled her eyes, “You're cute.” She playfully leaned in to kiss your cheek.

Just as her lips brushed against your skin, you turned to ask her a question. In that fleeting moment, your lips met in a soft, unexpected kiss.

Shock pulsed through you, momentarily freezing you in place. Your mind raced, trying to comprehend the suddenness of the situation. It was as if time slowed down, and all you could feel was the warmth of her lips against yours, the softness of the connection sending a jolt through your entire being.

For Melissa, there's a moment of surprise, her eyes widening slightly as she registers the unexpected contact. But then, almost instinctively, she responds in kind, her lips meeting yours in a gentle and tentative exploration.

The world seemed to fade away, the softness of her lips against yours sending a warm shiver down your spine.

Time stood still as the kiss deepened, your bodies pressed together heatedly against the couch. Your fingers tangled in her hair, while her hands grasped firmly at your waist. At that moment, all you could feel was her: the scent of vanilla filling your senses, the image of her fiery hair and green eyes etched into your mind. And for her, all there was was you: the aroma of lavender lingering in the air, the image of your raven-black hair and brown eyes imprinted in her thoughts.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, your foreheads touched, and you whispered, “Did not expect that,” you whispered breathlessly when you finally pulled back, your foreheads touching. Your heart was pounding, and you could see the same intensity reflected in Melissa’s eyes.

“Well, I’ve wanted to do that for so long. Living with you has driven me crazy,” Melissa admitted, her eyes sparkling with honesty and desire. She cupped your face with her hands, her thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “Every time we’ve cooked together, every joke, every look… I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

Hearing her words, your heart swelled with emotions that you had been trying to keep at bay. “I feel the same way, Mel. I’ve been trying to hide it, but living with you has made it impossible to ignore how much I care about you.”

Melissa’s smile was radiant, her eyes shining with happiness. “So, what do we do now?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with anticipation.

“Maybe we start by acknowledging what’s been happening between us,” you suggested, your hand finding hers and intertwining your fingers. “We’ve been more than just friends for a while now. Let’s see where this goes, without holding back.”

“I like the sound of that,” Melissa said, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with the certainty of mutual understanding and shared feelings. The kiss was tender, filled with the promise of a new beginning.

With their relationship now blossoming into something deeper, the dynamic between you and Melissa shifted. There was a newfound intimacy in your interactions, a sense of ease and comfort that only comes with true emotional connection. You found yourselves more attuned to each other's needs, and more open in sharing your thoughts and feelings.

One evening, as you were cooking together, Melissa stood behind you, her arms wrapping around your waist. “Remember what I said about your hands being useful for other things?” she murmured in your ear, her voice sending shivers down your spine.

You chuckled, turning your head to kiss her cheek. “Oh, I remember. And I’m looking forward to discovering all the other things they can do.”

Melissa laughed softly, her breath warm against your skin. “I’m glad you’re here, Bella. Every day with you feels like a gift.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Mel,” you replied, turning in her embrace to face her. “Here’s to many more days of cooking, and… whatever else we can come up with.”

You kissed her again, the taste of possibility on your lips. The future was bright, filled with the promise of love that had finally found its way into the open, ready to grow and flourish in the warmth of your shared home.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x y/n #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti fanfic #fanfic

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snaileer · 10 hours

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Call to My Bedside - Part 2

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/snaileer/733019972168761344/call-to-my-bedside

Danyal wakes the next time with a weight to his limbs. From the moment he opens his eyes, he realizes he is not where he is supposed to be.

This is a medical bay, but it is not in the league, the constant twittering of League doctors monitoring his health is suspiciously gone. No shadows on guard outside the door.

The most glaring thing though, there was no Lazarus Water in his veins.

Perhaps Ra’s had decided he was no longer worth the expense, had decided-

No.

It was something else. That wasn’t an option he would consider.

Danyal tested the feeling of thin metal on his right wrist. Handcuffs, not shackles. It was odd.

But again, this wasn’t the league.

But he’d need to go back before Ra’s became angry. Danyal couldn’t fail.

He glances to the door as it opens, an old man-the one from before- and a younger, slender man standing just behind him.

Danyal stays still, his breathing even, forcing his heart to stay at a constant, stable rate. He watches them, analyzing.

The old man blinks, “It’s good to see you’re awake, young sir-,” He steps into the room, left foot a second slower, old weakness?- English accent, in Europe? the man behind him follows- stiff posture, rib injury, core focused strength, gymnast, combat trained and familiar- Richard Dick Grayson, Nightwing, he’s in America, Batman- “You gave us quite the shock earlier, myself especially.”

Nightwing watched Danyal warily, he saw him as a threat, and by the angle of his feet, a threat to the older man. He remembers now, he’d attacked him before, Nightwing was here to prevent it again.

They are heroes.

He was a part of the League of the Assassins.

He doesn’t fit here, could never.

Danyal considers the merits of speaking English, he wants to, deeply, and perhaps it would even benefit the situation; but his chest clogs with fear before he can even compose a sentence. It’s been too long anyways, the League dialect is easier.

“How long have I been here?” Danyal says, still not moving enough to even jostle the cuff at his wrist.

Nightwing sighs deeply, “We rescued you and Damian from a League of Assassins boat yesterday.” The words of the language are stilted, either by unfamiliarity or awkwardness, and who’s Damian? There’s a pause, “Do you know who I am?” Nightwing asks, caution in the words.

Danyal takes a deep breath, finally sitting up, despite the rattling of the chain on the cuff, “You are Nightwing, Dick Grayson, correct?”

Nightwing nods, his eyes briefly flitting to the elder man, “And you?”

Danyal’s eyes narrow, trying to find the trap, “I am Danyal Al Ghul, Heir of the Demon’s head, Blood of the Batman.”

Danyal watches the eyebrow of the old man tick up in his peripheral.

Nightwing pinches the bridge of his nose, “God I can’t believe Talia did it again,” He murmurs under his breath. In English. And Danyal would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to hear the language again, even just a little.

“Perhaps it would be best to bring Master Bruce back from his meeting,” the old man says pointedly. Danyal ignores as he changes and resets the IV attached to him, familiar with the autonomous care. With or without his consent.

“I’ve already notified him, he should be here soon.”

“Very good. In the meantime,” he turns to Danyal, “I am Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler. It seems I did not get the chance to introduce myself the last time you were awake.”

Danyal can’t help but blink at the almost joking tone Alfred says it with, knowing that Danyal had been the one to knock him out. It makes his lip twitch, and he silently huffs, surprising himself with the action.

The amusement vanishes as the door opens once more, footsteps barely audible in the second before.

The man standing there is large, tall and broad shouldered, strong- dangerous, calloused hands from training- his eyes stay glued to Danyal, blue and steady amidst the square jaw and sharp features, black hair tussled like he’d been rushing, just like Dad always-

Danyal feels his jaw wire shut, back straightening.

The thin chain of the handcuff jingles in the sudden silence.

This he remembers. This is Batman. The Dark Night of Gotham. The Detective.

The source of every expectation Ra’s Al Ghul has ever placed on Danyal.

He feels his face try to screw into a sneer, because he hates him and everything he’s done that has ever affected Danyal, but his face remains still. Controlled. Because there’s nothing he can do about it anyways.

Batman had introduced himself before.

As another name. A civilian. His training forces him to remember it.

Bruce Wayne.

It means next to nothing to him. But the man doesn’t stop looking.

It’s Dick that speaks next, “Danyal, this is Batman, Bruce Wayne, your father.” The smile is at odds with the weary tone of the words, “He was there when we saved you and Damian a few.. yesterday. God that feels like longer.”

Saved? The sentiment makes him want to scoff. He doesn’t, because Batman’s eyes already narrow with Nightwing’s words, and Danyal doesn’t need to make it worse.

A thousand more questions rush through his head. Each one bitten back with practiced force.

Instead he dips his head briefly, aiming for a show of respect, whatever that might mean here. However little he means it. Danyal can adjust regardless.

“Hn.”

Danyal lifts his head. That was the only response?

They uproot him entirely, chain him, throw him into unfamiliar waters where everything-everyone- is in new danger and all he does is grunt?

Danyal bites his tongue hard, letting his head lift, carefully non-defiant. He’s not quite sure his eyes get the message because he can feel the glare from them.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred pipes in, tone sharp.

Batman sighs, but the set of his shoulders changes, no longer so heavily lined with suspicion.

“What do you know about why Damian was-" There’s an even sharper cough from Alfred. Another sigh, “Fine. What has Talia already told you about me?”

Danyal glances between them, purposefully keeping his eyes from jumping down to the metal around his wrists.

No one else speaks.

“I know that you are Batman, the Dark Night of Gotham. You are also the detective, great enough to impress the Demon’s Head, Ra’s Al Ghul. The Demon’s daughter informed me you were dead.”

There’s a slight twitch on Batman’s face. “I survived Darkseid’s attack, although it led to me being lost in time and assumed dead for nearly a year,” Batman’s eyes flick across the room, almost considering, “Red Robin was responsible for my return just over a year ago.”

Red Robin. Timothy Drake. The one Ra’s favored. The second source of expectations placed on Danyal.

And he was lost in time? What did that consist of, what did it mean for Batman? Did it matter if it didn’t affect Danyal?

“I see.” He says. Silence lingers. They still expect him to speak. He hedges his bets, asking something he actually cares about, “Why am I here, Batman?”

The question seems to be expected and yet still strike with surprise.

“I… regrettably, did not know you were… present at the league. I do not believe in their methods and would not have left you there had I known.”

And that makes it all okay. Danyal wants to scream. But he narrows his eyes instead, only more suspicious, “And why were you there then?”

“We followed the shadows that had taken Damian. He told us who you were.”

Danyal pauses, leaning back slightly. They were willing to answer his questions, to actually talk with him. Of course they were, they were meant to be heroes.

But it had been so long since he’d actually talked with anyone other than Ra’s, and their conversations were a battleground of expectations and tests.

He fights with his conscious knowledge of this and the habits that have been beaten into him so thoroughly.

“Who is… Damian?” He asks, watching their reactions for the answer.

All three seem surprised by the question. But not angry. Of course not, he reminds himself.

“You’ve mentioned him several times like I am supposed to know who he is.” He had barely been told anything since his forceful return, and any knowledge he had from before stopped at Dick Grayson. And then Timothy Drake.

Danyal had purposefully ignored the hero world he had lived in-

He forces his eyes up to meet Batman’s, noting the hesitance in the set of his shoulders.

“Damian is… your brother. He was.. Talia’s son, before he came to me just a few years ago. He was raised in the league.”

Danyal blinks, anger disbelieving in his chest. Is that what she did?

“When.”

There’s no response, save a twitch of Batman’s eyebrow.

“When,” Danyal says again, his breathing controlled, “Did he come to you? How old was he? How long ago?”

They seem to pick up on the way Danyal’s tone has changed. Good for them.

“Nearly three years ago. He was ten.” Batman answers, voice rough. Tinged with curiosity and unfulfilled questions.

Danyal breathes deeply, his heart rate picking up against his wishes. Icy rage flares.

The beeping of the machine at his side matches the pounding in his chest, uneven, unbalanced, uncontrolled.

Keep it under control. Keep it. Under. Control.

Control is power. Control is strength. Control is the only thing that will ever be enough.

He breathes deeper. Holding his breath. Once. Twice.

The beeping is steadier with each tone.

“Danyal?” An old voice asks beside him. It’s Alfred. The butler.

Danyal shifts his jaw from its clench, “I am fine.” His eyes slide back into focus, still on Batman, “Damian is your son then.”

Batman nods solemnly, a heavier sigh through his chest, “Talia and I have had an… interesting relationship. But I loved her. Once. She has never failed to make me regret it.”

That was why she had visited him. Her words. What she had almost said. Talia had wished he was Damian, wished he was Bruce. Just not Danyal of course. The weapon she discarded for a better version. One she could love.

One who would be heir.

Batman continues, “Talia is Damian’s mother, told him he would be my heir, as I’m sure you were but-” Batman stops, looking at Danyal as confusion flicks across his face, “You weren’t.”

“I was never told I would be heir of the Batman, only of the Demon’s head.” This, at least, Danyal is familiar with, “That’s the only reason they needed me: to be their weapon made from the Demon Head’s enemy.” Danyal breathes, “A weapon does not have parents, and I have never been more than a weapon to them, crafted for the league’s purpose. For Ra’s.”

Ra’s is the reason Danyal is alive at all. Is the only reason he has survived the league, but he is also the reason Danyal had to, no- has to survive.

Danyal drops his eyes, tired, so so tired, like he always is. Unerringly, his eyes find the shine of the metal around his wrist. Arm held carefully still to keep from jostling it, even as his other hand has found its way to his lap.

“You can’t really believe that,” Dick says, disbelief in his own voice, unsurety in the frame of an unfamiliar language.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”

And it doesn’t. It only matters what he can do. That’s he’s strong. He just has to be strong enough. Ra’s is the reason Danyal suffers, has always been, and Danyal will never let him escape that.

Silence lasts. Danyal quickly grows tired of it.

Luckily, Batman breaks it, “Why were you exposed to the Lazarus waters?” He asks, voice rigid and flat once more.

Perhaps the casualness is getting to him because Danyal manages to lift one lip in a slight sneer, “The only reason anybody uses the Lazarus Pits.”

The Batman stays silent, clearly talking about the unorthodox method of exposure they had resorted to.

Danyal sighs this time, serious, “My heart is damaged. Electricity. The pits are a short term solution for it. Grandfather had said he found a long term one.” Danyal doubts it matters now. Whatever care his grandfather’d had was fragile, dependent on Danyal’s performance.

The palm of his left hand tingles sharply.

Would this be enough to tip the scale against him? What would he lose for being here? Who would he-

Danyal looks into Batman’s eyes, “Am I to be a prisoner here?”

The man glances over him at the two on the other side, Danyal doesn’t follow it, nor the silent conversation he’s sure is happening.

Instead, Danyal focuses his ears, senses sharpened by training, by the pits, by his accident… and turns his attention to the person hiding in an alcove above them.

Low breathing, higher pitched, the scent of sword polish and hair gel. The person was small and armed.

“You’re not a prisoner… but if you leave.. you’ll be in danger,” Batman says, voice deep, “We can’t let that happen.”

So either be followed or don’t leave. What great options.

Danyal tries not to scowl, not to show any inflection at it, “And do I have to stay here? In your…. Cave?”

“It might be difficult to move- uh.. the medical things-” Nightwing starts, but Danyal cuts him off by swiftly removing the IV tucked in the crook of his elbow.

He presses his thumb against the small well of blood as he looks forward.

Alfred shouts, jolting towards him, “Master Danyal! That is hardly sterile-“

Danyal’s eyes snap to him the moment the title leaves his mouth, heart stilling for a second, commands in his eyes. Alfred falls still.

Danyal lets it fall away the next second, barely two beats missed. The beeping starts again.

“I see.” Alfred straightens, stepping forward slowly to turn off the IV and coil it, removing other monitors, “Another one for the dramatics then.”

Nightwing steps up, hands out placatingly, “There’s..mm really no need, Danyal, uh-” He glances back to Batman, “Of course you can leave the cave-,” the next words are in bright clear English, “I’m sure there’s already a room picked out for you.”

“Right you are Master Dick,” Alfred says, “Young sir, do you need any help moving?” He directs to Danyal.

He wants to rip his hand from the metal cuff. Snap the thin chain to pieces.

Instead he looks to Nightwing, then Batman, “The restraints?” He says, voice as empty of want as he can make it.

The click of the key in the lock echoes in his ear and it’s only through practiced calm that Danyal does not immediately jerk his arm away from it. Instead, he calmly retracts his hand, bracing slightly against the bed as he turns and plants his feet on the floor.

The others have already moved out of his way, watching intently, waiting for him to fall- to fail.

Danyal straightens his legs. He stands. He breathes. He controls his heart. He walks forward.

He does not fall. He doesn’t have the option to fall.

“I can go now.” He says, looking at them. His knuckles are white on the edge of the bed.

Nightwing looks at Batman once more. The man grunts, then turns from the room in a way that he can only imagine would perfectly flare a cape.

Danyal’s feet feel like they’re filling with cement. Nightwing stares at him expectantly. Danyal understands expectations- but these ones, it leaves him helpless and-

“Follow me then, dear boys,” Alfred says, stepping in front smoothly, already moving towards the door, “We can go upstairs, I’ll start on a meal and Master Dick can show you the rooms.”

Nightwing goes next, leaving Danyal to follow not quite behind him, the angle purposeful to keep him in sight.

Nightwing casts a wary glance to him every few minutes, continuing a light chatter with Alfred. Danyal stares forward, taking in the cave from his peripheral - computer, showers, training mats, an unfamiliar shadow watching him, armory, swords, knifes, suits, cars and vehicles lined up on platforms, a t-Rex, giant penny, a glass case- Danyal lets his eyes linger on the shadow, never faltering his steps.

His neck itches at the attention.

He looks forward. Nightwing is looking at him again, snapping forward the moment Danyal’s eyes narrow. Good.

The steps are slightly narrow, dark, but they come out to a warmly lit study. Dark wood, papers, books on shelves, a portrait on the wall, pictures on the desk, three black hair boys, another of only a single with stiff posture, a ballet dancer- they keep walking. The door-clock- closes behind them like the clamping of an artery.

Nightwing and Alfred’s conversation continues in smooth, low-toned English. Danyal blinks, slowly, slower than he needs to, for a breath of a second relishing in the almost familiarity of it all, the dissonance from the last three years alone enough to well emotion in his chest.

His eyes open. He continues after them.

“This is where I’ll leave you, I’ll be up with some food some young sir,” Alfred says abruptly, turning towards a swinging door that reveals a glimpse of a stainless kitchen.

“So…” Nightwing says, swinging his arms a bit at his sides, “uh… I can show you the room you can sleep in, yes?”

Danyal’s shoulders tighten, rising from a subconscious millimeter slouch. He nods stiffly.

His heart remains under control. Always under control.

“So this is the Wayne Mansion, you can go for food any time, uh…” There’s an unsure pause as they start up the stairs, “You can meet the rest of us soon maybe, a correct introduction to Damian…depends on Bruce really… he can be … over …over.”

Nightwing looks at Danyal properly, “I’m usually better at this, most of the bat kids know the League dialect but… I haven’t exactly practiced it.”

Danyal stares at him. He doesn’t want to hear the sound of the League’s twisting words, he wants to leave. He wants to find his family, protect them, get them as far away from Ra’s al Ghul and the league as possible. He wants to go back to Ra’s convince him to let his family go if Danyal stays willingly. Wants a blade strong enough to run the man through and-

“I know you are probably stressed and this is all unfamiliar but … we want you to stay… you won’t be hurt here. This is different than the league, you’re safe.”

Danyal scoffs, not bothering to stop it, he hasn’t been safe since the day he tripped over a wire and died.

Nightwing doesn’t seem surprised by the response.

“This can be your room,” He says, opening a door in the hallway and gesturing a wide arm to Danyal. “The rest of us are just down the hall.”

Danyal steps in, looking around, counting exits, tactical advantages, possible listening devices- He turns around, giving Nightwing a stiff nod, “Thank you for the room.”

Nightwing still stands at his door, “Anything else I can help with for you?” He says.

Danyal considers staying silent, obedient, but he hates hearing the language at every turn, he never wants to hear it again, the words they forced in his mouth, ripping away what was in their place-

“Can you just speak English?” He says, realizing too late how weak it sounds, “You don’t have to use the league tongue, I can-English is.. fine.” Fine. Better. Familiar. A remnant of a family he’s almost certain he’s lost now.

Nightwing barely quirks a brow, eyes flicking over him.

“Can do,” He nods, “Well then… Welcome to Wayne Manor, Danyal.”

And he closes the door behind him.

'It’s just Danny, please.' He wants to whisper to the silence. But he’s grown too used to shadows and it catches in his throat.

