#i just thought it was important for everyone to know
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Not Now (PT. 1)
[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]
[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Mild General Yandere(ish) Behavior, Mild Arguing, Awkward Tension(?)]
(Sorry, forgive and forget isn't an option anymore. Sort of proofread and lightly edited. If you thought the 2nd chapter was long, you're in for a little treat. A little more focus on Dick this time with some sprinkles of the others, and a bit of Tim in the beginning. Meeting some of the reader's friends now. The 2nd part is longer... and sort of where the 'real' stuff happens, but this part of the chapter is still important imo. Take your time reading this, and remember to take breaks!)
Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain, @d4mi3nn , @mindscape123, @143637-hrrm, @lilyalone, @ceramic-raven , @bruhfan-3 , @i-thirsty-boi , @yandere-enthusiast , @1mawh0re , @vanessa-boo , @agent-nobody-knows , @myeagleexpert , @waitingforanarchicaddiction , @mottysith , @simpingfor-wakasa , @imjustheretogetalif , @toast-on-dandelioms , @instantmiraclekryptonite , @luvr0cksadie , @littlefeather345 , @generosityheart , @emmbny , @sereinitysmind , @love-zami , @angstylittleb1tch , @kiiyoooo , @andrasia , @aenishas , @gyarukitti , @ash1 , @samohxt2-0 , @books-are-everything , @kurai-hono-blog , @veryrascalbiscuitbagel , @lavender-moony
@vikkus-main, @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhha, @iloveanimeandkpop7, @spacecerealbowl,
If you aren't tagged then I'm sorry! I may have missed you, or tumblr was being weird and it wouldn't work :']
Chapter 3 of this post. Chapter 2. Part 2. [Series Masterlist]
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The night was young when everything went to chaos.
The streets were empty for a change, with no one daring to step outside. With those who once roamed them making an effort to quickly step inside, and wait out the rest of the night. Deciding to be more careful, and not tempt fate one too many times for once.
There was something different about tonight, that much everyone knew, but what exactly was going on was anyone's guess. Something was in the air that made it thicker, and harder to breathe. The atmosphere felt different, and weighed down on the city's residents. No civilian or thug was safe from the sudden change and the effects it had on Gotham. Not to mention that the vigilantes — the people who dared to protect Gotham during its darkest hours — seemed more focused than usual.
Not in the way where they were more focused on targeting crime in Gotham, and getting rid of her more corrupted and infectious roots, but in some… other way. Like they were focusing on one particular thing, and ignoring everything else in the process.
What that thing is, no one knew, but most were wary and cautious enough to not get in the way. Unwilling to find out what would happen if they got caught in the crossfire of whatever was happening.
However, this is still Gotham. Where some saw danger, others saw opportunity. So they tried to start something, thinking they could sneak right past the heroes of the city, and fly under their radar more easily compared to previous nights because of how focused they seemed to be on something else.
Yet, just as the fire began to lit, it was snuffed out.
A heavy stomp stopped the flames from even daring to light, killing it before it could even think to rise. The stomp itself coming down much more swiftly and heavier than before, digging the thugs it hit into the ground. They, the vigilantes who dared to protect Gotham and their citizens night after night, were harsher that way. More brutal than the city had ever seen them before, and that was quick to kill off some sparks that were trying to light. They were quicker, faster, and hit a whole lot harder. As if just wanting to get things over with, and quickly move on.
It was almost like they were rushing, and whoever thought that wouldn't be entirely wrong.
They just wanted to put all of their time and energy into finding you, but still had half a mind to take care of the crime in Gotham. Since, they'd have to deal with it anyway if they wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. Not to mention the off chance that some thugs could be messing with you, and so they'd get to swoop in and save you if they ever ran into such an altercation. Though, they didn't want to run around and just hope for that chance, so they also chose certain places and people to interrogate and search for. Taking out any and all thugs as well as minor criminals along the way.
As if anyone in their way was doomed from the day they were born, and dared to step foot in Gotham. As if they were cursed the very moment they dared to live in this damned city at all.
Nevertheless, some went after your teachers while others went to search through places you had been to for one reason or another. Whether it was for a performance or otherwise, it didn't matter. The fact that you had been there before was the only detail they cared about.
Finding you, and any information about you came first. Everything else was secondary.
That's why Tim was more focused on trying to find more… personal information about you. From your email, to where you lived, and who your friends are — he wanted to know everything. Even if he already had your phone number, you weren't responding or picking up whatsoever. Which wasn't exactly helping him calm down.
If only he could track your phone somehow-
["You have any new information yet?"]
Jason suddenly spoke up, making Tim scoff and narrow his eyes at the computer screen he was looking at, as if it was Jason's face.
How annoying.
"You've asked that question several times in the last fifteen minutes."
["And? Do you have any new information, or what?”]
Tim could only roll his eyes, having been scrolling through so many social media posts and pages, that he had lost count of exactly how many he had gone through or looked at. All he knew was that the total amount was quickly approaching triple digits.
Anything mentioning you caught his interest, and eventually he had found your public account — which, as expected, just held dates for your performances and when a new album or song of yours would be coming out. There were also a few previews of songs you would be playing at the time, had written, or both, and as much as Tim would like to listen to them all, he couldn't. Not right now anyway. He had to focus, for you.
… Though he'd keep it in mind for later.
"Besides more places where Y/n has performed, and when? No. Who could've guessed."
Jason scoffs, which almost made Tim smile a little but he quickly wiped it off his face, focusing again.
["Guys, let's not fight, alright? Just focus on finding Y/n."]
Dick suddenly spoke as well, the sounds of a fight slowly dying down could faintly be heard in the background.
["I'm not trying to start a fight, but y'know what would help with finding Y/n? Some fucking new information."]
["Language!" Dick sighs before continuing, "Look, just calm down-"]
["I am calm."]
["-and focus. We'll find them."]
Jason clicks his tongue, clearly getting upset.
Tim couldn't say much, seeing as he's already a bit upset himself, but that wasn't really saying much either. All of them were getting progressively frustrated and annoyed, but it was the source of those feelings that were different for each and every one of them. You were a big part of it, of course, but their anger wasn't directed towards you — not for Tim, anyway. Never.
Rather, it's the factors that surrounded you, and maybe their hate and guilt towards themselves, and what they've missed in your life — is what really drove them to try as hard as they are now. They all want to see you, but they have their own separate reasons despite how similar they may seem.
["How the hell can you be so sure? They could be getting killed, or being tortured right now. We need to find them as soon as possible- and you'll never guess what we need for that to happen."]
Tim could practically hear the eye roll in Jason's voice.
["We're all trying to find Y/n as fast as we can! Have a little faith, they can fight-"]
["You don't actually believe that, right?"]
["..."]
Dick's silence spoke volumes, but some of them understood it better than others, because they feel the same way. Fighting in tournaments and in controlled environments is different than fighting out in the streets, and in Gotham no less. No amount of trophies or medals could change their minds on that. Nothing could.
["See? Even you don't believe it."]
[Dick sighs, "Look, let's just keep looking while Babs and Tim grab more information, alright? We have to be patient."]
["That's reeeal rich coming from the guy who rushed out of the fucking Manor, the very second he heard Alfred didn't know where Y/n was. Weren't you the first one to start looking for them in the city?"]
["Y/n isn't going to be dead in the next few minutes, Jason-"]
["You don't fucking know that."]
Again, a brief silence passes as Dick just sighs again.
["Grayson does have a point, Todd."]
Damian spoke up, causing Tim to roll his eyes almost instinctively. Just remembering that he was technically working with the youngest Wayne, made his mood worsen. Though he just pushed his annoyance to the side, and continued his search.
If it were up to him, he wouldn't be working with half of the family, but that's the thing — he didn't have a choice. None of them really did. Finding you was just that important to them. You, in general, had become that important to them, and in just a few mere hours no less. Even if it left a few of them biting their tongues, and hiding their clear distaste for having to work with certain people. Still, they tried to work together to the best of their ability.
Tim just took a breath, still listening in on the conversation as he scrolls through even more websites and pages. A collection of photos and announcements leading him down a rabbit hole of posts, and finding some accounts that Tim was beginning to think belonged to your friends with how often they commented, the things they'd say, and how you'd respond. Even if the majority of those comments were on older posts, it was still something. So, he dug deeper.
Eventually, he came to the conclusion that your personal account was private. Since, he found one of the accounts he thought belonged to one of your friend's, and they mentioned an account Tim couldn't access. Of course, he hacked it and got in, but there still wasn't anything of use from what he could see. The occasional pictures were nice, even if they didn't show your face too often, but they didn't give him any information he could use to locate you. Hell, even the account itself didn't have a set location listed, and nor did your email. With the only thing he could gather from posts you privated being that you were still in Gotham, at the very least.
However it did seem like you not only didn't post too often, but were careful about what you posted even on your private account. Not to mention who you posted about as well, and how you worded things. As if you knew someone would be looking through your posts someday, and try to find you. As if you knew Tim would be looking through your page, and try to find you by the little bits of information he thought you'd accidentally leave behind. However, all he found was mostly inconclusive with his current objective. The most he could gather was that you either lived in an apartment, were staying with a friend, or settling at various hotels and such just to have a roof over your head. Though not much else.
Sighing, he kept looking.
Just where are you?
["Oh yeah? How so, demon spawn?"]
["Jason-!"]
["L/n knows how to fight, they can surely take care of themself for a few minutes." Damian states. Cutting off Dick, and ignoring the name Jason used to refer to him.]
["Oh, so you believe that?" Jason scoffs.]
["I haven't been given a reason to think otherwise."]
["Right. Okay. So let's say that Y/n isn't dead for a second here. Do you know how many enemies they could potentially have? Or just how many people want them dead? They're known as a Wayne kid, and a musician too, apparently. Anyone could be after their head, or want to squeeze some money out of them for all we know. How are they supposed to fight against threats like that?"]
["And you think they aren't prepared for that? With how much time has passed, I doubt they'd still remain ignorant to such risks. Especially with the career they've chosen as well." Damian scoffs, as if frustrated and offended on your behalf, "No wonder L/n left."]
["Damian!" Dick exclaims, the youngest Robin's words clearly uncalled for.]
["What? You don't truly believe they just ‘ran away’. Do you, Grayson? Even Father doesn't believe such nonsense."]
Tim could only remain silent, but he had suspected as much as well. He didn't particularly enjoy agreeing with Damian, but for a change, it seemed that they were on the same page.
After all, the more Tim looked, and the deeper his research went, the possibility of you having left, instead of ran away, was turning into a clear certainty. Not to mention that various details he noticed in different posts, seemed to indicate that you had no intentions of coming back home, further proving that thought to be true.
It wasn't really even through posts you made either, but instead posts your friends had made. Various pictures and videos shared on their accounts showing the pieces of your life that the family had missed out on. Showing Tim what he had missed out on.
From parties and celebrations that were held for your accomplishments and your friend's, to events you attended with them instead of someone from your family. To smaller things such as various study sessions that were held, sleepovers and all the fun activities you did with your friends, to sneaky photos taken of you practicing, and how nervous you used to be behind stage — only to later show how confident and comfortable you had grown in more recent pictures.
He saw your life and nearly every part of it he had missed through someone else's eyes. Through the camera lens that captured how much fun you had, or just how happy you were during the time the photo was taken, or how calm you looked as you set up your instrument and prepared to play it, and how focused you became when you did. Videos that showed you getting into the zone, and displaying your amazing skill and talent that Tim never saw up until now. That the rest of the family never knew about until recently, just because they couldn't put a few seconds to the side to even try and give your music a listen. Just because they never made time for you, and now they were finally paying the price for it. Finally realizing what they had truly lost, and why the occasional, soft melodies that would play at night had stopped entirely.
They had pushed you away, and you left. That was the true reality of the situation.
Yet the others didn't seem to believe it, or maybe refused to. Seeing as no one dared to say anything else for a few moments.
["... Bruce?" Dick hesitantly spoke up, he clearly didn't want to think about it. Let alone consider it.]
A heavy sigh could be heard before Bruce said anything.
["It's a possibility." His cold, calculated voice pierced through the air. It was less clear, but he didn't seem too fond of the idea either.]
["'Possibility'? Father, you can't be serious-" Damian tries to speak up, only to get cut off.]
["Exactly! Yeah! It's only a possibility, and we won't know for sure unless we find them." Stephanie pitches in, clearly trying to stay a little positive despite the situation.]
["Right…" Dick took a breath, "Well, what do you think, Tim?"]
"..."
Tim's silence said everything, and besides, he was much too focused on a particular thing he managed to find to really be paying attention anyway.
["... Tim?"]
["To think that Drake would be the only other sensible person here. Unbelievable."]
["Look- we don't know for sure, okay? But anyway, how did the interrogation go? Find out anything?"]
The rest of the conversation fell into the background. Tim would roll his eyes, but again, something else had caught his attention, seeing as he found a rather peculiar post.
On one of your friends' accounts, there was a post that showed you and two other people. All of you were wearing formal clothes, and stepping out of a theater that Tim recognized. The person taking the selfie had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he noted that they were the owner of the account. The other person was hugging your arm, and did bunny ears behind your head. All of you were smiling, and you looked so… happy..
Tim shook his head, and just focused on the individual hugging your arm. He didn't recognize them, not completely anyway, but noticed how their account was tagged in the post, and how it was an account he hadn't looked into yet. So, he went to their page and scrolled through their various posts. A particular detail already catching his interest as he scrolled down.
This person seemed to spend a lot of time with you…
Not that your other friends didn't, but this person seemed to have more posts with you in them, compared to the other accounts Tim has looked through thus far. There were many photos of you both hanging out, with some other personal posts sprinkled in here and there — but Tim isn't here for that. He's looking for you, so of course he ignored posts that didn't involve you.
Most of the photos showed you both hanging out and doing various activities together. With Tim's heart squeezing the more he saw, and further began to realize just how much of your life he had missed. Though he pushed it all to the side, just as he has been doing this entire time.
He could feel terrible about all the nights you spent away from home, and how no one noticed, later. He could feel guilty about all the time he's wasted not being with you when given the chance after he found you.
Only then, once you were safe again, once you were home, would he allow himself to feel the full weight of all he hadn't done. Though only when you were home, would he let himself fully see and realize just how little of an impact he had on your life. How he may as well have just been nothing but a figment of your imagination with how often he was present, along with everyone else.
Though, for that, he had to find you first, and he will, so he kept looking.
Eventually, he did stumble across a curious post. One that not only confirmed his suspicions, but also gave the most important piece of information Tim could've found right now.
It was another photo taken without your knowledge, seeing as your back was facing the camera, and a bit of your friend's face could be shown. You were moving some boxes into a building, and your friend seemed to be covering their mouth with their other hand — as if they had been laughing and were trying to cover it up. The caption of the post said how you lost a bet, and now had to move in most of the boxes yourself, but how they'd help you if they saw you genuinely struggling. Only to put in parentheses how viewers of the post shouldn't tell you that.
However, what caught his interest was the text on the image itself, and what parts of the building were shown.
['First day of moving in!!! Already making my bestie hate me by having them do all of the work♡ They're the best! Look at them go ♡♡'] The text in the photo read, with the building itself having a number, among various other details to suggest that it was an apartment building.
Tim felt his heart leap to his throat. No way, had he really…? No. No, he couldn't get his hopes up, but he searched for the building by using the other photos your friend had taken that eventually got him a street name and number. It didn't even take him a minute to find the exact building that perfectly mirrored the one in your friend's photo.
He tried to not work himself up too much, as he didn't waste any time finding the building's security system, and hacking into it. He didn't want to get his hopes up, only to end up disappointed. He didn't want to think about certain things or make up assumptions, only for them to turn up untrue. Yet, his heart rate increased as his hands began to shake despite his efforts.
No way, he thought. No way.
Getting into the system was a breeze, but Tim could hardly focus on that as he immediately looked through the building's security footage. He matched the dates of both the post and footage, and found you bringing in boxes, just as the photo had shown.
He watched you go into the elevator and took note of what floor you went up to, and eventually what apartment you walked into as well once you got there. Tim even observed as you took a second to yourself, sighing before going back down, and doing the process all over again — and even how you had to use the stairs at one point. Seeing as your friend had the bright idea to 'race' you, and see who could get most of the remaining boxes to the apartment in the least amount of time. It was a close tie, and your friend had won, but that's besides the point.
Tim went through other footage just to make sure he had the right information, and knew for certain that you lived in this particular apartment with your friend. For all he knew, you could've just offered to help them move in that day, so he had to be sure. He had to be certain. He couldn't afford to be wrong this time around.
Yet with all the footage he was able to review, and all the dates getting closer and closer to the current day, he was able to confirm it. He saw you walk in and out of that exact apartment on that exact floor, and leave and enter that exact building multiple times. With the amount of time that's passed, it made sense — even if Tim couldn't figure out where you had stayed between the few weeks you had presumably left the Manor and when you moved in with your friend, but that hardly mattered now. What did matter is that he found out where you live, and now had your address.
He almost couldn't believe it, staring at the document where he has been listing all of the information he's gathered from this search.
Having just finished writing down your address, it all felt so unreal.
He's done it. He's finally done it.
"Holy shit." Tim cursed under his breath, disbelief clear in his voice.
["Language, Tim."]
Bruce's voice suddenly sounded, causing Tim to jump before he quickly tried to settle down.
"Right, sorry." He apologized, placing a hand over his racing heart. God, that scared him more than it should've.
["Did you find anything?"]
Someone tsked at the question – while Tim just looked at his screen, still processing all that's happened, and suddenly feeling unsure.
Should he just keep this to himself, so that he could go after you? The others didn't know where you live… they didn't have to know yet. This was a golden opportunity — should he really be giving this up?
["With how long it's been? And all he's been able to find out? We'll be lucky if he even knows if Y/n is dating or not."]
["Jason, c'mon.." Dick tried to pitch in, dragging on.]
["What? I'm just saying-"]
"I know where Y/n lives." He found himself blurting out, Jason's words irritating him more than they would've. More than they should've.
["... Really? Where are they, Tim?" Dick didn't waste a moment to ask.]
["Yeah, just spill already so we can go get them."]
["Send me their location."]
["Send me the info too!"]
Tim could only sigh, rubbing his temple as he tried to collect his thoughts. Of course he just had to run his mouth before thinking things over. Of course he had to let that little comment get to him. Of course he just had to allow it to get to him so much that it made him give up the most important piece of information he had found out tonight.
Of course. Just great.
["Guys, I don't think it's a good idea for all of you to just go and see Y/n."]
Barbara finally spoke up, voice calm and collected.
["Why? I mean, I get that seeing the whole family all at once might be a little overwhelming… but I don't see why a few of us can't go." Dick questioned.]
["Because it's been months since they've last seen any of us? There's a reason why they haven't gone back to the Manor, and still haven't picked up your or Tim's calls."]
["... You're not saying-"]
["I'm just suggesting that maybe only one of you should go to kind of… test out the waters. We can't be sure of anything, and the best way to see how we should go about things is to know how Y/n feels about us first."]
["But we need to bring them home, they're not safe out here." Jason pointed out, already not liking the idea.]
["I know, but we can't just show up and expect them to comply because we're family. For all we know, they might-"]
["Okay! Um, I think we get it now." Stephanie interrupted, the idea already bothering her.]
["Fine, then I'll go." Jason proposed, sounding like he was just finishing up taking out a few thugs, if the faint noises in the background were anything to go by.]
"And why's that? I already have the location, so I'll go." Tim pointed out, already gathering his stuff, preparing to leave as quickly as he could.
["Because if they try anything, I'll be able to stop them. What're you going to do with your scrawny, lanky arms?"]
"They won't fight me, Jason." Tim sighed, as if that was obvious, "and besides, I thought you didn't think they could fight anyway?"
["I don't, but anyone could take you down without even trying."]
["Jay! Ugh," Dick groans, "Look, I'll go, okay?"]
["Oh yeah? And why should you go instead of me?"]
["Because at least I won't scare them off, and if anything happens then I can handle it too."]
["I'm going." Bruce stepped in, speaking as if the decision was already made.]
["If Father is going, then so am I." Damian chipped in.]
["The last person Y/n needs to see right now is definitely you, demon spawn." Jason scoffed.]
["You'll just scare them before you even get a word in, Bruce!" Dick tried to reason.]
["Hey, um, what if I go instead? At least I won't intimidate them or push them to come with us too hard." Stephanie suggested.]
Tim sighed, "Look, I can go and reason with them. Again, I already have the location so it makes sense-"
["No." Bruce said flatly.]
"But why!?"
["Father already said that he and I are going to see L/n," Damian stated, as if it was obvious, with a small scoff. Adding on, "Todd may also have a point."]
"So?! I already have the information, and I already said that Y/n won't fight me!"
["We can't say for sure what they will and won't do," Dick said, trying to deescalate the situation, "like Babs said, it's been a while. We don't know how they'll react or how they feel about us."]
["Is this you just trying to seem reasonable, so you can go see them first?" Jason asked, unconvinced.]
["What?! Of course not-!"]
["You're not really convincing anyone here, Dick…" Stephanie pointed out.]
The back and forth went on for a while. None of them could come to an agreement, as they all want to see you. They all want to be the first to actually meet you, and to experience what they all have found out about you first hand. Even if certain individuals were more guilty of that than others, the point still remained.
They just want to see you so much, could you really blame any of them?
Barbara sighed at the chaos, the arguments and defenses just getting more and more ridiculous. Eventually, just boiling down to certain people trying to prove that they want to see you more compared to others, and therefore should be the first to see you.
They all miss you, or desperately want to see the idea of you that they had created in their heads, but that wasn't a valid reason for why they should go and see you either. Especially considering how important this meeting would be. Since it would change and determine a lot of things, depending on how well or awful it went.
"Guys, look, just- whoever's the closest to the location should go." Barbara suggested with another sigh, which thankfully caused the constant arguing to stop for now.
["Fine, alright then." Tim agreed, albeit reluctantly.]
Barbara could only be a little thankful for the cooperation, but slowly grew confused at the silence that followed.
"Tim?" She asked, only to get another sigh as a response.
["It's Dick."]
["What? Really?!" Dick exclaimed, clearly happy at this turn of events.]
["Yes." Tim confirmed with a small groan, the frown evident in his voice.]
"Well, that settles it. Dick, you're going. Tim, send him the address. The right address, okay? We don't need more arguments or complications on this." Barbara says, "Don't push them too hard. The last thing we need is for their opinion of us to get worse, Dick."
["I know, I know. It'll be fine! I've got this!" Dick still sounded a little too happy, before suddenly going quiet.]
Barbara could only hope for the best at this rate.
["Did he seriously just turn off his comm link, and leave?" Jason asked as his voice rose, clearly upset.]
["Seems like it. Can't say I'm surprised since he sounded reallly happy to be able to see Y/n." Stephanie confirmed, sighing softly.]
["This is going to go poorly." Damian grimaced with another scoff.]
["Yeah, well, we can only hope he doesn't mess up too badly."]