He goes and sits on the bed. Staring out of the window. A window he can’t leave from. Where would he go? He doesn’t have anyone, they’re all in danger because of him. He can’t leave.

He’s trapped.

Always trapped.

Bound. Stuck to one place. One thing.

Emotions well in his chest, in the back of his throat, thick and dark and painful. He wants to cry. He can’t. Emotions constrict around his lungs.

And Danyal sits, staring at the wall, wishing he could cry. But the emotions just twist themselves until they’re tight enough, heavy enough to fall down, settle back like a layer of heavy chainmail over his insides.

Danyal turns on the bed, facing the wall.

It’s empty tan-beige. Neutral colors. No personality. Temporary.

This is familiar to him. This he can do.

Danyal stands again, he strips down his tunic, his shin-guards and pants- notes the lack of his typical weapons- methodically placing it on the dresser. Not his dresser, he already has one, painted blue with yellow stars back in-

Danyal gets in the shower, glad to find soap there, contemplating not using it, not wasting the energy. He watches condensation develop on the glass walls, water droplets collecting until they finally rush down the glass.

His finger lifts, already wanting to trace the letters he knows. Three lines, an H. One. i. Or e, he could write hello. Or ghost. Mom. Dad. Jazz, Sam, Tucker. Write it in English so he wouldn’t forget the way they were meant to be spelled, let the water wash it away.

His fingers ache where they’d been broken for it. For tracing letters in dirt or on mirrors, in the foggy glass at night. A break for every word.

Danyal can see his hand shake, inches from the glass. Pain and fear a leech on his bones.

He drops the hand. Turns to wash away the soap and get out, towels left on the counter.

He doesn’t even glance at the mirror as he goes out.

His tunic is where he’d left it, neatly set on the dresser top… but…

Danyal opens the drawers, changing into the boxers, the next one is dress pants and collared shirts, but in the third-

Rough denim scuffs against his fingertips.

They’re dark wash jeans, fancy and nothing like the ones his mom would buy on sale from the thrift store but…

He doesn’t let himself debate it further, he has to wear clothes and no one is here to tell him which. They put them here so they should expect him to wear it- it could be a test but he doesn’t care, let them do what they want if only to pretend the jeans are stiff from ectoplasm stains instead of fresh starch.

He chooses a white t-shirt, ignoring the collared shirts and polos that are probably meant to go over it.

He breathes, letting his shoulders drop, tilting his head back with his eyes closed, pretending for only a second that he’s getting dressed for school. Jazz is across the hall getting her books together, Sam and Tuck are on their way to walk together, his parents are already downstairs working.

'See?' He wants to say, 'I’m still the same person, nothings changed!'

The metal of the door knob clicks and Danyal’s head snaps towards the sound.

There’s nothing. Danyal doesn’t trust it, eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the tall double doors.

“I know you’re there!” he calls out, fists ready, “Open the door and show yourself or I will!”

There’s a harsh tutt behind the door before it swings open, revealing a kid standing there. Short, black hair- hair gel-, dress slacks and shirt hiding multiple bladed weapons-

“Clearly I meant for you to know I was here, I am not incompetent,” The kid scoffs. So Nightwing wasn’t lying about them all knowing the league dialect…. Yet somehow, it sounds different coming from the kid, familiar in a way that makes Danyal's skin burn. He looks irritated, arms crossed in front of him even while his eyes wander over the room and Danyal with curiosity. And judgement.

Danyal rolls his eyes at it, “Did you need something from me, or did you just want to stand there looking like a hair gel commercial?”

The boy’s face goes red impressively fast, “How dare you-” he moves- and a knife is flying at his face, Danyal dodges, catching it in a second, shifting to throw it back but stops, half way extended. He looks at the hilt, there’s a League marking engraved on the bottom no larger than a droplet.

Danyal's eyes flick up to the boy still standing in front of him, glaring him down.

That’s all it takes before the boy jumps forward, another knife in his hand.

Danyal blocks it, twisting the arm as he drops his own acquired knife to his other hand and lunges forward.

The boy flips over his arm, and Danyal doesn’t let his surprise show as he reaches to grab the second knife he’d forced the kid to drop.

The boy tutts at him again, “So this was who Mother replaced me with? Street rabble?”

Danyal blinks, Mother? Then it clicks.

So this was Damian. The child the demon’s daughter wanted, beloved by all. Treasured. Preserved.

Danyal grits his teeth against the bitter taste in his mouth. He lunges forward, already expecting the larger dagger Damian uses to block him as he’s forced to retreat.

Danyal doesn’t stop, continuing to press him, “The Demon’s Daughter is no mother of mine,” he spits as he slams a kick against Damian’s elbow, blade dropping once more. Danyal cuts a shallow slash across Damian’s left cheek before dropping his own stolen knives.

He doesn’t stop though, continuing to push Damian back- Damian swerves to the side, grabbing his arm, flipping him, Danyal retaliates, grabbing the others shirt and taking him with him.

He catches his feet a second before the other, using it to pin him face to face with Danyal’s arm at his throat, “Maybe if you were good enough, you wouldn’t have had to be replaced at all and I never would have been forced to be here, this is your fault. I was free,” He grits out, teeth bared, “You got to live these last three years because I paid for it, and you’re angry because they don’t want you!?”

There’s something startling in Damian’s wide eyes, “What are you talking about?” He snaps, “I am Damian Al Ghul, Heir to the League, Ibn al X-“

Danyal slams him harder against the floor, cutting him off. Green simmers, almost boiling, under his skin. He grits his teeth harder against the sharp pain through his chest.

He leans closer to Damian, snarling, his grip bruising, “You don’t even know what you escaped, what Ra’s really wanted with you, do you? What being heir means. You’re nothing more than a -”

Damian jerks his head upwards, colliding with Danyal’s forehead and knocking him back with a grunt. Danyal’s grip loosens momentarily and Damian pulls free.

He slams a palm strike into Danyal’s front, pain lancing through his chest as he gasps, heart convulsing.

He moves through it by force, both rolling off each other with violent hands.

They stand opposite each other once more. Blood drips from the cut on Damian’s cheek. Danyal’s ragged breaths join Damian’s in the silence. He can hear footsteps on the stairs. His heart clenches in his chest painfully. There’s barely enough Lazarus water in his veins to keep it pumping for a week, less if he keeps this up.

The door flings open with a slam, both of them turning to look.

Batman stands there, battle calm in his eyes.

Damian turns fully at the sight of his father, but Danyal doesn’t shift from his stance.

“Father, I-“ Damian starts, but Batman just lifts a hand, silencing him.

“What. Happened.” Batman says, looking straight at Danyal, not even a question. A demand. Green tinted steel shoots up Danyal’s spine and he does nothing but glare back at the man.

Batman doesn’t break eye contact, “Damian.”

“I was determining if he was a threat. He is from the League, Father,” Damian says shortly, standing tall despite the blood on his face.

Batman looks between them briefly, and oh what a picture they must make.

Two kids, both born in the same cage, one trying to claw his way out of the chains and the other trying to fight his way in.

Exhaustion washes over Danyal, and he drops his fists, letting them hang by his sides.

Batman hums, barely a sound, but a muscle twitches in Damian’s jaw.

“Father-“

“Go Damian. Now.”

Damian looks back at him, not-quite-hate in his eyes, before dropping to a crouch to grab the knife closest to his feet with one hand and turning to leave.

Faced with Batman’s sole attention, Danyal lifts his chin defiantly, daring him to take action, to punish him, to do something that he can predict, can defend, can justify the anger he feels when he sees him.

“I know it was different in the league, but here, this is not acceptable.”

Danyal half-scoffs. He finally steps out of his stance, “I could leave.”

“That’s not-” Batman pinches the bridge of his nose, voice like gravel, “I am trying to protect you, the manor is not the league. I understand what it must have been like to be raised like that, but you can’t hurt others, no matter what teachings you’ve had. I can guarantee you won’t be hurt here, I won’t let-”

Danny huffs a dry laugh, “You won’t let?” He steps forward, rage bubbling back up, “Hurt me? I’m not worried about me, Batman. You can’t stop him. Ra’s is going to get what he wants, and as long as that is me, everyone around me is in danger, I’m dangerous. I'm a weapon, a weapon of your enemy. You can’t fix that, can you?”

“We can protect ourselves-”

Danyal scoffs again, “Because you’ve done such a good job of that already? Don’t forget, all of this is because of you, they wanted you, and now they want me because of you, Batman. You.”

Something stricken shoots through the man’s face before it flattens. Batman nods and steps back, a hand on the doorhandle, “Don’t leave.” Is all he says, before the door clicks shut.

Danyal feels the walls closing in on him like a cell.

He looks to his left.

The bathroom door is open. He can see his reflection in the mirror, any condensation gone.

Danyal stares.

When he had been younger, back in- before. Danyal would stand in front of a mirror and pick out parts he thought looked like his parents. Like a Fenton. His shoulders were from Jack obviously. His eyes and hair too. His jawline was from Maddie, his hands from Jack, and the love of engineering and planning from Maddie. He had the same legs as his mom. Same voice as his dad, always loud. If he didn’t look too hard, he could almost convince himself he was really their kid, their son.

But he could never quite place his tanned skin, or the texture of his hair. The shape of his eyes and nose. Always just a little bit wrong.

What had pretending done but put them in danger?

Danyal turns on his heel, flicking the lights off and putting a glass soap bottle on the door handle.

He knew he’d wake up regardless… but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Danyal rubs his chest with the heel of his palm as he lays down on the far side of the bed, his back to the door, staring out at the city beyond the window glass.

How close would he come to freedom before he’d have to give it up again?

And he knew he would.

For his family, he would give the Demon’s Head anything.

Everything.

If that’s what it took.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pretend he would fall asleep.

———

Bruce runs over Danyal’s words again and again during the flight.

'This is because of you, Batman,'

He flicks a switch.

'You.'

The landing gear lowers.

'You can’t fix this.'

He can see the way the shadows of the forest twist around the clearing.

'Dangerous.'

Wheels touch grass. Batman lands at the coordinates, just on the side of the field in front of the woman waiting for him.

'Because of you.'

He breathes.

“My Beloved, how are you?” She greets him as he descends the ramp.

Bruce says nothing. He cannot even begin to fathom what he would say if he did.

Instead, he stares at her. A woman who had once meant so much to him, whom he had nearly thrown away everything for. And who had nearly done the same for him.

But she hadn’t. Wouldn’t. And it had hurt him, but he had recovered.

And then she hurt him again.

She had stolen and lied to him in his vulnerability.

And still, he had found himself loving her.

Had allowed her to continue hurting him. Again and again. Out of a vain hope that she would change. Because he thought that he could change her. That she would change for him.

It was foolish. It was senseless.

Yet he found it just as impossible to stop.

And so she had hurt him again.

“Talia.” Her name grated against his heart, “Why did you not tell me I had another son?”

“The boy is no more yours than he is mine, Beloved,” She says with a roll of her eyes, as if explaining a basic fact, “He belongs to my father. And to the league.”

Bruce is silent. He notices a slight bruise forming on her left cheek.

Talia’s face is tight, “Do you not care about the son I have given you? Has Damian not satisfied you?”

Bruce feels the leather of his gauntlets stretch over his clenched fists.

“I deserved to know,” He near growls, “Just as I did Damian, just as I did with Jason. You cannot continue to keep my children from me-“

“If it was not for that boy, you would not have met Damian at all,” Talia snaps.

Bruce blinks. Hard.

“His return brought Damian into your arms, you should be grateful.” She spits at him like an accusation, “Damian is ours, Bruce. From our love. That boy was made before we truly knew each other, before we understood each other as we do now. He was borne of nothing more than my father’s obsession. Damian is our son, not him.”

“His name is Danyal, Talia!” Bruce bellows, “He is a child, and he is a person! Just like you, and me, and Damian, and he deserves more than to be written off as one of Ra’s al Ghul’s projects! He deserves better than this!” Than us, he doesn’t say. Deserves better than him.

Talia straightens from already perfect posture, “I made a choice Bruce, for Damian. To protect Damian. I knew our son was never meant to bear my father’s hands, he was never meant to be what Danyal is.” Talia pauses, eyes sharp on him, and he can see when she chooses her next words. Already knows they are meant to cut him, to hurt him. He steels himself and listens anyways.

“Perhaps you should ask him where he’s been all these years I’ve supposedly kept him from you, Beloved.” She says coyly, stepping forward.

“What are you talking about.”

She takes another step, “The truth of the matter is that Danyal could have gone to you any time he wanted. He chose not to. Chose to stay away.”

He stays silent.

“Oh- Did the boy not tell you?“ Talia says, barely hiding the falseness, “Danyal was living in America before he returned to his rightful duty. Almost didn’t work, but…” Talia hummed, “His gifts were fortuitous in the end. A risk well calculated, my father’s doing I suspect.”

Talia almost seems blaisé as she talks about it, but he can see the way it irks her. Her father had tricked her. Somehow. Or had manipulated her into some choice she hadn’t known about.

Batman says nothing, analyzing, taking in clues.

“Beloved,” Talia sighs, “Surely you must know, the boy must return.”

“And surely you know: I can’t let that happen.”

Talia glowers at him.

“It’s him or Damian, Bruce, you must choose, just as I did.”

“No.” Bruce growls.

“You cannot have both,” She snaps at him.

Batman stands firm, staring her down, resolute.

“You invite his anger on them both,” She snarls, “You save no one.”

Batman ignores the words. He has made it his job to make sure that’s not true. He’ll die before it is.

“Fine.” She snaps again. But she lingers for a few seconds more. The lines of her face softening.

“I remember I once loved that same unbending drive.”

It feels odd to hear her confirm something he’s not sure ever really existed.

Then Talia turns away and walks into the forest. Shadows contort and reform around her at the edges of the clearing. Slowly emptying until there’s nothing left but the trees and the grass and him, standing alone at the center of it all.

He turns to leave.

He won’t choose between his children.

He climbs the ramp.

He will protect them.

He sits down in the pilots chair, flicking switches and gears.

All of them.

Engines roar to life below him.

He will not fail.

And yet… he cannot forget her words. Twisted they may be, and just as easily lies.. but, her irritation at her father’s plans… he had always been good at telling when it was real.

'Living in America… chose to stay away,'

Living in America?

Had he been secluded at one of their bases here? Had it even been close?

Had Danyal been just miles away, suffering, and BruceDanyal hadn’t known?

But it felt wrong. What Talia had said sat like a jagged puzzle piece, poking and prodding at him, not quite fitting the theories he threw at it.

‘Returned.’

Did she only mean returned to the League’s home base? Closer to their original strongholds in Asia?

It didn’t make sense. She would have crafted the words differently, to drive her point home.

She’d said ‘supposedly kept him from you’ like she hadn’t. Like she hadn’t kept Danyal hidden, the way she had Damian. It didn’t add up.

She could have just been lying. Bruce didn’t think she was. It couldn’t be that simple. No, there was something specific about the way she’d phrased it all, like she was telling him a secret. Like it was something Ra’s had hidden. Like something was hiding.

Batman narrowed his eyes, staring out at the landscape in front of him as it rushed past.

Whatever it was, whatever she wasn’t telling him, Batman needed to figure it out before it came back to hurt him or his family. Danyal included.

Then there was the rest of it.

The ‘gifts’ that Talia had mentioned.

He knew Danyal had been forced to interact with the Lazarus waters, but he didn’t know to what extent. What it had done to him.

It’d had an effect on him, that much was clear by the acid green of his eyes when he stood off against them in the Batcave. And earlier when Bruce had first interrupted the fight with Damian.

He didn’t even think Danyal had noticed they were glowing then. Too defensive to think about it. Or perhaps he was used to it.

How many times had he been submerged? Had been so injured that Ra’s saw fit to put him in?

How many times had Bruce not been there to protect him from it?

Even if he was only acting out of defensiveness… was that not Bruce’s fault too?

That he still felt unsafe in the Manor. That he didn’t know if Bruce would act the same as Ra’s, as the League.

And Danyal was right, he was responsible for the pain the league caused him, for them hunting him. If he had never let himself be pulled into Talia’s web- or if she was to be believed… even before that.

When exactly? When had Batman become enough of a threat that Ra’s had decided to use him? Was it because he had refused to be his heir? Or before that? Before or after Dick? Jason?

He doesn’t even know how old Danyal is. How long Batman had let him suffer because of h-

“I do hope you aren’t planning to brood like this with your children around, Master Bruce,” Alfred says, cutting through his thoughts, “I don’t believe your pride would survive the repercussions.”

Bruce glances at the monitor Alfred has decided to call from.

“Hn.” Bruce grumbles.

Alfred is right, his children would tease him mercilessly for ‘brooding’ as they called it. If only Dick at least, who hasn’t missed a chance to do so since he’d been a freshly christened Robin.

How would Danyal fit into that? Would he grow to tease like the others? Or remain stoic like Damian?

“I’ll be approaching in 30 minutes, A.” He says. ‘Will Danyal be there?’ He doesn’t say.

Alfred says nothing in response. The engines fill the silence.

He grits his teeth, he just wants to know the situation, to stay updated, he wants to know if something’s happened or anything’s changed.

He sighs, forcefully loosening his jaw, “Who’s going out tonight?”

“Mm, I believe Miss Brown and Master Tim were discussing going together. Master Thomas is in bed, as is usual, though he did mention he’d be out early.. and I believe Madame Cassandra is staying in. She seems to have found a new project.”

Batman hums in confirmation. He wants to know what Cass had found interesting. More than that, he wants to know if Danyal was okay, Damian too.

“It seems it circles around our newest resident, though she hasn’t shown herself to him yet. Master Dick also seems to think the young sir is his duty as much as Master Damian had been.”

Batman feels his lips tug downwards as he grunts in response. Damian’s first year with them was… a regret. His own absence was devastating. He’d have to find some way to assure Dick that Danyal wasn’t his responsibility this time, that he could still be his own person. Perhaps he should encourage Dick to return to Blüdhaven. Affirm the family would be alright without him.

Batman sees Gotham’s cloud of smog come into view. The bay follows soon after, and the buildings next.

“I’m coming in now.”

“Very good sir.” Alfred answers, nodding in his peripheral before the call clicks off.

When the Batplane arrives to the cave, Alfred is nowhere to be seen. The other’s suits are missing as well, meaning they are already out for the night.

Batman doesn’t pause more than to look around, already heading to the Batcomputer with determined steps.

He enters his access codes, running through his security checks unconsciously, mind spinning on theories and clues.

He picks apart his and Talia’s interaction again and again, trying to pull everything he can from it and put it into his report file. Maybe if he can just read over it again, remember something else, maybe it will be enough to protect Danyal, maybe it will be enough to stop Ra’s, maybe it will be enough understand why Talia did this to h-

A gentle hand slides over his just as his finger goes to slam the enter button of the keyboard.

He looks over his shoulder, already recognizing the feeling of stitching against his suit.

Cass looks at him meaningfully. Her gentle hand shifts into a lean against his arm, the pressure a comfort. She stares up at the Batcomputer and reads through his writing piece by piece.

Bruce waits for her. He knows she struggles with so many words. Knows that she gained more from watching him type it than she will from reading an exact account but the details will be helpful anyways.

She nods to him, fingers tapping lightly against his arm as she thinks it over, scanning and rescanning the document.

Cass has been developing fidgets recently, small twitches of movement that don’t serve a purpose than to let her move.

Bruce wants to smile every time. He’s pretty sure they’re on purpose, but still.. it’s freedom for her.

She nudges him, reaching for a button across the keys. It flicks to a camera screen a second later.

The one in Danyal’s room.

Bruce feels a twinge of guilt at the disappointment Cass aims at him before they both refocus on the image.

The empty image.

Danyal is not in the room, and Bruce feels his eyebrows scrunch as he goes to pull up the other camera feeds to locate him, make sure he hasn’t been taken-

“Downstairs.” Cass says.

Batman gets a half turn around, checking the cave for a foreign presence, before Cass stops him again.

She points to the screen, drawing his attention to a bottom square.

Danyal stands in the hallway of the manor, staring at the portraits on the walls.

He feels a light tap on his shoulder in parting before Cass’s presence at his side disappears silently.

He stares up at the figure of his son standing in the hallway, mind still whirring about possibilities and clues and lies and secrets.

Danyal continues to stand in front of the portrait for another minute, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side.

He rips his eyes away from the portrait, turning down the hallway and ducking into the kitchen.

It’s empty when he gets there. Then again, the whole mansion had seemed empty. Aside from the ever constant, ever familiar feeling of eyes weighing down on him.

Danyal considers making himself food.

He considers jumping out of the window and seeing how far he could get.

He wonders if their cabinets have something he’d know and could do himself or if he’d be hopelessly lost.

He wonders how long it will take for the Demon’s Head to find him. Wonders what he’ll do when he does. Wonders if his-

He stops himself short.

“May I offer you some tea and snacks, young sir?”

Danyal turns slightly to face the old butler-Alfred- who’d entered behind him and nods.

Can he even say no?

Alfred gestures to a chair set up by the built in breakfast nook.

He sits. Even as the domesticity of it all throttles his heart in his chest. The way they must eat together every morning, appear together in every photo, smiling. A family portrait. Batman’s family. Batman got to keep his. But Danny’s is tra-

Danyal breathes purposefully, staring down at his hands, clenching them tighter.

Suddenly a hand reaches across his vision, pressing a button on an ancient looking miniature TV sitting just tucked into the kitchen corner.

It flickers to life on some random news channel, low mindless chatter softening the air.

Danyal feels his shoulders lower slightly, just barely, as the silences retreats. He glances up, expecting to find Alfred there staring at him, questioning him, why he’s acting like this, why he-

Alfred’s back is to him. The man busy at the stove with the tea kettle.

“I hope you like lemon ginger tea,” the man says, getting a small jar from a cupboard, “It’s been quite a bit since I’ve had the opportunity to make some.”

Danyal doesn’t quite trust it, still watching the man warily. He doesn’t understand why they would welcome him into their house, Batman or no, he was a threat to them. He was nothing but a threat.

“How about something to eat?”

Danyal watches the man move over to the fridge.

Something moves in his peripheral and his eyes jump to the side.

Narrowed eyes comb over the fancy china case against the wall. But he can’t see anything odd. The glass is clear, refracted reflection shining back him over the china. A dark phone sitting on the ledge. Dark wood pressed against the wall. He doesn’t know what he saw.

Alfred sets a small plate down in front of him with a light clatter, immediately turning back as the tea kettle begins to screech.

The movement makes a small carrot tumble off, rolling across the counter to Danyal.

He stares at it.

He breathes in, out, in out, in out in out too fast. Too fast-

A finger rolls to a stop in front of him and he can only stare at it as strong arms grip and pull him back, keeping him restrained.

Granite counters blend until they are stone floors.

He can’t look away from it. Confusion bleeds in with denial and regret and bloodthirsty stubbornness.

“Look at me, boy.”

Danny’s head is jerked back by his hair, forcing his eyes up to his instructor.

The man glares down at him.

“I have taught warriors better than you by a thousand, and you dare to try to escape under my hand?”

Danny tries to grin, barely managing a crude sneer, coppery blood in his teeth, “You should have kept a better eye on me, you fucking nutcase.”

His eyelid flicks closed automatically as cold gunmetal rests against it.

“Say that again.”

Danny swallows his regret, in for a penny in for a pound. He juts his chin up, forcing the man to follow the movement with his gun.

“What, were you dropped as a bab-” His open eye strains to see his instructor’s thumb press down the hammer of the gun. A warning.

He can feel his hands shake under the assassins hold. His throat burns.

“You scared of a chil-?” He barely has time to register the hand moving before the butt of the gun slams into his nose with a sickening crack.

Pain floods his face. He gets half a shout out before his chin is grabbed by unforgiving hands.

He stares into the man’s cold eyes.

Danny says nothing. Too focused on trying to breathe when his nose is filling with blood and his mouth is clamped nearly shut.

“Better.”

He resists the urge to spit in the man’s face as he steps back, straightening and waving a hand to the assassins. Even without their hands on him he can feel their presence looming behind him.

Danny drops his head, curling in on himself as much as he can, trying to ignore the feeling of blood as it slides down his face.

His eyes are left to stagnate on the finger thrown to the ground in front of him.

Pale skin stands stark against dark floors, contrasted by blood and dirt marring it. He can see the calluses and small scars.

He doesn’t understand.

He might.

He doesn’t want to.

“You are not the only one I can punish to get my point across, boy.”

He looks closer at the finger. At the nicks of careless knives and tools, of a hand that had cradled- no- please no-

“The oaf was very insistent it be him.”

Danny snaps his head up, fear striking through his chest, “No! Please-“ he catches himself, “Please don’t hurt them! They don’t- Hurt me, just me! They don’t deserve it, they didn’t do anything-!”

Sharp eyes stab into him. Fury behind them.

“Hurt me, Master Shrike, just me. Please.”

There’s a pause as the man continues to stare down at him before he lifts one lip in a sneer, “Do you think you command me, child?”

Danny freezes, “I don’t- I- No, Master. I don’t.”

“Then why,” Shrike near growls, “Do you beg me? Why do you plead like you have a right to ask for anything?”

“I don’t-” 'I don’t understand,' he starts to say but he’s cut off by Shrike’s boot hitting his face. He’s learned by now when not to dodge. He can’t give them another reason to hurt his family.

A second kick lands.

“You will be quiet!”

Danny waits for a beat, then slowly pulls himself up from the floor, not lifting his eyes.

He can still see his father’s finger on the floor.

“You do not command me. You are a tool! A weapon in the Demon’s hand! I choose to act, to punish or break you! You do not act, do not speak until you are to be used!”

Danyal stays silent.

He wants to scream, to fight back, they train him and they train him but he can’t fight back because if he does- his eyes flick to the bloodied finger.

He can let them. For his family, he can let them call him a weapon, can let them say he has no will. He can do this one thing.

He’s not giving up, he tells himself. But for his family’s safety, he can let them think he is. Just this once.

Danny stops, eyes shutting for just a second as he bends into a kneel, holding his hands up in front of him.

There’s a pause, cruel satisfaction radiating off the man in front of him.

Danyal licks his lips, steeling himself, “I am ready for my lesson,” Danny forces the words out, “Master Shrike.”

He doesn’t bother to look up and see the man’s sneer.

“Good.”

He sees the kick coming.

He still doesn’t move.

He stays still.

The world moves around him. Voices. Muttering. The sound of dishes, water being poured.

There’s a carrot.. orange and bright in front of him.

His heart is beating too fast. His eyes sting.

Calm down. Control it. Control it. Stop, stop-

A tea cup clatters in front of him.

“Sir Danyal, are you quite alright?” He hears someone ask. Alfred. It’s Alfred. Batman’s butler. He’s not-

He tries to speak, ‘I’m fine’ he tries to say. But his throat constricts. He simply nods, staring down at the carrot.

A freaking carrot.

It’s ridiculous.

He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s. Fine.

Danyal takes a deep breath. He breathes out. Silently.

He does it again.

He holds it until his heart slows down, stops stuttering from beat to beat.

He breathes out.

He reaches for the tea, ignoring the eyes on him-always watching him- ignoring the way his hands shake.

He drinks the tea. Let’s it burn his throat and distract him.

He breathes.

Alfred does not turn to look at him. Staying busy at the sink with dishes that already looks clean.

He is thankful.

He breathes.

Low murmurs fill impenetrable silence. Danyal drags his eyes over to the small TV.

His breath stops.

A banner of words crawls across the bottom of the screen.

‘DalvCo factories shutting down after mass destruction.’

He tries to tear his eyes away.

‘Four buildings exploded just after midnight on Saturday in downtown Chicago, Elmerton, and Red Lake. 12 workers dead. Police have not caught the perpetrators.’

And they won’t.

Danyal can recognize a message.

He knows what it means. Who is sending it.

He tries not to let it show how his mind begins spinning. Churning out plans and strategies- If an attempt had cost his father a finger, what would they do to them now, because of Danyal?- he had to fix this.

He looks down to his shaking hands. He stops them. And the tea in his cup stills.

He stops. Pauses. He eyes Alfred still at the sink without looking up.

He places it just on the edge of the counter. Then turns away and lets go.

The cup falls.

It shatters against the floor. Danyal jumps up from his seat at the same time Alfred turns around.

“What’s happened?” He says, already hustling over with a towel. “Are you hurt?”

Danyal steps away and around him, towards the door.

He almost bumps into the display case but a reflection off the phone catches his eye. There’s a small pink ballet sticker on the back.

His hand moves before he can think and it slips into his pocket. He looks at Alfred.

“It’s no trouble, Young Danyal,” Alfred says as he crouches over where Danyal had been sitting, “I’ll clean this up and get you more. You can help me prepare for breakfast-“

Danyal considers knocking him out, so he can’t stop him, or alert anyone, but a body is more suspicious. Instead he paints his face with fear and steps out of the room as quick as he can.

He turns down the hallway, trying to remember where he’d walked from the cave.

Mere hours ago.

He goes the opposite direction, following a halls as far to the outer edges of the mansion as he can, typing in Vlad’s number with nervous hands as he goes.

He makes a final turn before he opens a window, glances backwards, and jumps out.

He lands in a roll, already running. His finger presses call and he listens to the phone ringing as he runs.

Once. Twice. He swipes branches out of his way. Three times. Four. Five. Six.

‘We’re sorry the number-‘

Danyal hangs up and presses again.

He doesn’t stop running.

He just has to protect them. He has to warn Vlad. Warn whoever he can. Tell someone.

It rings again. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Six- ‘We’re sorr-‘

Danyal presses it again and runs faster.

If he can get caught by the League maybe Ra’s will overlook it. Maybe he can still protect them. He can fix this. Please just let him fix this.

‘We-‘

He tries again.

And Danyal continues rushing through the woods, wishing his feet would carry him faster, further, higher-

The sound of his steps pounds in his ears. The phantom feeling of eyes on his back.

He slams his finger down on Vlad’s number again, letting the dial tone drown his heartbeat out.

Once. Twice. Three times, Frick! Vlad pick up! Four- the speakerphone clicks.

“Vlad!”

There’s barely a pause, “DANNY!?”

Danny nearly trips, his heart stuttering dangerously, hopefully.

“Dani?…” He says, then jolts to his senses and continues running, a glance thrown behind him, “Dani, how do you have Vlad’s phone, are you okay? Have you been to Amity?”

“Danny, where the hell are you!? I’ve been looking all over for-“

“Dani, you have to listen okay, there’s dangerous people after me- after us-“ Danyal jumps another log, scaling a small stone wall, “You can’t fight them, you have to run, they’ve got my family, Tuck, Sam-“

“Danny wait no listen to me-!”

“You can’t fight them! You can’t, okay!?” Danny scans his eyes back and forth frantically as he runs, mind spinning, calculating how he’s going to get out, away, controlling his heart rate as much as he can, “You have to promise me! Just find Vlad, get out of Amity. Warn him- I couldn’t - my parents- you have to-“

“Danny, listen to me!” Dani yells, stopping him in his tracks.

“Your parents are out, Danny,” She says, voice rushed, but his ears barely hear it. “They escaped, they called us weeks ago to start looking for you- Danny, they’re out.”

She goes quiet. Waiting for Danny.

His parents were-

Danny draws in a deep breath, standing stock still in the middle of the trees, stolen phone still pressed to his ear.

He couldn’t believe it.. they were-

Something clangs against a tree behind him and Danyal whips around ready to-

His head blossoms with pain.

Everything goes dark.

This is included in my one-shot collection(for now) on Ao3, under same name. The collection is Things that Could Exist by Snaileer.

Tags:

@thecrystallabyrinth @isnt-that-grape @riverdancingwerewolves @mimblizzy @chaos-deimos-et-eris @miraculousandmore2 @mys-tia @jitteryjuttury @moonlight-opal @nerdypaintbrush @thedragonqueen1998 @luminanightfall @cowarddragon @cyrwrites @kamireadsmcu

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eepwriting · 3 days

Note

• mean brat taming dom ii who is SO soft with u after (my hc says there’s no way he’s not into impact play tbh)

• ivy being the absolute softest gentlest daddy dom ever (tell me he doesn’t give that strong gentle energy. the praise he would give?! UGH)

• primal feral vessel claiming you after chasing you through the forest. right there on the leaf littered floor

• iii edging you over and over on his thigh until you’re sobbing and brain dead (really i just think iii would enjoy being as much of a fucking tease as possible. whispering dirty thoughts in your ear through the day. stealing spicy touches. leading up to when he can finally get you alone and drive you REALLY crazy)

• reader x vessel x ivy threesome. soft daddy dom ivy and mean dom vessel

i have too many filthy ideas but no ability to write them so 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 godspeed, hope these inspire some filth from you!

- thirsty girl 💘

Count ‘em ✶ II x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, impact play (spanking, light slapping, choking, pinching, hair pulling), degradation, oral (m receiving), mean! ii

TRUST when I say I will be returning to this ask to write something for every prompt. Also, THANKS for some ii stuff!! I was feeling bad that I only had one thing wrote for him 🤍🤍

!! mdi !!

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“Move it, I’ve already said it once. That should be enough.” His voice is stern, his eyes serious as he impatiently drums his fingers on his legs.

You knew him well enough at this point to know what his calm demeanor truly meant. Even the way he undressed you minutes before had been slow and careful. Only you knew that the second he got you over his lap, his actions would not be gentle.

You swallow nervously, hoping he can’t hear the sound of your heart about to break through your chest. You knew your brattiness throughout the day had gotten you here. Your unrelenting back talk and attitude wasn’t something you gave ii often, but for whatever reason, you wanted to see how far you could push him today.

You’re slow to move towards him, his full and undivided attention on you feeling as if it was about to burn a hole into the side of your face. He lets you help yourself onto his lap, crawling to lay face down across his spread thighs. His hand is heavy on your back once you get settled, sliding up your spine to rest in between your shoulder blades. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been awfully difficult.” His hand moves up into your hair to tug, pulling your head back slightly. “Hm?”

You think about your answer carefully and decide to just be honest with him. He’d know anyway if you were lying. “I think it’s fun.” Your hand grips his calf when he tugs harder, isolating a chunk of hair at the crown of your head. “Fun? To mess with me? To irritate and piss me off to no end? You think that’s fun, is what I’m hearing?” You nod meekly, silently enjoying the pull on your hair. He only hums and reaches his other hand around to wrap around your throat, applying enough pressure to make breathing slightly more difficult, but not enough to make you panic for air.

“Well I don’t think that’s very fun at all. In fact, only a desperate, pathetic little whore would find something like that to be fun. Is that what you are then? A desperate and pathetic whore?” The hand in your hair disappears to grope roughly at your ass before settling on a cheek, leaving a stinging pinch. You take in a short gasp of air at the sting, earning a quiet snicker from ii. His full hand comes down in a dull smack before massaging over your skin. “You make it so easy, you know. Your skin practically begs to be marked up. You seem to want that too, don’t you? You wouldn’t act up if you didn’t.” Another, this time harsher smack is dealt. “I didn’t get an answer to my question.” The hand around your throat tightens.

Your eyes close in a long blink before you attempt a nod. He makes a sound of disappointment next to you. “You know you’re supposed to use your words. Don’t play dumb.” His hand moves to the back of your thigh to pinch and pull at the skin.

You squirm and squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes. I’m a desperate and pathetic whore.” This earns you a groan and another spank. “There you go. Maybe you can follow instructions. Why don’t you count ‘em for me, hm?” His touch is soft as he runs his hand up your back. Your mumbled and nervous “okay” is enough for him to swat at your ass again. He waits for your response before landing another. “2…” The pain is tolerable but you know he’s just warming up.

He lands 10 solid smacks, each progressively getting harsher before massaging his hand over your stinging skin. You hiss at the touch and make a poor attempt to shift your hips away from him. “I like watching you jolt from the pain. The little gasps you let out.” The hand around your throat moves to run through your hair.

He repeats the same actions on the other cheek, but doesn’t build up at all. The 10 makes your skin sting, like hot fire, your eyes watering at the repeated blows. II knows you can take it, knows you enjoy it. Clearly evident by the way moans and whimpers flood out of your mouth and your hips grind down on his thigh.

He lets you rest, massaging his fingers over your scalp, his other hand lightly scratching over your back. “On your knees now.” He says after his moment of quiet tenderness. Excitement blooms in your stomach, ready and aching to take more than just his harsh hands. You’re slow to move off his lap and even slower to sink to the floor. The skin on your ass is hot against your calves and ankles, a dull but persistent sting radiating as you get situated on your knees.

II cups the sides of your face, moving your head side to side as he looks down at you. His thumbs move over your cheeks before he leans down to press his mouth to yours. It’s harsh and rushed. Teeth clashing together before he bites over your bottom lip. His hand returns around your throat before he drags you up to stand on your knees. He roughly grips your hip, digging his fingertips into the skin, hard enough you’re sure to see a bruise in the morning. He licks into your mouth a final time before breaking away from you. He groans when he looks at you. Hair messed up from his hands, lips red and slightly inflamed, the skin on your neck a bright white with how much pressure he’s applying to your throat. His thumb absentmindedly runs over your lips before he hooks it over your bottom lip to force your mouth open. Your tongue comes out to lick over his thumb, earning another low groan from ii. “Such a pretty mouth. I’m gonna fuck it.” His thumb messily runs over your outstretched tongue. An inadvertent whimper comes from you at those words, your hands impatiently grabbing at his thighs. He snickers at you before standing to remove his jeans.

Both his hands cradle your head in surprising tenderness but his eyes and facial expression are cold and stern as he looks down at you. He lightly slaps your cheek twice and you take that as a cue to open your mouth for him. He hums, sliding one hand to the back of your head. He wastes no time in sliding his cock fully into your awaiting mouth. II’s jaw clenches and his hips buck towards you when your lips wrap around him. “Put that mouth of yours to good use.” He grunts, cock moving in and out of your mouth quickly. His too tight grip on your hair makes you whine around him and squeeze your eyes shut. A harsher slap lands on your cheek. “You keep your eyes on me.” It almost comes out in a growl as he practically straddles your face, forcing his cock as far into your mouth as he can. He doesn’t let up despite your watering eyes, gags and nails digging into the skin on his thighs.

You know he’s close when the sounds he lets out become higher pitched and the rhythm of his thrusts turn disjointed. “Take it. Be good and take it.” He breathes out before letting out a long groan. His movements pause as he cums at the back of your throat, his hand holding your head close to him. You breathe through your nose and patiently wait for him to pull away from you. You can finally close your eyes, forcing leftover tears down your cheeks when he backs away. You stay looking up at him, his chest heaving, eyes heavy and relaxed now.

He lazily reaches out to brush over the top of your head and wipe over your cheeks. He holds his hand out for you, letting you take your time in rising to your feet. He pulls you into a long hug, hands running up and down your back. He guides you to lay on the bed, insisting you lay on your stomach. He lays next to you for a short while, asking you repeatedly if you’re okay, peppering kisses on the side of your face. He leaves your side and comes back with water and an ice pack. He watches you sip the water while holding the ice on your still red hot skin. He coos at you when you wince, shuffling closer to you as he watches you with concern filled eyes.

Your tiredness eventually catches up to you and you’re not sure how long you’ve dozed off before you feel ii straddle your hips. You whine when his hard again cock pushes against you. “Mm, don’t touch…it’s too much.” You furrow your brows and try to shift away from his hands that brush over your aching skin. “Shhh, I know, love. You’ve been so good for me…wanna help you. I’ll be gentle. I promise.” His voice is quiet as he leans over you, nuzzling his head against your neck. He lazily mouths over your skin and ever so slowly inches into you.

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The way I could not focus for more than 5 minutes while writing this 🙃 I had different plans for this but I just could not use enough brain power to write it lol

BUT I’m so excited to return to this ask!!! So many good ideas 👏🏻 thank you again anon 💘

Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed!