["Let's try to think a little realistically, Tim." Jason said.]
Barbara just let out a huff as she looked at the screens in front of her. A little hope never killed anyone, but really, she didn't have a good feeling about this.
Maybe Dick really wasn't the best choice.
—
You were still calmly sitting in your apartment, messing around with the instrument in your hands. Since you've been switching between the ones you have every now and again, trying to find a particular melody you were looking for, but hadn't found just yet. You didn't have easy access to as many instruments as you did a few months ago, but you learned to work with what you had. Having taken home the very first instrument you bought yourself, and a few more of your favorites that could fit in the apartment that you managed to get your hands on for a decent price.
Sure, you did have other places you could go to that allowed you to play the other instruments you didn't have, but you liked to play at home if you could help it. There was just something about being in a comfortable space while composing a song or melody, that just felt nice. You truly felt at home, a feeling you didn't realize you missed until you left the manor and finally had a space that you could truly call your own. A feeling you didn't want to let go of, if you could help it.
Your life was still busy but it was beginning to slow down. You dedicated more time to things you actually enjoyed, but also made an effort to take care of yourself and hold onto good habits you had developed over the years. Though you were still trying to let go of some bad ones, you were making progress.
You felt… happy here. At peace, even.
You were surrounded by people that saw you and even recognized you, and were beginning to see that you had a family of your very own all along.
Unlike the family you were adopted into, your friends showed their care and support — and if anything, made sure you wouldn't forget it. With you showing the same care and support back, and your efforts being recognized instead of pushed to the side. Being reciprocated instead of leaving you with nothing, and making you feel more alone and unwanted than words could describe.
Sure, it wasn't perfect, and you've had your fair share of arguments and times where you needed space, but that was okay. You didn't need perfection, and you didn't need constant happiness. You just needed love and care, and that's what you found. Among other things you didn't ask for or necessarily need, but appreciated deeply regardless.
You felt like you had finally found what you've been searching for, and nothing could make you happier.
Yet, somewhere in your heart, you knew it couldn't last forever, and as if hearing your worries, an abrupt knock echoed throughout the apartment.
You paused what you were doing, humming curiously to yourself as you turned to look at the front door from your position on the couch. Who could that be at this hour? It certainly wasn't your roommate, seeing as they were sound asleep in their room, and you could still hear their snores despite being in the living room. So who else could it be?
Maybe it was Ms. Harry again, seeing as she had a bit of an odd tendency to knock on the wrong door sometimes. After all, she was old, and her memory was slowly getting worse, but she was always quick to fix her mistakes. So you just shrugged and turned away, convinced that it was another one of those nights where she just so happened to mistakenly knock on your door. So you let it be, knowing that she'd correct herself on her own and move along.
However, another set of knocks sounded.
They were a little louder this time, as if the person on the other side of the door really did want to be noticed. Which made you pause and look back at the door, taking a brief glance at the clock.
It was getting late, and not many people were out and about during this time of night. Not the people on your floor, anyway. Though, you still tried to think of anyone who could be at the door right now.
Besides your roommate, not many of your friends lived particularly close. With the amount of them that would not only be up at this time of night, but would also personally come to bother you without sending a text or anything, being even smaller. The more you think about it, the shorter the list of potential people got, and you don't know if that should make you more confused or worried. Maybe a bit of both, but you weren't sure.
More knocks sounded. Again, they were louder compared to the last set, if only by a little.
Well, whoever was at your door was being rather persistent, so you decided to at least check it out.
Reluctantly, you set the instrument you had been fiddling with for the past hour to the side. Sighing softly as you got up from your spot on the couch, and quietly approached the door.
Moving about as silently as you could was an odd habit you couldn't shake, and while your friends have joked and commented about it, you suppose it was just another remnant of your life in the manor. A life you were still trying to gradually leave behind.
Regardless, you made your way to the door, and yet here — right at the foot of it, an odd feeling began to blossom in your chest. You couldn't make sense of it, but as you reached for the knob, you found yourself stopping. It didn't feel like a good idea to open the door, and though you couldn't figure out why, you just took a small breath and pushed the feeling to the side.
Clearly, you were having a weird night, but just to humor yourself, you decided to 'comply' with whatever this feeling was, and check who was at the door by looking through the peephole instead.
It was only then did you understand.
You took a few silent steps back, putting your hand over your mouth as you kept your eyes on the door. Tingles of unease slowly crawling down your spine, and your heart began to beat against your chest harshly. You don't know if what you saw was real, but you didn't want to check again. Once felt like enough, especially since your legs felt like they were sinking into the floor.
How… how did they know where you live?
You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves as you took a few more steps away from the door. You have no idea what's going on, but all you know was that you don't want Dick knowing where you live. He might know the floor and building, but you refuse to give him the exact room if you could help it. So, you quickly moved to your room and got ready, a quick plan forming in your head.
Changing was easy, and so was gathering the stuff you thought you'd need for this. Not exactly too worried about the shoes you put on or anything like that, as your heart leapt from your chest to your throat when more knocks came, basically pounding against the door.
Fuck. He was getting impatient.
Picking up the pace, you made any last minute adjustments you could to your appearance, before quickly deciding that you looked good enough to be outside. Rushing to a window, you didn't waste any time opening it, grabbing onto a pipe that was exposed on the side of the building, closing the window, and sliding down the pipe until you reached the ground. Thanking your past self for having done that enough times to be used to it.
Knowing for a fact that you heard more knocks on your way down, you hurriedly rushed back into the apartment building and basically ran to the elevator. Thanking the gods that it had opened when you first called it, you rushed inside and hit the button for your floor. Hurriedly tapping on the button that closed the elevator doors as they slowly shut, as if that would make them move faster somehow.
As the elevator rose, you prayed that it wouldn't stop and that it'd go straight up to your floor, not knowing if you could afford to risk losing time like that. Especially when the thought of a certain vigilante breaking down your door because you didn't answer it, popped into your head.
Your hands were sweaty, your heart was racing, and you could hardly stand still as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor. Staring at the counter above the elevator buttons as if that'd make the numbers go up faster, and occasionally glancing at the doors as if they'd open at any moment. Questions and possibilities rushed through your head, but you hardly had any time to think about any of them as a small ding sounded, and the doors finally opened. Ignoring how the small sound made you jump a bit, you tried not to look too nervous as you stared at the hallway in front of you.
Oh god, you were really doing this.
Not wanting to waste any more time, you stepped out of the elevator and took a breath. Trying to calm down your heart a bit as you gathered your composure, and acted as normally as you could manage. Walking forward, you rounded the corner, and there he was in all of his tainted glory.
"Di- I- I mean, Nightwing?" You call out, trying to grab the vigilante's attention before he did anything rash — and you seem to have caught him at just the right moment. As he seemed just about ready to bust open the lock to your door, and break into your apartment. Which, he thankfully pulls away as he whips around to look at you, clearly surprised.
You were almost too grateful to have caught him just in time.
"What are you doing here?" You took a few steps forward, but nothing more. Not wanting your efforts to go to waste right away, even if you knew it was only a matter of time when it came to these guys.
"Oh! Y/n- hi! I didn't, um, I didn't see you there." Dick greets with a smile, acting oddly nervous, which makes you raise a brow. "How long have you been, uh, standing there?" He asks, probably trying to see if you saw how he was about to break into your apartment. You both know you did, but you could play dumb for now.
"Um, I just got back so… not long, I guess? Why?" You tilt your head to the side, taking note of how Dick seemed to visibly relax.
Was he always so… tense?
"No reason! I was just wondering, but, uh," He glances to the side before looking back at you, and taking in your appearance. He took in every little detail he could, and wow… you really were different from what he was expecting, but in the best way possible.
Your voice was different than he remembered, and everything about you was just so… fitting, even if he's never seen it before. Even if he didn't remember having seen the style of clothes you wore on you before, or seeing the accessories you had on your person either. You really look like you've grown up now and have become an adult, with your own sense of style and fashion. Having all these little ways to show how you've grown, and become more comfortable with yourself.
Dick couldn't help but love it as much as it hurt him.
"It's good to see you." He couldn't help but blurt out, smiling softly. Though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
You only fiddled with your sleeves, averting your eyes for a moment as you purse your lips into a thin line. The way he looks at you made you feel uncomfortable to say the least, and his whole demeanor was nothing you have seen from him before. Not directed towards you, anyway, and you couldn’t help but struggle trying to remember the last time he smiled at you in person. All you could remember was seeing his back turned towards you as he walked away, a flash of a pathetic smile showing on his face briefly before he continued walking forward. Never looking back...
Maybe you've just grown too familiar seeing his smile in photographs and painted pictures, instead of in person.
Yet, how he looks you over now — and seems to take in every detail he manages to find — isn't exactly making this the most comfortable situation to be in. You feel exposed, and rub your arm before stopping yourself. You couldn't afford to show signs of weakness or vulnerability. Not with him. Not while he was in the suit.
Taking in a short breath, you gave a small nod. Managing to look back at Dick, and push down your nerves. The last thing you want was for him to notice how you truly feel, and point it out, or feel some kind of obligation to do something about it. The last thing you need was for him to stick around for longer than he has to.
"Yeah, um, anyway- that didn't really answer my question…?" You hesitantly point out, unsure if you should've mentioned anything at all, but feeling the need to do so. Even if you rather not be in this position, you prefer this over him breaking down your door.
"Did something happen? I- I don't know how much help I can give since… y'know- I'm not a crime-fighting vigilante in latex, but I can see what I can do?" You try to joke a little, mostly for yourself and to further ease your nerves as a few small chuckles escape you. Yet it doesn't help as much as you would've liked.
Did they always scare you this much?
"Oh, no! No, no, no- nothing happened! I just wanted to, um, come see you, is all!" Dick admits, and even if that may have been enough reasoning for him, it wasn't for you. It just doesn't make sense, and maybe that was the years of being put off to the side — or almost outright ignored — talking, but you couldn't imagine him just randomly popping out of nowhere, just because he wants to see you. There has to be a reason, even if you don't know what that reason would be.
"By going to my friend's apartment…? That doesn't really make a lot of sense.. um, Nightwing."
"Oh. Uh, you don't live here?" It was so weird seeing someone like Dick be so openly nervous. Was he always like this? You couldn't really tell, but if there was something going on he wasn't hiding it very well. It was almost like he was trying to not mess up or something, but you don't know why.
"No… but I do visit often? I mean, that is why I'm here and everything-" A few nervous chuckles escape you as you scratch the back of your neck, once again averting your gaze. "If you want, we could talk over a cup of coffee? I know a good place nearby, and even if I'm sure you can't exactly dine-in or anything, I could just take it to-go or something." You hesitantly offer, getting the feeling that Dick wouldn't leave easily, and still thinking that if there really is something going on — you could give him a chance to talk about it, at the very least.
"Sure! Yeah! But, uh. Is that really a good idea? It could be dangerous, and I think it's for the best if we stay inside or go to your place instead." Dick suggests, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.
"My place?"
"Yeah, I mean I would offer mine but Bludhaven isn't exactly close, y'know?" He snickers. Yet it only made you pause. The smallest bits of a bad feeling beginning to form in your stomach.
"I- I don't think that's a good idea…"
"But it's better than hanging around outside or something, right? This is Gotham, after all." You didn't like how Dick says that. Saying it like you didn't already know. Like you were ignorant of how bad the city you live in was, despite having experienced it first hand on multiple occasions.
"I know, but there has to be some other place we can talk, then just my place."
"Well, there is the-"
"No." You immediately shot it down, already feeling like you knew what he was going to say, "Not there. Let's- let me just grab the coffee first, and we can figure it out from there, alright?" You didn't want to deal with more than you have to, and you weren't going to go back. Not now. Not ever, if you could help it.
"Oh, sure! I'll just tag along," Dick said simply, almost as if it was obvious, as he smiles, approaching you casually.
"I-" You pause before just sucking in a breath and giving a small nod, a weak smile displaying itself on your face, "-yeah, sure. That- that works." Even if you don't want Dick to follow you, it is better than having him just stand at your door, anyway. Though you still aren't exactly comfortable with the idea, you didn't have many options.
"Great! I'll meet you outside!" Dick grins before leaving through the window at the end of the hall.
Now by yourself for a while, you exhaled deeply, not even realizing how long you've been holding your breath.
You aren't sure if you could do this, but you don't feel like you have much of a choice anymore as you just try to steady and calm down your racing heart.
Making your way back to the elevator, you try to not think too much about what's going on as you step back inside, and push the correct button, waiting for it to descend.
Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and despite how you try to ignore it – you could feel that something was wrong. Though you just chalked it up to how you aren't used to Dick talking with you, or smiling towards you – or really anything at all when it came to him. You tried to, anyway, but you were slowly beginning to doubt it.
There was something in his smile, and the way that he spoke that just felt strange to you. Even if you haven't had many conversations or interactions with him, you could still catch how different he seemed tonight. Though you weren't entirely sure. After all, you didn't know much about his personality or usual antics, just as he didn't know much about you as a whole.
On any other occasion you'd try to let it go, but doing so didn't feel right this time. It feels stupid, and almost as if you'd put yourself in more danger by trying to, so for now you'd just keep it in mind. Even if nothing came of it, at least you were being cautious, right?
You aren't sure, not entirely anyway. Since it was always hard to tell what is and isn't a good decision with Dick and the others, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as the elevator doors open once again.
All you could do was just hope that this would end as quickly as it started. For both your and Dick's sake, but mostly for your own.
Nevertheless, you step out of the elevator and make your way out of the building. There, you saw Dick leaning against a lamppost, before looking at you. The smile he gave only made the pit in your stomach grow bigger, but you tried to return the gesture the best you could.
Neither smile reached either of your eyes.
"So, you know where it is?"
"Yeah- it isn't too far from here. Just a few blocks away, it's not that far of a walk."
"Great! You don't mind leading, then?"
"No, um. I can lead."
"Perfect, let's get going then." Dick says, his smile growing a little bigger as he makes his way over, and stops beside you, waiting for you to lead the way.
You just gave a nod, taking a nervous step forward as you both began to walk. You knew the directions by heart at this point, and so you just let your own feet guide you along the streets of Gotham. With Dick following right along, humming under his breath.
An awkward silence fell over both of you.
You try to not think about it too much, knowing that the detail would only further bother you, and make you feel more nervous than you already are. So you drew your attention elsewhere, and focused on the city itself instead.
Not many people were walking about, which immediately struck you as odd since Gotham was always so lively despite how dangerous it is. Even if more people were out during the day, there were still lots of people who were out at night for one reason or another. Granted, most of them are dangerous, everyone knows that, but some just simply went about their business. The city was dangerous, but that didn't stop people from going about their lives. Even if it did make it easier for thugs and the like to hide within the crowds.
Still, the change was noticeable. Gotham wasn't exactly known to be quiet, let alone this inactive. It felt strange, and when you glance over to Dick, you couldn't help but feel a little surprised that he didn't seem all that bothered by the change. If anything, you were almost getting the impression that he hadn't noticed it at all.
So, you just keep looking ahead, and focusing on other things. Deciding to not comment on anything if Dick wasn't.
Yet you still couldn’t shake it.
The absence of sirens in the air and occasional gunshots didn't sit right with you, and even the amount of people driving by wasn't as much as it'd usually be. The city didn't feel busy, let alone as alive as it would've been on any other night, and it's bothering you. It's like some sort of silent evacuation is going on, or a lock down of some kind that not everyone was informed of. There were more whispers than there were shouts, and a kind of awkward peace, instead of striking violence and chaos.
You couldn't believe it, was this Gotham's first real quiet night?
CRACK.
Perhaps you spoke too soon.
A sickening crack sounded from somewhere within the city, the noise so loud and sudden that it immediately caught your attention, as you looked in the direction of where you heard it come from. You could've sworn you heard a scream that followed right after, only for it to swiftly get cut off.
It was only then did you really take a look around, and notice how the people you passed by looked equally tense and nervous. An unsaid, but shared feeling of tension and anxiety hung in the air, and now that you noticed it — you couldn't ignore it.
What didn't help was when you saw someone in an alleyway cocking their gun, only for them to swiftly get roped into the darkness, causing them to drop their weapon in the process. A sickening pop sounded, and then deafening silence followed. The only evidence that anyone had ever stood in that particular spot, was the gun the thug had dropped.
Through the shadows of the alleyway, and faint light from the moon, you could almost make out a figure in the darkness. Yet just as they turned to look at you, your eyes darted away.
You swallowed the lump in your throat.
"Are… are you sure there isn't anything going on? It seems oddly… quiet, tonight." You point out hesitantly, small tingles dancing down your spine, and they were far from pleasant.
"Hm? Oh, well, I guess you could say something is happening, but the others are taking care of it." Dick reassures as he waves his hand dismissively. "Though that's why I think it'd be better if we talked inside. The last thing I want is for someone to eavesdrop on our conversation, and for you to get caught in the crossfire of everything." Yet you couldn't help but feel like it was a little too late for that.
Being associated with Dick, and the others — let alone being someone that they'd actually turn to for assistance or anything — already made someone prone to being caught in any crossfire that dealt with their vigilante work. Even if the person didn't get caught in between things by some miracle, it would be hard to ignore the newly painted target on their back. Being known for having a connection to Batman, and anyone he had taken under his wing one way or another, had its problems, and you already had to deal with your own fair share of trouble just for being known as another kid who got adopted by Bruce Wayne.
You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly had to deal with more trouble just from this conversation alone, since word traveled around fast in Gotham, but you didn't want to think about that right now. You'd just deal with that when the time came, if it ever did.
Still, you didn't fully believe Dick. Your feelings of the situation becoming more messy, and unclear as you try to piece things together. You couldn't tell if what was going on was something to worry about, or stress over. Since Dick was acting so dismissively about it, and yet the effect it's having on Gotham was unmistakable. Is it big enough to cause the city to go quiet, but not dangerous enough to worry about? Or is it something else entirely?
You took a breath. Maybe it's best if you just think about it later. You already have enough on your plate as it is, and the biggest thing you have to worry about right now is Dick. All you have to do is find out what he wants, and handle things from there. That's it. That's all you have to do.
So, you nod hesitantly. Still not looking at Dick as you said, "Right. Okay. That… that makes sense, I guess," but your voice betrays you despite your best efforts as it wavered slightly. Still, you make sure to add, "but I still don't think it's the best to talk at my place."
Dick only gave a nod, saying, "Alright," and nothing else.
Your body refused to relax after that.
You still couldn’t shake the odd feeling you were getting from Dick, even if you couldn't exactly pinpoint what's wrong or where this feeling is coming from. The distant sounds of snaps, cracks, pops, and cut off shouts and screams in the distance didn't help much with that either. Especially when they weren't far, and sounded like they were only a few blocks away from you, with the distance slowly growing shorter each and every time a new sound echoed across Gotham. Especially when you realized that the snaps and cracks were the sounds of bones breaking, and the pops were joints getting dislocated. Which caused various memories to pop into your head that you tried to shove away.
Small beads of sweat began to roll down your neck. Your hands feel clammy, and you try to steady your breathing once you realize it was wavering again. You try to fix any outward reaction you notice you were displaying before Dick could catch on, fiddling with your sleeves as you try to reassure yourself.
You're going to be okay.
CRACK!
You're going to be fine.
SNAP!
You're going to make it through this.
POP!
You could tough it out.
"AAAHHH-!" CRUNCH.
This would all be over soon.
So, you try to ignore how the pit in your stomach continues to grow with each second that passes. How each sound causes you to tense, and sometimes jump the smallest bit, but you try to ignore that too.
You glance over to Dick once again, only to catch him immediately turning to face forward. The detail made you pause and furrow your brows, had he been looking at you?
You shove the thought to the side and face forward again as well. A weight of some kind begins to form in your chest, yet you still try to push on and keep walking.
Seconds turn into minutes, and it's only now that you fully realized how long this short walk felt. The sidewalks stretched on, and the streets never seemed to end. The traffic lights felt like distant glimpses of life and civilization that one would catch in fog, with the small amount of cars on the road not helping with that feeling. Dark clouds begin to form overhead, and cover the inky black sky. With the full moon looking down at you. Its sight pinned on you, staring in silence.
Maybe that's why you were so relieved when the diner finally came into view, and you found yourself holding back a sigh of relief. You had to stop yourself from running over, and rushing inside so that you didn't have to walk beside Dick anymore. Further reminding yourself of how awkward this whole experience has been for you thus far. Which didn't help with how you are feeling at all.
"How do you like your coffee?" You decide to ask, seeing as the diner was only a few steps away at this point.
"What?" Dick asks, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in. With your question bringing him back to reality.
"Um, how do you like your coffee? Since, y'know. That's what we're here for?" You repeat, giving Dick a confused glance.
A look of realization flashed across Dick's face as a small 'ohh' left him. "Right, yeah. Uh," he stumbles at first before saying his preference, with you just nodding along.
"Okay, I'll just go inside and order so… you can just wait out here?" You said, unsure as you glance at the diner, only to look back at Dick.
"Yeah, I can do that." He agrees with a simple nod and small thumbs up. Making you nod as well as you took a breath.
"Right, okay. I'll just, um, head inside then." You exhale sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "It shouldn't take too long." You stop once you're in front of the door to the diner. Folding your hands into fists, squeezing your fingers and digging your nails into your palms, before releasing, letting your fingers relax, before repeating the process a few more times.
"Got it." Dick nods again, and you return the gesture as you open the door and step inside. Once again holding yourself back from letting out a sigh of relief, as you made your way over to the counter. A weight of some kind being lifted from your shoulders the moment the smell of food, and freshly brewed coffee hits you.
It's only when you reach the counter and see your friend did you finally sigh deeply, and heavily. You rest your arms against the counter and let your head hang low, a feeling of exhaust and fatigue slowly eating away at you. Not being in the immediate vicinity of Dick definitely made you feel exceptionally better, especially now that there’s a wall between you and him.
"Y'know, lots of people have been comin' in and sighing just like that, tonight." The waitress points out as she makes her way over to you. Her comment causing you to lift your head, and look at her. She gave you a little smile, amused by your antics, but you could see the little worry that hid behind her eyes.
"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax a little, now that you were in the presence of a friend. You didn't see Jessica outside of the diner much, but that was never a problem since you've been a regular for a while now. You had met when you first began coming to the diner late at night for coffee since you couldn't sleep, coming around just when the place was about to close. It was only after a few more nights passed that you both began to talk, and really connect. You like to consider her one of your closest friends because of all she's done for you, and not just because she knows how to make your coffee just the way you like it.
"Yeah, it's kinda weird but there's seems to be somethin' going on tonight. So I guess it makes sense." Jessica says with a shrug, "Anyway, you want the usual, I'm assuming?"
You perk up at that, "Wait, you think something's going on too?" You couldn't help but ask, though made sure to also say, "Oh, and that'd be great. But I'll… um, take it to go this time, and I'll have another coffee for my…" you glance over your shoulder and look at Dick. He had his back turned to the window, and looked to be talking to someone with what you assumed to be his comm link.