K. Bye bye.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token fic #sleep token x reader #sleep token smut #sleep token ii #ii sleep token #sleep token ii x reader #ii x reader

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superprofesh · 2 days

Text

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 3

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The third time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — the one that hurts the most.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer

Author’s Note: It's part 3! The tension is heating up, the emotional stakes are rising, and my obsession is only getting worse / better. Let me know what you think! :)

Part 1 // Part 2

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You step into the darkened club at the height of the company’s weekend party, colorful lights flashing over the dozens of people dancing and chatting across the crowded room, but your eyes are sharpened on the lookout for just one person. Colt Seavers.

You can’t get him out of your head. You’ve spent the last three days doing everything in your power to avoid him on set, from locking yourself in the art trailer to conveniently arranging to work on the still-in-progress train station set. You had entertained the idea that if you could just keep from seeing him for a few days, you could stop replaying every moment of that night in your head.

But even when you’re knee-deep in epoxy or hyper-focused on scoring holes in iron beams, you’re envisioning the way the lamplight accentuated Colt’s features and reflected in his dark blue eyes that night. Try as you may, you can’t forget how absorbed he was in studying your face, or the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to escort you to your hotel, or the way he lingered at the doorway as if he wanted to say something.

And you especially can’t forget the way you thought he was going to kiss you.

But then, of course, you had to ruin it. You obviously came on too strong. You physically cringe every time you remember some of the things you said to Colt that night while you were so delirious you couldn’t even stand up straight.

“I bet the desk clerk thought I was drunk and bringing you home with me.”

“I couldn’t have made it without you.”

The fact that Colt has been avoiding you just as hard as you’ve been avoiding him only confirms your anxieties. In the past three days, you’ve only seen him twice, and both times he’s ducked away before you had to have a conversation. It’s not like anything shameful or immodest happened between you — it’s just that you made your crush on him so painfully obvious that you’re sure he’s trying to spare your feelings. The thought makes your heart ache, but it’s ultimately for the best. You’re not about to make a move when it’s so obvious that he’s not interested in anything serious with you.

However, the fact that you’ve been sleeping curled up with his jacket — the one that has his musky smell embedded into its very essence — has not helped matters in the slightest.

You shake your head as you glance around the dark room and wave at your friend Holly across the bar. You’re honestly an embarrassment to yourself. All your life, you’ve had an iron will that bends to your intelligence, not your emotions. Why does that have to change now, all of a sudden?

Holly makes her way around the bar, a drink in her hand and the evidence of more on her breath. You reach out a hand to steady her before she spills her drink all over herself, and she giggles uncontrollably. She’s a talented cinematographer and a dedicated weekend partier.

“Where have you been the last few days?” Holly asks dramatically, as if you’ve committed an atrocity against your friendship. “I haven’t seen you anywhere.”

“Just working on getting the sets perfect,” you shrug, trying not to give anything away. “Besides, I’ve never been one to hang around the cameras too much anyway. That’s your department.”

Holly gives you a mischievous smile and takes another sip of her drink, peering over the edge of the glass at you knowingly. “You certainly seemed to find ways to be near the cameras when a certain stuntman was on set.”

You stiffen immediately, doing your best to paint an unaffected smile on your face and failing miserably. “That’s all over, Hol. Not a thing anymore.”

Holly raises her eyebrows skeptically, and you know she sees right through you. “What a shame,” she grins. “He certainly only had eyes for you.”

That comment sends a stab of pain through your heart, but you ignore it. “It’s fine. Nothing weird, I’m just keeping my distance. Just trying to avoid a heartbreak, that’s all.” The words are technically true.

“Got it,” Holly nods conspiratorially. She takes another sip of her drink and glances around the room. “Well, he didn’t show up here tonight, so you don’t have to worry about him. You can just have fun!”

The words have barely left Holly’s mouth before her eyes widen to a comical size at something behind you. Somehow, you already know who just walked in the door, and your heart gives another spectacular lurch.

Knowing you need to get this over with, you turn to face him, your heart in your throat. Sure enough, Colt slips through the club door, glancing around the room intently, as if he’s looking for something. Or someone, you can’t help thinking.

His eyes land on you, and he freezes in his tracks. A mixture of emotions — nervousness, embarrassment, surprise — crosses his face. You know it’s going to be awkward after all that’s happened, so you try to break the ice. “Hey, fall guy,” you greet him, instantly regretting it. Too flirtatious, stop it right now.

Colt smiles, something like relief crossing his tense features. “Hey, da Vinci,” he responds over the boom of the club’s music, closing the door behind him and taking a single step in your direction. He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets, and you suddenly notice that he’s not dressed for a company party.

“What brings you here?” you ask, trying to ignore the way Holly is pressing into your side and doing a horrible job of hiding her elbowing. “I thought you weren’t a fan of these company parties.”

Colt shrugs, looking past you into the crowd. “Yeah, not really. Just came to drop some stuff off with George for tomorrow’s session.” He swallows hard, as if he’s pondering something, then lets his eyes fall back on you. “What about you? I thought you didn’t like the company parties either.”

I don’t. I came to try to forget about you.

“Oh,” you say casually, “just dropping by. Holly asked me to come.” You squeeze Holly’s hand to signal her for backup, and, intoxicated as she is, she immediately jumps in to help.

“I did!” she exclaims, a little too enthusiastic. “We were actually just talking about — ah, we were just talking about…” Holly hesitates way too long, and you cringe inwardly. “Your stunt!” she recovers. “Your transfer truck stunt!”

“Your what?” Your curiosity is instantly piqued, along with your worry. “I don’t remember a transfer truck stunt in the script.”

Colt smiles a little, the first one you’ve seen since he walked in. “Gordon decided to try it out today. He thought it would spice up the car chase scene.”

Holly jumps in with gusto, clearly excited to have turned you onto a better topic. “Yeah! Gordon came up with it at the last minute. The stunt was originally supposed to just be VFX, but Colt said he could do it.”

“Do what?” you ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Colt shrugs. “Just a jump. One transfer truck to another.”

“The top of one transfer truck to another!” Holly adds for emphasis, sloshing a bit of drink over the edge of her cup. “At top speed, while the trucks are rounding a hairpin turn in the canyon!”

Your eyes widen, and you turn your shocked expression on Colt. “Tell me you’re joking,” you manage.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he amends, obviously embarrassed by Holly’s dramatic retelling. “It’s not like Gordon forced me to do anything. I volunteered and said I could do it.”

“You could have gotten killed!” You’re not sure why you feel so passionately about this; he is a stuntman, after all. But something about knowing that you’ve been avoiding him for three days while he’s been performing death-defying stunts rattles you in a way you can’t ignore. While you’re gathering fire for a rant, Holly backs away into the crowd, an impish smile on her face.

Colt’s smile comes more easily this time, and he takes another step closer to you, ducking his head to look more squarely into your eyes. “Hey, calm down,” he reassures you. “No major injuries. No brushes with death. Just a cool shot.”

You press your lips together, still bubbling over with an emotion you can’t name. “Risking your life for a cool shot isn’t something to laugh about,” you tell him, though there’s no real edge to your voice. You glance down at his hand that’s resting on the bar beside you. “What happened to your hands?” you demand.

Both Colt’s hands are wrapped in bandages that you hadn’t even noticed until he pulled them out of his pockets. His expression shifts again, this time to a kind of bemused concern. “Just a little friction burn, that’s all,” he assures you. He brings one of his hands up to rest on your right shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze that makes your stomach flip in response. “Don’t waste your worries on me, Picasso. I’m a stuntman, remember? Taking risks is what I do.”

Colt’s laid-back tone does calm you a little, and you fight the urge to shake your head at yourself again. What are you thinking? Why are you getting so emotional about this in front of him? Play it cool, explain it logically, don’t make the same mistake you did before.

“Yeah, I know,” you admit, shrugging. “It just seems like Gordon is pushing you harder than he was before. It’s like he’s getting too comfortable putting you in more and more danger for the sake of impressive shots.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Colt tells you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he cocks his head as his gaze flits over your face. “And it’s no different than you going without sleep for three days to finish a setpiece.”

“It is not the same thing,” you begin, but he shakes his head, leaning one elbow on the bar to tilt his head closer to you. You despise yourself for weakening your resolve, but you can’t resist leaning closer to him, too — so close you can feel yourself getting lost in the dark blue of his eyes.

“Sure it is,” he said softly, his husky voice carrying over the short space between you even with the loud music playing in the background. “I do stunts because it’s what I love to do, even if they’re dangerous. You make the sets look amazing because it’s your passion, even when it means you have to go without sleep. I guess we’re both just too dedicated to our crafts, huh?”

You’re finding it difficult to think of a response, your eyes locked on his. All the resolve you’ve been building for the last three days melts under the heat of his gaze. Something like a magnet is pulling you even closer to him. Your mind unhelpfully flashes back to the night you were wrapped under his arm while walking to your hotel room, his warmth enveloping you.

“Well,” you murmur, trying desperately not to look at his lips, “my dedication won’t result in a broken neck.”

Colt lifts one eyebrow in response, leaning a hairsbreadth forward. “Neither will mine,” he whispers.

You mirror his quirked eyebrow, lowering your voice to match his. “How do you know?”

Colt keeps his eyes locked on yours, but one of his hands reaches up to the side of your face unnoticed. His palms are bandaged, but he uses his fingertips to twirl a strand of your hair. Your breath catches when he tucks the strand behind your ear, his touch searing your skin even in the brief contact, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the best in the business,” he tells you as he finally pulls his hand away from your temple.

You smile at his teasing tone. The distance between you keeps closing, a quarter of an inch at a time, and you can feel the burning heat of his skin the closer you get. His eyes don’t drift from yours, but the tension is so potent that you can barely take a breath.

“The best in the business,” you repeat, a coy smile edging the corners of your lips. “Haven’t you heard that pride comes before the fall?”

“Mmm hmm,” Colt hums, and you feel the sound reverberate in your very bones. Your faces are only a few inches apart now. Everything — the music, the crowd, the flashing lights — is forgotten, consumed by the fire blazing in his eyes. His gaze finally tears off your eyes and slowly, so slowly, steals down to your lips. His own lips part slightly, as if he’s finally about to lean forward and close the tantalizing distance between you.

Suddenly you couldn’t care less about all the reasons why you shouldn’t.

But then, your heart still hammering against your ribs, your skin prickling, your lungs strangled into stillness, Colt pulls away from you.

The abrupt distance feels like a cold bucket of water on your head after the heat of what you just shared. Colt seems to feel the shock too, rubbing both hands over his face and letting out a shaky breath before his casual smirk returns.

“Wow,” he half laughs, shaking out his arms and shoulders dramatically. “Nothing like a club’s vibe to muddy the waters, right?”

His careless comment stuns you even more than his quick withdrawal did. You suddenly realize how much every moment with him means to you, and the stinging pain of rejection is amplified a thousand times by his casual attitude.

He doesn’t care. He seriously doesn’t care at all.

You try to recover some dignity, but you know you’ve already blown that more times than you can count. All you can choke out is, “Yeah,” and then a listless, “See you around,” before you slip past his shoulder and head for the door. You can already feel the hot tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, and you’re not going to embarrass yourself further by letting him see you cry. You throw up a hand at Holly as you hurry out the club door into the chilly evening air, barely registering her questioning look.

What you don’t notice is the way Colt clenches his hands into fists against the pain of his burns, or the way he squeezes his eyes shut to block out the memory of your devastated expression.

All you know is the pain of the rejection, the bitterness of your tears, and the smell of his jacket as you fall asleep that night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 4

#i'm in a very yearning mood in case y'all can't tell #this one hurts but like #in a good way #and we've got some REAL good things coming in the next chapter :)#fanfiction #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers fanfiction #original #colt seavers #the fall guy #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fanfiction #the five times colt seavers almost kisses you (and the one time he does)

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hungermakesmonsters · 3 days

Text

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Nine

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour, use of toys. More sickening cuteness. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.3k

A/N : It's party night and that can only mean one thing; lots of drama and fun...

MASTER LIST

Chapter Nine

Within an hour, the penthouse was full.

The string quartet in the corner started to play and the wait staff started to circulate with trays of drinks. You’d lingered off to the side, near Billy but giving him enough distance to greet his guests without things being weird. You were there as his employee first and foremost as he’d reluctantly explained to you before the first guest arrived. Everything else was too complicated, and you were quick to agree with him; no one else needed to know your business.

But he pulled you towards him when Karen and her boyfriend Frank arrived. Karen gushed over your dress and you did likewise. Frank gave you an uncomfortable look from behind his mask, like he was sizing you up, but his attention quickly turned back to Billy. So did Karen’s.

You quickly came to realise that Billy had that effect on the people around him. Eyes were always on him, he was always the centre of attention. And Billy seemed to revel in it. You felt yourself almost shrink away as he spoke to his friends, until you felt his finger tip ghost your bare thigh through the slit in your dress.

“There’s someone I want to introduce Frankie to. Karen do you mind...?” He left the question unfinished but everyone understood. He wanted Karen to babysit you.

“Of course!” You spoke before you had the chance to say anything, putting her arm around. “Come on, I think Foggy and Matt are already here.”

You gave Billy one last look, catching his gaze darkening as she led you away. As you both made your way through the crowd, Karen stopped one of the wait staff and grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to you.

“So, what do you think of all this?” She asked, scanning the crowd, obviously looking for her friends.

“It’s -” you started before you’re breath caught, feeling the toy start to softly vibrate inside you.

“Yeah, it’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you answered, looking around and managing to spot Billy right where you’d left him.

The vibrations continued for a few seconds as your eyes caught his and he smiled. You held his gaze as he lifted his phone and finally stopped the toy.

“Don’t worry,” Karen said, hooking her arm through yours and giving a gentle tug, “I won’t let you get into any trouble.”

She gave you a smile that you didn’t entirely understand; whatever she thought of your relationship with Billy, it was clear she didn’t have a clue what was actually going on between the two of you.

“I guess I’m just a little nervous,” you explained. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around this many people...”

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll love Matt and Foggy,” she told you, “Foggy is so funny and Matt is -”

“I’m what?” She was interrupted by the appearance of two men at her side, both smiling widely at her.

“I was going to say real pain in the ass, but you’ve ruined the surprise now,” Karen answered back before quickly introducing you to her friend.

They were both lawyers in Hell’s Kitchen, you quickly discovered. Foggy was the joker of the pair, while Matt was quieter, with a drier, charming sort of wit. You didn’t realise that Matt was blind until you noticed his cane. Neither asked what you were doing at the party or how you knew Billy, and you were more than happy to keep that information to yourself, in favour of learning all about them.

When they started talking in a way that close friends do, they still tried to include you and make sure you felt like part of the group, and it was something you’d never really experienced before. It felt nice, like you could be one of them one day, like you could have your own little group of friends and a normal life. All you needed to do was make it through a whole year with Billy and you’d be able to have the sort of life that you wanted.

Your hand trembled as you brought your glass to your lips, another unexpected wave of vibrations started and your thighs clenched. Turning, you looked around the party, trying to spot him, but in a room full of masked men in tuxedos, it was almost impossible. The vibrations intensified and you could almost feel his eyes on you; you could picture his smile as he watched you struggling to keep a straight face.

It felt like your cheeks were burning, every fibre of your being overcome with embarrassment at just how close you were to coming in such a crowded room. Trembling fingers adjusted your mask, your hand lingering, covering your face as your breath became short, uneven pants. You clenched around the toy, but that just made it worse.

A sigh of relief slipped from your lips when the vibrations suddenly stopped, leaving you on the precipice of an orgasm.

Finally, you were able to concentrate on Foggy again, trying to catch up with the story he was telling - something about Matt getting caught outside their dorm room in college in nothing but his underwear.

“You okay?” Karen asked suddenly, derailing her story and drawing everyone’s attention to you.

“Fine, just a little warm,” you lied. “I’m going to go grab some water.”

“I could do with some water too,” Matt said, “mind if I join you?”

“No, of course not,” you told him, taking a step forward and lightly placing your arm on his so he could follow you towards the kitchen.

“I hate that story,” Matt muttered, leaning towards you so you could hear him over the party as you walked together towards the kitchen. “Foggy always insists on telling it in front of pretty girls.”

Instantly, your cheeks started to warm.

“You mean Karen?” You dared to ask, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat.

“No, I don’t mean Karen.”

“But how -”

“He wouldn’t tell the story if you weren’t pretty,” Matt explained before you could finish the question. “He was trying to put you off me.”

“I thought he was your friend?” You asked, more confused than ever.

“He is, I just have a bit of a reputation and -”

You gasped as the toy started to vibrate again, the intensity stronger than before and catching you completely off-guard. It stopped just as suddenly as it started, but your shock hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Are you alright?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you answered, “just my shoes pinching my feet.”

Fortunately, you’d managed to reach the kitchen and had the counter for support as you got a glass of water for Matt and then one for yourself.

“Thank you. I never could get used to the expensive stuff they serve at these things,” he explained.

You smiled and, suddenly, the intense vibrations started again but, this time, instead of cutting off after a couple of seconds, it carried on. It didn’t take long for you to realise what was going on; the first time had been a warning, this was the punishment.

Billy was watching you and he was getting jealous. He wanted all your thoughts on him and not the man standing in front of you.

“Karen explained your situation here,” Matt went on, “but when you’re done working for Russo, if you ever want to go for dinner or coffee, or something...”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, barely thinking about what Matt was asking you.

You squeezed your thighs together but that just made the vibrations feel more accute.

“I know some great places in Hell’s Kitchen...”

“Oh…”

Matt’s smile widened, completely unaware of your torment and just how wet your panties were. You pursed your lips and tried desperately not to let out the moan that was threatening to spill from you as Matt continued.

As awful as you felt the moment you had the thought, you were glad he couldn’t see the way you were squirming and the discomfort on your face as you struggled not to come in front of him. Your eyes searched the crowd again, trying to find Billy wanting to plead with him to relent.

“There’s a great Vietnamese place that -” Matt’s fingers brushed your arm suddenly and you almost came.

“Hey Murdock, I think Karen wants you.”

Your breath caught as Billy appeared seemingly from nowhere

“Russo,” Matt muttered curtly.

“Said she needed you to settle a bet or something,” Billy told him, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you for a single second

Matt nodded, his attention briefly turning to you before he left; “don’t forget my offer.”

Billy barely waited until he was out of earshot to speak; “having fun?”

There was an edge to his tone, something that you didn’t like, something that you hadn’t heard before. He wasn’t used to sharing you and, clearly, he didn’t like it.

“If you didn’t want me to talk to people, you shouldn’t have left me on my own,” you answered back.

“I didn’t leave you on your own, I left you with Karen.”

Your breath caught as he stepped closer, placing a hand on the counter at your side, and making you feel boxed in.

“You can’t force Karen to babysit me. I wasn’t doing anything, I was just talking. I thought that was why you let me come tonight, so I could be around people.” You looked at him, finding uncertainty in his expression. He looked lost. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes found yours from behind his mask and, for a moment, he just stared at you, unsure whether to answer or not. He took your wrist in his hand, placing his fingers over your pulse before letting out a slow exhale.

“I can’t hear your heartbeat,” he told you with a longing that you knew he hadn’t wanted to share, like he was going through the worst torture imaginable. “I can’t -” he cut himself off with a frustrated huff.

“Billy...”

There were no words, there was nothing you could say in response to any of it. You hated the frustration and agony on his face, hated the fact that there was nothing you could think of to do to fix it.

So, instead, you stayed quiet, letting him keep his fingers over your racing pulse for as long as he needed to, while your hand discretely slipped into his jacket to rest on his waist. You remained that way for a few minutes, until Billy seemed to relax again.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered softly. “We don’t have to keep playing if you don’t want to.”

“I-I want to keep playing,” you answered just as softly.

“Really?”