You turn back to Jessica, a crooked smile on your face, "My acquaintance…?"
"I can't think of anyone who doesn't. Everyone can tell that something ain't right about tonight. Hell, even Jim looked bothered when he came in. I swore he was shakin' like a leaf, and looked like something was out to get him too." Jessica replies, writing down your order on her notepad mindlessly, already knowing it by heart.
"Jim? Like the commissioner?"
"Nope, I'm talkin' about the guy who came in from Metropolis."
"Oh." You said, before slowly nodding as you thought about it, "I guess that makes sense. Though, I didn't think that guy had a single nervous bone in his body, to be honest."
"Well, y'know what they say; Gotham changes people. It can even make people like him, who're barely present with the rest of us, get a little shaken up every now and again." Jessica hums, looking at what she has written down for a moment.
"Right… yeah."
Jessica sighs softly, looking at you with unsaid care and concern before speaking up again, "Anyway, does your…" she drags out the 'r' as she glances behind you, before looking back at you. Waving her pen in the air as she gestures towards the window, "'acquaintance' want anything else?"
"No, um. Just the coffee will do." You rub the back of your neck, making sure to mention how Dick said he likes his coffee. Jessica only gave a nod as she wrote it down.
"Alright, but I gotta ask. Is that guy bothering you?" Jessica asks as she starts to brew the coffee, shooting you a certain look, "I can get William to have a chat with 'im if he's causing you trouble. He won't like it, but he'll do it, y'know."
The question catches you off guard, but you quickly shake your head, and try to adjust the smile on your face to look less obvious. As much as you don't want to be in this situation, you at least want to hear Dick out. If there's even the smallest chance that he really does need something from you — you want to help. You don't want to be the reason why whatever is going on is prolonged any further, or if a solution they have is delayed.
Despite everything they've done to you, and the little they've given you throughout all of your life, you want to do this one last thing for them. That's all.
You could afford to do this one last time, you thought as much anyway.
"I'm fine, he- he isn't bothering me… I promise." You try to reassure your friend, mustering the most convincing smile you could as you watch her work. She clearly knew what she was doing, since it looked as if it came so naturally to her, and you wouldn't be surprised if it did, with all she's told you in the past.
"Well, alright. But if he does anything you can always shoot me a text or give me a call. I can't do much myself, but I know people."
You huff at her words, an easy smile making its way up your face as your shoulders relaxed, "I know. Thanks, Jess."
"Don't mention it. After all, I've gotta look out for the person who gives the best tips." She snickers, a smile of her own beginning to show itself. You can't help but laugh lightly as you just shake your head, and look away.
The soft tune of old melodies plays in the background, filling the space of the diner and washing away any awkwardness that may have been present otherwise. Some jazz begins to play, and you couldn’t help but tap your foot along with the rhythm, the voice of the singer taking all of your worries, and whisking them away.
The other customers are quiet for the most part, but seem at ease for the time being. The outside world almost seemed so far away despite being just past the windows, but there was some peace to be had with that. The street lights gave off a homey feeling with their soft orange hues spilling into the diner, the quiet from the outside only making this place feel more safe, in a strange way.
"So it's just for the money, huh? And here I thought you genuinely cared about me." You chuckle, fiddling with your fingers mindlessly.
"Of course I do. But I'd like to see you work in customer service and living off of tips," Jessica chuckles as well, "Maybe then you'd see how that's just me appreciating you more, hon'."
You just shake your head, "Right, whatever you say."
"I'm being serious, Y/n. Even the boss appreciates you, and your wonderful donations." Jessica snickers, beginning to pour the coffee into two cups.
"You make it sound like he runs a charity, and I'm a big donor."
"Of course he does! Except, y'know. It isn't your typical charity, and we gotta work our asses off to ‘give back to the people’. With your money making up about… hm, seventy-five percent of my paycheck?"
"Jess!"
"No, no. You're right, it's more like eighty-three. Maybe even eighty-five at a push." She laughs, giggling at the expression you make as you huff, before laughing a bit yourself.
You both continue to joke lightly, laughs and giggles being shared as Jessica makes your order, and you patiently wait. A light, soft sort of smile resting on your face, and you almost forget what had made you so tense in the first place. Which was one of the reasons you love this diner so much — it felt like a home away from home, even if it was only a few blocks away from your apartment. Jessica just added onto that comfortable vibe you got from this place, and your mind always felt so quiet when you're here.
It almost made everything feel like it'd be okay, and that as long as you remain inside, nothing bad could happen to you.
Unfortunately, it was only that. A feeling, and nothing more. Your current situation only made that detail all the more apparent.
"Welp, here you go. They're both hot and ready, so be careful, okay?" She smiles down at you before snickering, "Though you don't gotta tell the guy that if you don't want to."
You're confused for a moment, not entirely sure who Jessica was talking about until it suddenly hit you. Right, Dick.
You laugh along, but it wasn't as genuine as it was before, and died down much quicker. As if scared that he'd hear both of you from past the window now. The thought alone made you suddenly hyper-aware of his presence outside. "Right, yeah.."
Grabbing the two cups, you slide them towards yourself and stare down at them for a moment, finding yourself hesitating again. You don't know why you were taking so many pauses, but this whole thing just didn't feel right to you. Though you couldn't exactly pinpoint why, you knew the reason was different than why you were so awkward around Dick, and reluctant to talk to him.
"... Are you sure that guy isn't bothering you?" Jessica asks again, leaning against the counter as she places a hand over one of yours. You couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that if you did it'd just make things harder for yourself. So you look off to the side, unsure.
"Yeah!… He's just.. yeah." Was all you could really say. You don't want to say anything that would make Jessica worry more, but most importantly, you don't want to make it harder for yourself to leave. You got this far, would it really be alright if you leave now? If you took back the words you said, and just went back home? Probably not.
You hear Jessica sigh, causing your heart to feel heavier in your chest. "Look, I get it if you don't want me to get someone to handle him, but if you don't want to stick around, and don't want him to see- I can let you out the back." She offers, giving your hand a small squeeze. Trying to reassure you, and give you something to work with.
You perk up at her offer, looking back up at her in slight surprise, "Really?" You ask. The sense of hope and relief that washed over you didn't make you feel any better, and only furthered the conflict going on in your mind.
"Yeah. Especially if it'll get you away from that weirdo." She chuckles with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood a little.
You think about it for a moment, just looking at Jessica as countless thoughts rush through your head. Why did this have to be so complicated? Why are you making this so hard for yourself? The choice is so simple, so easy, and yet you just couldn't take it, but why?
You look back at Dick, and make eye contact.
You both stand there, staring at each other for a while, and the music playing in the diner suddenly didn't feel so comforting anymore. Your shoulders lost their weightlessness, and gravity seemed eager to try and pull you down to the floor.
Dick is the first to look away, presumably resuming his conversation with whoever he's been talking to this entire time, but you didn't. You don't.
Turmoil and conflict is clear in your eyes. You could see it through your faint reflection in the glass of the window that separates you and Dick. Which, from that alone, you begin to feel worse.
Even if you did leave, would that change anything? Would you be able to actually leave Dick? Or would he catch on? They already know where you live, and even if you managed to fool Dick momentarily, you doubt that he believes your little lie now if he is talking to the others. Yet if you went back to him, what would happen? Where would you both end up going?
You look back down at the two coffees, and sigh. Either way, you’re faced with uncertainty. If you left now, there's no telling if you'd actually be able to get away. Yet if you went back to Dick, you couldn't even imagine what would happen next. It felt like you were stuck in a lose-lose situation; having to pick between two different types of poison, and deal with whatever consequences that came with the kind you chose.
Holding the cups a little tighter, you think it over for another moment before shaking your head. Taking in a breath, and letting yourself calm down a bit.
"I think I'll be okay, but thanks for the offer, Jess." You gave her a little, appreciative smile, "I'll just message or call you if anything happens, like you said." Jessica didn't seem entirely sure of your decision, but nods anyway.
"Well, if you're sure, then alright. But the moment shit goes south, you know who to call."
You nod, and give her a small ‘thank you’ as you paid and left. Taking the drinks with you as you did so, the warmth of the diner slowly leaving you, and now being replaced with the cold breeze of the night.
"Sorry that took so long, I would've told you otherwise if I had known." You apologize as you turn to Dick, flinching at his close proximity. Since, you didn't realize just how close he had been standing to the door until now.
"It's no big deal! Besides, it didn't take that long." Dick said, dismissing your apology as he kept up that smile of his. You only nod, handing him his coffee, which he gladly took.
"If you say so.." You glance off to the side again, remaining quiet for a moment before looking back at Dick, "You were talking to the others, I assume?" You decide to ask, not exactly sure if you should've said anything, but you didn't see the harm in doing so at the moment.
"Hm? Oh, yeah! I uh, I was." Dick confirms with a small, awkward nod.
"Is… everything okay?"
"Yep! Things are going well. Great, even!"
"Oh. Alright then."
Another beat of silence passed over both of you.
You clutch the cup in your hands, its heat pinching and nibbling at your skin through the sleeve. You took a glance inside the diner, and noticed that while Jessica is doing her job, she's still shooting looks and glances your way past the window. She furrows her brows as you both made eye contact, and you could tell what she was going to do just from that alone.
You shake your head, and play it off as if you were just pushing a thought away once you look back at Dick, shoulders rising and almost locking into place as you try to stop your smile from dropping. Holding it at just the right height, and making sure it didn't look too crooked.
"So, um. How about we walk and talk? Just so that we're doing something instead of just standing around- y'know?" You suggest, a wry chuckle escaping you as your eyes wander off again.
"Sure, yeah! We can do that," Dick nods along, and you give a curt nod in return.
"Great!" You begin to walk off, only to be stopped by Dick as he grabs your sleeve, causing you to flinch a little bit. Whipping your head around to look back at him, your heart stopping for a moment as something flashed in your eyes, before it quickly disappeared.
For a split second, you look at Dick as if he was about to kill you, or something similar to that. Like he was going to hurt you in some unimaginable way by just trying to grab your attention.
Though Dick just pushed that little detail to the side, he couldn't help but keep it in mind. He didn't want to think about what it could mean, but couldn't forget it either. Since no matter how quick it was, or how short it lasted, just seeing that expression on your face and directed towards him — it hurt worse than any injury he could possibly receive in any shape or form.
He didn't want to believe what seemed to be the undeniable truth.
So, instead, he tucked it away in the back of his mind. Still managing some kind of smile as he looks at you, hiding behind a face of confusion.
"Isn't your place back that way?" Dick asks, gesturing behind him with a tilt of his head. He notices how you swallowed — taking note of how nervous and on edge you seem to be. He's known since he first saw you, but he didn't think anything of it. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to mean anything.
So he ignores it. Pushing it away until he can't see it anymore, despite it being so clear and right in front of his face.
He prays to every god he knows, and hopes to every heaven he's aware of — blind and ignorant to the fact that they have long since shut him out. The light and grace they'd give, forever out of his reach.
His little wishes couldn't help him now. Not when they never helped you.
"I-" You couldn't help but sigh, shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, before speaking again, "I already said that I don't think that it's a good idea to talk there, Dick. And I don't think it's smart to have this conversation here either- so let's just walk as we try to figure this out. Please?" Your weak smile begins to strain as you take a step back, grabbing Dick's hand and tugging him toward you. You hope he'll listen, if only this one time.
Dick looks to the side, unsure as he weighs his options before looking back at you, and suddenly he's hit with all the convincing he needed.
You look at him pleadingly, almost silently begging for him to comply and just come along with you. The moon, albeit partially covered thanks to the dark clouds passing overhead, lit up your eyes in such a way that further emphasized the emotions you were feeling, but left unsaid. How the internal conflict and struggle you were experiencing, made the color in your irises shine that much brighter, and how such a little thing took Dick's breath away.
Suddenly, for a moment, he realizes how soft your hand was in his, despite the fabric of his glove in between them. Even if it is just for that split second, he can't help but… love it. Love you. So how can he say no? How could he say no when he's slowly beginning to see all of these little things about you in a different way? When his guilt was slowly shifting to something else? Something worth trying for?
How can he deny such a little request from his little sibling? Especially when you look at him like that? He can't. So he didn't. Unable to stop the soft but partially happy smile that grew on his face.
You found it uncanny and misplaced, but he found it fitting and refreshing in a way. A way he hadn't felt before — not in a while, anyway.
"Sure, alright. Let's get going then!" Dick replies after a second of silence had passed, holding onto your hand and walking beside you when you began to move again.
You didn't say anything this time, just nodding as you focused on walking away from the diner.
Yet, Dick couldn't help but look back at the establishment. Curious as to why you wanted to move on from it so quickly, and wanted to see if he could catch anything in particular that might've caused it. Not that Dick was complaining by any means, but he couldn't help his own curiosity.
It was then that Dick and the waitress from inside the diner made eye contact. Causing Dick to narrow his eyes, and the waitress doing the same back with a certain look in her eyes.
He didn't like it, and even if the impression he's getting was far off the mark, he didn't care enough to change it.
Yet, when you and Dick pass the diner, your phone suddenly vibrates.
Oblivious to how Dick's gaze lingered on the diner for a little while longer — or how he was even looking back at all — you fish your phone out of your pocket once you shake Dick’s hand off mindlessly, not thinking too much about the action as you check your notifications.
There, you saw that Jessica had left you a message.
['Be careful with that one. I'd watch your back if I were you, hon.']
You were confused to say the least, but before you could think to respond, Dick turned back to you and suddenly spoke. Smile ever present, eyes trained on you.
"So, where are we going?"
"Oh- um, I'm not entirely sure." You admit, pocketing your phone quickly without much thought. Hoping Dick didn't see what the text said, but you didn't count on it. Not much slipped past him or the others in any given situation, not unless it was something dealing with you. Though, with his attention on you now? You couldn't be too sure of what he would and wouldn't notice. Not anymore.
After all, just knowing that he could see you now, and is actually talking with you, along with the fact that you've been in his space for over a minute was… a new experience. You didn't think you'd get this far — you never have before, and so this was all new territory for you. All you knew, and could gather from how things were going thus far, was that slipping away wouldn't be as easy as it was before. Not with his eyes trained on you like they were now.
"Well, that's fine but we still shouldn't stay out for long. It isn't safe." Dick pointed out again, causing you to sigh and nod your head.
"I know, but I still-" you cut yourself off, and took a quick breath before continuing, "it doesn't feel right going back to my place. Besides, not many people are out tonight… and as weird as that is- at least not many people will be around to eavesdrop on our conversation, if we did talk out here." You said, shrugging your shoulders, and taking a slow but small sip of your coffee. It burned your tongue, but at least it gave you something else to think about.
"That doesn't exactly make Gotham any less dangerous, and besides- those who are walking around, and are still out and about, could be from a worse crowd. You should know that, Y/n." Again, you didn't appreciate how he spoke to you like that. Talking as if you were ignorant to that possibility, or just generally unaware that Gotham was a bad place filled with even worse people.
"I do, I'm just saying-" you try to defend yourself, looking at Dick before immediately looking away. You don't like how he looked at you, and how much taller it made him appear, "Gotham isn't just filled with criminals, and besides… most people look like they're rushing to get home anyway." You comment, noticing how a group of people — presumably friends or roommates, maybe even 'coworkers' to a certain degree — rushed inside what appeared to be an apartment building. Along with how a family quickly got inside of their house, ushering their kids inside before hurriedly closing the door behind them.
"It's like some kind of apocalypse is going on…" You mutter, narrowing your eyes at the sight, before just focusing your attention back on the sidewalk ahead of you. You didn't recall getting a memo of any kind, or an alert if something like that was really going on. Though, your best bet to figuring anything out was unfortunately through Dick, by the looks of things.
Dick rubs the back of his neck, a strange feeling of nervousness, and something close to embarrassment, radiating off of him as he chuckled. The strange detail caught your attention, causing you to look at him and notice that his smile had become uneven, before he fixed it when he noticed you were looking.
You couldn't help but raise a brow, silently questioning Dick with your eyes, a small hint of suspicion growing behind your gaze.
Dick just shrugs, fixing himself the very next moment, which only causes you to narrow your eyes. Were they actually causing some kind of apocalypse? Surely not… right?
"Then that's just all the more reason why we should head inside too." Dick said, giving your hand a soft squeeze. Forcing you to acknowledge that you were holding hands once again – but when did he grab it? You don’t remember feeling him hold it again until now… but that wasn’t important, not now anyway, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Y/n. I'm just worried."
You grew quiet at that, a mix of emotions beginning to swirl around in your chest before you just shove it to the side. You couldn't tell if he was joking or trying to be genuine….
Though, your heart and mind seemed to agree that he wasn't being serious, and maybe that's why you didn't like how he looked at you.
Taking your hand back once again, you shook your head dismissively, "You're a vigilante, right? One of Gotham's finest, and looking over Bludhaven at that- if anything happens I'm sure you can handle it." Huffing, you add, "Even then, I can handle myself."
Dick's eyes linger on you for a little longer. The hand that had been holding yours twitched, and he kept it there for a second before letting it drop to his side, his smile beginning to die down before he sighed. "Still, I think it'd be better if we tried to avoid something like that all together."
"I think it'd also be better if we could avoid something like that happening at my place."
"It won't, not with me around."
"So now you're confident that nothing will happen?" You laugh lightly, more air escaping you above all else, and disbelief clear in your eyes and tone. "You can't be sure. Someone could follow us there and find out where I live."
You snicker again, not fully believing that you were actually having to tell Dick all of this, "I mean, it might not matter much to you but-"
"It does matter to me. I don't want you to get hurt, or anyone else to come after you." He took another breath, and you bite your tongue. Reframing from mentioning how it was a little too late to be saying that now. "Look, I understand if you don't want to go back to where you're staying, but if that's the case then we can just got to the-"
"No." You speak up before he could even finish. Already knowing what he was going to say, and the mere thought of going back to that place made you feel uneasy. Causing you to clutch your cup with both of your hands, barely registering its heat.
"I didn't even get to say where…" Dick sighs again, just pushing the detail to the side for the moment, "Can you at least tell me why? I don't see why we shouldn't."
"It just-" You didn't want to say it outloud. Not out here. Not with him around, and listening to every word that fell out of your mouth. "I just don't think that's smart either. Again, someone could follow us back there and find out about… you know."
"Well, then someone else could just take you back-"
"Wouldn't that seem suspicious if someone saw, though?"
"Now you're worried about being seen?"
"Like you weren't before-"
"Y/n, please. We can't just stand around here and talk about stuff all night. Either way, we have to go somewhere." Dick tries to reason, adding on, "Look, if you don't want to go to your place or the 'other' place, how about we just-"
"No."
"I didn't even get to finish!"
"I know what you were about to say, and just-" You took a breath of your own, sweat rolling down the back of your neck as your hands began to shake a little bit. Your nerves were getting to you. You could feel it with how your chest became heavier, and how it was getting progressively harder to continue walking — as if your feet were slowly sinking into the cement below you.
"I don't think it'd be the best to go there either." You mutter, looking off to the side.
"Why? I can sort of understand the 'other' place-" he didn't, but in his attempt to get through to you, he said otherwise, "but why not there? Again, we can't just wander around all night and talk out in the open like this, Y/n. You should know better than that." Dick states, furrowing his brows as his gaze remains pinned on you, never once looking away.
You wish he would. By the Gods did you wish he would look away just once. Yet such a blessing had yet to be given, if it would ever come.
With every second that passed, your doubt only grew.
"I just don't see why we can't go to any other places? Somewhere that isn't personal, or technically considered to be personal since it could reveal your identity and such- and I don't think I have to give reasons why someone knowing where I live, or used to live, would be bad too- but… yeah. Just-" You gather your thoughts, looking down at your cup of coffee for a brief moment, "Just somewhere that isn't necessarily connected to either of us, or could reveal potentially personal or sensitive information on one or both of us? Like the park, or some random rooftop…? You guys still have talks up there, right?" You manage to slide in a little joke, but the laugh you gave is more awkward and nervous than anything, so you just clear your throat and continue.
"Or- or just an abandoned building or something? If you still really want us to be inside? Since Gotham has some of those… maybe too many of them- but that's besides the point." You try to suggest, hesitant to even say anything but managing somehow regardless.
You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Dick – so you missed how his brows creased, and his smile was just barely holding up. His hand twitches again, but he tries to stay mindful of the coffee he's still holding.
"Are you serious?" His tone made you press your lips into a thin line. Your nails begin to dig into the sleeve of your cup. "I get that you're paranoid, but are you serious right now? Y/n, c'mon." An odd warmth began to bloom in your chest at Dick's words. It was far from pleasant, and lit like a match, with the flame itself bursting to life. It started much larger than you were used to, and controlling it was more difficult than you expected.
"I'm just saying…"
"Saying… what? That we either stay out in the open where anything can happen, or a clearly dangerous place where we're most likely going to get jumped? 'Cause if that's what you're saying, then I don't even know what to say, Y/n." Dick really can't believe you right now. Just how long have you been living in Gotham, exactly? Who were you even living with? He couldn't understand what you were thinking suggesting such a thing.
He had a feeling you may have been unaware of the true dangers of Gotham, since he and the others had kept you away from such things – from what he could tell. Not to mention that you didn't have any intention of becoming a vigilante yourself, from what he remembered, but for you to turn out like this? He had no idea you were so oblivious, and if he had before, he never would've let you out of that apartment building. He never should've to begin with, clearly.
"No! Of course that's not what I'm saying!" You couldn't help but yelp in surprise, finally looking at Dick as you held your coffee closer to your chest. You felt offended that he honestly thought you'd think something so stupid, but you didn't know what was worse. How he didn't seem convinced, or how he looked as if he believed himself more than you.
"Then…?" Dick drags on, gesturing for you to give an explanation. Almost daring you to say something that proved him wrong, or went against his point.
You huff harshly, the warmth in your chest beginning to turn hot as you went on to say, "I'm just saying why can't we go anywhere else, that isn't technically connected to you or me in some way?"
"... And your solution to that is to go to a public area, stay out in the open but on the rooftops, or go to one of the abandoned places around Gotham where something bad will definitely happen?" Dick rose a brow, with you restraining yourself from rolling your eyes. Instead, you manage a sigh – smile long gone from your face.
"Those were just examples, Nightwing." You hold back a scoff, clutching your cup a little tighter, "We don't actually have to go to any of those places, or do those things. I was just trying to suggest ideas, not say; 'Hey, we should go to that one place by the bay that's been abandoned for around five years and have our talk there. Since surely nothing will happen, and a gang totally doesn't hang around that area.' Or something like that."
"That's oddly specific," Dick gave you a questionable look before shaking his head, "but still. Those places and areas aren't safe. At least the places I suggested are, and if something happens, then there's security measures in place for that."
"How do you know if my place is secure or not?"
"Are you trying to say that it isn't?"
"No- but it's not like I have a super complicated system or hypersensitive security like- y'know. The other places. So what would make my place so safe?"
Dick sighs, "Fine. Alright, maybe your place isn't our safest bet right now. Even if I feel like I can definitely handle protecting a single apartment." You didn't even bother to say anything, just rolling your eyes and shaking your head instead.
"I don't want anything to happen to my place, Nightwing."
"You really don't think I can't defend one room?"
"I don't live alone, D- Nightwing. I don't just have myself or my things to worry about." You couldn't help but say, scoffing under your breath. However, Dick could only blink, a little confused.
"You… have a roommate?"
"Yeah? Who do you think I was referring to when I said I was visiting a friend?"
"Oh! I thought that was a complete lie. I guess that makes sense, but why would you need a roommate anyway? Does your job not make enough money or-"
"Does that really matter right now?" You gave Dick a pointed look, hoping that he would take the hint and drop the subject, "We're trying to find out what the fuck to do, not delve into my personal life."
"Alright, fine- no need to get all worked up." Dick put his free hand up to show that he wasn't trying to start anything, and was trying to keep this peaceful and civil, "But why don't we just go to one of the other two areas? They're secure, and I'm sure your friend won't get hurt if something ends up happening while we're there."
You open your mouth to say something, only to shut it and look away. You clutch your cup a little tighter.
How could you tell Dick that you just don't want to be in the manor again, and that you didn't want to go back — without actually having to tell him? How do you tell Dick that you don't feel comfortable being in a space where you knew the rest of them would be, and that you'd rather have to just deal with him than anyone else? That you had a bad feeling about going to any of those places with him, and you don't trust him or the others at all?
You'd rather avoid going to the manor if you could help it, and you had more than enough reasons for feeling that way. Though, would Dick understand? Would he accept your reasons, and see why you wanted to go somewhere else? Maybe not, and even if he did understand, there was no guarantee that he would value your personal comfort over your 'safety'. There was no guarantee that he still wouldn't try and get you to agree with him.
You also wanted to avoid going to the clock tower. Seeing as just dealing with Dick was… difficult, to say the least, and if you could barely handle one — you couldn't imagine what it'd be like to handle another. Since there was bound to at least be someone else at the tower, just waiting for you to arrive.
The thought alone made you feel uneasy.
-------------------
[Chapter 3, part 2]
#yandere batfam#platonic yandere batfam#gn reader#yandere dc#platonic yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere dc x reader#yandere dick grayson
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How does each of the main aeiwam cast react to spiders?
Ichigo: "...Why's my leg itchyyYEAUGH! DAMMIT!" *scoops spider up in piece of paper, opens window and throws it out* "OUTSIDE! SHOO! I hate it when they sneak up and on me...
Orihime: Had an intense close personal friendship with a Joro Spider that had made it's web on her apartment balcony when she was six. It's death at the end of summer was her first real experience with mortal loss, and she mourned it for weeks. She still recalls "Joro-San" fondly.
Uryuu: Secretly dreams of Spiders large enough to spin actual ropes of silk- the stuff is a marvel of chemical engineering, and would be incredibly useful to him as a Doctor or Fashion Designer. He feels like the difficulty of harvesting Spidersilk is the main thing holding back a Golden age of Humanity, and is disturbed to find out he shares ANY opinion with Mayuri Kurotsuichi.
Tatsuki: Paralyticly Phobic of spiders. Understands and appreciates their importance in the ecosystem, knows they can't hurt her and that the phobia is an irrational reflex, and even thinks some of them 'look cool as hell'. The second there's a live one in her presence, she locks up and can't move until someone removes it. (Usually Ichigo, because Orihime will just stare at it, fascinated).
Chad: Has a Pet Kitchen Spider. thought about shooing flies in it's direction, then felt bad for the flies.
Kon: Is a cat, hunts them, and will have nuanced discussions about how different spiders taste with Yuzu, the one person who will tolerate that analysis.
Keigo: Screams theatrically and jumps away and into someone's arms if they're there, but that's just how he reacts to anything that startles him.
Mizuiro: Fascinated by them, will stare at them with Orihime and tell her fun facts about Joro-Gumo Yokai and other lore, which delights her to no end.
Yoruichi: Like Kon, enjoys toying with them before eating them.
Urahara: Curled into the farthest corner, screaming, crying, throwing up, and begging Yoruichi to STOP FUCKING AROUND AND GET RID OF IT!
Rukia: *entirely genuine, with a huge spider crawling on top of her hair* "...what Spider?"
(Seireitei Squad Under The Cut)
Yamamoto: Utterly fails to notice or care. There are so many things he's seen that are so much worse, and honestly? Even when he was a young man he didn't give a shit. He slept rough delivering messages, waking up in the dirt with half a dozen bugs on him was normal.
Sasakibe: Thinks they're delightful. So many elegant designs! Such perfect sense of when to strike! Such patience! He finds out about Diving Spiders and goes Ape Shit. THEY MAKE THEIR ON SCUBA TANKS!!
Soi Fon: Spiders are cool but not as cool as wasps and hornets :)
Omaeda: Also has a Pet Kitchen Spider, but does not feel bad about shooing flies into it's web at all.
Gin: Isn't actually sure what spiders are, or if they're even real. He's seeing sixteen dimensions at once, something that minuscule gets lost in the noise. Still thinks that someone Screaming "SPIDER!" and everyone flailing around in fear or suddenly attacking the walls and furniture is a social game like "The Floor Is Lava"
Rose: Thinks they're cool right up until they're in his personal space and then they are VERY SCARY.
Izuru: Was the designated spider-wrangler for the third from the first day he transferred in, because everyone else is a huge bitch about them. he plays it cool, but he's actually creeped out by the really big ones.
Unohana: Spiders are garden Friends :) often heard verbally encouraging them to destroy her garden pests with calls of "GET HIS ASS!" coming from the Hydrangeas.
Isane: Everyone is sort of surprised how chill Isane is about dealing with spiders- even Yamada's Actually Dangerous Specimens- and she shrugs and tells them that she deals with more dangerous things every day, especially over in Pharmacology. It keeps the focus off the Bug she's actually terrified of: Butterflies.
Hanataro: Do Not Ask The Head Of Toxicology And 11th Division Pocket Medic About Spiders Unless You Are Prepared For A Seven-Hour Lecture With A Pop Quiz At The End.
Aizen: HUGE fan of Spiders. What splendid creatures- look at how carefully the spider selects the anchor points of it's web, the skillfulness with which it weaves. Such incredible patience, waiting for the lines of tension it's woven to snare it's game- though I suppose such patience is easier when the fly's capture is inevitable >:)
Shinji and Hiyori: *Screaming and flailing, hitting things at random (mostly each other) in a blind panic, because they share a braincell and that cell is TERRIFIED of spiders* "It's so fast!" "It was huge! It had to be a tarantula!" "We should burn the division down, just to be sure."
Momo: Escorted the little garden spider outside in a cup like ten minutes ago, and forgot about it because that's such a routine chore, and she was having a more important phone call at the time.
Byakuya: Rarely notices spiders, but sometimes one will scuttle across his desk and he'll stop to watch it for the seven minutes it takes to actually cross his desk with a neutral expression, before resuming whatever he was doing. It's a pleasant diversion for him, not unlike watching the koi fish swim around in the compound pond, and he resumes his duties feeling spiritually refreshed by that chance encounter with nature.
Renji: Not bothered by Spiders. VERY Bothered by his Boss's fucking peculiar-ass reaction to a spider wandering across his desk because to Renji, it looked like Byakuya had never actually seen a spider before and was staring at it with an expression that indicated his higher brain functions had ceased entirely. Is currently making plans to study "The Captain Kuchiki Spider Brain Glitch" by catching a bunch of spiders in a jar and releasing them into his office to see what happens.
Komamura: He's particularly fond of Jumping spiders, because they sing little songs while hunting that he can hear if it's really quiet. They're very cute. Gets very upset when people kill spiders or talk about killing them.
Iba: Not afraid of spiders but doesn't know what to do when they're in his way. Killed one in front of Komamura once when he was a little kid and Komamura was still his babysitter, Sajin gave him a huge and very upset lecture about respecting life in all it's forms... but did not actually teach Iba how to remove them. So every time he sees one he sorta stands there for a minute and hopes it will move, before yelling "BOSS!"
Shunsui: Does not want to admit how much Spiders freak him out. It's not fear, precisely- more of a disgust reaction. All bugs make his skin crawl and he understands how important they are, but can they do all that ecology stuff Far Away From Him, Please And Thank You?
Nanao: Like Unohana, reveres spiders as pest control. She takes it a step further, and actively collects Jumping Spider egg sacs as she finds them in the archives and tends to them over winter so when early spring comes, she can release several hundred thousand spiderlings into the archives to destroy the mites, bookworms, moth larvae and other archive pests before they can get a foothold. She usually does this while dumping out the entire terrarium and cackling manically.
Lisa: Immediately joins in on Nanao's Spider Propagation Project, much to Shunsui's horror.
Tousen: If there is a sudden shriek and burst of profanities and hexes in the ninth division, 90% chance it's because Kaname walked into a spider web again, his LEAST favorite texture in the Universe. Yes, including the curse nails. He'd keep them in his spine if it meant he'd never walk into another spiderweb.
Kensei: Often cracked open a beer while watching the evening news during his exile in the living world. Sometimes it was several beers, or something stronger if he'd had a rough day. One night, it was a bottle of Fireball as he watched the news, and felt too intoxicated to change the channel from the newshour, so he kept watching when PBS Nature came on, and damn near pissed himself laughing when he saw the Peacock Spider's Mating Dance. Full on Howling, tears streaming down his face, barely able to breathe, Pterodactyl-noises laughing. Nothing has been funnier before or since to him, so now whenever he sees a spider he starts guffawing and stop to explain WHY.
Shuuhei: Deeply confused by the fact spiders keep coming indoors. "Why are you all here?" he asks, doing a cobweb patrol with the broom before his boss gets back from the inter-division meeting. "What are you eating? Crumbs? Lint? Is it Lint you eat?"
Mashiro: Has a grasshopper-type Zanpakuto who is not a fan, so she attempts to destroy any spider she sees in solidarity. Usually misses and destroys something else.
Matsumoto: Spiders are cool, but not as cool as snakes :)
Hitsugaya: Grew up on a farm, and shares Momo's total non-reactivity to them. It's even deeper, because his constant ambient chill means spiders never climb on him if they can't help it.
Zaraki: Used to agitate Yumichika and Ikkaku by eating them. Now he agitates them by wandering off the trail during 11th Division Boot Camp or other deployments and coming back with extremely dangerous ones and handing them to Hanataro "fer yer collection". The 11th Division's Pocket Medic has explained toxicology at length to him, and now Zaraki thinks of various medicines as "Spider Pills" and "Scorpion Juice".
Yachiru: Still eats spiders. She's the sole exception to the Wrath of Komamura, because there is no malice or fear in her actions- it's perfectly natural and morally upstanding Carnivory. The rest of you are being irrational and jerks.
Ikkaku: Sometimes regrets his life choices when he sees the freak he's sworn loyalty to walk out of the trees with something venomous enough to kill half the gotei-13 with a single bite crawling over his face, then realizes that's FUCKING BADASS and is assured that he made the right choices.
Yumichika: *currently sneaking up behind Ikkaku with a fake spider on a string to affectionately terrorize him*
Mayuri: Unlike Uuryu, Mayuri isn't a Weenie, and he's making his dreams of Milkable Spiders the Size of Cattle a reality.
Nemu: Helping with that. This one is hers. She named it #47, after it's designation, Specimen Number 47.
Ukitake, *entirely genuine, with a huge spider crawling across his forehead* "...There's a spider in here?"
#Bleach#bleach fanfiction#AEIWAM#an elephant is warm and mushy#Spiders#some people are more chill than others#and some are straight up failing perception checks
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Spy x Family Chapter 98: An Explosion
Let's start with the most important thing and we'll go from there. Ready? This panel:
Blink and you'll miss that insignificant comment from someone we don't even know their name. Nevertheless, given the implications of Project Apple, this panel is huge! Because, even if back then it was just a rumor, there's a chance it could also be true. Project Apple could have started during the first conflict. This leads me to the following theory:
Anya's biological parents were prisoners of war.
The story about Twilight as a soldier, Martha and Henry, as well as Millie, Franky, and even the Lady Patriots Society tell us about the dehumanization of the enemy. So yeah, it's very possible that it was acceptable for either side to do anything they wanted with captured enemies, that includes experimentation.
And by prisoners of war, I'm not only referring to soldiers and medical personnel, but also spies. Wouldn't it be funny if Anya's birth parents were also spies? It's too soon to tell, but it's so much fun to speculate 😆
At the beginning, it's stated that Anya was created by accident:
Maybe she was "an accident" between two prisoners of war or between a prisoner of war being experimented on and a scientist 🤔
So here's another crazy idea: Everyone thinks that Anya learned Classical Language because it was used in the lab by scientists, but what if it was her biological parents the ones who taught her that language in order to be able to communicate with each other?
At some point, I thought that even if we learned about Anya's past there was a possibility we would never know about her parents, now I think we will.
About the Chapter
Clearly, SXF is an anti-war story that wants to show us how terrible war is for EVERYONE. That's why big and small characters, side or main, have been affected greatly by war.
I'm sure plenty of people will talk about Martha and Henry's love story. After this chapter, I think it's clear that they probably were separated by war and that Henry had to marry to save himself, leaving Martha up in the air. (I know I am a fool, but I keep hoping she's the one he married, but I don't think so 😭)
Anyways, leaving the cautionary semi-tragic love story aside (Ahem, watch out Twilight and Yor)...I see what the author is trying to do: The story shows us very clearly what happens to every person when pushed to their limits, when they and their families are in danger. It's a story about loss, loss, and more loss.
The story is trying to make the readers root for peace and be very adamant against war. This is a masterclass on "Show, don't tell." So even if a lot of these stories seem insignificant because it's about side characters, they are meant to influence the readers' point of view about war, so when it reaches the main characters, we all know what could happen to them. These stories are meant to raise the stakes for the main characters.
Now, I've said it before: It's very possible that close to the climax of the story, Ostania and Westalis will be at the verge of a third conflict. By then, we'll know much more about the main characters' background as well as many other stories of side characters affected by war (don't be surprised if The Garden was created as a consequence of it). So when we're close to the end, when war is about to happen, we'll know exactly what could happen to the Forgers, because it has already happened to so many people: loss.
Something to Keep in Mind
The more the story moves forward, the more curious I am about the Desmonds. Since all of the characters were affected by war, I'm wondering how were the Desmond affected? Melinda certainly has issues (did this happen during and because of the war?) and Donovan Desmond is still a BIG question mark. It easy to relate to what normal characters feel. If any of us were going through something similar, we would be terrified too. However, how is it for someone in charge? How did Desmond see and suffer war? I really want to know.
One Last Thing
If in two chapters focusing on two side characters Endo has managed to create such a beautiful love story, can you image what he plans to do with Twiyor, which is the main couple of the story??
I know I say this a lot, but after seeing this my expectations are high and I am convinced it'll be worth the wait.
Food for thought.
#spy x family#twiyor#sxf#spy x family analysis#Sxf meta#Sxf chapter 98#loid forger#yor forger#martha marriott#henry henderson#loidyor
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your only competition - satoru gojo
[ satoru gojo - f!reader ]
✧ summary: constantly trying to one up each other, youre always at each others throat. swearing you hate the other, neither want to admit that you might enjoy your time spent together. until...
✧ cw: academic rivals, some swearing, poorly written combat scenes (sorry), injuries, mentions of blood, bickering, some angst, slight comfort, no use of y/n, somewhat proofread
✧ word count: 5.0k
⋆⭒˚｡⋆
Satoru Gojo was the best, in every sense of the word. Being the first sorcerer in centuries to be born with the Six Eyes definitely counted for something. And so he began to excel well beyond his classmates, fairly enjoying the spotlight that went with his rare abilities. Wasn’t it always nice to get recognition for your achievements? Satoru thought so at least.
Sitting alone at the top, he was sent on solo missions for curses his peers couldn’t face. That was, of course, until the day you showed up. He didn’t know it at the time, but that warm September day you walked into the classroom would be burned into his memory for as long as he’d live.
Everyone’s heads had perked up when an unfamiliar individual had paraded into the classroom, following close behind Yaga. You'd held your head high, hands tucked neatly behind your back while Yaga introduced you as the new student. It had to be a joke, Satoru had thought, a snicker playing on his lips at the sight of you. Gathering as much information as he could just by letting his eyes travel you, he couldn’t sense a single ounce of cursed energy, so why were placed in their class?
Your eyes shined with a childlike innocence, like you were totally unaware of the world you were all living in. One could feel you radiate a sense of hope that only came from being inexperienced. Oh, how hard the harsh reality would hit you once you were faced with what was out there.
After class, Shoko had yanked Satoru back into the classroom by his uniform, her eyebrows furrowed in a strict scowl. “I know what you’re thinking, Satoru.” He stared back at her with big eyes, pretending he didn’t know what she was getting at. “She’s been sheltered, we all saw it. So it’s important you behave!”
“I always behave.” He slumped over as he spoke, appearing more weakly to enforce his dumb act.
“I mean it, Satoru. She’s going to need our help.”
He took his index finger and drew an X over his heart. “You have my word.” His infamous smirk still danced on his lips, which made Shoko not believe him for a second. She knew there wasn’t much she could do if he’d already decided to tease you. With a disappointed shake of the head, she left him standing with his hands in his pockets.
Satoru kept his eye on her until she had turned a corner. The second she was out of sight, he darted in the opposite direction with a clear mission in mind, managing to catch up with you as you were walking down the hall to your dormitory.
“Hey, wait up.” With a curious look, you turned to the source of the voice that called your name. Pacing towards you, was a tall, lanky fellow with locks white as snow, the biggest shit-eating grin you’d seen in a long time, wearing a pair of characteristic sunglasses.
“You must be the one and only Satoru Gojo,” you said, mirroring his expression as you defensively crossed your arms over your chest.
“I see Yaga already told you about me.”
“No, not really,” you shrugged, your tone taking him by surprise. “But it’s not like your name is unknown in our world.”
“So what have you heard about me then?” He bent forward to be on your level, fishing for compliments, making you feel patronised.
“Don’t feel like inflating your ego more. It’s already dangerous walking around with a head big as yours.” Satoru instantly jerked back into a straight position, retrieving his hands from his pockets to regain a more dominant position.
“Well, aren’t you cute,” he said sarcastically.
“Was there something you wanted?”
Looking down on you, he began to wonder if you were putting on a face, intentionally giving off the impression of being reckless and empty headed. Therefore he had started to theorise the bounce in your step didn’t come from being inexperienced; it came from a film belief that you were better than what people gave you credit for.
“It not every day a new sorcerer joins us, so I’m just curious about what makes you special?” The self satisfied smirk was back on his face in order to seem unbothered by your snarky remarks.
“What’s it to you?” Fuck you, was the first thought that crossed his mind when you’d once again, shut him down. You weren’t giving him anything to go on, not verbally or on any level his Six Eyes could detect.
“We’re classmates now. A team — think I could benefit from knowing,” he said gallantly.
“You’ll know soon enough,” you smirked at him as you began to back away towards your room.
His smile slowly faltered, his eyebrows narrowing in frustration. “Good luck.”
“Sure, thanks,” you waved nonchalantly over your shoulder as you entered your room without another word.
Chewing the inside of his cheek, he still couldn’t pin point anything about you. The only logical explanation to having an ignorant demeanour whilst having a sharp tongue would be you were able to fend for yourself. Then why couldn’t he sense any power on you?
But as you’d said, he would find out soon enough. Even as soon as the next day, when you’d all met for sparring. It was like the higher ups had heard his prayers, because he had been paired up against you. His excitement didn’t go unnoticed by Shoko, who kicked him weakly in the shin to try and smother it.
“You go easy on her, mister,” she’d said so only he was able to hear.
“Don’t worry, Shoko. I’m not cruel. I’ll end it quickly so she won’t humiliate herself too much,.”
Once you were both firmly placed on your respective positions, both with a staff in your hands, he made sure to capture your gaze. “Are you ready for this, sweetheart?” His tone was as sweet as sugar, never breaking the eye contact as you both leaned forward in a bow.
“Are you, sweetheart?” You said, narrowing your eyes at him. He hummed softly at your comment, entertained by the attitude he knew he’d wipe off you the second the sparring started.
After being underestimated for years and years, you'd eventually had no choice but to learn how to use it to your advantage. You leaned into the role of an unintelligent girl who went into every situation without thinking. People became sloppy when they faced you, confident they’d easily take you out.
Satoru was no different. What was worse, was how he didn’t even try to hide how sure he was that you were weak. His smile said it all.
Yaga signalled for you to start, instantly tightening your grip on your staff before striking it directly at him. He was a little startled at how you immediately went for the offensive, but he swiftly dodged the attack just as you had expected. You exploited his dodge, by having the staff spin around before smacking him in the back of the head, stumbling over the foot you had strategically placed in front of him.
Tumbling forward, he finally managed to steady himself only to be faced by Suguru and Shoko standing on the sidelines, both choking back the laughter about to spill out of them. None of the three students had expected you to be so aggressive from the get go, let alone succeed at it.
He shook off the shock, not to mention the pain, from the hit before turning back to look at you. The playfulness had seized to exist and now there was determination written all over him. The corner of your lips perked up in a content smirk.
His staff came piercing through the air, you spun away in the last second before flipping the staff and deflecting his next move, trapping his weapon under yours. You turned to look at him and he didn’t like the mischievous expression plastered on your face.
“What are you playing at?” He asked with a small pant. Your smile only grew at the sight of his frustrated demeanour.
This was the part you loved, the moment you could see it in your opponent’s eyes that they had severely misjudged you. And in their epiphany, you knew they still wouldn’t be able to read you clearly. That being said, you were fighting no other than Satoru Gojo, who even if he couldn’t predict your next move, could be able to take you out regardless.
Suddenly, you felt your staff slip and glide against his. He quickly took advantage of how you’d put your weight on the staff. Before you knew it, you felt the impact of his staff slam against your back.
You found your footing before you reactively threw your elbow at his face. A scoff of surprise slipped out of you when it stopped an inch from his face without him doing anything.
“Asshole,” you breathed. This was the oh-so-famous infinity you had been told about, but you didn’t quite understand it or how it worked. It was no secret that Satoru was well on his way to become the strongest, but he wasn’t there just yet. So maybe you could give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he wasn’t a hundred percent in control of his infinity, that it had been an instinctive reaction.
Nevertheless, it was what you had waited for. You’d wanted him to be the one to resort to his powers first so you could shamelessly use yours.
His breath hitched in his throat when an overwhelming wave of unfamiliar power crashed over him. “What the-“ he didn’t understand what was happening. Was this your power, and why hadn’t he been able to sense it earlier? Had you really been able to block him out from getting insight in your technique?
He didn’t even realise what was happening until he was jerked into the air before slamming against the floor with immense force, landing on his shoulder. The room were quiet for a solid ten seconds before he staggered back on his feet before slow claps in your honour was heard from his friends.