“Yeah... you said you wanted me to spend the night thinking about you, but I -” you bit your lip and dropped your gaze for a moment, “- I want to know you’re thinking about me too,”

Billy leaned close and, for a second, you thought he was going to kiss you but he stopped himself.

“Of course I’m thinking about you,” he confessed, “you’re the only thing I can think about, little hummingbird. When I saw you over here with Murdock all I could think about was -”

He stopped abruptly, lips pulling into a snarl at whatever thought was tormenting him.

“What?” You gently prompted.

“That night, after we had dinner together. The way you begged and moaned as I fucked you with my fingers,” his voice turned low and dark, his gaze fixed on yours. “All I could think about was how wet your pussy was and how hard you came for me against this counter.”

Your thighs clenched and you struggled to draw breath. You knew he could feel just how fast your heart was racing and it seemed to settle him further - the fact that he could make your heart pound so hard seemed to relax him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet. Not here. When everyone’s gone,” you told him, tearing your eyes away long enough to glance past him towards the party. “We should...”

“Yeah... before anyone notices...” he sighed, slowly stepping back.

For a moment you wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t care if anyone saw, but you reminded yourself that it was for his benefit as much as your own; he’d warned you from the start how people tended to view arrangements like yours.

He forced himself to turn and started to walk away from you, pulling out his phone and making the toy give a gentle buzz inside you, ramping up your arousal all over again and letting you know he was still thinking about you, that he wasn’t going to stop thinking about you.

You made your way back to Karen and, when asked about it, explained that Billy was just checking that you were alright and making sure that no one was bothering you. She gave you a look and you weren’t sure that she believed you, but she let the matter drop.

To avoid causing Billy any distress, you stayed by Karen’s side for the next couple of hours. Every now and then, you’d feel a sudden buzz inside you. Sometimes it’d just be a couple of seconds, other times, he’d leave it a few minutes before turning it off, making you squirm uncomfortably. You tried to hide it by shifting your weight between your legs, telling Karen that your new shoes were hurting you.

But, after your sixth glass of champagne, you found yourself starting to feel a little bit tipsy and in need of the bathroom, so you excused yourself.

When you got there, there was already someone waiting outside.

“Are you waiting for the bathroom?” You asked, trying to be polite, and wondering if it would be quicker to go use your own bathroom on the other side of the penthouse.

She looked at you for a second, a cold smile growing on her lips.

“Oh, you’re the new one,” she remarked, barely containing her derision as her cold fingers brushed against your necklace. “I see he’s still putting collars on his pets.”

Collars? Pets?

You wanted to say something. Anything. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Where are my manners?” She laughed, offering you her hand. “I’m Krista Dumont, I used to be you until he got bored of me.”

You took her hand, feeling like you were running on autopilot, the need to be polite far outweighing trying to understand what the fuck was going on. Her skin was cold to the touch and her eyes were dark; there was no mistaking the fact that she was a vampire.

“You’re a pretty little thing, I can see why he picked you,” she continued. “But that’s the problem with men like William; they always get bored and move on to the next pretty thing.”

“I don’t -” you tried, hating how lost you felt.

Krista. Madani had mentioned a Krista, hadn’t she? You shook your head, trying to focus your thoughts, trying to remember the photos you’d been shown. She’d had your job working for Billy, but she was a vampire now...

Did that mean Billy had turned her?

“You poor thing,” Krista cooed, leaning towards you and placing a cold hand on your cheek. “Did you really think you were the first? That you were special? Does he like to listen to your racing heartbeat once he’s done fucking you or was that just for me?”

“No, we haven’t -” you shook your head, cheeks burning hotter despite her cold touch.

It couldn’t be true. Billy had promised not to lie. He’d told you that there hadn’t been any others like you.

You wanted to find him and ask him what was going on, but there was something about her, about the way she was looking at you; you couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away to look for help. You were stuck. Trapped.

“He will eventually. He just can’t help himself,” she told you, her gaze holding yours, forcing you to keep looking, to keep listening. “But it doesn’t have to be like that. I could help you, save you the way I was saved...”

You remained frozen as she leaned towards you, softly pressing her lips to your cheek, tongue lapping up a tear you didn’t even realise had spilled. Your heart was racing, lungs struggling to draw breath. You couldn’t stop her, couldn’t even lift your arms to push her away as her lips started to trail down towards your neck.

Fingers pulled open your necklace and let it fall to the floor.

“Let me show you who you really are,” she muttered against your neck, cold lips leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Yes. You found yourself wanting it, wanting whatever it was she wanted you to want. It was like your mind had turned blank and her voice was all that remained. You were in her thrall with no way of escaping.

Then came the scrape of teeth on flesh and -

You were pulled backwards as she was wrenched away from you. Curtis had her pressed against the wall while a strong pair of arms pulled you away. You felt limp, like a rag doll being half-led, half-carried into the library.

Whatever she’d done to you had started to wear off as you were pressed back against the door, and you realised you were with Billy. Somewhere along the way, both of you had lost your masks, but you couldn’t rightly say where.

His fingers were on your neck, eyes desperately searching for any sign of bite marks. When he didn’t find any, his hands moved to hold your face, catching your eyes with a concerned look that would have broken you at any other time. Then he was on you, his body against yours, pinning you in place while his lips slanted over yours and you sank into a devouring kiss. All you could do to respond was moan softly as his tongue slipped between your lips.

It took a few seconds for you to come back to your senses, and a moment more to realise that you were angry with him. You pushed him away, breaking the kiss. The space you created wasn’t much, but it was enough to see him, and for him to see how upset you were.

“You lied to me.” Your voice threatened to break. “You promised that you wouldn’t lie to me.”

The look on his face said more than his words ever could; he knew that he’d been caught out.

“I didn’t -”

“I asked if you’d done this with any of the others and you said no.”

“I said not like this,” he tried to explain.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I fucked Krista,” he stated flatly. “That was all we did. We didn’t talk about literature or hang out, she didn’t make me laugh, she didn’t sit and watch the sunset with me. We fucked. And after three months of fucking, she wanted more from me. More than I wanted to give her.”

“What did she want?” You asked, even though you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

“Me. This life. She -” he sighed, “- she wanted to be bitten. She wanted me to turn her. She tried to get me to do it during sex when I was...” he trailed off for a moment, leaving you to fill in the blanks. She’d done it when he’d been struggling to control himself. “I told her I wouldn’t, that I couldn’t have her in my bed anymore, and she quit.”

“But she’s -”

“She’s a vampire now. She found someone else to turn her, then came back to me, thinking we could be together. And I - I couldn’t give her that. I didn’t want to give her that.” The more he spoke the more fraught he sounded. “So, yeah, I fucked up. I didn’t see what was right in front of me until it was too late. And if you want to know; yes, I’ve fucked others that have been in your position. But it’s never been like it is with you.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that from the start?” Your voice still broken, eyes threatening tears.

“So you could think that I just lure women here to take advantage of them? So you could think I was doing that to you?” He shook his head. “We shouldn’t work. Everything about you, it’s - you’re all the things I never thought I wanted. But I like being around you, I like the way I feel when I’m with you. We could stop all of this, I’d never touch you again, and I’d still want to spend time with you.”

You didn’t know how to respond to any of it. Instead, you found your fingers on your neck, remembering the necklace that was now gone.

“She called it a collar. She called me your pet.” Indignation replaced the upset in your tone.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed again, “I should’ve explained. The necklace was supposed to keep you safe, it’s supposed to signify to other vampires that you’re mine -”

“I’m yours? As in your property?” You asked angrily.

“I just wanted to keep you safe. I know you’re not mine... I know that you’ll never be mine,” he said bitterly.

“How could I be yours when we can’t even have sex?”

You regretted the question the second it left your lips and you saw his face drop.

“You’re right,” he answered before letting out a humourless huff of laughter, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Irony is that I did everything different this time and it still got fucked up. I let myself enjoy just being with you, I tried to take things slow. I let myself care - but I couldn’t even do that right. I’ve been lying to myself, pretending that anyone could want me for me. But even you don’t. If it wasn’t for the money, you wouldn’t even be here...”

You watched as he took a step back and started to turn away from you but, before he could get away, you were reaching for his hand, pulling him back towards you. He gave you a confused look but didn’t say anything while you sorted through your conflicting emotions.

“I -” you started and stopped, not sure what you wanted to say, only knowing that you wanted to say something, “- I haven’t been doing any of this for the money. I like you, okay? A lot. I know that’s not what we agreed to and I know I’m not supposed to, but I can’t help it. That’s why it hurt that you lied to me, because you obviously liked her enough to sleep with her, and I -”

Before you could finish, he was on you again, pulling you into another eager kiss. The floor disappeared beneath your feet as he lifted you and carried you further into the library, not putting you down until he reached his desk. Your fingers grasped his jacket, keeping a tight hold of him while he kissed you.

“Let me show you how much I like you,” he muttered.

He sank to his knees without warning, his hands pushing your dress up and pulling your panties down. He took a moment to appreciate just how wet they were before throwing them over his shoulder. It was only then that he seemed to remember that the toy was still nestled inside you. With a wicked grin, he took his phone from his pocket and set the toy to a low vibration.

“Billy...” you breathed, watching as his head disappeared under your dress.

The cold press of his lips on your thigh had your heart racing, and a quiet moan slipped from you when you felt him start sucking little marks into your skin, like he was claiming you. It felt like everything was happening in slow motion, each press of his lips and drag of his tongue bringing him closer and closer to where you desperately wanted him. Before he got there, you noticed his finger clumsily swiping at his phone, ramping up the vibrations.

His fingers parted your folds and you gasped as his tongue started to tease your clit.

You moaned, already feeling overwhelmed, feeling the pressure of a whole night's worth of teasing start to fill you. Your legs trembled, held apart by Billy’s strong hands, leaving you completely at his mercy, as he licked and sucked your throbbing, swollen clit. Gripping the edge of the desk, your back arched, and your moans only got louder and more desperate. Struggling to hold off the inevitable until -

“Come for me,” he groaned in that eager but commanding tone.

And you did as you were told.

Your whole body shook, finally able to relieve the tension that had been coiling in you since the moment he’d filled you with the toy. More wild moans escaped your lips and Billy’s tongue kept going until you were too sensitive to take anymore. The vibrations finally stopped and you felt Billy pull the toy from your trembling body and heard it drop but you didn’t look down.

Instead your eyes were fixed on Billy, as he finally emerged from beneath your dress. He stood and your arm instantly wrapped around his waist, while the hand of the other tenderly cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his wet lips.

“I like you too, hummingbird. A lot,” he finally dared to admit, drawing the softest laugh from you.

He leaned in to kiss you again, his hips settling between your thighs. You let out a soft moan against his lips, pulling him closer, needing him as close as possible, feeling the way his cock was straining against his pants. Now that he’d said the words, you felt closer to him than ever and you didn’t want the moment to end. When he pulled back, the look on his face was all it took to have you fumbling to undo his pants and free his achingly hard cock. Your hand ran up and down the length of him while he just looked at you.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, already sounding a little breathless.

“I want you,” you answered.

Billy hesitated, looking almost reluctant, and it took you a couple of seconds to realise why; this was usually the point when he started to lose control and things fell apart.

Your free hand moved back to his cheek. “Are you here with me? Are you in control right now?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want this.”

Billy relented with a nod. You took a breath as his arm hooked beneath your knee, lifting your leg, making sure you were spread open for him. Your hand dropped from his cock and moved to grip his jacket again as he pressed forwards. The tip of his cock parted your folds and pressed against your wet entrance and you felt your whole body start to tremble in nervous anticipation. He kissed you again, this time softly, savouring the taste of your lips as he slowly started to nudge inside you, drawing a moan from you.

Your grip on his jacket tightened and you tried not to wince as he stretched you. You knew there was going to be some initial discomfort because of his size, but you didn’t care. You wanted to finally feel him inside you.

“Are you still with me?” you asked him softly, trying in vain to hide your discomfort.

Billy nodded, lifting your leg a little higher, opening you further, enough for him to slowly start sinking deeper, almost enough for him to -

Suddenly the noise of the party spilled into the room and Billy recoiled, pulling out and leaving you trembling.

“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Bill?” An angry voice pulled you back to the moment and your heart stopped.

Billy pulled away, fumbling with his pants, turning to face Frank. Your shaking hands tried to right your dress as you got off the desk, your face burning with embarrassment as Frank leaned down to pick your discarded panties off the floor, a disgusted look on his face.

“You plannin’ on fuckin’ up that poor girl too? Can’t keep your dick in your pants, that it?”

“What -” the word left your lips in little more than a whisper and it was completely ignored.

“Fuck off, Frankie,” Billy growled. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“I ain’t lettin’ you fuck up another one, Bill. I told you, you don’t get to fuck around like this no more.”

“And I told you, you don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re the one that did this to me, Frankie. You don’t get to keep fucking up my life.” Billy answered back, pointing an angry finger at Frank.

Your embarrassment doubled when you realised that Karen was there. She moved past Frank, stepping towards you and offering you her hand. “Come on, they need to talk this out.”

Billy didn’t even look at you, he was too busy looking like he was about to tear Frank to shreds with his bare hands.

You hated yourself for how easily you took her hand and let her lead you out of the library; like a child, being removed from a room by your mother because the adults were talking. You felt so lost, so completely and utterly mortified, that you barely even noticed that Karen led you back through the party and to your rooms, and into the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Karen asked, closing the kitchen door and sealing you both in the tiny room and away from the sounds of the party.

“No, I’m not okay,” you responded sharply, “what was that?”

“Look, Billy is just -”

“Not Billy, you and Frank,” you clarified.

“I know you’re probably confused right now, but Billy really shouldn’t -”

“How is it any of your business?” You interrupted again, your voice shaking, tears threatening to spill.

“Because it isn’t safe. Billy - when he’s like that, he isn’t safe,” she tried to tell you. “He’s sick, he -”

“I know.”

Karen faltered, obviously not expecting you to know anything about it. “He told you?”

“I’ve seen it,” you snapped, hating that you were being made to feel like a child who had no idea what was going on. “I’ve been helping him with it. And that, in there - it wasn’t that.”

Scrubbing at your eyes, you refused to cry in front of her, you refused to show anything but anger.

“I know it might seem like -”

“Like what? That he likes me?” Your voice threatened to break. “Is that really so hard to believe? That he might actually like me? That someone like him might actually want me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Karen tried to explain, reaching out, trying to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You shrugged away from her, moving towards the door and pulling it open. “Just get out.”

“I know you’re pissed, but I’m just trying to help,” Karen tried again, obviously trying to keep her own temper in check.

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want it. So, just go.”

She looked ready to argue but quickly gave up. You watched as she left and made her way back into the penthouse.

You thought about going back to Billy but you couldn’t face anyone, you felt so embarrassed and angry, you felt like there was still so much going on that you didn’t understand. And you hated it. It made you feel like you were back home, with everyone around you making decisions for your life without bothering to consult you.

Heading to your room, you locked the door behind you and changed into your pyjamas before crawling into bed, burying your face against the bear he'd bought you as the tears started to fall.

End Note : We're now referring to Frank as Frank-cockblock-Castle, and I hope everyone enjoyed some of the little cameos, some of them will be back in later chapters to cause more trouble. Anyway, hope this chapter lived up to expectations 😅 As always, thanks for reading/commenting/liking/reblogging, it really does mean so much to me every week!! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

@sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim

@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl

@rosey1981 @benbarnesprettygurl @rachlovesactors @robertthehoover @ladyblacky

@goldenbeskar @mydarlingnana @strwbrrynd @cheshirecat484

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #(ob)ts ff #billy russo imagine

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cry4mina · 2 days

Text

Supernatural

(Dahyun x gn!reader)

Word count: 1k

Fluff!

TW: Kinda suggestive?

A/N: Hello everyone! I’ve decided I’m going to start putting out shorter stories as well! Just a little something to keep putting out content and keep my brain going while I write the longer one shots/series fics I have planned! :) I hope you enjoy! 🖤

As always, DMs and Feedback are always welcome and appreciated! Have a great day/night!

—

The skies are clear, stars shining brightly down on you through the light breeze. It’s perfect sweater weather, leaves are browning and threatening to fall on the trees around you. Crickets play their symphonies in the distance to the tune of the calmness around you.

Sitting with the driver's seat leaned all the way back and your legs stretched out, you glance over at your crush who’s in a similar position but with her hands underneath the back of her head. Seat belts off, top down on the convertible that’s parked in a secluded area up on a mountain side.

Dahyun is just…everything. Hair so sleek and perfect, eyes always reflecting purity. A smile that could knock the wind out of anyone who got the chance to be graced by it, and a personality that would make even the blandest person fall in love with her.

The butterflies in your stomach never cease when she’s near. Even without many words shared between you two in the last hour, she had such a way of making you feel so comfortable. You could tell her anything without fear.

“Do you think aliens do the same thing?” Dahyun breaks the silence with a strange question.

“What?” giggling at her random inquiry.

“Well, we are laying here” she looks over at you with those eyes…god, her eyes just make you want to protect her from everything.

“And I’m just thinking…do you think that life forms on another planet do this too? Stare into the sky and think about life…or whatever it is they think about?”

A tight lipped smile on your face slowly creeps into a smile as bright as the moon, chuckling softly and turning on your side to face her.

“What parts of life are you thinking about?” curiosity getting a hold of you.

She halfway crosses her arms, not ready to share her thoughts. She’s always been private about certain things and you never pushed her to speak before she wanted to. Noticing the shift, you change the subject.

“You know, I think they might…what type of tv shows do you think they watch?” playfully lobbed back at her.

Dahyun mirrors your position in her own seat now, making eye contact, causing the stir in your stomach to swell rapidly. Even if she never says it, she’s always so grateful for your patience.

“I’d love to watch an alien sitcom some day!” joyfully expressed with more enthusiasm than you expected.

“Or maybe like one of those competition shows…like Survivor or something? Wouldn’t it be so cool to see what the atmosphere looks like?” eye wide with excitement and wonder.

“How many moons do you think they have?” enjoying her responses too much to let it fall back into comfortable silence while also keeping her mind off whatever it was that made her uneasy.

“Well if they have more than one moon, wouldn’t it be hard to see the stars?…the moon and the stars need each other…” she’s toying with her fingers but keeping her soft eyes on you, watching your movements.

“Kind of like…how I need you…” biting her lip in nervousness, unsure of how you’ll reply to what she’s just said.

Truthfully, you’re completely shocked. You knew your chemistry was immaculate, the friendship you had made was one people only write stories about…you had no idea the emotions you felt for her were reciprocated. Especially with a heavy word, like need.

Without hesitation, you reach your hand over and intertwine your fingers. Even in the chilled air, the gesture radiates warmth. Her grip tightens, almost out of pure disbelief. Her eyes match her body language in that same regard.

“That was corny as hell…but” pulling her hand lightly, faces now mere centimeters apart.

Dahyun’s breath hitches, processing how close you are to each other. Your hand slips underneath her hair and lays on the back of her neck, guiding her through the last bit of space right onto your lips.

Sparks fly from the contact, both of you slowly familiarizing yourself with each other's lips. Fingers interlocking, the soft sound of sweet small pecks that slowly turn into long, more passionate kisses.

You rest your forehead on hers and try to catch your breath, it seems that sentiment is shared between the two of you.

“So, do you want to get dinner sometime?” Sitting up, keeping hold of her hand as you sit more comfortably.

“Like…like a date?” Dahyun is completely overwhelmed with happiness, it’s refracting off her cheeks in a way that was contagious.

“Yes…absolutely a date.” confidently stated.

All she can do is smile at you.

“Sooooo…can I have more of those?” smirking as she asked to be close to you again.

“More of…these?” Laying your lips lovingly across her knuckles.

“Yes, but…uhm, maybe a little higher?” flustered by your lips on her skin, in any regard.

Laying your lips further up her arms, just to get a laugh before leaning over and passionately kissing her. She maneuvers you so your back is against the door, practically climbing into your lap.