“What the hell was that?” He panted, approaching you with quick steps as his hand rubbed circles on his shoulder.
“That was how you win,” you said in between heavy breaths, leaning your hands on your knees.
“That’s not what I mean,” he nearly growled. Before he was able to interrogate you further, a friendly slap was placed on his back.
“Just admit it, Satoru. She beat you,” Suguru said with a low chuckle. Satoru didn’t even flinch, he kept his gaze pinned on you.
“But you cheated,” he said with a displeased chuckle. You didn’t even entrain his comment, only turning away from him and starting to walk out of the gymnasium. “Hey, I’m talking to you. That last move was dirty.” You heard his footsteps hurry over to you again.
“How’s that?” Snapping around to face him, folding your arms over your chest. “By using my technique? If that’s the case, you’re nose should be bleeding right now.”
With worried eyes, Shoko and Suguru watched your bickering from afar, knowing exactly how this relation was going to play out. The loud argument in the gymnasium was only the beginning of your rivalry. Every person unfortunate enough to witness your public displays of hatred, quickly learned that both you and Satoru were extremely headstrong — maybe stubborn was a better word.
Both of you brought your petty arguing with you into the classroom the first chance you got. It became a never ending competition of who could answer the questions faster. And if the chance offered itself, you would instantly argue with the other person to the best of your ability. No one could tell if you did it to show off who knew the most, or if it was simply to humiliate the other. Either way, it got annoying fast.
Yaga had on several occasions tried to shut down the fighting, but had little success. You would both find one way or another to go at each other anyways. On one occasion, you’d gotten into a fight so bad that Yaga had ordered for the rest of them to leave the room and just let you two hash it out. He’d come back an hour later, only to see through the door crack that you were still going at it. He also saw how Satoru was fighting to let his smugness show, clearly getting a kick out of provoking you until you were red as a tomato.
“Are you really that stupid, Satoru?”
“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, shut up!”
The only place Shoko and Suguru managed to catch a break was during sparring, when they would sneak out for cigarettes the second you and Satoru said the first word to each other.
In every session, neither of you accepted going against anyone but each other. After your first sparring match, Satoru was determined to win the next one, which he did. And how he had won would probably haunt you forever.
You were just about to win yet another match, but it troubled you that Satoru didn’t seem worried about losing. You had the staff pressed against his, sweat dripping down your brow. He was heaving as much as you, but a small smirk was lurking at the corner of his lips.
That’s when he cocked his head forward, revealing the pair of most hypnotising blue eyes you’d ever seen. You had no control of how your muscles relaxed and expression softened. As a soft sigh slipped out of you, he instantly saw his opportunity to down you, knocking the wind out of your lungs when you’d hit the floor.
You'd gone to bed fuming that night, the image of Satoru laughing and teasing you flashing behind your eyelids as you so desperately tried to fall asleep. You were absolutely mortified by the fact that he’d won simply by his appearance; no combat skill, no infinity, no technique, no nothing!
The next morning you got up at the crack of dawn in order to work out and prepare yourself for the next time you’d face him. Never again would you give him the opportunity to embarrass you like that.
Neither is you would probably admit it, but as the training went on, you both learned a lot from each other. Especially when you began to make use of your powers.
Finally you were starting to understand how the most powerful sorcerer functioned, absolutely astonished by the sheer possibility of it. But as you got to know him more, you also so that his powers wouldn’t have been nearly as special if it hadn’t been for Satoru himself. The extraordinary way he so casually carried himself despite of it all, you couldn’t help but admire it. Though you wouldn’t let him know that.
Satoru too, was intrigued by you because it was only during sparring sessions he was able to see what your cursed technique could be capable of. Outside the gymnasium, you kept the cards close to your chest, revealing absolutely nothing about yourself. But in here, you let that shield down. The power you held was so intense, to the point he knew you were definitely holding back on him — just as he was with you.
As the matches got more intense, Suguru and Shoko kept betting the same 1000 yen on who would win. Not only that, they both seemed to notice the growing tension between you, despite the fact that you said you couldn’t stand each other.
And tension there was, as right now. Satoru had his arm around your neck, pressing against your chest. You had your hands tugging on his forearm as your back was pushed up against him. Cursing his name under your breath, you fought the small smile that was sneaking its way onto your face.
The hair on the back of your neck raised when you felt him lean in forward, his hot breath agains your ear before he spoke, “think I like you in this position better.” If you weren’t so focused on trying to beat him, you would probably have paid more attention to the flirtation in his voice.
In a matter of seconds, you benefitted from his playfulness and reversed the roles where you had him pinned against the ground in defeat. “Don’t go soft on me now, Satoru. Ain’t going to be any fun here anymore if you make it too easy.”
“I’m just trying to get in your head.”
“Hmm, funny. Doesn’t seem like it’s working,” you teased before you stood up without offering him a helping hand.
Satoru had his eyes follow you the entire way out of the gymnasium, a genuine smile dancing on his lips. He quickly snapped back to reality when he heard Suguru’s voice.
“Satoru!”
Turning to look at his friends, there was no signs of the smile that was present just a second ago. “What?”
“We called your name like four times!” Neither of them looked pleased, Shoko with her arms crossed over her chest and high shoulders, and Suguru with his hands in his pockets.
“Sorry, was just lost in thought.”
“We can tell,” Shoko sighed as they both began to follow him close behind as he walked for the exit of the gymnasium.
“So, when’s the wedding?” Suguru teased, instantly earning him a tired scoff from Satoru. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious.”
“Give it a rest.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s a menace. You know I think so.”
“Yeah? Could have fooled us,” he shrugged in response.
“What do you mean?” Shoko and Suguru shared a quick glance in question if he was playing dumb or if he actually didn’t know what they were getting at.
“When you’re not seeking her out to argue, then you do not shut up about her.”
He tried to shrug them off. “Because she gets on my last nerve.”
“No, Satoru, you don’t get it,” Shoko interrupted him, clearly annoyed. “If you disliked her as much as you say you do, you’d think you would want as little to do with her as possible.”
“Everyone complains about people they don’t like.”
“Every once in a while, sure. But it’s all the god damn time!”
Satoru just shook his head, trying to shake off their accusations. “Whatever it is you’re getting at, you can drop it. You’ve never been more off.”
With a deep sigh, Shoko turned to Suguru with a stern look in hopes he could get him to realise how absolutely insufferable he had been since you'd arrived. The second they managed to peer him away from throwing insults in your direction, he went on to complain about anything you’d done. Your answers in class were stupid, your technique when training was sloppy, you had immense power but didn’t know how to use it.
But the absolute worst was when you and Satoru had been on missions. Seeing as the two of you were significantly stronger than the rest of them, you were often sent on more demanding missions just the two of you, on several occasions facing special grade curses.
When both Suguru and Shoko were present, there was only so much new information Satoru could provide them with. But if you were gone for a day or two, there was no shutting him up. He went on and on about whatever curse you met and went into detail about what you’d done to exorcise them. To anyone listening, it sounded like he admired every move you made, throwing in random, cruel remarks just to keep up the image of hatred.
“Look, if you can tell yourself you talk so much about her because you hate her, fine. But how do you explain the looks,” Suguru continued the discussion.
“Looks?” Shoko swore she could punch him.
“You can’t be serious?” He huffed.
Truth was, Satoru was fully aware of how his gaze lingered on you for a second too long. He knew he couldn’t help but smile whenever he saw you thrive in battle, whether in practice with him or on missions. And whenever your skin got in contact with his, he became idiotically aware of himself.
But he could never in a million years admit that. Not after being so adamant in his disdain for you. “You guys are reaching,” he said with his characteristic, cocky chuckle as he began to walk away. “She’s my only real competition. It’s only fair I stay on top of it so she doesn’t surpass me.”
His friends only scowled at him as he exited the gymnasium. “1000 yen they’re sleeping together in a month.”
“Nah, you’re winning that bet,” Shoko said with a defeated chuckle.
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Satoru couldn’t understand what had happened. He was only staring empty at Yaga, the ringing in his ears completely blocking out his words, feeling his mouth run dry.
The last thing he remembered was Shoko’s frantic voice on the phone, telling him to hurry back to Jujutsu High. He’d only ever heard her voice that panicked a handful of times before; she was usually so calm and collected.
He’d wasted no time getting back, being rushed by both Suguru and Yaga the second he had set foot within the premises. The first thing he’d noticed was Suguru limping and clutching his stomach while his lip was bloodied.
Oh no.
“You alright?” He’d asked weakly, as he has begun to place the pieces together.
Suguru simply nodded with a wince in pain. “I’m fine, but Satoru-“
“You both made it back, right?” He tried to smother the desperation in his voice.
“Yes, but-“
Satoru had already begun to zone out, realising what they were about to tell him. He knew you and Suguru had gone on a mission— a mission which was originally meant for you and him.
However, last minute the higher ups had decided Satoru had to go on a solo mission. Though he had tried to argue, they had been very adamant. The only deal he had managed to make with them was for Suguru to go with you so you didn’t find yourself alone on a mission intended for the two of you.
“Satoru.” Though somewhat muffled, he managed to make out Suguru calling his name again.
“What happened?”
Suguru struggled to form the words, only stuttering a few sounds before Yaga jumped in to explain. “The curse that met them was special grade, not first grade like we first thought.”
“Okay, but she should be able to-“
“Satoru, you didn’t see it. It was unlike anything we’ve faced before,” Suguru finally managed to form a sentence as he could hear the stress start to appear in the voice of his best friend.
“No, but you’re both strong. Next to me, you’re the strongest!” He was starting to get severely anxious, his heart beating faster and faster. It was only made worse by how they didn’t seem to give him all the information straight forward.
“She got me out first.”
“Wait, got you out first? Is she not here?”
“Satoru?” Shoko’s shallow voice drew their attention to her, as her head perked out the door. Slowly, she made her way over to them, genuine concern on her face.
“Can someone please tell me what happened?” He pleaded, turning restless by the way they were all looking at each other while he was still left in the dark.
“She managed to hold the curse at bay long enough for me to go in again and get her.”
“She’s stable for now, but I… I’m not sure when she’ll wake up.”
This couldn’t happen. You always knew what you were doing when you were out on missions. Never reckless, despite what one might think. You took every precaution imaginable, avoiding every risk that you might face.
So how come they were telling him that you’d taken one hell of a beating? He felt the only reasonable explanation was that this was a sick joke.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, before hesitatingly asking what he’d wanted since he arrived. “Can I see her?” Shoko simply nodded before leading him to the door, carefully opening it up for him. Slowly stepping into the dimly lit room, his eyes immediately landed on you.
The first thing to hit him was how he couldn’t sense your cursed energy, and not because you were blocking him out like you usually did. But you just felt weak, and he couldn’t ever recall seeing you so peaceful.
Laying completely still on your back, your covers only covering your legs revealing your bandaged torso, a tiny bloodstain seeping through. Your face was different shades of blue, evidence of the battle.
As much as both of you had faced strong curses before, you’d never been this beaten up before. He became a little nauseous at the sight, beginning to picture how every thing had gone down wherever it was you had been sent on mission.
He cautiously approached your bedside, scared that if he made any sudden moves or sounds that he would somehow make it worse, before sitting down on the chair beside you.
“I’m sorry,” he said, barely a whisper. The guilt had hit him like a truck, taking responsibility for not being there.
If he had wanted to, he knew he could have convinced the higher ups not to send him on that solo mission. And if so, he could have been there and helped— saved you.
Against all odds, through all the fighting and bickering, you had become a strong team. Neither of you would say it out loud, but somewhere along the line, you had both grown to care for each other. Satoru, however, hadn’t realised it until his breath had hitched in his throat at the sight of you so fragile.
As the days past, your wound healed and your bruises faded from your face, but you showed no signs of waking up. Satoru grew more impatient for each day that went by, especially when no one had any more answers to give.
“I’m sorry, Satoru. I’ve done all that I can,” Shoko explained desperately almost on a daily basis, but he kept asking everyday.
Day in and day out, he sat in that damn uncomfortable chair, only occasionally pacing around the room for two minutes to stretch his legs before settling down in the chair again. He barely slept, so adamant on meeting your gaze when your eyes finally fluttered open.
“You gotta wake up soon,” he pleaded to deaf ears. Three weeks of waiting had been pure torture. “I need you to come back.” A somber chuckle left his lips.
Reluctantly, he dared to carefully grab your delicate hand in his. It was a weird sensation, as the only time he had felt your skin was when you were in combat training. Now it was soft and tender, letting his thumb glide graciously over the back of your hand.
“Do I have to beg you?” His voice was so careful, like he wasn’t able to let it out in its entirety. “If that’s what you’re trying to make me do, that’s not funny.”
Still nothing. Not a twitch in your eyelids, not your lips opening to speak, not your nose flaring as you took the first deep breath waking up.
“Wouldn't put it past you,” a faint smile reactively found its way onto his face. “Just please. Wake up.”
Dead silence filled the room, his eyes locked on your small hand resting in his. He didn’t realise his eyes had actually shed a tear until it hit your hand, his own intense emotions surprising him.
“You are going soft on me, sweetheart.” Satoru attention shot towards you, barely making out what you had groaned out. Muttering your name in shock, a self satisfied smirk grew on your lip. “Water, please,” you squealed before breaking out in coughs. Scrambling out of the chair, he clumsily filled you a glass of water.
“You’re awake.” His voice was so light, unlike how you were used to hearing it. Usually there was always a smirk to sense in his voice, constantly smug. But now he was so gentle, as he carefully placed his hand on your back to help you up before handing you the glass. You were so used to having his hands throw punches at you, it was a delightful change when he tenderly placed his hand on the back of your head as you drank.
“How long have I been out?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat before sitting back down in the chair. “A little over three weeks.”
Your eyes widened, another small cough escaping you. “Three weeks—“ a low whistle. “Bet you’ve surpassed me by far now.” You were only half joking, genuinely upset that you might have fallen behind. But, to your surprise, he gave you a nervous chuckle.
“Uhm, n-no,” he said before clearing his throat, shaking away his uneasiness. “Not really.”
“Okay? What have you been up to this whole time then?” The weak smile on your lips gradually faded when it dawned on you. With adoration glistening in your eyes, his gaze met yours. “Oh,” you spoke hoarsely. “You haven’t really sat here all the time, have you?”
“No, I’ve walked around the room a few times.” Blinking rapidly at him, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing. This only confirmed the suspicions you’d been too scared to even think, that there might have been stolen glances and smiles with intentions shared between the two of you.
Without mentioning it, he had intuitively taken your hand in his again. Your cheeks heating from the feeling of his compassionate touch, pleasantly surprised by how natural it felt to have him hold it.
“I should probably get Shoko-“ he was about to stand up, but tightened the grip on his hand to prevent him.
“Just-“ anxiously clearing your throat. “I feel fine, we can wait a little longer.” His eyes captured your glare and he had never looked at you with so much passion before, making your heart skip a beat. “Thank you for sitting with me.”
“Wanted to be there when you woke up,” a tired smile on his lips.
“I’m glad you were.”
“Me too.”
⋆⭒˚｡⋆
a/n alright guys... "ill take a break from writing this week" im full of crap.
so when I was 2k words deep, I rewrote the entire thing. then i just kept writing and writing, it never ended. i thought it was gonna be much shorter. had to perfrom some killing of darlings. when i finished it first it was like 5.3k words so.
reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated
plagiarism not authorized
#⋆⭒˚｡⋆ hea writes#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satoru imagine#satoru gojo imagine#satoru oneshot#satoru gojo oneshot#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x y/n#jjk satoru#jjk satoru gojo#satoru gojo/reader#jjk imagine#jjk imagines#gojo satoru x reader#jjk oneshot#jujutsu kaisen oneshot#jujutsu kaisen imagines
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Mother's Day surprise | Caitlin Foord x Reader
Where you use Mother's Day as a disguise for a different kind of surprise
Woso masterlist | Words: 1.3k
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“Hey baby,” You greet your girlfriend in the bathroom, while hugging her from behind. She was getting ready for an Arsenal morning training session. After placing a few soft kisses onto her shoulder you continue your sentence, “I’m off to run some errands, do you need something from the store?”
Caitlin turns around in your hold, “Could you get some more of those protein bars you got last time?” You smile and nod, feeling accomplished on finding something new that your girlfriend loves. She pecks your lips and puts her arms around your shoulders, bringing you in for a hug.
“Oh, and don’t forget our Mother’s Day facetime call with my mom at two!” She says as you step out into the hallway. “I’ll be there. I should be back home before you are.”
You make a quick stop at the grocery store to get Caitlin the protein bars she asked for, before you drive to the airport. Technically you were running errands, so you didn’t lie, it’s just that the errand was to pick up her mom, sister, and her sister’s fiancée from the airport.
Jamie notices you first, and runs up to hug you. “It’s been too long!” Renae is close behind and joins in on the hug. Lastly Simone arrives by your side, she goes in for a big hug as well. “Thank you so much for flying us out here, it really means the world, darling.”
When everyone’s baggage is in your trunk and the Foord family is situated in your car, you make the drive back to your home. “So, how is my future daughter in law doing?” Simone asks you from the passenger seat. “Simone, you know she has to say yes first, right?” You chuckle. “I do, but Cait would be a fool to say no.”
The rest of the drive you catch up with your girlfriend’s family. Back at your home they all plop down on the couch, exhausted from the long flight. You get everyone something to drink, but they are way more interested to see the ring you had picked out. Jamie had helped you pick it out, but she thought it was even more beautiful in person.
When you hear Caitlin’s car pull up, you quickly hide the box, and walk towards the door. “Hi love, I missed you.” She says and immediately falls into your arms. “Hi baby, I missed you too.” You peck her lips and close the door behind her. “Can you close your eyes? I have a surprise for you.”
She closes her eyes and lets you guide her to the living room. “What is it? Did you find me another flavour of those delicious bars?” She was really too pure for this world, the little things meant so much to Caitlin. “I think you’ll like this better than a protein bar, baby. Open your eyes and see for yourself.”
Caitlin opens her eyes, and her mouth falls open in shock at the surprise in front of her. “Wait, what? What are you guys doing here?” She stares at the trio in front of her, overcome by emotions she runs into her mom’s arms with teary eyes.
“Y/n flew us out here for Mother’s Day.” After hugging both Jamie and Renae as well, Caitlin turns to you. “Thank you so much, you are the best. This is so amazing.”
You hang out with her family in the living room for a bit longer while Caitlin takes a quick shower, before you’d all head over to a nearby restaurant for lunch.
After lunch you suggest going for a stroll around town, having the travelling trio as an excuse to hide behind. With them having sat in a plane for so long, and then making them sit in a restaurant, giving them the opportunity to stretch their legs seemed logical.
Caitlin had no idea you were leading everyone towards the spot you were planning to propose to her. The spot you had gone to every couple of days for the past few months. The spot you had arranged for a professional photographer to meet you at. The sport where you would ask one of the most important questions of your life.
You grew more nervous by the minute, as you walked up the path you had walked so many times recently. Caitlin was too busy into conversation to notice your nerves, but Jamie noticed and walked in step with you. Jamie knew exactly how you felt, having experienced the same nerves that you were feeling when she proposed to Renae. She puts her arm around your shoulder and gives you a quick squeeze, “You’ve got this.” She whispered into your ear.
One more corner and there would be a lookout spot over the pond you were walking past. You relaxed a bit, when you saw that there were no people at the look out spot currently. You apparently knew your girlfriend better than you thought you did, ‘cause when Caitlin’s eyes fell on the lookout she instantly dropped the conversation with her mom and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards it. “This is such a pretty spot! Jamie, can you please take our picture?” Instead of taking a picture, Jamie started filming, aware of the photographer hidden away.
“You should do one where you’re looking out over the pond, it would be so cute.” Renae suggested, winking your way when Caitlin had turned around. This was it, this was the moment. You look out over the pond together, but after a few seconds you turn towards Caitlin, and get down on one knee. The box taken out of your pocket seconds ago, now open towards her, waiting for her to notice.
Your heart was beating a million miles an hour, as Caitlin turned your way. The moment she realises what is happening, she gets teary eyes. “Caitlin Jade Foord, you are an incredible person, and you have been my rock over the years. I love you so much, and I cannot see my future without you in it. Will you make me the happiest girl in the world and marry me?”
Cailtin started nodding her head midway through your sentence and once you finished your question she voiced the answer that went along with her head movements. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”
After putting the ring on her finger, she pulls you up and brings you in for a hug. You were living in your own world, not even having noticed Jamie stepping to the side, and the cameraman moving forward. Together they captured every moment. From the proposal itself, to breaking apart from the hug, to sharing a kiss, to Caitlin properly looking at the ring for the first time.
She turns around to her family with a big smile on her face. “Wait, they knew. You flew them in for this, didn’t you?” You nod, “I mean I would’ve flown them in just for Mother’s Day too, but I know how much you love your family, and I didn’t want them to miss this.” Caitlin hugs you again, before pulling you towards them.
You share some hugs with them while they congratulate the both of you, before you take a few more engagement pictures showing off the ring.
It’s crazy to think that Caitlin was your fiancée now. You couldn’t stop looking at the ring for the rest of the walk back home. The rest of the day was filled with joy and happiness, together with your fiancée and her family.
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caitlinfoord and y/n_y/l/n posted
caitlinfoord: I still can't believe this is real. So ready to marry you, and spend the rest of our lives together💍❤️
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💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗
#caitlin foord#caitlin foord x reader#arsenal wfc#arsenal wfc imagine#arsenal wfc x reader#awfc#awfc x reader#awfc imagine#arsenal women#matildas#matildas imagine#matildas x reader#auswnt#auswnt x reader
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Changing mindsets, from a Real Anti Endo™️
The Release of the (Pro/Endo) Golden Goose
I hope everyone from all sides will give this important, heartfelt post a read.
It's likely something you'll want to be aware of if you have a vested interest in syscourse and the validity of endogenic systems. Please give this a chance.
It's been almost three years since I started my blogs. Wow. I've been on tumblr a hell of a lot longer, but I really wasn't involved in the system community. I started out firm and loud. I probably inadvertently fakeclaimed (I went into this with the rule that I would NOT directly tell anyone they were faking, it was a boundary that I knew would ruin me socially if I crossed it, but I'm sure I probably did without meaning to), I name called and made fun of people and things. I was disrespectful to people. I invaded tags to get my message out there, though I was quick to stop once I realized I was making the tags unusable for the community I claimed to want to protect.
I learned very quickly what was appropriate and what wasn't, what I could get away with and what I couldn't. It started to become a numbers game, influenced by the risk of the post.
I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, and I amassed a following of over 2k. More people have come and gone from my little community than I ever thought possible. People made fanart of me, and I cherish those so deeply. I have over 300 asks because I struggle to delete the ones thanking me.
And the more I was thanked, the nicer I got, the more thanks, the nicer I got, rinse and repeat until I had trouble NOT empathizing with pro/endos. The more I was willing to listen, the more legitimate sources I came across that disproved my original ideas about consciousness. The people sharing the sources were more respectful than I thought they'd be. Things were starting to look a bit cloudy.
I talked to my colleagues about how they, as therapists, would handle some of these endos in their practice, and while their belief in the concept varied, kindness and attempts to understand was the consistent answer. When had I lost that kindness and understanding that had driven me to that field to begin with?
Colleagues, yes. For those who don't know, I have a degree in social services and counselling (plus three other degrees). It's why the current situation with the antis turning on me is so funny. I still can't get into the mindset of some of these new anti endos, I just can't imagine justifying that level of cruelty. I had lines that I wouldn't cross, and I didn't think people could be worse than me.
... That might have been a trauma thing, looking back on it.
So I got desperate.
I spoke to the actual doctors who wrote some of these papers all of us are quoting. Everyone was arguing the meaning of the words, so I went directly to the source.
Dr Colin Ross, who wrote about endogenous multiplicity in the 80s. I told him everything-- about plurals, non-traumagenic systems, syscourse, what was being debated, how I and others interpreted his words, and what I wanted to learn.
Was plurality only trauma based?
And back and forth and back and forth we went, with me asking over and over again in different ways, NEEDING to hear that it was.
But I never got that answer. He meant what he meant. He said what he said and he meant it.
That plurality was not only found in the aftermath of trauma.
And I said nothing to anyone because I couldn't reconcile it.
Don't try to read between the lines, I assure you, there isn't some hidden meaning to be found there. I can't share all of the messages because some contained personal information, but my final response will tell you all you need to know.
(It did NOT, in fact, make sense, and it took me three years to "rethink my paper" that endogenic plurality wasn't possible, I did not win that conversation, it was a dying stance that was not supported)
I've been accused of paying too much attention to my follower count, but I can't really help it. It's really scary when you make a post and see a sizeable drop. It means a lot of different things. My posts have less reach and support. I've upset people. I've done something wrong. My community is leaving me.
I'm in a weird spot, where I'm blocked by so much of the pro/endo community that I have nothing to join, and the anti endo community, who I still wholeheartedly support, continues to leave me for -checks smudged writing on hand- being too nice??
Misinformation about DID is a massive problem, and it's why I still consider myself anti endo and support that community. I relate to them in such a way that I'll always gravitate to and empathize with them.
Or at least, that's what I thought.
At this point, though, how can I not be pro/endo when Colin fucking Ross says it's possible?
I've already written about how I'm really struggling with these labels, and I love the people that have stuck around while I struggle to figure this out.
I hurt when I see the people that once supported me leave.
My (online) world is shrinking. Literally.
That's scary.
When you've watched so many turn away, you start to wonder, with every post, where is the line where the rest are going to leave? Is it this post?
I just want to be me, us, we want to laugh at the stupid crap people say, system or not, I want to talk about my disorder, I want to combat misinformation, I want to have productive, fun conversations about ideas and concepts with people who disagree and have different interpretations. I want to play devil's advocate and get people thinking. I want to be able to comment positivity and kindness on any post I see, I want to feel comfortable talking to more people about their ideas. I sympathize with anti endos, I relate to CDD systems, I still firmly believe that CDDs and plurality are different, unrelated concepts.
My priority will always and forever be the CDD community first and foremost.
However, I am a hypocrite. I have gone straight to the horse's mouth and failed. I've seen so much research that I finally get it. I'm grappling with holding on to this conversation with Dr Ross, wondering what harm I could have prevented if I'd gone public with these emails earlier.
Since when has being open to change been a bad thing?
Since when has showing respect to lived experiences been a bad thing?
What am I? What label describes this?
How do I go forward from here?
What are you going to do with this information?
I promise you, hate isn't the way forward.
#syscourse#not syscourse#pro syscourse conversation#anti endo#pro endo#anti plural#pro plural#debunk#endogenic safe#system safe#pro system
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"Werewolf Price being hit with pheromones and they expect him to go feral or be evil but really he just herds everyone up and bumps heads with Ghost and grooms Gaz and fucks Graves until he can’t take it anymore safely outside of the sights of everyone else"
I love it, I want it, I expect it. Please!!! I've been good I SWEAR!! Never sent a ask so fast!
Well i got to write it now, i got you <3
Price suffered from lycanthropy. Some people preferred to say they had it or even blessed with it. But no. He suffered from it. It was a rather big weakness to have in war, even if his advanced senses were sometimes helpful.
Pheromones. The smoke bombs were laced with them. His rational thoughts were slowly slipping away, leaving just bare instincts.
Ghost grabbed him. He could tell by the smell. The ease he had in lifting him up. His grip felt very tight though, with Price able to feel each and every fingertip digging deep into his skin. It was confusing why his pack member would hurt him, but it must be for a good reason.
Price went limp to allow Ghost to carry him easier. He could hear Ghost telling him he was being good as he moved him away from everything, holding him so tight Price was sure if he tried to yank away he'd either hurt himself or Ghost.
Everything was so loud. Every sound amplified and echoed. The sights. Different smells mixed together until he felt nauseous.
The floor is cold where he's being pressed against it. Ghost's hands were warm where they're against his face and Price tries and fails to jerk up off the floor. He's growling, trying to get someone to understand the floor is too cold for him to lay on. Everything is loud and everything is terrible and and and
Gaz pulls him to sit down, Price's body between his legs. He puts both hands firmly on his shoulders and Price relaxes. It doesn't occur to him that Gaz did this in case he needed to trap him. One of his pack members was there to reassure him everything was alright.
Price had no recollection on how they got to the safe house. He only knew that his sense had calmed enough to no longer overstimulate him, though he was no more rational than he had been when first hit. He pushed the three of them around until he got them all herded together in one room. Soap laughed a little and got a gentle headbutt for it.
Price relaxes once he had all of them, trying to groom Gaz after a minute. He was more like an actual wolf with his dynamics. There was his mate (not there) and his wards. He was not an 'alpha', just a pack leader. And his pack was very important to him. It was incomplete right now.
He focused on trying to get Gaz presentable. The rather tight grip on him relaxed so he could focus on keeping them in the room and safe.
Ghost got smart and made a place on the floor for them to be able to stay with their bedrolls.
Price relaxed and laid on the floor next to them, watching them.
Time ticks away strangely. He can tell he should go to sleep. But this is a Shadow safehouse they're using. The smell around him makes the ache of not having everyone together more apparent. His nose keeps twitching.
There's movement at the door and he bows up immediately, growling. He quickly gets to it and waits, ready to pounce.
Graves.
Price relaxed and grabbed him.
"John?" He sounded surprised, but didn't fight him. Price forced him away from the others who were all sleeping anyway.
"I'm glad to know you're safe. Was a bit worried when they said you were hit with something." Graves looked up and smiled before pausing when he saw how Price's eyes looked. "John?"
Price moved closer, his feet lightly kicking at Grave's so he'd keep moving back. Without him truly realizing it, Price had herded Graves into a different room. The lights were still off so Graves couldn't see very well. But Price could.
"Oh." Graves purred. "I get it. You been missing me?"
Price panted, walking forward. He buried his face in his mate's neck and took a deep breath. God he smells so good. His tongue flicked out to lick over his skin and Graves groaned.
Graves was smart enough to work himself out of his gear before Price tore it. He let Price pick him up and toss him on the bed before crawling on top of him.
This was perfect. Price nuzzled at his jugular and started to nip at him, hands running down his body.
Graves ran his fingers through Price's hair, feeling his ears. "Cute. Planning to rut against me, Captain?"
Price grabbed him and flipped him on to his stomach. He opened his pants and pressed his cock against Graves’s thighs, humming in pleasure at the warmth.
“John, you can’t. I’m not exactly prepared here, Soldier.” Graves straightened up. Well, tried to. Price pinned him back down and started to nose at his thighs. “John, I’m serious. You haven’t ev-“ He choked when Price fully pressed his face against him and licked at his hole. It wasn’t what Price wanted, but the visions of Graves being hurt were enough to get him to act right. His tongue dove into him and Graves made a soft groaning noise as he rocked back.
“Should’ve known you’d be smart enough for this. Even all feral, still taking care of your pack right?”
Price couldn’t decipher the tone used. It felt possibly teasing, but it didn’t matter. His mate said he was smart and took care of his pack. The tail he kept tucked between his legs started to wag happily.
Graves panted softly. “Alright. That’s enough. You deserve it.”
Price moved fast, getting on top of him and pinning him down. His cock was so hard it hurt but he needed more. Needed to be buried inside him. He pushed in nice and slow and Graves moaned into the pillows.
“Good boy. You make me feel so good.”
Price wagged his tail harder and started to thrust into him. He braced his hands above Grave's head and enjoyed his mate thoroughly.
Graves tried to stay quiet, pressing his face into the pillows and arching his back. His hole was so tight and willing. Squeezing around him every time he bottomed out.
Well, almost bottomed out.
His knot pressed against his hole with every thrust. He stared at it. The way it pressed right against Graves's rim, begging to be let in. Slowly, he started to grind against him with each thrust, trying to get Graves to take it.
"John, it won't fit." Graves moaned, eyes fluttering shut. He was still arching his back though and it only encouraged John to keep trying. His cock was pressing so tight against him. Carving through him. He put his thumb against his rim and pressed against him so his knot would slowly begin to slide him. When he got a very sweet moan instead of Graves telling him to stop, he kept going. His knot was a little smaller than a fist and it began to slide deeper and deeper in.
The widest part was about to go when Graves began to cry out. "Fuck, Price, darling, I don't think it's going to fit." He grabbed his arms and trembled, body clenching and squeezing around him so tight. "It's not... Fuck..." Tears ran down his face as he mumbled uselessly into his pillows. Drool mixed with the tears running down his face as Price finally finally got it all the way in.
Price wagged his tail happily and thrust in. His knot would push in a little deeper and then catch on Graves's rim when he pulled back, keeping them tied together as Price mated with him.
Graves dug his nails into Price's arm as he came on to the sheets. His legs twitched and shook as his orgasm tore through him. He leaned his head against Price's shoulder and moaned sweetly.
Price moved Graves so he was laying flat on the bed instead of on his hands and knees. He didn't stop or even falter but the changed angle made it feel even tighter and let his knot push just a little deeper into him.
Graves scrambled at the sheets and clawed at the edges. Struggling for some hand hold. He felt his cock start to fill with blood again as Price tried to make up for the weeks of not having him.
"John, john, john, john." He chanted only to be quieted when Price kissed him. Their liplock only encouraged him to thrust in faster.
Price pressed in tight and came inside him. "Breed you. Make you take it."
Graves nodded, smiling softly. He'd indulge him his fantasies. Especially when his poor lover was still so far gone.
Price laid on him, kissing his pretty face. "Love. Love."
"i see you can say words now. Come on, pull out."
Price shoved in deeper, grinding against Graves's prostate. He growled his refusal.
Graves had trouble thinking as the pleasure moved through him. "Price, fuck, alright. I'll stay underneath you, darling."
Price relaxed but kept abusing Graves's prostate. He ignored his pleas for mercy as he cuddled him, hips rocking away. He only stopped when he managed to drag another orgasm out of Graves.
#cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#Phillip graves#Price x Graves#Graves x Price#Captain John Price
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Bau x reader : how they first meet
Warnings: nothing really , kinda awkward (?)
Summary: you had just joined the bau , already familiar with some of the members of your new team
Note: this is meant to be written to a gn tone , but since I identify as a female and use those pronouns , I might have made some mistakes. If there is anything to this or any other of my stories please inform me
Penelope Garcia
You had just been informed that you were accepted to became a part of one of the most elite teams in the fbi. The behavior and analysis unit.
You were told that you were to became a member in two weeks , since they needed to file some paperwork
That some night you received a message that read:
Hello, heard you gonna join the team! I'm Penelope Garcia the teams analyst
So you and Penelope had been chatting a long time before you met almost any other member of the team
Aaron Hotchner
Being in he office as long as he did , it was natural that he was familiar with most of the important agents. Same thing happened with you
He had met you maybe twice or three times already
Once when you had just joined the fbi and he was a low level agent back then that had been tasked to shaw you around and help you with any problem you may have had
He had assured you that you could call him if you needed any help ,but you never did
The next time he had met you was around two years before you were to join the team
It was in an official fbi meeting. He was one of the first agents to arrive and when you entered the room , your face shined
You went right on him , expressing your happiness to be seeing him and all the typical stuff, before lightly chit chatting
He had thought you were funny and quite amusing
Then on the meeting one of the agents spoke up saying something stupid
He turned to look at you with a ' really?' face and you almost burst out laughing
He felt comfortable around you
So when your name was on the ones on the new recruit list , he was quick to chose you
Emily Prentiss
Emily was known by a lot of names all around the world
So you an agent that had been to multiple countries , once happened to fall on her
It would have been a little awkward on your side because she was kinda your idol
She had been the agent that had hopped around in most of the federal organisations and had the best of names with the most successful cases
So meeting her was unique for you
You though that she wouldn't remember you , but boy you were wrong
She had clear memory of who you were , since you had been the first one to show such an awe at her achievements
She didn't know who you were until she heard Penelope talking to JJ about you
JJ
JJ met you the morning that you were to join the team, since she had offered to help you navigate your way throu the place and also fill you in
But this was not the first time she heard of you
Penelope had been talking about you , how funny you were and how she thought that you would be an excellent addition in the team
She showed you around , unable to not notice the way your lips curved at the place around you
A slight smile you were trying to hide behind a serious persona
She completely understood why Penelope perceived you as a good addition to their little family
You were easy going , charming and bubbly a little pep on your step
She couldn't not notice how you sent Gotcha little smile and a cute wave
In hers and your surprise , he offered you a timid smile too
Derek Morgan
The man™.
The moment you entered the room and jj told them who you were , he was on his feet , a strong hand extended as to greet you
' Derek Morgan '
He'd say in his deep voice
Everyone had at least an idea about you , through Penelope, except for him somehow
He quickly noticed your slightly fidgety hands and the way your eyes skipped in between everyone
Once he had his moment , Penelope rushed in
' I'm so sorry my sweet chocolate thunder , but you can't keep my friend away from me'
She told him and he stared in shock as Penelope hugged you and you instinctively hugged back
Spencer Reid
Spencer was the last one of the bunch to meet you
The whole time you were interacting with the team he stared at you his gaze analytical , his glasses falling downwards his nose every few minutes
Once he understood that the energetic part was over , he figured it would be a good time for him to meet you
' I'm Spencer Reid ' he'd say , extending his arm
You had looked at it started out , throwing a quick glass at an equally confused looking Penelope
' i- uhh, you don't have to shake my hand I was already told that's not your thing'
He felt seen at this comment of your shooting at his blond haired girl a grateful smile
He decided right then and there that he liked you
#bau x reader#bau#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner#derek morgan x reader#derek morgan#derek morgan x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss#jj x reader#jj#penelope garcia x reader#Penelope Garcia#fanfic#x reader#poly bau#poly bau x reader
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WIP excerpt for ducksandswans behind the cut; Jason gets knocked up and accidentally goes home about it.
( chrono || non-chrono )
Jason tightens his grip on Pup Brother and Quiet Sister tightens her grip on him. He can smell the whole pack's scents–smell the whole pack's packscent–and he feels . . . good about that. He likes that.
He missed them. He shouldn't have stayed gone so long. Though now there's a pup, and maybe even more than one, so he supposes it was worth it.
And either way, he's home now.
Grandpa said.
“ETA on B?” Big Brother asks.
“Eighteen minutes, if they avoided the downtown traffic,” Big Brother’s mate says. Jason hums acknowledgment, then lets himself relax just a little more. More than he even thought he could, really.
It's nice.
It's really nice.
And they're all safe, too.
“Holy crap, is he purring?” New Brother mutters under his breath.
“He is definitely purring,” Loud Sister confirms. “Like a big grumpy motorcycle.”
“Pretty sure I've heard quieter motorcycles,” Big Brother's mate says wryly. “It's pretty cute, though.”
“It is so cute, oh my god,” Big Brother says in despairing delight. “This is bad enough, how are we gonna handle him being like this with an actual baby?”
“I think that's mostly a ‘you’ problem, Dick,” Little Brother says.
“That is definitely a ‘you’ problem,” Loud Sister agrees.
“For sure,” New Brother says.
“Very cute,” Quiet Sister hums, nuzzling the back of Jason’s neck and patting his shoulder. “Baby brother.”
“Thank you, Cass,” Big Brother says with a huff, folding his arms. “This is so adorable I can’t even stand it.”
Jason huffs, rolling his eyes, then just settles in and closes his eyes. It’s safe to. And he has a nest to let his scent seep into and through, and “bred” pheromones to let settle into and fill up the den. He’s early enough in his pregnancy that it’ll probably take a little while, so it’s past time to concentrate on putting those off and scenting the room. The nest’s all made, and Pup Brother and Quiet Sister are in it, and Grandpa’s by the door and Big Brother and Little Brother are just outside the nest, and Loud Sister and New Brother and Big Brother’s mate are all here too, so . . .
So once Alpha’s here, then everything will be perfect.
“He’s purring again,” New Brother mutters. “I literally did not even know he was physically capable of making that sound.”
“Capable of making it to motorcycle-shaming levels, apparently,” Loud Sister says with a laugh. “Damn, Jason.”
Jason doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but he isn’t worried about it. If it’s important, someone will take care of it.
Everyone’s here, so of course someone will.
“Silence, all of you,” Pup Brother grumbles, sounding long-suffering but staying settled secure in Jason’s arms, which is good. Definitely. He should be there right now.
Jason nuzzles him some more, for obvious reasons, and then just concentrates on letting his pheromones spread through the room. His nest already smells like the pack and so does the den, obviously, but it doesn’t smell like pup-is-coming.
It needs to, obviously.
Someone’s purring. It’s not Pup Brother, but Jason’s not sure who else could be.
Well, it doesn’t matter, really.
Some of the others talk about some things, their voices soft and quiet. Jason doesn’t worry about it. It’s just little stuff, like patrol schedules and classes and appointments. Normal little things for a pack to talk about, and easy to settle into the background as white noise while he lets his pheromones fill up the room and makes sure Pup Brother’s eaten.
He eats some of the apple slices and peanut butter, himself. The pup needs to eat too.
It’s the same cheap, shitty store brand that he used to insist on as a pup himself.
“ETA five minutes,” Big Brother’s mate says eventually after checking her phone. Jason’s not sure what she’s talking about, but isn’t worried about that either. If it’s important, someone will tell him. Or handle it. Or both.
All he has to do right now is wait for Alpha to get here, and then everything will be fine.
Everything will be perfect, actually, once Alpha gets here.
The others talk a little more. Their voices are still soft and quiet, so Jason still doesn’t worry about it. He just stays curled up around Pup Brother and in Quiet Sister’s arms, and letting his pheromones fill up the den with bred and home-safe and all the usual things that are usually part of presenting a pup to the pack.
It’s nice. The . . . being here. It’s nice.
He missed it here.
He wonders why he missed it so bad. Has it been that long, or . . . ?
He just missed it.
But now he’s here, so he doesn’t have to miss it anymore.
Grandpa turns his head towards the door and pushes himself up out of his chair. Jason whines in disappointment. Is he leaving? Why’s he leaving?
“I’ll just be a moment, my boy,” Grandpa assures him, and Jason settles, a little. If Grandpa says it’ll be just a moment, then he means it.
Grandpa steps out into the foyer again and everyone else goes quiet all at once, and Jason realizes–oh. The front door just opened, didn’t it. He doesn’t hear footsteps, though.
. . . does that mean . . . ?
“Alfred?” Alpha says from the foyer, sounding just barely concerned, and something in Jason vibrates at the sound of his voice. “What’s going on?”
“Is someone purring?” Alpha’s mate asks curiously.
“Master Jason came home, Master Bruce,” Grandpa says.
“. . . he what?” Alpha says, his voice sounding–strange, just a bit. Jason isn’t sure why it does, but feels . . .
“Just–the living room, Master Bruce,” Grandpa says. “You should come and see for yourself.”
Grandpa steps back into view of the doorway, and Jason still feels unsettled and just a little bit uncertain, and isn’t sure if–
Then Alpha steps into view too, and Jason forgets everything else
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Pretty. | Bolting Down Booths
logline; locking down chairs and a sweaty sleep deprived man (for now) (for the night) (platonically) (for now) (what?) (I didn't say anything).
series history, this is the third; First, Second
portion; 4.5k+
possible allergies; Negative self-talk (baby, Tony's mentally ill, get WITH it). We are once again, eatin' meat (beef!). Did I give the reader a curly girl routine? ....Perhaps...
pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'girl' is thrown around quite a bit.)
is this entire series just a love letter to me wanting to take care of this guy? maybe so. maybe so.
Lifesaver. Lifesaver. Lifesaver.
Alright, fuck, you need to put on something to listen to because the thought isn’t leaving and the cherry lifesaver swirling in your mouth is so ironic that it’s leaving a bitter taste.
It’s after hours at The Bear, just after midnight, and you’ve returned to a clinically cleaned restaurant, ‘Ah… Syd keeps it locked in.’ and you’re thankful that you’re alone because it means everyone’s getting their proper rest. However, it also means your intrusive thoughts are really drilling in tonight.
You drop your phone on one of the booth tables, blasting music at full volume. That’s better. Little more static to work with now. You measure each booth and table for the third time tonight, rechecking that the angles are exactly as Syd had asked. They’re still perfect. Alright, get a move on, it’s not gonna somehow get more correct than correct…
You slip yourself under the table, verifying that the bolts are the proper fit— Also for the third time today. Hey, what if Home Depot fucked you earlier?! It’s important to check! You’re definitely not unreasonably anxious right now! But your power drill is practically screaming to be used at this point, so you acquiesce.
You’re on the last bolt when you hear a click of the front door opening.
“Fuck!” It scares you so shitless you jump and knock the top of your head on the table. You lay down quickly, back pressed to the floor to get a look at the perp. You point your power drill menacingly toward the front door.
Oh.
“Fuck are you doing here?” You and Carmen manage to speak in perfect unison.
There’s a beat before you opt to go first.
“Bolting.” Still lying under the table. You raise your drill upward, revving it a few times.
He swallows, sniffs, and scratches his nose. “Thought you were doing that tomorrow?”
“Technically it is tomorrow.” He scoffs, so you continue. “No, uh, Nat asked if I could come in after hours so I’m not as much of an active tripping hazard.” You gesture to yourself on the floor.
“Smart.” He rubs his eyes. He looks red and pink all over.
“…Thought you were getting off early today?”
“I did.” He clears his throat when you make a face about it. “I—I uh, did leave early, I just, just thought I’d come in and uh… Do some work.”
He rubs the back of his neck, continuing after a beat. “I’m, I’m uh, I’m good— In, in the kitchen.”
You chew at your inner cheek, staring at a very clearly distressed Carmy. His eyes are lined red, hair is in disarray.
“…Did you do it?” Did you break up with your girlfriend?