The windows could’ve steamed up in the intensity. Dahyun reaches for the hem of the shirt you were wearing and pulls it up a little, dragging her finger up your stomach in the process.

“Wait, wait, wait” you say between your lips meeting over and over again.

“Let’s not rush” cupping her cheeks, both almost breathless as she lets go of your shirt.

Dahyun just nods her head at you, unable to speak but absolutely happy about what was transpiring and the proximity of your faces.

“Let’s start with that date…and see where it all goes.”

“You know, there is a cafe down the street that might still be open…if you wanted a late dinner…” suggested coyly, crawling back to the passenger seat and plopping down in it.

“Someone’s impatient…put your seatbelt on” leaning to kiss the tip of her nose.

You adjust your seat back into a comfortable position for driving, start the car and look over, Dahyun is lost in you. Memorizing every part of you.

“Everything okay?” grabbing her hand again and giving a little squeeze.

“Yes. Very much so. I’ve just…never been able to take you in without it being a secret.” winking at you as she readies her GPS to that cafe.

“Ready for our first date?” Dahyun asks, excited was an understatement.

“And ready for every date after.”

#kim dahyun imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #dahyun x fem!reader #kim dahyun scenarios #kim dahyun imagine #dahyun imagines #dahyun x reader #twice dahyun #kim dahyun x reader #kim dahyun #dahyun fluff #Kim Dahyun fluff

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marvelsmylife · 14 hours

Text

Forgotten

Pairing: Rhysand x reader

“You broke my heart, and you weren’t even there to witness it”

Plot: Rhysand has put you, his mate, on the back burner while fulfilling his duties as the high lord of the night court. He doesn’t realize he’s losing you until he misses an important event again . . . Your birthday. Will he be able to make up for it, or will you end things with the male who promised to give you the stars when you first got together?

a/n This is the first in my small drabble series centered around quotes from Ana Huang's books. Next up is Cassian.

Masterlist

Request

Tonight was the last straw for you. What was supposed to be a night of celebrating your birthday was nothing but disappointment. All because Rhysand forgot your birthday again.

After cutting your birthday dinner short out of embarrassment that your mate wasn’t there. You made your way to his office where he was elbow deep in paperwork that he didn’t hear you walk in. “You forgot my birthday, again,” you blurted out and got your mate's attention for a few seconds before focusing on the papers in front of him.

“I’m sorry darling, I’ve been so busy with work,” Rhysand replied, “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow if you wish.”

You couldn’t handle Rhysand’s excuses anymore and finally said, “You don’t get it, Rhys. I’ve been by your side day in and day out for the past three hundred years, but you couldn’t bother to remember my birthday? The sad thing is that this isn’t even the first time you’ve forgotten my birthday.” You paused for a few seconds because you felt yourself choking up, “You broke my heart, and you weren’t even there to witness it.”

Rhysand’s breath stilled at your words, not realizing he’d been causing you pain for decades. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Rhysand asked as he stood up and started making his way towards you.

“I did,” you paused and looked into your mate's eyes, “you just never listened when I told you.”

Rhysand started to think back at the interactions you've shared in the last few years and realized you were right. You’ve vocalized your unhappiness, and he ignored you. “I’ve turned into my father,” Rhysand whispered before looking back at you, “y/n, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” you placed your hand on Rhysand’s chest, preventing him from getting close to you, “I need space. I contacted Viviane, and she and Kallias have opened their home to me, and I’m going to go.”

Rhysand wanted to protest your decision to leave. He needed you by his side, but looking into your eyes, he knew you needed this. “Just promise me you’ll come home.”

“We’ll see,” you whispered before leaving to pack your stuff for your departure.

Mor, Amren, Cassian, and Azriel appeared in Rhysand’s office the second you were gone with scowls on their faces. “Don’t start; I already feel shitty that I’ve neglected her for so long,” Rhysand rubbed his hands over his face.

“No, you don’t get to make that demand,” Amren growled.

“Go get her back,” Azriel demanded and was about to lunge at Rhysand but was quickly stopped by Cassian, “Go get our high lady back ! ! !”

Rhysand wanted nothing more than to do what Azriel requested, but he knew you would resent him even more if he did. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Mor crossed her arms and glared at her cousin, “I have warned you a thousand times to prioritize your mate, and you ignored me every time. Now, look at what you did. You drove her away.”

Unable to handle his friends ganging up on him, Rhysand disappeared to his room, where he noticed you had taken all your belongings. “Fuck,” Rhysand cursed at the realization of how badly he neglected you and wondered if he would be able to fix your broken relationship.

#rhysand imagine #rhysand x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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mustainegf · 2 days

Note

Unexpected pregnancy with one of the Metallica boys, and reader is terrified he's going to dump her when he finds out bc rockstar life doesn't mesh well with family man life usually but he's happy and reassures her he's sticking by her side no matter what. Any era is fine. ❤️

I LOOOVVVVEEE STUFF LIKE THISS—you know me, I couldn’t just pick one, so I did kirk, James & cliff

I’m a sucker for baby stuff, so let me know if you guys want a part of them with their baby :P

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 ¹⁹⁹⁵

I stood outside the door to Kirk’s dressing room, my heart rapping so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest and splatter onto the door ahead of me. I clutched the small, white stick in my hand, the two pink lines glaring up at me.

I had rehearsed what I wanted to say a hundred times in my head, but now, in the moment, the words seemed to slip away.

I'm pregnant.

Finally, I took a deep breath and knocked softly. "Kirk? Can I come in?" I sked, tucking the pregnancy test up into my sleeve.

"Sure, babe," he called out. His voice was sweet as always, like buttermilk. When I stepped inside, he looked up from his guitar and grinned from ear to ear. "Hey, what's up? I missed you."

I tried to smile back, but I could feel my face giving me away. I stepped over to him, taking his hands in mine and leading him to sit on the couch. He looked at me with an almost bewildered expression, incredibly confused by my actions.

"Kirk, there's something I need to tell you," I began, my voice trembling slightly. "And it's really important."

He furrowed his brow, the smile fading from his face. "What is it? You're freaking me out." he giggles awkwardly, trying to take off some of the pressure.

I took a deep breath and held up the pregnancy test. "I'm pregnant."

For a while, there was complete silence.

Kirk stared at the test in my hand, his eyes unbelievably wide. My heart sank, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. What if he didn't want this? What if he—

Before I could spiral any further, I saw his eyes fill with tears. He slouched from the couch and dropped to his knees in front of me, clutching my hands tightly.

"You're… pregnant?" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm going to be a dad?"

I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks now. "Yes, Kirk. We’re going to have a baby."

And then, to my astonishment, he started to cry. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing his face into my stomach, his shoulders shaking with sobs. I could feel his tears soaking through my shirt.

"Oh my God," he said, looking up at me with a beaming smile through his tears. "This is the best thing you've ever told me."

I laughed through my own tears, overwhelmed by the intensity of his joy. I ran my fingers through his long hair. "I was so scared you'd be upset," I admitted in a whisper.

"Upset?" He stood up and cupped my face in his hands, kissing me deeply. "I’ve never been happier in my life."

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 ¹⁹⁸⁸

I stood in the tiny bathroom, staring at the positive pregnancy test in my hand. The noise from the concert outside was deafening, but all I could hear was the thundering of my own heartbeat. How was I going to tell James? He was a rockstar, living the wild life. Would he even want to settle down? Ever?

It was scary, trembling in the bathroom alone, staring at the evidence of James' baby growing inside me, all while he thrashed around on stage, none the wiser.

My hands were practically vibrating as I walked backstage. James was there, shirtless and sweaty, coming down from the high of performing. He grinned when he saw me, pulling me into a bear hug. He did this a lot.

"Hey, babe! Did you see the crowd tonight? They were insane!"

"Yeah," I said weakly, trying to muster a smile. "They were pretty crazy."

He instantly could tell something was off. His smile drooped, and he quirked a brow at me with worry. "What’s wrong? You're pale, honey."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "James, there's something serious I need to tell you."

His eyes narrowed, and he took my hands in his. "Okay, shoot. I'm right here."

"I'm pregnant," I blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer. "I just found out, and I… I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared, James."

For a millisecond, he just stared at me. Then, to my complete shock, a huge grin wiped across his face. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, pulling me up around him and spinning. "That’s fucking amazing!"

I blinked, taken aback. "You're… happy?"

"Happy?" He pulled back to look at me, his eyes shining with excitement. "Honey, I'm fucking ecstatic! We're having a baby! Can you believe that?"

He placed his hand gently on my tummy, his eyes softening to an extent I'd never seen. "Hey there, little guy," he said softly.

Tears filled my eyes, and I let out a chuckle of pure relief. "I was so scared," I confessed.

"Baby, this is the best news ever!" He kissed me again, his hands never leaving my stomach.

𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐅 ¹⁹⁸⁵

I sat on the edge of the bed, the pregnancy test clutched in my hand. My heart was pounding against my ribs, and I felt like I might be sick. How was I going to tell Cliff? He was so calm and sweet, but this was huge. Surely he didn’t want this?

When Cliff walked into the room, he immediately noticed my distressed face. "Hey, what’s wrong, love?" he asked, concern lacing his buttery words.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Cliff, I..."

He took my hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Whatever it is, we’ll do it together. Tell me what's happening, sweetheart."

"I’m pregnant," I choked out, my voice barely heard over my quiet cries. "I just found out, and... and I’m s-so scared, Cliff. I don’t know what to do."

For a moment, he just stared at me, a small frown on his face. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice soft and uncertain.

"Yes," I said, tears building up in my eyes. "I’m really scared, Cliff. I don’t want to lose you."

Cliffs tense face calmed, and he pulled me into a gentle hug. "Hey, hey," he murmured, rubbing my back. His long, slender fingers were warm and firm. "Don’t cry. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere."

I buried my face in his chest, sobbing. "I thought you didn't want this."

He pulled back slightly, cupping my face in his hands. "I want this more than anything," he said softly. "I could never leave you, let alone you and our baby."

His words comforted me so immensely. Something I hadn’t felt since I saw the positive test. "You’re not mad? O-or upset?" I asked, desperately needing to hear it again.

"Mad?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "My love, how could I be mad at my beautiful, pregnant girlfriend?"

He kissed me gently, his hands resting on my still-flat stomach. "I love you," he whispered against my lips. "And I love our baby. We’re going to be just fine."

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veturiusofserra · 12 hours

Text

when you know, you know | s. r.

𑁤 synopsis: in an interview she opens up about how easy it is to be loved by Spencer, sharing the story of how they met and how his love inspired her music.

𑁤 pairing: spencer reid x singer!reader

𑁤 words: 1.090

𑁤 disclaimer: This was 100% inspired by something my bf said a while ago, and I love the song. I hope you will enjoy it too <3

“As we reach the close of our conversation, one thing’s bugging me. In your song “Margaret,” there’s this line ‘when you know, you know.’ Like, how do you just know someone’s the one? I’ve been through my share of relationships, yet I haven’t experienced that kind of thing you sing about. In your song, it’s all so clear-cut, like you can predict the future. It reminds me of a kid believing in the tooth fairy – sweet idea, maybe not quite real. But that’s probably what makes the song so good. It talks about this perfect love where everything just clicks, and all your worries disappear. Maybe that’s what I’m still looking for, or maybe it’s just for some lucky people. Either way, your song paints such a strong picture of love that it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have a ‘Margaret’ of my own.”

“It’s funny, right? The answer everyone gives is so simple: “you’ll just know.” Like love hits you like a lightning bolt, destiny calls, happily ever after guaranteed. But maybe that’s the problem. We get this picture-perfect idea of love from movies and books, and then we miss the real thing when it’s right under our noses. We set these high expectations, these checklists of what “the one” should be like. And if someone doesn’t tick every box, we write them off. It’s like searching for a flawless diamond, forgetting that even the most beautiful gems have tiny imperfections. Because guess what? We all mess up. You make mistakes, I make mistakes, everyone does. Maybe that’s what makes a real connection so special – accepting someone, flaws and all. Speaking of which, there’s this story I wanted to share with you.”

“We're all ears!”, the interviewer and the crew smile with waiting faces.

“For the longest time, I believed I was destined to give love, but never receive it. Maybe because... well, let’s be honest, I can be a bit self-absorbed, lost in my own head and neglecting others. But even with the no love life mantra, there was always this yearning for a family, a deep desire for children I could call my own. The ‘what ifs’ terrified me, though. Would I be a good parent? Would they be happy? Could I provide for them? Eventually, I resigned myself to a life of music, making people happy through my art, having a few friends, maybe a tragically young death – you know, the artist’s curse.

Then, I found him. We both know Penny, but run in different circles. He’s in law, I’m an artist – about as different as you get, except for maybe a shared love of fancy vocabulary. We met at Penny’s birthday party, and while he claims it was love at first sight for him, I just thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. But that was it. He was too shy to introduce himself, and I was sworn off men at the time. Funny how fate works, right? We never crossed paths before, but after that night, it seemed like everywhere I turned, there he was. That’s when I decided to take a chance, and boy, I was so scared!

All those stories about soulmates and butterflies? They weren’t for me. Anxiety had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. Butterflies just meant another battle brewing in my head. What I craved was peace, a steady hand to anchor me until I was ready to set sail. So, I built a friendship with him. We shared secrets, dreams, and vulnerabilities. He turned out to be a brilliant mind, a walking encyclopedia with an IQ of 187. Yet, he never made me feel inferior. He found humor in my quirks, and we seemed to complement each other perfectly. The more time we spent together, the more his words resonated: “We were designed for one another.”

And then, it hit me. Love. Deep, unexpected, and all-encompassing. It felt effortless, a perfect fit. But fear gnawed at me. It was all so new, so unfamiliar. Just as I was drowning in uncertainty, Penny, our mutual friend, reached out. She had something to show me – “Margaret.”

“She wrote it?” she asked, intrigued.

“Well, she started it,” I clarify. “Inspired by him, she penned the first lines that night after the birthday party. She couldn't shake the image of his longing gaze, a sight she’d never witnessed before. It felt sacred, a raw glimpse into his heart. The initial draft, rough around the edges, went something like this: ‘just writing for a friend. My shirt's inside out, and penmanship is messy. He met her on the rooftop, and she wore white. He said, ‘I think I’m in trouble.’ He saw flashes of the future.” A gentle smile graces your lips.

“Seriously, that’s adorable.”

I nod, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Right? Her words sparked inspiration within me. I wrote the rest, my mind consumed by-”

“By him.” she prompted, leaning in.

“He made love feel simple. Loving me was effortless for him, a stark contrast to the struggle I’d always imagined. It was like breathing, a natural and easy rhythm. He helped me discover the light that had been hiding within me all along.”

“There’s a saying,” the interviewer began, “to be loved is to be changed.”

I smiled. “I prefer a different one: to be loved is to be known. Because maybe, just maybe, he saw the affection within me all along, the part I couldn’t quite see myself.”

“You are indeed full of affection,” she said warmly. “Thank you for sharing this story with us.”

“Thank you for listening. I know it's a cliché, but there truly is someone out there for everyone. You never know what tomorrow holds, but deep down, a tiny spark ignites within us, guiding us towards that love. Trust it.”

“That wraps it up for our interview with the lovely Y/n! But before we say goodbye, there's one more message for her. Can we play it, Jonah?” A nod later, the studio fills with the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey there, love. Just wanted to say congratulations on the album! You poured your heart and soul into it, and I’m incredibly proud. But hey, can you come home soon? Two days feels like an eternity without you. Miss my other half. Love you tons, sweetheart. And everyone listening, stream Ocean Boulevard! Dex says hi to mom, too.” A meow erupts in the background, eliciting a laugh from you and the studio crew.

thoughts? or prayers idk

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer read imagines #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader insert #spencer reid x singer!reader #spencer reid singer #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #veturiusofserra writings

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getmeoutofhell · 2 days

Text

I’ve Been Waiting

w/: ethan landry

request: hi!!!! could you write a ethan landry x reader smut but like they’re enemies and having a very heated argument about something when he just wants to shut reader up and kisses her roughly after saying something like “god, just shut the fuck up already” or idk and they end up hate-fucking😭 really want the dom!ethan x sub!reader trope like with degrading and maybe some praising too🙏🏻😭 also tbh i really really like your writing you’re amazing

summary: sam sent ethan to your place to get her jacket she left. you hate ethan, but he doesn’t wanna hear it.

a/n: hey my love, ofc i will write this for you!! you’re so sweet.

warnings: smut, cussing, degrading, arguing & let me know if i missed something!!

“listen you fucker!!” you yell at ethan.

“who the hell you think you’re talking to y/n? you’re the one who started this whole thing in the first place.” if looks could kill, ethan would’ve been dead.

“ethan shut the fuck up. i said something to you first because you kept looking at me weird ever since you got here.” which was true, he did keep giving you looks ever since he came over. you had no idea why sam sent ethan over here to get her jacket. but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

you saw ethan roll his eyes like he always does before he spoke again. “oh my god you’re so damn dramatic. like jesus do you ever just sit and think about anything before you go off?” you would be damned if you sat here and let ethan talk to you like that.

even tho you were seated as soon, as he said that you stood back up. “what the fuck is wrong with you, huh?! you’ve never liked me in the first place so i have a right to question the way you act towards me. you’re the damn prob-“ before you could finish your sentence you were cut off my ethan smashing his lips into yours.

you were in shock, so you barley kissed back at first. ethan then pulled back.

“just shut the fuck up already.”

you didn’t have time for a reaction before ethan said something again. “i know what you want.” he said to you. even tho his kiss was nice, your anger still showed. so you put your hand on each of his shoulders to push him back away from you.

“don’t act like you didn’t want me to do that.” you only started at him in response. maybe he was right, but you’d never tell him that.

he then pulled you to your bedroom.

“you’re so pretty y/n.” he whispered to you as his fingers glazed over your delicate skin. you had no idea why you waited this late for him, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything right now.

“stop fucking taking.” you mumbled back. you softly moaned as he kissed up your neck. “you’ve been waiting for me to fuck you, huh?”

your no response gave it all away. as much as you’ll deny your love for him, it was clear as day that you had some type of feelings for ethan. his voice and nerdy personality eyes drew you in the first time y’all spoke to each other. but your hate for him still showed.

his hands then went to the him of your pants. he started to tease and play with you.

“ethan, stop playing around and fuck me already.”

he smirked at you.

“be patient slut.” he spoke. you would be lying if you said his voice wasn’t making you more wet then you were already were.

you wanted to beg him please but stopped yourself before the words slipped out.

he looked at you with lust filled eyes as his hands pulled your panties to the side. god, he was beautiful. gorgeous eyes and lips. you wanted to reach up and kiss him, but didn’t.

his index finger started rubbing your clit in slow circles, gathering your wetness. you were slowly getting fed up and he noticed. smiling at you, ethan started going faster and adding another finger.

“is this what you wanted baby?” he asked you. you almost whined at his words, but before you could say anything you felt two of his fingers slide inside of you. your eyes closed as your head went back into the pillows below you.

“mm.” you moan slightly as his thick fingers slide in and out of you. it felt so good you couldn’t help but ask him to go faster, which he did.

“ethan, i’m gonna cum don’t stop.” you tell him. just as your about to orgasm he pulls out.

“ethan why did you stop?” you were angry, but not so much.

“i couldn’t waste a beautiful orgasm on my fingers. i need to feel you cum around me princess.” him saying that made your face feel hot, as you felt your pussy clench around nothing.

“whatever.”

not even 5 minutes later ethan is sliding inside of you. his hands on your hips as he stretches you out. you take a deep breath as he looks at you before looking between y’all’s bodies.

“fuck look at that pretty pussy taking me in.” you slightly smirk at his comment before his hand trails up to your throat, lightly squeezing. before you could say anything, his starts speeding up inside of you, causing you to moan loudly.

“fuck ethan! mm.” his face moves next to your ear as he whispers to you.

“how long have you been waiting for be to do this? you’re so wet.” he grunts in your ear before going deeper inside you. he felt so fucking good inside of you, skin on skin could be heard all around the room. you couldn’t help but moan his name once more as another orgasm started approaching.

you and ethan were both moaning and close to cumming. “can i…cum inside you baby? please.” he almost whines out at you.

“yes, please ethan.” not even a second later you feel him groan one last time as his hot cum fills you up. you clench around him one last time before you cum over him. his fingers rub your clit, helping you with a better orgasm.

your legs are shaking, and your struggling to catch your breath. ethan looks at you again, but you didn’t notice since your eyes were closed. his weren’t filled with lust, but with something else, love.

heyy!! i hoped you enjoyed!

masterlist!

#slashers #slashers x reader #ethan landry #slashers x y/n #ghostface x reader #ethan landry x reader #ghostface #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x you

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literary-motif · 1 day

Note

WE NEED A PART TWO OF COLD, IT CAN’T END LIKE THIS😭😭😭

Cold II

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

“I’m sorry,” Isaac said in the morning, standing in the doorway of the now spotless kitchen and eyeing the cup of black coffee on the counter.

Your back was turned to him as you put away the last of the pots. “Did you sleep well?” you asked politely but entirely disinterested as you did not wait for a reply, “What would you like to eat today?”

“Pickle—”

“What would you like to eat?” you insisted, not caring about your rudeness as you cut him off. Your blood was still boiling, hurt at the things he said morphing into anger.

It was just another betrayal after all. He was just like all the other people in your life, taking advantage of you and treating you like a thing — a discardable piece in the game they were playing.

“Don’t interrupt me,” Isaac snapped, his patience dissolving as his frustration got the better of him. He was not used to people challenging him like this. He was not used to making amends and fighting for someone to stay by his side. “I’m sorry, I—”

You waited, but he did not have the words to continue.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, taking his cup of coffee and turning away. “I’ll be in the study.”

“Isaac,” you called, making him stop in the doorway.

He turned to look at you, expecting to see understanding in your eyes and the soft twist of your lips that you had worn in the beginning while realizing the comfort of your life with him. What he found instead was a coldness he had not seen on you before.

“What would you like to eat?” you asked dutifully, and he knew you did not care about his preference at all. You were asking because that was what you were supposed to do.

A part of him relished that you had decided to keep working for him, evidently finding the life he could offer you more comfortable than your previous one. The other part was in shambles at the emptiness in your voice, hating himself for getting careless and ruining his relationship with you.

“I don’t care,” he sighed, waving a hand in dismissal as he walked towards the study with a heavy heart. “Do what you feel like eating. I’m not picky.”

The silence in his house grew deafening again, somehow louder now that you were here. He used to close his eyes and just listen to what was no longer there. The quiet spoke volumes, reminding him painfully that the people who once filled this house with life were buried in the garden.

When he closed his eyes now, he could hear you.

It was a different kind of pain, but one that did not hurt any less than the pain of loss. It reminded him that it was in his capacity to fix this. He could walk into the library adjoining the study and talk to you. He could make amends. He could get on his knees and beg you to forgive him for his insensitive words. He could, but he was still at a loss for what to do.

“What is it?” you asked, looking up from your novel tiredly to train your eyes on Isaac hovering in the doorway with his hand ready to knock.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

You motioned to the seat beside you, shutting the book to look at him expectantly.

He sat, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “I’m sorry—” he began.

You sighed, shaking your head and opening Dracula again. “I don’t want to hear it”.

“Listen to me,” he pleaded, taking your hand and making you look up at him, “Hear me out at least, please. I didn't mean it and I know that does not change that I said it but I had to. With people like Vic, I need to put up a certain front to maintain my image. It’s necessary in my line of work, alright? I hate it, but I have to do it to survive in this world and I know I should have told you first, I should have warned you but I— I thought it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Now you listen,” you said, sitting up properly to look him in the eye, “I don’t care what you think you have to do because of how elite you think you are, got that? I’ve been looked down on my entire life. I’ve been treated worse than trash and left to die in an alley. If you think I’m deterred by you calling me a pet or a plaything or whatever else then I can assure you that I’ve been called worse things than you can imagine.”

Isaac looked at you with heartbreak in his eyes.

It was easy to forget your past when you smiled at him with such gentleness.

The kindness with which you treated him after your initial hesitation and doubts had been heartwarming. Your curiosity and boldness made him need to suppress a smile more times than he could count, and the helpfulness that no amount of disappointment and betrayal had managed to burn out of you made him wonder if his bitterness at life was justified.

“So if you’re apologizing,” you said, “then you better be apologizing for making me believe I could trust you and throwing that back in my face while having a laugh with your colleague. You made me believe you were different, but you’re just like everyone else. It was cruel of you to give me hope, so no, I don’t care about your apology. I don’t forgive you and I won’t for a while.”

Isaac nodded. “Is there anything I can do to earn back your trust?” he asked, searching your gaze.

You thought for a moment. “Stop dehumanizing me, no matter who you’re talking to. I’m your housekeeper, not your possession. The rest will take time, so I suggest you show me the person behind the front you put up for work.”

“I will. I’m sorry.”

“That’s good,” you said, returning to your book. “We’re good, then. We will be, with time.”

#sakuverse #zsakuva #isaac rhoades x reader #isaac rhoades

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lil-binuu · 3 days

Text

✧ 𝐀𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Elias has been avoiding you.

1040 words

had this in my drafts for too long 😅

i’ve been so busy these past couple of weeks and will continue to be even more so i made this to make up for it! (i should really be doing work lmfao)

i’ve had writers block and no inspiration and no idea what to write or even how to for like a month and then all of a sudden i was like ��AHAH’ and this popped out. enjoy ☺️

It had been too long since you felt the warmth of Elias’s voice and the comfort of his arms around you.

There wasn’t much to do in the safe house, and you only had each other for company so the lack of communication between you and Elias these few weeks had left you feeling more empty than ever.

No more stargazing together, cuddling under a blanket, staring up at the twinkling sky and listening contently as Elias spoke excitedly about space and the stars, explaining every little thing to you so you could understand the absolute beauty of the universe.

No more dreamy nights spent tucked under the warm covers, listening to the soft pitter-patter of rain outside that lulled you to sleep as he held you so protectively close. Instead, you wake up cold and alone, rolling over to see the other side of the bed empty, waking up to find Elias avoiding you with house chores or absorbed in whatever work.

No more meals made and shared together. No more dancing around the kitchen, holding hands and laughing as you blew flour into each other's faces. There was no laughter at all. You rarely even talked to each other anymore.

Each and every attempt of yours to speak to him failed. He pushed himself out of your way, made excuses about being busy with work, or needing time alone. You couldn’t help but wonder, was it your fault?

Did you do something to upset him? Did you say something to make him upset? Were you too loud, too annoying, too ignorant?

You wanted to speak to him, ask him what was wrong, apologise for anything you did. But even if you found the words, he just wouldn’t talk to you. It was as if he ran when he heard your footsteps. Constantly busying himself with things so he wouldn’t have to face you. You couldn’t even remember the last time he made eye contact with you. Why was he trying so hard to avoid you?

“Elias.”

You called, tone almost demanding.

He jumped slightly, turning around immediately as he heard your voice pierce through the wall he tried so hard to keep you out of.

You had made sure he didn’t hear you coming, picking a time to approach him when his hands were busy so he couldn’t find a way out of yet another conversation with you.

“What is up with you?”

Hurriedly putting down the dishes he was drying, he looked around helplessly as if to find an exit but you moved closer, cornering him.

“Answer me.”

He opened his mouth before closing it again, unsure of what to say.

“Well?” Your voice raised. You were frustrated, he could tell. You were finally confronting Elias after weeks of being ignored and he couldn’t even speak to you.

“I-”

“Why are you avoiding me?” You asked.

Elias looked taken-aback.

“I’m not-”

“Don’t lie to me Elias. It’s obvious that you’re avoiding me. You don’t talk to me anymore, you make excuses to stay away from me, we- we don’t spend time together anymore.”

You looked at him desperately, chest rising and falling quickly from the pent up emotion taking a hold of you.

“W-why?” Your voice wobbling slightly.

“Why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we hang out like we used to? What changed?”

Elias just stood silently, eyes to the floor.

“I mean, did I do something wrong? Did I upset you? I’m sorry for whatever it is.”

You walked forward, trying to meet his eyes.

“You can’t just ignore me without any kind of explanation. I have feelings, Elias.”

He said nothing. You stepped closer, trying to provoke some kind of reaction out of him. Instead he just slumped against the counter behind him, eyes glued to the floor, mouth unmoving.

You sighed, feeling defeated in your failed attempt to have even a little contact with someone you used to feel so close to.

“Fine then.”

You muttered, turning away. But before you could walk far, a hand caught yours, pulling you back.

You didn’t have time to react as Elias pulled you towards him, gently placing an arm around your waist as he met your lips with his.

He kissed you softly, allowing you space to pull away. But you didn’t. You held onto him, sneaking an arm up to his bicep that tensed as he ran his hands through your hair. The kiss grew more passionate, tangling your lips with his, sending tingles straight to your stomach, making up for all the time spent so far away from each other.

Elias pulled away, breathing heavily. His lips still only inches from yours, he whispered in a tone so husky and low, you hardly recognised it.

“I’ve been avoiding you because every time i look at you i get the urge to pin you against a wall and fuck you.”

You stared up at him. Shocked, to say the least, at Elias’s sudden transparency - you had no idea he felt this strongly about you. It was hot. So goddamn hot. Elias’s chest rising and falling quickly, pupils blown as he looked down at you, so full of admiration and that sweet, sweet longing for more. His cheeks so delicately flushed, you worried what your own looked like.

You leant up slightly, tilting your head to whisper in his ear,

“Do it.”

His lips found his way to yours with no hesitation. The mix of your body’s pressed together, arms thrown around necks, your leg trailing up the side of his, desperate for more of that friction when he pushed himself against your body. He kissed you in a distorted rhythm, chasing that longing for you and losing himself in your soft lips and shy tongue.

That mix of his hips rolling against you while he fumbled under your shirt, gently tracing his fingertips across your soft skin, left you fucking delirious.

The tug of his lips on yours, pulling you in, spilling low groans from his tongue. Your feet stumbled backwards, no sense of direction as he held you fiercely close, taking the breath out of your mouth. Your back hit the door, Elias releasing you for only a second to ask,

“Can you keep quiet?”

thank you for reading 🤭

love all of you smm!!

hope you enjoyed!!

#sakuverse #zsakuva #elias x reader #zsakuva elias #writing #elias hmu #fanfic

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inuhalfdemon · 1 day

Text

Out by the Bayou

RadioApple Week 2024

Day 7 Prompt: Day Out

Word Count: 2,289 Words

Never knew how much that muddy water meant to me...

But I learned how to swim, and I learned who I was

A lot about livin' and a little 'bout love.

A lot about livin' and a little 'bout love."

- Alan Jackson

Lucifer groaned, “Why are you making me do stuff today…Charlie said we could have a few days off from our responsibilities with the hotel!”

“Yes, she did,” Alastor allowed; he opened the door to his hotel room and stepped inside, Lucifer following him. “But, that doesn’t mean we don’t have other things that we could be doing.”

“I want to go back to bed!” Lucifer was actually whining.

“We were in bed all day yesterday. You’re feeling better today so I’m not just going to let you mope around.”

“I wasn’t mopey!” Lucifer got defensive.

“You had a low day – we spent yesterday doing what we both needed and wanted to then. This is today. You have more energy; you look brighter. Time to be less…

“Lazy?” Lucifer frowned.

“…reluctant to do things.” Alastor finished; carefully.

Lucifer groaned again.

Ignoring his moodiness, Alastor walked over to the sofa he had set against the wall – Lucifer saw that there were things laid out across the cushions of it and the coffee table beside it.

Alastor sat down on one of the free cushions; reaching for a rucksack.

“So…what exactly are we going to be doing today?” Lucifer asked him.

“We’re spending a morning out in the bayou.” Alastor told him simply; digging into the rucksack and pulling out a pair of denim jeans. He tossed them to Lucifer.

“Uh…I don’t really look good in jeans, Al. They make me look too boyish and like I’ve got no butt.”

“Well, we are going for functional, not fashionable. Besides; I’m sure you’ll find those will fit you just fine...make this Louisiana boy’s heart go pitter-patter.” Alastor’s voice slid into a smooth, southern drawl and Lucifer’s ears burned hot at the tips.

Alastor began taking off his shoes; tossing them and his socks aside. He slipped into his own jeans – rolling up the cuffs so that they rested snug against his upper calves. Lucifer followed suit.

“I’ve got fresh coffee made,” Alastor nodded to the two thermos’s he had set out on the table: none of that tea business this morning. We’ll take it to go and – yes, before you ask – there’s an obscene amount of creamer in the one that is yours…just how you like it.” Alastor made a disgusted face.

Alastor came over to where Lucifer sat; kneeling down – he tightened the rolls to Lucifer’s jeans against his calves. He did the same with Lucifer’s shirt sleeves; rolling and bunching them firmly the man’s arms, just above the elbows. Then, he reached up and smoothly undid the bowtie from around Lucifer’s neck.

“I’d never say that bowties don’t have a place in the bayou…a fine bowtie belongs anywhere,” Alastor chuckled, “But, let’s spare ours from the muck of things today.” He tossed it aside; loosening Lucifer’s collar. His hands slid down; unclasping the first buttons to his shirt – exposing the skin around his neck and upper chest.

Lucifer’s heart started skipping.

“Down, boy.” Alastor told him, pulling Lucifer’s face in and kissing him warmly on the mouth. “I’m only helping you to look the part.” Alastor mussed up Lucifer’s hair and laughed as he stood back up.

Lucifer rolled his eyes; reaching back for his socks and his shoes.

“Nope. Those stay here.” Alastor told him; gathering up the rucksack and reaching for another that looked full, heavy and was soaked in dark stains at the bottom.

Alastor shot Lucifer a coy smile; throwing the rucksack heavily across his shoulder and turning for the bayou.

Lucifer very nearly gagged when his feet sank into the bog; smelling mud squelching and bubbling up between the toes of his hooves. He wasn’t used to this kind of getting down and dirty stuff but Alastor…Alastor was perfectly at home here.

Alastor led the way through the swamp - the heavy rucksack swinging against his shoulders – he whistled some jaunty southern tune that Lucifer had never heard before. His deer tail was poking out from the hole Alastor had made in the jeans and it wagged and twitched happily as they walked along. Lucifer swatted at bugs and stumbled over things as they went but Alastor moved easily through the bramble; perfectly content and at ease.

The longer they went though, Lucifer found that the mud between his toes felt…kind of nice. As they skirted the edge of the swamp; the weeds and branches of thick brush poked and dragged across exposed skin…but, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Frogs croaked; crickets sang and there was birdsong from all around. The air was hot and it was humid, but it was fresh and Lucifer was feeling better than he had felt for….a long time.

“Where are we going?” Lucifer asked him from behind.

“Just to this bend in the channel, up here,” Alastor told him; not looking back. “I’ve got some friends of mine that I’d like you to meet.”

“Some what now?” Lucifer asked and Alastor laughed.

Coming to the bend; the swamp opened up to a wide channel of muddy water that bent sharply to the right. Alastor pulled aside a clump of reeds; allowing Lucifer to step through easily so that they were standing at the edge of an embankment that sloped easily down and into the still water.

There was a loud splash; something moving heavily into the water from the further down the bank, but when Lucifer turned; he only saw the ripples along the water’s surface.

Still whistling, Alastor threw down his rucksack and began rummaging through it. His hands came out bloody and holding clumps of rotting meat; lifting them from the bag.

“Oh, yuck…” Lucifer spat out his tongue. “What is that!?”

“The less savory bits…” Alastor told him; stepping from the sack and toward the channel. Ripples and waves disturbed the water’s surface; two log-like heads poking out of the muddy water – simultaneously.

Gators.

One of the heads tilted up; long jaws opening – revealing rows of impressively large and white teeth; the gator hissing loudly. The other head didn’t move; staying very still beside it instead.

“These two lovelies are Mildred and Henrietta.” Alastor announced; tossing a chunk of the rotting meat easily into the gator’s open mouth. The jaws slammed shut and the gator disappeared beneath the swirling water. The other gator’s mouth slowly opened and Alastor repeated his throw. The gator caught the meat – throwing it’s head back, it gripped it’s meal and submerged itself slowly out of sight.

Lucifer starred at Alastor; watching him walking away from the bank and returning for the rucksack. Alastor reached back in to the bag; pulling out a huge, and fully intact heart now. Turning back, Alastor walked down the embankment – actually stepping into the muddy water now; wading up to his knees and waiting.

With eyes wide, Lucifer watched as the biggest alligator he believed anyone had ever seen drifted slowly up and to the surface. Its great snout broke through the muddy water and the huge reptile groaned and grunted in deep tones.

“And, this…” Alastor called back happily. “This is Petey!” Smiling, he lifted the heart. The gator’s mouth opened and Alastor dropped the organ into the huge reptile’s gullet. “A very picky eater this one. Only the hearts of my enemies, will do for him.” The gator lifted his head; throwing it back and swallowing his gift whole. The gator’s grunting turning into gurgling rumbles. “Who’s a big, bad bull gator? Petey is!” Alastor talked to the alligator like it was fucking chihuahua; his claws scratching underneath the bull gator’s chin and eliciting more rumbling from the giant.

This guy might just be…lonelier than I am. Lucifer thought, watching him with the gator.

Petey snapped his jaws; snorting loudly before twisting and diving back under the churning water. His tail swept roughly through the water; splashing a laughing Alastor before vanishing completely. Alastor washed the blood from his hands in the muddy water, wadding out and walking back up the embankment.

“Should you be fucking feeding those things!?” Lucifer asked him.

“Best that I do.” Alastor told him; gathering up the empty rucksack. “We’re going to be wading in this part of the channel over here and better that they’re not hungry when we do. Those things have a rather nasty bite when they decide to take a taste of you.”

“Fuck…” Lucifer breathed and Alastor laughed again.

The rest of the morning was spent with Alastor and Lucifer getting muddier and muddier.

Alastor first showed Lucifer the traps he had made and set for catching crawdads; a series of carefully woven willow branches that interlocked in such a way that the crayfish could work their way into the bundles for the bait but then ran into difficulty trying to get back out. They pulled up each one – emptying the crawdads into a rucksack and setting the traps aside to use for another time.

Next, Alastor took him to a spot in the channel where the current slowed and the bottom dipped to a deeper depth. He had poles set into the mud of the bank there and he showed Lucifer where they were placed and how to tell if they had been set off – with a catfish caught and held fast at the end.

A sharp and piercing chirp sounded overhead and a beautiful osprey glided into a low-hanging branch nearby. Lucifer appreciated the bird; smiling at the way it ruffled its feathers in agitation.

“Another one of my regular fee collectors.” Alastor told him. “That there is Matilda.”

“She’s pretty.” Lucifer complimented.

“Flattery won’t get you very far with her.” Alastor laughed, “Here, take this catfish. Do two, slow sweeping swings with it – let her see that you have it and what you’re doing; and toss it straight up.”

“Seriously?” Lucifer asked.

Alastor nodded. “She’s got mouths to feed so she’ll appreciate the break, I’m sure.”

Lucifer stared at him, just holding the catfish.

“Go on,” Alastor shoved him and smiling Lucifer did just what Alastor had told him.

On his last swing down; Matilda had knew what was coming and she bent her wings in preparation. Lucifer tossed the catfish straight up into the air and the female osprey jumped from the branch; tucked in her wings and dove nimbly down. Catching the catfish with curved talons; she hoisted it close – letting out a chorus of singing chirps before wheeling overhead and disappearing out of sight.

They were finishing up with their checking of the poles, when Alastor called Lucifer to a spot in the bank, wanting to show him something. Not giving the angel any reason to his actions; Alastor directed him to kneel with him into the water. Taking his hand – Alastor guided it down and forward. Alastor pressed himself closer, leaning against him and stretching his arm further out in front of them – doing something with his fingers. Lucifer felt the tips of his ears burning again just before something clamped uncomfortably and heavily around his arm.