“…Yeah. I-I did.”
You just nod, thoughtful, before slipping back under the table, finishing drilling in the last bolt. “If you need a palate tester, lemme know.”
“Heard.”
The moment is soft but then cut short by you scrambling to quiet your phone atop your table when a perfectly unfitting upbeat song starts to sing out at max volume. He hides his smile poorly as he heads into the kitchen.
It’s a nice hour or so, in the front of house. You drill each bolt efficiently, grounding each booth and table in their place permanently. Your tunes play at a much lower volume now, careful to not alert the lone chef in the back. The intrusive thoughts have vanished with Carmen around, even if distant. He might not consider himself a brightening presence, but to you, he certainly is a nice lamp.
You stand up finally, finished, doing a big stretch of your arms and a crack of your back. You notice Carmen looking at you through the glass. He looks away, then back again, raising a hand, motioning for you to come in. Looks like you finished right on time.
It smells fucking incredible in here. You’re once again trying to temper your reaction as you pass through the door, not wanting to stroke his ego, but he’s already clocked it. It’s okay, you clock his boyish smirk of pride before he hides it with his hand, so you’re even.
On the steel table, plated— On their one black plate, because he’s not over having to settle for less— Are three perfectly cubed and seared pieces of marbled meat, glazed mushrooms, and some round breaded things that you’re not quite sure about. All perfectly plated and decorated with greens, parsley, specifically.
You step next to him, staring at the plate intently, taking it in visually. “Well?”
He hums in a way that sounds like a laugh, arms crossed. He stares at his own plate just as intently. “Pan-seared Wagyu— Sirloin. Wild mushrooms, basted in the same fat. Hazelnut-potato croquettes—”
“What the fuck is that?”
He doesn’t miss a beat, he just smiles— In a way that looks actually kind of genuine. He likes to teach. “Seasoned mashed potatoes, basically. Breaded with bread crumbs and hazelnut, in this case, and fried. There’s a gruyere center, to this one.”
You don’t miss the fact that he’s not stuttering anymore. He’s right. He’s good in the kitchen. In all the ways that entails.
“Test?” He lifts a fork to you. You take it.
You lean forward, elbow on the table. You take polite, small cuts of each part of the meal initially, it feels bad to destroy what is an art piece.
But then he leans forward, head meeting your level, amusement lilting his voice. “You know it’s a compliment to eat?”
You huff, taking a larger piece of everything to get it all in one bite. Everything is so soft and lush that you don’t need a knife. Goddamn. You take your bite. Son of a bitch.
You thought fucking brisket was good?
“Oh my god.” You put your hand in front of your mouth as you chew, switching your gaze to him. “Carmen, oh my fucking god!”
“Yeah?” His glow is slowly coming back to him, like a flickering halo. “Don’t pull punches.”
“Fuckin’— So good! What is it, fire? Excellent? What’s the top one? I’m angry that it’s this good.”
“Angry is a new one.”
“I’m furious!” You laugh, “I always thought luxury dining was fuckin’ scam, I’m not gonna lie to you. But I— I took one bite and I’m incredibly full and— And, it’s just— It’s really really good, Carm—Chef. Gotta show it to Syd for the menu.”
He nods, smiling, finally, unhidden. “Thank you, Chef.”
He grabs the fork from you to try for himself, but before he can get to his own plate, you press the back of your hand to his chest, holding him back. “Uh, ah, can I do a thing, for you?”
He squints, curiously, putting his fork down. “…Yes?”
You grin, walking around the kitchen the second he affirms it. “Where’s your wine box?”
“Ah… By expo, over…” He points to it.
You pop it open, hand waving over each bottle for the right one you’re searching for. “I’ll pay for it.”
“S’fine.”
A young Pinot Grigio, you go with. Ripe, sweet, airy. You walk by him again, grazing your hand on the small of his back and placing the bottle in front of him. “Open, don’t pour.”
“Heard.” He roots away for the bottle opener.
“And get me a clean knife and cutting board!”
“Fuck are you doin?” He doesn’t complain, getting what you ask for, but he is quite curious.
You sort through the fruit pantry in Marcus’ section, grabbing the most perfect white peach you can— It wouldn’t be perfect by morning, he won’t mind. “I am an occasional bartender and poor man’s sommelier…”
You meet him back at his station, slicing the peach thinly with the knife he’s left for you. “So, when I’m given the chance to pair a meal, I try to.”
You halve the thin slices, then place a few in each glass Carmen’s so kindly set out for you— Tulip bowled cups. You whistle, “You know your shit…”
His eyes light up, just a bit. He shrugs, handing you the uncorked bottle when you reach for it. “My job.”
“You’re good at it.” You pour the wine, proper— No stops missed for Carmen. “Okay, okay, okay…”
You hand him his glass— The one you think you did a slightly better peach placement on. “Alright, now you can have the dish you worked hard on.”
With a small smile, he takes a generous bite of his dish, takes his time digesting it, then sips your wine. He tilts his head, surprised by how much of a liking he’s taking to it. “S’fire. Well worth it.”
You sip your own glass, smiling, you explain before he can ask you to. “Yeah? Good. Citrusy white to cut the fat of wagyu. Or something. Poor man’s sommelier, y’know.”
“Hm.” He sniffs, and you try not to light up when he writes down the wine pairing at the bottom of his drafted recipe card. “Better than me.”
There’s a comfortable silence before he speaks up again. “You gonna head out?”
You squint at him, head tilted. “Are you?”
Once you know one Berzatto, you’ve known them all. Their tells included.
“…Eventually, yeah.”
“You drive?”
“I take the L.”
“Are you on the red or blue line?”
He doesn’t answer. So, that tells you he’s not on the only two 24-hour lines.
“…I’ll take a transfer—”
“When were you planning on going?” You cross your arms; he can tell where this is going and he hates it. You’re foiling his plan.
“When I’m done.”
“Done what?”
“…Cleaning.”
“I’ll help you,” You pick up the cutting board and knife swiftly. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I need to get work done—Too.” He takes a while to reply, but when he does, he speaks with haste.
You pause, putting the cutting board down. Let’s do the math here.
He said he came in ‘early’ this morning, but ‘early’ probably meant overnight because of the Fridge Guy. He left early, sure, before the dinner rush— But only to experience his first breakup—If you can call it that. Then he’s come back at midnight again, after everyone else has left. The likelihood he’s slept since the night before his opening isn’t impossible, but if he did sleep, he slept here. And he definitely hasn’t showered. He’s likely been awake 40 hours.
You nod, picking up the board again, walking it to the sink. You stand over it in thought.
“What’s wrong with home, Carm?”
“It’s gonna hit, if I go home.”
He swallows, “Everything’s gonna hit, when I go home.”
Now that you can understand. You nod, scrubbing the cutting board clean. “When your brother died, I holed up at my parents’ for two weeks.”
You don’t turn off the sink, even after you're done cleaning, because if you do, you fear he will hear your tell-tale heartbeat. “When I came back, my plants were half dead and my fridge was a biohazard.”
He sniffs, he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, for you to tell him he has to go home, that it only gets worse if you wait it out, that he needs to find a better way to deal with this—
“You can hole up at mine.”
When he doesn’t reply, you turn your head to look at him. He’s very hard to read but it looks like he’s entertaining the idea. You add, for the sake of levity, “You need a fuckin’ shower, man.”
He smirks, though the amusement doesn’t meet his eyes. “When I shower all my fuckin’ hairs gonna fall out.” He piles his dirtied utensils and boards, sidling up to the sink next to you.
“You need rosemary water.” You grab a dish rag, switching over to dry for him.
“Does that shit actually work?” You both quickly ebb into the domestic flow of handing off dishes. He mumbles ‘left-most drawer’, ‘top-shelf, right side’, and so on whenever you’re confused about where they go once they’re dry.
“It does. I have also had the ‘am I balding?’ crisis. Believe it or not.”
He stares at your hairline so intently you put your hand in front of it, flustered. He finally flicks his gaze back to yours. “If you’re really worried, you can make it pretty easy—”
“I’ll stay over.”
You take a second to register, then nod happily.
“Good. Where’s the black plate go?”
Your apartment is surprising because it’s built on top of an H&R Block, the concrete stairs leading up to it are chipped to hell, and the front door has clearly been graffitied then painted over then graffitied then painted over then graf—
And yet, it is almost certainly one of the best-looking apartments he’s seen in Chicago— On the inside at least.
None of the furniture matches, but it’s nice, it’s eclectic. It’s heavily thrifted and upcycled from furniture you found on the side of the road. That’s the nice thing, about being a fixer—Nothing’s trash if you believe in yourself. You drop your keys in a handmade clay tray— That’s the other thing Carm notices, so much of this is you alone.
The place is a mess, there’s half-finished projects in the corner of every room, tools strewn in odd places. And it’s perfectly welcoming. Warm. In a literal sense, too, because there’s a humidifier going off on a timer in the living room to make what Carmen estimates are your forty thousand plants and cuttings happy.
This is a perfect apartment because you live in it.
Nothing can hit, in here.
He comes back to reality when you reach your hand out to him, there’s a coat hanger in your other hand. Oh. Jacket.
“Oh, fuck.” He peels off his jacket, handing it to you. “I uh, I left your Carhartt at work.”
“S’fine, if I was in a rush for it back, I would’ve asked.” You brush off easily, hanging up the jean jacket in your small coat closet. “Ah…”
Your apartment has a pretty open layout, but you point at everything regardless.
“There’s the kitchen…” It’s on the right at the entry, with an open archway— Which you’re in the middle of rounding the corners on with plywood.
“The living room…” Straight ahead, he can see the half of it that isn’t blocked by the kitchen. You’ve got big windows, with a fire escape. Suncatchers and more plants are hanging from the ceiling by it.
“To the left, down the hall— The only hall, bathrooms on the right and straight ahead is the bedroom, you can put your shit there.”
His brows furrow, you say the last part quickly, and he’s going to say something but you grab the black plate he’s brought and brush past him to the kitchen.
So, he just shrugs off his backpack, “Heard.” And heads down the hall. For now.
It feels odd to put this very fancy, very expensive one black plate on top of the rest of your own cheap dishware— But he insisted you take it, so, here it is.
You march down the hall, going to grab towels for him from your room, but stop short when you hear him in the bathroom, mumbling, “Fuck is this?”
You peek in, “Fuck is what?” You come in when he turns the bottle in his hand for you to look at. You stare at it for a solid few seconds, genuinely alarmed, you look at Carmen with wide eyes.
“Carmy, look me in my eyes and tell me you know what conditioner is.”
“I—I know what conditioner is, but what are all the words for?”
“All the words?”
“Like, strengthening, bonding, texture—”
“Carmen?!”
“Don’t say my name like that…”
“You have wavy hair, too, Bear!” You stare wide-eyed, mouth in an open-mouth smile because if you don’t laugh you’ll start screaming. You swipe away the hair in front of his face, holding the tress between your fingers to get an idea of texture. You’re too focused to clock the way he flinches— At the nickname and the touch.
“We’ve got like, the same hair texture! What the fuck are you using?”
He doesn’t answer, he opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
“Carmen…” You can make a pretty good guess. He bristles again. He has discovered does not like it when you say his name with any sort of animosity or disappointment.
“Carmen no… Two in One?”
“…Five in One.”
“Five in One?!” You clutch the sides of your head. “What are the Five?!”
He waves his hands in defense, “It’s—”
“Y’know what, don’t fuckin’ tell me, I don’t wanna know, I don’t need to know.” You cover your face and shake your head. “Just— I will get you clothes and a towel, wash—” You reach into your shower, grabbing your fruity body wash. “—Wash yourself with this, like a civilized person— And just don’t— Don’t touch your hair, I’ll take care of your hair after you shower.”
“You’ll take care—”
“You’ve lost your hair privileges; I will be taking up the arms.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “I just—You need a tutorial, please.”
He holds the body wash in his hand, debating this fight or not, “I think five is—”
“Just fuckin’ say heard.”
“Heard.”
Despite everything, you both laugh. You tap the doorway on your way out, yelling to no one as you turn back down the hall. “Corner!” It’s worth it when he laughs again.
Ironically, the one shirt you know will fit him that you have is ‘The Berf’, so you grab that. Pants are a bit tougher, but with enough scrounging through your closet you find a long-forgotten pair of sweatpants your brother left here ages ago.
You approach the bathroom door, it’s still ajar, so you invite yourself in. He’s staring at your skincare products with a clinical fascination, stopping only to acknowledge your presence.
“Alright, alright.” You pop your pile of things down on the sink counter, handing each thing to him individually.
“New toothbrush.” Still packaged. It’s got your dentist’s address on the clear plastic. “Pyjamas. Towel, wash cloth— I think you’re good.”
When you turn your head to look at him, you catch the tail end of him staring— Again, his eye contact is so soft and also scary. And now that the sleep is catching up to him, he’s half-lidded and— Goddamn it he is very pretty, sonofabitch.
He straightens up, sniffing, nodding as a form of thanks, the likelihood he’s registered anything you’ve said isn’t likely— Which is fine, you are now too flustered to care. There’s a boy in your house and you’ve just discovered he’s pretty.
“I’m just gonna wash my face n’ grab a few things and I’ll be out of your way.”
You wash your hands; he unwraps his toothbrush. And without verbally checking in, you once again flow into a silent rhythm. You grab your toothbrush, dole out toothpaste on both of your brushes, and stare at yourselves and each other in the mirror, side by side as you brush.
You make a face, and while he doesn’t fuckin’ guffaw, he does smile, foam peeking through the corners of his mouth, and that’s enough for you.
You rinse— You try to be dainty about it but it’s not, because when has brushing your teeth ever been dignified?
You pump face cleanser into your palm, then nod to him to do the same. Good Carm, he listens. Like a mime tutorial, he follows your actions of foaming it in the hands and properly washing his face. There’s hope for this five in one boy yet.
You pile together your skincare and leave him to shower in peace. More importantly, leave to let yourself lose it in peace.
Oh my god there’s a pretty boy in your bathroom and it’s two in the morning. What the fuck were you thinking? You just invited him over without hesitation? You met him like barely two days ago! Oh my god! There’s a pretty boy in your bathroom! And it’s two! In the morning!
You need to kill the teenage girl in your head because she’s freaking you the fuck out. You were literally being so calm and chill and cool and cool and chill and calm— Oh my god you’re doing it again—
Everything is fine. He’s literally here because he’s experiencing a torrential downpour of awful. You invited him over because you’d invite anyone like that over. Pretty or not. Get your head in order.
You take a deep, mindful breath and exhale, returning to neutral as you meditatively go through your skincare routine and change into your nice pajamas— Y’know, the one modest matching set for when you have guests or go somewhere. Instead of the one usual incredibly stained oversized t-shirt.
You set up a chair by your kitchen sink, towel on the back for comfort. You were serious about the hair thing. Your scalp and his are curly girl sisters, you cannot leave them to die like this.
When he comes out, knots in his back undone, steam wafting, grime finally removed, he approaches you with much more energy, and leans against the doorway. You both speak at once.
“Weird to see you out of uniform.”
You snort; he flattens his mouth into a line to keep from smiling too hard (which, for Carmen, would really just mean smiling with his teeth). But really, it is weird. You’re both suddenly… People. You can see all his tattoos and his stupid gold chain...And he can see you.
You kick the chair with your foot, gesturing to it. “Sit, I’m washing your hair.”
You’re walking past him before he’s got the chance to deny, collecting proper products from the bathroom to use. Y’know. Not fucking five in one.
Once again, good Carm listens, sitting in the chair. Not without complaints, though. “Big fan of babying people?”
You wrap the towel behind his neck, tilting his head back into the sink. If you pretend, it’s like a salon. You hum in reply, blunt, “Yeah, I am.”
“I like to take care of people. In a way, it’s kind of my job.” You re-rinse his hair once the water is warm— Thank God your kitchen faucet is a sprayer.
“You’re good at it.” He’s too comfortable and lethargic to be aggro about this, so he’s just sweet and honest. It’s hard not to beam.
“I try.” You massage shampoo through his scalp, “I know I’m pushy about it, sometimes.”
He sighs, a breath of relief. When’s the last time someone else washed his hair? He’s been cutting his own for years, he cannot remember the last time. Had to have been before New York.
“Were you pushy with Mikey?” He’s not fully sure why he said that, and he’s waiting for you to make him regret asking it.
You just hum, nostalgically amused, “I think I got pushy because of Mikey.”
“Stopped hoping my friends would take care of themselves with the right tools and decided to just take care of them myself.” You rinse the bubbles from his hair. You’re happy to see his wavy pattern returning.
“A lot of work.”
“Not to me.”
You pump conditioner into your hand— And while he’d probably love for you to elaborate on that point, you have to pivot, “Alright, this part you actually should pay attention to— When you condition— Because you will be conditioning, from this point on.”
He just grunts in reply, but it sounds like enough of a yes to you.
“—When you do it, you’ll hang your head upside down and apply conditioner from the bottom— You gotta like, squeeze your hair in it—” You do the proper routine, squelching his hair, does he laugh at the sound? Yes. Yes, he does. “It’ll sound like that. And then rinse.”
You look at his peaceful, amused expression. His eyes closed. “Heard.”
“Are you retaining any of this?”
“I said heard, didn’t I?”
You just scoff, rinsing his hair. You teach him how to scrunch with the towel, but his eyes are so dazed during it you give the poor boy a break and don’t explain that what you’re putting in his hair is mousse. He might have an aneurysm if you use a ‘food word’ in relation to hair right now.
“Alright, alright, the exhaustion is setting in, let’s get you to bed before you start seeing spiders.” You take his arm and hoist him up. Everything is fine until this bozo tries walking to the living room while you’re trying to pull him down the hall. You once again, speak in sync.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m taking the couch.”
He now realizes why you spoke so quickly about him putting his things away in your room instead of the living room. It’s like you just awoke every Italian ancestor in his bones because he is immediately alert.
“No, you’re not.”
That’s fine because he’s in your household, motherfucker. Your family tree is in the furniture.
“You’re the guest. You take the bed.”
“You’re the host. You take the bed.”
“I’m the one that invited you.”
“And what? You’re the girl.”
At a point, you are both speaking with your hands, words tumbling on top of each other's.
“Bitch—” “It’s just not right—” “I literally made you come over specifically to get proper rest—” “I will be haunted all night by my Nonna if you sleep on the couch—” “The couch is a pull-out, it’s comfortable!” “Then let me use it!” “No!”
This is going nowhere fast.
“My own grandmother takes the couch when I visit. She would throw me off my own balcony if I made a guest take the couch.” Is your hard stance.
And his, “My Nonno would stab me if I let a pretty girl sleep on a couch.”
Now this does immediately shut you the fuck up.
That doesn’t mean he’s won; he’s also shut the fuck up. A slip-up of mutually assured destruction.
You bite back your wheeze of shocked laughter, and you’re very thankful it’s two in the morning now because the moonlight through the window doesn’t entirely catch your reaction of being embarrassingly bashful in this moment. How did the teen girl in you survive? You were so sure you got her…
Your hands hang in the air for a moment, before you finally manage to say, “Either I take the couch—”
“No—”
“Or, it’s a double, so we share it.” You shrug, wringing your hands, “So whichever one you find the least sacrilege.”
God, there’s no simple way to make that not sound like you’re coming onto him, is there? You’re not, for the record. It’s just the fastest solution. You’ve shared beds before, it’s not a big deal— It’s actually only a big deal if you make it one, it’s actually very normal—Get this fucking teen out of here—!
“Fuckin’— Alright!” He huffs after thinking on it for some time, rubbing his forehead in some sort of anguish before marching down the hall.
When you don’t follow, he clicks his teeth. “C’mon, Tony.” His tone is languid and aggravated.
Ah, the sweet sound of a man who has had to compromise— But will be damned if he doesn’t get his part of said compromise. Also the sound of a man who really wishes he hadn't just said pretty girl.
You follow him to your room. Fuck it. Say the thing. You've been trying to keep a level social playing field with him anyway.
“Heard, pretty boy!"
two idiots realize the other one is pretty and nice and try to not acknowledge it (DIFFICULTY LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE)
Would you believe me if I said I was trying to not do the 'one bed' trope? I really was! I'm not a huge trope guy! But writing it down I was like 'neither of these people would fucking fold'. The only other option would be for both of them to stare at each other in the hallway for 8 hours and come to no agreement. Did not plan Pretty Girl but thank god because it was the only thing that would get them out of that time loop.
It's always my favourite thing when a person who's been cavalier when it comes to boundaries suddenly finds their line (he's pretty) and is now immediately so hyphy. I hope you also messed with this.
Tell me your thoughts!! Favourite bits, lines, etc!! Feeds me!! (Oh, speaking of fed, shout out to Daniel NYC, I did steal their menu for this. I'll probably do it again because I am not a Michelin Star Chef.)
#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto#carmy the bear#the bear fx#the bear x you#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear
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corporate retreat part 1 / 4
I went into a fugue state and wrote nine thousand words about an overworked corporate drone being brainwashed for their own good.
tw: brainwashing, conditioning, dehumanization, drugging, humiliation, hypnosis, restraints, corporate culture, weight insecurity mentioned, a little kinky
"Welcome to the Brainwashing Department! You must be today's test subject. We're happy to have you!"
Quinn stared in disbelief at the receptionist's guileless and strangely familiar smile. "You're awfully cheerful about this, aren't you?"
"Well, I love my job," he said without the slightest trace of malevolence. "As I'm sure you know, the Brainwashing Department is critically important to the organization. Without us, we wouldn't have sleeper agents, puppet politicians, memory erasure... and it's interesting work, too. No two subjects are the same." He glanced at Quinn's badge and then at their face. "Say, I recognize you. You're from IT, aren't you? You're the one who always unlocks my laptop when I forget my password!"
Oh, shit, that's where they remembered this guy. Quinn wasn't sure what they found more mortifying: the fact that they'd been recognized, or the idea of letting a guy who obviously didn't know how to work a laptop be in charge of human minds. Maybe he'd been a test subject, and it affected his brain... although considering what Quinn had signed up for, that wasn't at all comforting.
"Yeah, I'm from IT," said Quinn. "Can we get started? I'd prefer to get this over with."
The receptionist laughed. "You seem like you could use a vacation. Good thing you're here. No better vacation than a vacation from your thoughts, right?" He pushed a button on his phone. "Dr. Moon, your test subject has arrived."
Quinn played with their phone and tried not to look like an anxious wreck as they waited for the doctor. This was such an awful idea, but they didn't have much of a choice.
---
"You used to be my favorite minion. I hate to see your potential go down the drain, and I'd really, really hate to have to put you on a performance improvement plan," their boss had said. "You know, just because we're in the business of underground supervillainy doesn't mean we don't value our employees' mental health. You should take a vacation, recharge yourself."
"I'm out of PTO," said Quinn.
Their boss leaned over her desk with a frightening look in her eye. "Have you happened to see the fliers the Brainwashing Department has been posting?"