Lucifer shrieked and Alastor cackled as the man was nearly drug straight underwater.

“Hold on…that’s a big’n.” Alastor laughed; pulling Lucifer by the waist. Lucifer was hauled back and when his arm broke the water an enormous catfish came with it; its mouth clamped firmly around his hand and refusing to let go.

Lucifer began screaming and Alastor nearly dropped him from the amount of laughter that he had at the whole ordeal.

Packing up all they had into the rucksacks, Alastor and Lucifer started out from the bayou.

Alastor told Lucifer about the plans he had for making a true, southern-style dinner for everyone at the hotel with all that they were bringing back with them. Lucifer watched Alastor happily talk to him about recipes and ingredients and just like manman used to do’s… He never got to see Alastor so raw and purely….himself before.

Lucifer’s heart was so full and happy in this moment…it felt like could very well burst.

Alastor suddenly stopped mid-sentence – one ear laying off to the side; turning.

Excitedly, he set his bag down – encouraging Lucifer to do the same, he took the angel by the hand and led him down a worn game trail; closer to the channel.

Carefully, Alastor moved them slowly to a place where there was small grouping of trees set against the bog. Alastor shifted; then moved Lucifer closer beside him – pointing out the hen wood duck that was paddling in the water – cheeping incessantly.

Lucifer watched the hen; wondering what her fuss was all about and why it had drew Alastor’s attention.

A quick movement caught his eye and he saw something fall from one of the trees. A small ball of fluff landed gently in a pile of old tree leaves; a wood duckling chic…bouncing from the fall it took from its bold jump from the nest, but clearly unharmed. Eyes shining, Lucifer watched as seven more ducklings took the same brave leap – gathering at the edge of the incredibly high burrow and throwing themselves out; driven only by the amazing trust they already had in their mother; and in their own instincts. Each chick bounced, then waddled away – no worse for wear; scooting into the water and following the hen out to a deeper part in the channel.

Alastor lifted his head; watching them go.

“She’s been on that nest for a while…I had hoped it would be today…” He tilted his head; “Great falls can lead to great things…wouldn’t you say?”

Lucifer’s heart clenched and he swallowed hard.

Alastor pulled him to him; sighing deeply.

“The low days will still happen for you, Luci….I can’t change that. But, I can give you days like this too….And, I’ll give you as many of them as I can…I promise.”

Taglist: @helluva-simper

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poppitron360 · 1 day

Text

Digging this out of my folders of fanfics and posting it:

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“Hi, Annabeth,” Piper whispered, softly opening the door, “how are you feeling?”

She walked inside. Frank, Leo, and their other friends all followed, trying to not make too much noise. Annabeth was sitting up in bed, Percy knelt down beside her, cradling a tiny newborn baby.

Percy and Annabeth looked at each other, then at the assembly of onlookers.

“Everyone,” Percy announced, “Meet Olympia Grace Jackson-Chase.”

They all gasped collectively, although Leo thought it looked more like a shrivelled up prune than a baby. Annabeth got out of bed, and Percy handed her the bundle of blankets. Leo watched as she very carefully handed Piper the child.

“Oly, meet your auntie Piper.”

Piper gasped, “Aww, she’s so tiny! Hi!”

She handed her back to Annabeth, who passed it to Frank.

“And your uncle Frank.”

Frank stared in awe at the bundle of blankets cradled gently in his big arms, before Annabeth took her back into her own.

She stopped in front of Leo, and hesitated. Her grip tightened on her bundle like she was shielding it from him. Like he might suddenly burst into flames and hurt her baby.

“And your uncle Leo,” she smiled, but didn’t hand the baby to him.

“And your uncle Nico,” she said, stepping towards Nico and offering him the infant.

Leo was stunned. He couldn’t blame her for being hesitant, but it made him feel utterly shitty. It’s like she couldn’t trust him. After all this time, after all Leo had done, she, just like everyone else, still only saw him as a dangerous freak.

Annabeth continued going down the line of guests, but Leo wasn’t paying attention. He caught Percy’s eye, still watching from the bedside.

“Yeah, I saw what happened,” his look seemed to say, “that’s not okay, dude.”

Leo told himself that he was overthinking this, Annabeth is a new mother, it’s natural for her to be paranoid, she didn’t mean any harm by it. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, and tried to push the thoughts away.

Leo didn’t stick around to rejoice in the miracle of birth. He sat on a bench outside the hospital, staring at the traffic.

“You ok?”

He looked up. It was Percy. He gave Leo a sympathetic look, and sat down next to him.

“We all saw Annabeth give you the cold shoulder earlier. I’m gonna have a word with her later. She shouldn’t have treated you like that, man.”

Leo shrugged, “I don’t blame her for being protective.”

“But still, she should know you enough to trust you with our child,” He said, “You’re not some rampaging lunatic, you know how to keep your cool, and plus, there were at least eight other responsible adults in the room who could’ve put a stop to it very quickly if things got out of hand. That kid was perfectly safe with you, and Annabeth knew it. She had no reason to exclude you.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, man. I’m used to it.”

Percy frowned, he shuffled up a little closer, and nudged him slightly with his shoulder.

“Talk to me, sport.”

Okay, he was clearly loving the whole new “Dad” thing a bit too much. Leo thought he was being a little overzealous. But the look in Percy’s eyes was of genuine kindness, and Leo could tell, under the jokey persona, that he wanted to help Leo.

Leo sighed. He didn’t respond right away, just continued to stare out at the passing cars.

“All my life,” he said, slowly, “I’ve been seen as childish, and irresponsible, and dangerous. I thought maybe… just maybe… I could prove them wrong. I could be a responsible adult, who does adult things. I mean, what if I want kids someday, y’know? When the time comes, can I step up to responsibility?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Percy said, “Or are you forgetting all the times you’ve saved the world? Or saved our lives? Or that time you built a big ass fucking flying boat and flew it halfway across the world? Or tamed an untameable flying metal dragon? Or flew a helicopter? Yeah, I heard those stories. You can 100% be responsible when you need to, man.”

Leo smiled.

“Hey, look at me,” Percy continued, “You have fucking fire powers! What child wouldn’t want you as their cool Uncle Leo? That kid’s gonna love you, I know it.”

He patted Leo on the back.

“You’re gonna be a great dad,” Leo told him, “I can tell.”

Percy grinned, “That baby girl is gonna be loved so fucking much, she won’t know what hit her! Now, come on, let’s go back inside.”

Anyway, not quite angst but I liked this one.

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sweetcandyhigh · 15 hours

Text

Sending the randomest shit to a pre-relationship Megumi would be the funniest thing. I mean this would before he even realized he had feelings or that you had feelings for him. The poor guy was clueless. And you thought it was hilarious.

Let’s start this off by saying you and Megumi were close, but so were all of you guys, it was a tight nit circle. But Megumi was just different than the rest. So you spent a lot of time together, and texting when you couldn’t be.

So one night you guys as well as Itadori and Nobara were sitting in Megumi’s dorm (the cleanest), just lounging have some random ass conversations. And a few minutes later Megumi was picking up his phone, seeing a message from you. With a raised brow he looked at the simple blue heart emoji you sent, with the most weirded out face you had ever seen him make. Which in turn caused you to burst out laughing getting a few looks from the other two.

Another encounter of this was when you were training. A lax a daisy school day, sparring with each other and some of the 2nd years. And Megumi looked stunning, sweaty and running his hands through his hair every few seconds had you salivating. This garnered another one of your unfiltered texts, and while you knew what you could and couldn’t get away with, you always teetered on that line.

So a “God Damn” text was sent his way. Course he didn’t see that until a few seconds later where he pulled up the bottom half of his uniform top up to wick away the sweat from his face. His eyes went wide as he gave you a look that you couldn’t quite read, a giggle fallin from your lips.

This had happened so many times Megumi decided to enlist Itadori’s help, confused as to what you were getting at. “Itadori,” his calm voice called out, maybe one of the only times he said his name without being irritated with his fellow classmate. The pink-haired teen’s ears perked up, “Yeah Fushiguro?” He called looking up only for a phone to be shoved in his face. Megumi wasn’t good at asking for help and this was the closest it was gonna get, “Read.”

As Itadori’s eyes filtered over the messages a smirk resonated on his face, “I don’t know man, seems like she’s into ya,” he said with a way too toothy grin. Megumi’s brows furrowed as he shook his head, “Not possible,” he huffed out causing Itadori to snicker, “I’m telling you dude that’s what it is.”

And from that day on Megumi was a little too aware of everything you did around him, the dots connecting in his head. But how did he feel about this? He had no clue, absolutely none.

That’s when he went to Nobara, once again someone he wouldn’t normally go to. “Nobara?” He called out the same way he did Itadori’s name, and her ears perking up the same way. “Oh?” She said with a soft snicker, causing Megumi to roll his eyes. Once the situation was explained Nobara’s brow never stopped being raised, “So?” She grumbled eliciting a groan from Megumi, “How am I supposed to feel?”

She shook her head, a tsk coming from her mouth, “Now cmon on Megumi, you’d be passing up a great chance with em.” His brows raised before shaking his head, “That’s not what I’m asking.” Nobara was now the one groaning, “Look, I can’t tell you how you feel, but I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

And let’s just say Megumi was even more confused when he left that conversation, and it didn’t help when he bumped into you. His face was beet red, one of the only time you had seen him like that. “Everything ok Gumi?” His heart fluttered as he nodded, words caught in his throat. “Wanna hang out?” You tilted your head, his heart fluttered once more as he nodded. You smiled, happy he was gonna hang out with you, and his heart fluttered once more.

Let’s just say Megumi never thought he’d be the guy to be in a relationship. He wouldn’t be the guy to want someone. And never did he ever think he’d be the first to confess. Yet here he was muttering the words out, the same calm and collected voice now just a little more shaky.

And while you were flabbergasted of course you accepted, cause you felt exactly the same.

#megumi fushiguro #jjk fic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fluff #megumi x you

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laughroditee · 11 hours

Text

Your Ghost | Part 2

Part 1 is here CW: this story takes place after Soap's death and contains supernatural elements, tarot, mentions of death and blood Summary: Evangeline reluctantly goes to talk to Simon about Johnny at Johnny's urging.

The ghost of John MacTavish looked down at me with a serious expression. “I did. I need yer help, Evangeline. Yer the only one who can do it.”

“No,” I said.

He blinked. “‘No?’”

“No,” I repeated, my eyes a little too wide.

“Ye haven’t even heard what I want from ye.” John looked annoyed, his brows drawing down in a frown that lined his face. It made him look maybe just a little bit intimidating. Having issues with displeasing someone, who me?

“Don’t want to. Can’t.” I shook my head for extra emphasis as if I needed it. “Mm-mm.”

“Are ye always so childish?”

Oof, right in the feelings. “You want me to talk to someone, don’t you?” I accused, my finger jabbing the air at him.

“How—?”

“Knight of Swords. Air. Communication,” I explained as if this were common knowledge and a perfectly logical conclusion to reach. “You just have that very chatty air about you, and I dunno, man, I’m not about that life. I have social anxiety. I don’t play well with strangers because I’m too busy having a heart attack around them. It’s just not a strength that I have.”

John looked momentarily apologetic before despair swallowed the expression. This gave me pause. Fuck me and my Catholic guilt. “Fine! Okay, alright, I’ll hear you out, but I can’t promise you anything.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, just trying to quell the anxious jitters making my fingers shake, The Knight of Swords card dancing slightly in my grasp. I placed it back with the other two in the reading and looked up at my ghostly kinsman.

John’s examining gaze was concerned as he stood across from me. “Ye alright, lass?”

Reminding myself to take a deep breath, I simply nodded.

A single confirmation nod from John was all he gave before launching into his story. “I was a soldier in life. SAS. British special forces. We were on a mission a few months ago, chasin’ a Russian terrorist in the London tunnels. Makarov.” His eyes blazed as the memories washed through him, spitting his enemy’s name as if it were poison. “We had ‘im too. But the fucker was slippery. My captain and I got shot while we were diffusin’ a bomb.” John’s hand went to his shoulder as if to soothe the phantom wound. “Makarov was about to finish ‘im off – my captain, I mean – but I managed to get up and clap the bastard, only… I ended up gettin’ shot in the head. Killed instantly. Then Makarov buggered off.”

I listened intently to John’s story, my heart squeezing in my chest for him. “I’m so sorry, John. I… don’t know what else to say. You were really brave.”

He smirked. “A lot of good it did me. Still, Captain Price is alive, and I dunnae regret that.” His eyes seemed focused on something far away, and I waited for him to continue.

When he didn’t, I had to prompt him. “John? What is it that you want from me?”

His eyes refocused on me, his mouth set in a grim line. “I need yer help, Evangeline…. My boyfriend was there that day. One of my teammates. He’s not doin’ well.”

Shit. I blew out a long breath as if I was trying to exorcise my demons. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated uselessly. “John, I’m… probably the last person you want to go and talk to your boyfriend about your death or literally anything else. I suck at this kind of thing. I never know what to say to grieving people, even if I’ve known them forever. Words just aren’t enough.”

“Please,” he said, kneeling by the bed, his ghostly hand passing through mine as it lay on my lap, chilling me. “You’re all I have, lass.”

Despite the urgency in his voice, I was hesitant for reasons that should have been obvious. I stared down at the three cards on the bed once again, reinterpreting the reading as The Knight of Swords representing John, the Death card — for the first time in one of my readings — representing his literal death, and the Three of Swords representing his boyfriend’s subsequent heartbreak. There are always multiple ways to interpret the cards in every situation; you just have to move through it and see what fits—a little like grief.

I looked back at him with an expression of resignation on my face. “You’re lucky I like you.”

His face lit up. “So you’ll do it?”

I sighed, coming to terms with the decision I was about to make. “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

“Sorry I called ye childish,” he said apologetically.

“Mm.”

“Yer beau’iful,” he tried again.

I gave him a grin. “Aww, how kind of you to say.”

“Yes, I am kind. Now you compliment me.”

“Why should I when you just did it yourself?”

He chuckled before his expression sobered. “Thank you, Evangeline. I cannae repay the favor you’re doin’ me.”

I looked back at him, noting how similar our eyes were. “You can owe me in the next life, how’s that?”

“Sounds like a fair deal. So, are ye gonna clean up this mess?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to clean yourself up.”

“Funny.”

I leaned down and started to gather my fallen tarot cards, picking out carpet lint and hairs occasionally as I stacked the deck.

”Y’know…,” he began, “ye make me wish I could’ve met you while I was livin’. Think we coulda been friends?”

Deck neatly in hand, I looked up at him, a warm, bittersweet feeling blossoming inside my chest. “Yeah, I think we could’ve been. Could still be.”

He laughed. “Well, bein’ friends with me is a blessing in itself.”

“I’m sure it is.”

We headed out by taxi to John’s old flat to see his boyfriend, Simon. Simon Riley. I turned the name over in my mind as we drove, wondering what kind of man he was. It was odd traveling in a car with a complete stranger, knowing that you have a ghost with you. I kept looking at the driver in the rearview mirror, paranoid that he’d be able to see John, but aside from my own awkwardness, the trip concluded uneventfully.

I stared at the door that I was supposed to be knocking on and felt immediately threatened, that familiar fight-or-flight feeling making my extremities tingle. “Shit. John, I can’t…”

“Easy. I’ll be right here; I won’t leave ye. But we have to get in and get to Simon, alright? The eejit’s blootered.”

I stared at him in confusion. “He’s what?”

John rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Drinkin’, hen. He’s right sloshed. Now get knockin’.”

Stepping toward the door, I looked at John and said, “I feel like your Scottish level just increased.” I wrapped my knuckles on the door before I lost my nerve and stepped back.

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think yer just too American to understand—“

The door flew open, revealing the personification of my Death card: an enormous man wearing a skull balaclava, no shirt, about one billion muscles, and an appropriately sized scowl. His displeasure was evident despite the mask covering his features. It radiated off of him in waves like heat, like the smell of alcohol that invaded my nostrils as it drifted out from him. Piercing dark eyes stared down at me briefly before squinting, and then he slammed the door in my face. I could hear his heavy footfalls retreating further into the flat. I looked at John, at a complete loss, and maybe with a bit of anxiety. Just a wee bit.

He sighed. “Knock again, Evangeline. He’ll answer.”

“Why do you not look convinced?”

“Because I’m not.”

“I appreciate your honesty. Is he gonna kill me?” I asked, somehow finding the nerve to knock again through my blooming dissociation. It was a genuine fear. What do I actually know about these guys? Not much. John hadn’t told me anything about Simon besides that they were both in the military. He most certainly didn’t tell me about how absofuckinglutely intimidating his man was; he looked like he could just break me in half with those dark brooding eyeballs of his, no hands necessary. My heart lurched, palpitating in my chest wildly like a canary in a proverbial coal mine.

“He won’t kill ye,” John assured me and my anxiety.

Ten beats passed. Nothing.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” John said in frustration and then disappeared through the wall of the flat. I could hear him swearing and yelling, all in vain. He emerged, raking a hand through his mohawk in irritation. When his eyes finally locked with mine, a silent plea filled them.

I didn’t like that look on John’s face; the pain and concern etched there was almost a tangible thing, and it hurt. It made me feel edgy and a bit unstable, as if the ground beneath me wasn’t as sturdy as I believed before coming out here. I stepped up and knocked again, louder, more insistent. For him.

This time, I could hear the lumbering stomps of Simon’s gait as he approached the door to the flat, and I braced myself for whatever might come. My hair sucked forward from the sudden vacuum the door caused, and I nearly expected the door to be ripped from its hinges, such was the velocity at which the door opened. I hadn’t stepped back, but Jesus, I wished that I had.

“The fuck do you want?” Simon’s voice was a low growl, his thick British accent raking across me like a physical attack.

There was that small animal voice in the back of my head as I looked up at the angry behemoth at the door, which said, with zero doubt, “You are going to die.” He braced a forearm on the doorframe, leaning in closer. My eyes widened fractionally with every millimeter that decreased between us. Shit.

“Um… A-are you Simon? Simon Riley?”

He blinked at me with unfocused eyes. He’d been drinking heavily as he reeked of alcohol, which was wonderful for me because we all know that drunk people are totally predictable. “Who’s askin’?”

My eyes flicked to John, who stood beside the door, nodding encouragingly. “M-my name is Evangeline. I’m here about John—"

“Johnny,” John — or Johnny — corrected me.

“Johnny?” I glanced at my ghostly companion, who nodded.

Simon narrowed his eyes. “The fuck you on about?”

“Look, I know this will sound crazy, but he sent me here with a message.” This was a bit of a stretch since, now that I thought about it, Johnny didn’t actually give me a message for Simon.

“So, what, you’re a bloody fortune teller?” Simon asked, his gravelly voice seething with bitter outrage.

Shit shit shit shit shit. “No, that’s not—“ I started, taking a defensive step backward, but he barreled on.

“What the fuck do you want here?”

“Johnny wanted me to—“

I had little time to react before he picked me up by my jacket lapels and slammed me against his door, the air quickly evicted from my lungs. The back of my head stung as I looked in horror at him.

“Johnny doesn’t want anything. He’s fucking dead.”

I froze under his gaze, which was both hateful and wounded, the cold rush of adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream.

Johnny interjected in a panic, “The first thing I ever said to him was, ‘I’ll save you a seat, sir.’ Tell him!”

I could feel my throat starting to close up. I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe.

“Shit.” Johnny rushed forward, moving through Simon, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but it was useless. Next, he passed through me, my body feeling the chill of his presence, a strange, otherworldly shiver as suddenly, my mouth moved.

“LT, let ‘er go.” The voice was mine, but the inflection and the speaker was Johnny.

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #soap cod #simon riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #tarot #female oc #female original character #spirit medium

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