Oh, they didn't like where this was headed. "The ones looking for compliant test subjects? The ones promising a $5000 bonus and a month of PTO?"
"Exactly! Doesn't that solve your problem?"
"The month of PTO is just the month you spend as their brainwashed test subject."
"Details," she said with a handwave. "You get PTO and a chance to relax --"
"-- by being drugged and hypnotized out of my skull --"
"--and you'll come back refreshed and ready to work."
"Presumably because you'll get them to brainwash me to be a better employee."
"See, everyone wins!" she said. "I highly recommend that you volunteer."
And that was that. Quinn certainly didn't have the clout to argue, especially when they were at risk of being at the bottom of the stack ranking. You didn't want to get stack ranked in this organization. It usually involved poison in your cafeteria rations.
---
"Quinn? You're a volunteer for brainwashing testing, right?"
Quinn looked up to see a middle-aged woman wearing the aquamarine jumpsuit of the higher-status employees, along with a lab coat and a pair of enormous round glasses. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she had a strangely warm smile given her profession.
"I'm Quinn, and yeah."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Dr. Moon," she said, holding out her hand for a shake, and her hands felt warm as well. "Thank you for volunteering. It's critically important that we have adequate testing subjects for refining our process, before we have to use the techniques on important targets. So many employees are frightened of our department, even though our work is really quite pleasant. You don't have anything to worry about, though. I promise that your mind is good hands here."
"Good to know," they said. "Hopefully I can give you some good data." It really wasn't the competency of the Brainwashing Department that worried them -- they'd seen their results firsthand. If anything, they were perhaps a little too competent.
"I'm sure your data will be invaluable. Now, if you could follow me..." She turned and swiped her keycard at the double doors next to the reception desk, ushering Quinn inside.
They stood in a short, sterile, and blindingly white hallway with several doors on each side and another large set of double glass doors at the end. "Those doors lead to the primary brainwashing floor," Dr. Moon said, gesturing to the end of the hallway. "But first, I'm going to have you go into one of our prep rooms."
She slid her keycard on one of the side doors, which opened up to a small room with some lockers, a shower, and a bench. "Put your uniform and any personal effects -- except your glasses and anything medically necessary -- in the locker. Then, take a shower using the provided soap and dress in the clothes you find in the locker. Make sure you clip your identification tag to the gown, so we don't lose you."
"Wouldn't want that to happen."
"When you're done, just press the button and I'll be back to guide you to the next phase," she said. "Take your time. We're in no hurry."
Quinn shut the door behind them. They stripped off their sneakers, a pair of socks adorned with little green alien heads, and the gray jumpsuit that marked their middling status in the organization. The hot water felt great as they stepped into the shower, and the soap was pleasantly scented with lavender. It would've been relaxing if the shower hadn't given them a chance to be alone with their own thoughts.
Were they really going through with this? They could've told their boss no, but that would've just ended badly. The terms of the test subject agreement guaranteed that the process would be reversed at the end, but it wasn't like they trusted that. They knew what the Brainwashing Department was capable of. They could wipe any memories they didn't want them to have, they could implant suggestions of being more loyal and eager to work, they could humiliate them in so many ways, they could simply leave them brainwashed permanently...
Quinn sighed. This was absolutely going to suck, but there was no use worrying. It wasn't like they were going to turn back now.
The provided outfit was a soft blue cotton hospital gown and padded socks. They were quite comfortable, but made Quinn feel entirely too exposed and vulnerable without their familiar jumpsuit. The badge they clipped to the gown had their name, picture, subject number, and a series of codes designating the brainwashing procedures they were going to undergo. Quinn didn't know enough about the department's work to know what the codes meant.
They pressed the button.
A few minutes later, Dr. Moon entered the room. "I hope you had a nice shower. Let's get you into the other room to do a few necessary checks."
The next room was a bit like a doctor's office. "I'll need you to stand on that scale, please," said Quinn.
"Is that really necessary?" They fucking hated this part of the doctor's visit.
"It's not for judgement or shaming, really! We just need accurate weight to make sure the medication dosage is correct. It's for your own safety. You don't even need to look."
Somehow, even the idea of being weighed for brainwashing drugs was preferable to being shamed again. They didn't look as they stood on the scale, and Dr. Moon made no comment.
"Now, if you'll sit on the table for a minute, please," she said. "Let me just check your breathing... your eyes and ears..."
Quinn sat as still as they could as Dr. Moon pressed a stethoscope to their chest and shined a light in their eyes, but they couldn't keep their knee from bouncing.
"Any vision or hearing problems, other than your need for glasses?"
"No."
"Any disabilities we should be aware of? Here in the Brainwashing Department, we pride ourselves on our commitment to diversity. We'll adjust our procedures to accommodate any disability, mental or physical, to ensure that everyone can safely and easily fall under our control."
"Uh. Not that I know of." Quinn most certainly was not going to spill their mental health difficulties to this woman. She'd probably have access to all of Quinn's secrets soon enough... ugh, they'd rather not think about that.
"All right, then. If you're ready, I can lead you to the brainwashing floor and we can get started on your procedure."
"I'm not sure I can be any more ready than I am right now, so..."
"I know it must seem nerve-wracking, but trust me, once we get started you won't be worried at all."
"That doesn't especially ease my worries."
They followed Dr. Moon through the double doors and into the main brainwashing floor. Here, thirty of the organization's brainwashing devices were arranged in neat rows, big plush reclining chairs with restraints and screens and medical tools. They were all currently occupied by people of all ages and types undergoing procedures. Most of the people were half-asleep and watching hypnotic screens, mouthing words under their breath, hooked up to gas tanks and IV lines containing the drug cocktails that made them docile and malleable. Some were being induced, surrounded by staff monitoring their vitals as they went under. Others had a staff member drilling commands into their minds. One woman at the back was thrashing and fighting as the department staff wrangled her into restraints and into a mask.
Quinn had long been desensitized to the brainwashing floor. After all, when you worked for an organization like this one, morals flew out the window with your first paycheck. The work they did was necessary to keep the organization going, and honestly less messy and more humane than some of the other departments. Quinn had had to come here plenty of times to help troubleshoot problems with the machines, and had swiftly learned to tune out the droning hypnotic inductions and sounds of quiet struggle.
But it certainly hit differently now that Quinn knew they were destined for one of the devices. They couldn't help but imagine themselves in a chair, watching a hypnotic screen with a dazed smile and glassy eyes. The idea made their skin crawl with the fear they'd been shoving aside until now. They hated the idea of not being in control, and especially the idea of other people seeing them helpless and vulnerable. But that fate was now inevitable. They weren't kidding themselves about their ability to resist. Dr. Moon would probably turn them into a drooling, tranced-out mess by lunchtime.
At least they'd get some good sleep for a change. Chemically-induced sleep with a side of mind warping, sure, but sleep nonetheless.
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(that feeling when you write an ask thinking "come on, what's the worst thing which could happen?" and now you write it for the third time)
1. We don't have exact information in canon about for how long the mercs have been working and whether they all joined in at the same time or not, do we?
What were your personal thoughts about it, like, how do you see it? If they didn't all join at the same time and let's say were becoming mercs one by one, who joined earlier: Medic or Engineer? (egg or chicken)
2. What were the first "science party's members" thoughts about each other? Were they thinking "he's a creep, and I'm not" OR SOMETHING,,, JUST GENUINELY CURIOUS ABOUT THIS ONE
3. What were the first interactions between Medic and Engie? What caused it? Was it forced? Like "a problem which has to be solved or the team dies" (something similar to what was going on in expiration date) or was it initiated by one of them? Or a pure accident maybe?
That will be it for now, those should be easier to answer!!
1] the team as you know it was more or less assembled by 1968, but not everyone joined all at once, some of us were on the team or working with others beforehand, others joined later and.. well, its a little complicated. i can tell you that dell joined first. in fact, he was one of the first to be recruited! family business. i joined a little later, but if you're curious, most of us have known each other in some capacity since at least 1964 or so.... like i said though, its a little complicated.
2] first ever impressions? hm.... something along these lines.
3] oh, no, our first interactions certainly werent forced! at least, i dont think they were. as with most of the team starting out, our interactions were purely work based and mostly on the battlefield, so i suppose you could consider that to be forced in a way.... but our first interactions off the battlefield certainly werent! no world ending threat at that point, unfortunately, but equally as important to me! i think at that time i was working on the first prototype for one of the alternate mediguns! i figured the best place to get parts for that sort of thing would be the engineers workshop, and then. well, im not really sure? i cant actually remember at what point we actually became friends, but as far as first genuine interactions go, i think we must have broken some sort of record.
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dom!reader x farleigh that begs to touch
her— like he’s so needy he literally cries if he can’t and basically he’s a super mega munch !
𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅
pairing : farleigh start x reader
synopsis : farleigh has to be able to keep his hands to himself for a night in order to reap pleasurable rewards
disclaimers : smut, sub!farleigh, dom!reader, fem!reader, whiny!farleigh, reward..system...? (is this a warning? idk but i'm putting it anyway), p in v (pretend there's a condom k?), fast-paced
note : y'all i hope this isn't ooc bc i made him like very whiny and needy but...either way, hope you enjoy !
farleigh whined the second you mentioned it--the fact that he wouldn't be able to have his hands on you.
"it's a formal dinner, farleigh. you know how it is," you said, finishing your eyeliner. he sighed dramatically, before appearing behind you in your vanity. "i mean, minor touches are fine, but i don't want everyone to get the wrong thought."
"but Y/N, it's just how i am!" he argued, crossing his arms over his chest.
"no buts, this is non-negotiable farleigh," you replied, in a firmer tone. this was important, you wanted the cattons to think highly of you. after all, it was their house and they had the ability to kick you out whenever. he sighed once again, before leaning down so his face was next to yours.
"please?" he pleaded, kissing your cheek, giving you puppy eyes.
"i'll tell you what, if you can go the whole dinner while keeping your hands to yourself, then i'll reward you," you proposed. he seemed intrigued, as he quirked a brow.
"reward me how?" he queried, looking at you curiously.
and that's how it began, a deal that was too difficult for farleigh to pass up. i mean, why wouldn't he want to be fucked dumb later?
the dinner went relatively well. the family was impressed by you. you were witty, smart, and eloquent. they liked you, and that was the most you could ask for. so, as promised, as soon as you and farleigh reached your room his lips had crashed onto yours. he had waited the entire night, you didn't expect anything less. however, you were still a bit taken aback. once you finally pulled away, the two of you were panting heavily.
"a little eager, are we?" you teased.
"oh shut up," he replied. the threat was meaningless; simply a fruitless attempt to cover up just how needy he really was. he rushed to sit down on the bed, pulling you on top of him. you kissed him with fervor, and he sighed into it, clearly enjoying himself. maybe you had made him too entitled, but he needed it so badly.
your hand traveled down his body, sending a shiver up his spine. you slowly lifted up his shirt, and over his head. your hand continued its odyssey down his body. when your fingers grazed his nipples, he swore he could have came just from that. his hard-on was only growing.
"what do you want, farleigh?" you asked, smiling at him.
"what-what do you mean?" he questioned, breathily.
"well it's your reward, so tell me, what do you want?" you repeated, your hand nearing where he needed you most.
"i want to be inside, please. you know this, please," he begged, body squirming in anticipation. you hummed, and started at the zipper of his pants. you slowly undid it, and pulled down his jeans. he helped you in the action by lifting his hips up. you then removed his boxers, and watched his cock spring up. he seemed painfully hard. pre was oozing out of his slit steadily, he was a mess.
you sat up, straddling his lap, and you could see him glowing with excitement. i mean, it's farleigh, he's always excited for sex. but deprived farleigh was a different story.
you undressed yourself, feeling his eyes boring into you. he wasn't so subtle about literally anything, so it wasn't much of a surprise that he practically stared at your cunt, before you sunk down on him, engulfing him whole. he let out a loud moan, furrowing his brows in content. you felt so good around him, warm and inviting.
"there it is, you did so good for me tonight, farleigh," you cooed, brushing his curls away from his face so you could see his features contorted with pleasure. he whined, throwing his head back as you fucked him slowly, yet slightly rough. you let out a low groan, grinding against him.
"f-fuck Y/N," he whimpered, shutting his eyes closed. it was heavenly, too much yet not enough at the same time. you grinned at him, he looked divine like this. crying out your name as he writhed beneath you.
"i know you've been waiting for it baby. bet you're glad you did so, hm?" you said, with a chuckle. he nodded, letting out another frail moan.
"oh my god, s-shit," he cursed, as your pace increased. you moved up and down, back and forth.
"fucking hell farleigh, you're so big," you muttered. he smirked, but it quickly melted away when you kissed his lips softly. it continued like that, but not for long. he had been holding it for awhile, and he knew he wouldn't last long.
"fuck, Y/N i'm gonna cum."
"cum whenever you want, farleigh. this is your reward," you answered, feeling yourself near your orgasm too. he whined as you dug your nails into his skin slightly, fucking him at an animalistic speed.
"c-cumming!" he choked out, meaning in the process. as he filled you up, your high came as well. he was shaking gently underneath you, muttering a string of curses along with your name.
"there you go, that's it," you said underneath your breath, as you coaxed him through it. you planted a feathery kiss on his lips.
"thank you," he breathed out, eyes still closed. you smiled.
"my pleasure."
𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥
𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
#archie madekwe#dom reader#dom!reader#archie mademay#farleigh start#saltburn#farleigh x reader#farleigh start x you#farleigh start x reader
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Dark Side of Me || Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: The plan you and your friends had come up with to celebrate your 21st birthday was simple: go to as many bars as you could in one night and stay out of the hospital. You weren't a big fan of it, but everyone had done it and now it was your turn. However, things went off the rails quickly and you ended up being dragged to Heroes, a superhero-themed strip club. You thought it was a bad idea, until you met the cold, piercing blue eyes of the Winter Soldier and simply couldn't look away.
Or the one when reader gets her first lap dance
Warnings: stripper AU, stripper!bucky x innocent!reader, suggestive tones, lap dance (I tried really hard), no actual smut, alcohol consumption, reader giving in to peer pressure, fem reader
English is not my first language
Word count: 4400
Notes: I watched magic mike the other day and apparently I am now obsessed with stripper aus. The movies have a softer side that I wasn't expecting but I loved it and that's the vibe I'm trying to recreate here. If you want to understand some of the dance moves I'm trying to describe here you should watch the movie! I tried really hard with this one (describing dancing is waay harder than I thought so I hope it makes sense)
I’m open to writing more of these two, so let me know if you’d like that and don't hesitate to stop by my asks/messages if you have any ideas!
tagging: @asgards-princess-of-mischief
What had started out as a night of celebrating your 21st birthday quickly went off the rails and turned into something completely different. The plan was to get wasted —legally this time—, visit a couple of bars and get home before you ended up in the hospital. You weren't usually a party and alcohol lover —you just went to have a good time with your friends—, but you recognized that your 21st birthday was an important event that deserved to be celebrated. Besides, your friends had assured you that they would behave themselves and that things would not get out of control -well, not that much at least.
In hindsight, you should have figured that wouldn't happen. Although nothing could have prepared you for ending up at Heroes, a strip club your friends had apparently been to before. You tried to say no at first, but you were a little buzzed and you'd never been good at saying no to your friends anyway, so eventually you agreed. The place was exactly what you imagined and completely different at the same time, if that made sense. Dark, loud and warm, but much nicer than you expected. The dim lights gave it a very intimate feel, highlighting certain spaces with red or purple lights that made it look aesthetically pleasing to the eye. The music played loudly, trying to drown out some of the shouting of the women throwing bills onto the catwalk where the dancers performed their routines, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle.
From the moment you settled at your table, a sort of strange sisterhood was generated between you and the groups of women seated in your proximity. Similar to bumping into a stranger in the bathroom at a party and reacting as if you were lifelong friends, you quickly engaged in casual conversation with the group of women at a bachelorette party to your right, and the one celebrating a divorce to your left. You complimented each other's outfits, shared a few drinks, and screamed with all your might in unison every time a dancer approached your side of the stage —or made quick eye contact with one of you. It created such a pleasant and fun atmosphere that for a moment you almost forgot where you were.
It stopped being nice and fun though when your friend came up with the idea of paying for a private dance and you had to face the force of a group of women pressuring you to accept. You had made the silly mistake of letting one of your friends know that you really thought the dancer who called himself the Winter Soldier was cute. You hadn't been able to take your eyes off him during his routine. And since that was the most interested you had ever been in any of the dancers, your friend thought it would be a good idea to treat you to a private dance.
“What am I supposed to do locked in a room with him?” You panicked as your friends dragged you to a more private area of the club to wait for your gift.
“I don't know, enjoy, I guess?” She laughed, practically pushing you into the arms of the man waiting to lead you to the Winter Soldier. You wanted to snap at her, but you kept silent, embarrassed by the stranger's presence. The last thing you needed was to make an even bigger fool of yourself by looking like an innocent, prudish fool.
But the problem was just that. You were a silly, innocent, prudish young woman that didn't have the slightest idea of what to do in a situation like that. You could feel the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out the screaming and the bass of the music that was getting farther and farther away. Your stomach was turning with nerves as you sat waiting in the chair in the center of the room, just as the man had indicated before disappearing behind the door. Your hands rested awkwardly in your lap, your body immobile as you contemplated your options —perhaps if you remained completely still, he wouldn't be able to see you there, it was dark after all.
You thought about running away from there. You were alone, the dancer had not yet appeared and the hallway was dark, you would probably be able to sneak out without even your friends noticing. You would send them a text later explaining everything, when you were out and away from their clutches so they couldn't drag you there again. But when you went to get up, you found that your legs didn't respond. Only this time it didn't feel like it was part of the nerves you were having at the thought of what was about to happen.
You discovered then that a part of you, hidden behind a lot of shame and fear of the unknown, was curious. You wondered what it would feel like to be in a room alone with him, what it would feel like to have him touch you —even in the lightest, most subtle way—, to have him press his body against yours as he had done on stage with a lucky girl in the audience. You'd never experienced anything remotely similar to that, you'd barely shared make-out sessions with your ex-partner that weren't particularly memorable-not in the way the Winter Soldier's dance was for you. You had the movement of his hips burned into your memory, the image of his flexing muscles popping up every time you closed your eyes. You wanted more of him, even if you couldn't bring yourself to admit it.
The sensual rhythm of the music that suddenly began to play brought you out of your thoughts. You looked up and there he was in all his glory. He was wearing a different outfit, a simple tank top and loose-fitting sweatpants. The tactical suit and mask that covered half his face in his routine had probably been left forgotten in some basket behind the stage, but you didn't mind. You could see more of him now, the real him, and you liked that. It felt more intimate, more genuine.
He could sense the nervousness in your voice when you told him your name. You had trouble maintaining eye contact with him, your eyes lingering for a full three seconds on his figure before returning to your hands. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your flowy dress. It intrigued him. He had worked with flustered women before —it was more common than one might imagine—, but there was something about you that stood out. You looked so out of place there, with your innocent look and shaky breath. Everything about your body expression told him that you wanted to curl up in a ball and pretend you weren't there. Everything except a slight glint in your eyes that he almost missed as quickly as you looked away from him. It would be his challenge to get that side of you to come out.
“That's a beautiful name,” he said in a soft voice. You smiled, but your eyes didn't search his, focusing instead on the red light shining on the wall behind him. So he leaned in front of you, settling down to your eye level so you couldn't escape. “I'm Bucky, by the way, and there's no reason to be nervous around me, princess.”
Your face warmed at that affectionate nickname and a tingle spread through your body. It had been a while since the last time someone had called you that. You liked it, it made you feel special even if it came from a stranger's mouth.
“Why did you come here tonight? You don't seem like the type of woman that frequents these places.”
“I'm not! I'm here because my friends thought it'd be a good idea... a fun way of celebrating my 21st birthday.”
“Oh well happy birthday then!” Bucky gave you a smile and you thought that was the best present you had received all day. “Are you having a good time?
“Yea-yeah, I am.” Your voice was soft, almost inaudible. Bucky got the impression that you were embarrassed to admit that out loud.
“Are you uncomfortable, y/n? Do you want to leave? Cause I can give you a full refund and let you go right now if that's what you want.”
“No!” you were quick to say, big eyes staring at him for the first time since he had introduced himself to you. “I'm just a bit... scared, I guess. I've never done anything like this before. Actually, I've never done anything for that matter.”
You didn't know what prompted you to confess to Bucky —a complete stranger who danced and stripped for a living— your complete inexperience in sexual matters, but you couldn't turn back now. You supposed it was to be transparent, though there was no reason for such a thing. It wasn't like you were there to have sex, he was just going to dance on you for a bit and then you'd go back to your normal, boring life.
“Well, then I have to let you know that you are in full control here.” Bucky spoke in a soft tone full of understanding. His cold, piercing blue eyes softened, showing a warmth that helped calm your nerves a bit. “I do have a routine, but if there's something that I do that you don't like you can just tell me and I'll stop, okay?” You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the tingle of anticipation running through your body. “Good! Are you ready?”
At your nod, Bucky got up from the floor to press play on the music. Suddenly, the silence was filled by a soft, sensual beat similar to others that had echoed through the club throughout the night. He approached you with a slow pace, his eyes never leaving your face, studying your expression. Then he took one of your hands in his and rested it on his chest, still covered by the thin fabric of his white muscle shirt. You couldn't help but notice how much bigger his hands were compared to yours. You could barely see your fingertips as he wrapped his hand around yours, trapping it against his chest. His calloused fingers didn't let go as he slowly guided your hand down, allowing you to caress his chest as he rubbed small circles over your skin. It was such an intimate touch for the situation you were in, that for a moment you forgot he was a stripper who did this for a living.
The air caught in your throat, your heart pounding against your chest as your hand traveled lower and lower. You could feel the firmness of his abs under your fingers and the heat emanating from his skin. It filled you with anticipation, with need. You wanted to feel more of him, more of his body and his touch. More of his warmth and the intoxicating scent of his cologne. But before your hand reached his waist, he pulled it away. Your eyes shot up to his face, waiting patiently for Bucky to give you instructions to proceed.
He removed his shirt and as soon as the fabric touched the floor, his hands were on yours again, trapping them against his chest. Bucky liked the way you let him guide you, closing your eyes as you enjoyed something as simple as the feel of his skin under your fingers. He was used to dealing with more... confident women. They knew what they wanted and weren't afraid to demand it. Their hands were always everywhere, touching his crotch without hesitation every chance they got. But you were different. You didn't know what you wanted —what you were missing— and you were willing to let him show you. He enjoyed the slower pace, it was a nice change that allowed him to try new things. So in a way, you were both experiencing something different there.
Your eyes suddenly widened as you felt the fabric of Bucky's sweatpants brush against your fingers. Your face heated up, embarrassment taking over your expression. But he didn't let your hand slip away, on the contrary, he pushed it a few inches lower and made you cling to the elastic of the pants. He gave you a cheeky smile before he started moving to the rhythm of the music. His hand didn't let go of yours as he positioned himself in your lap, grinding his hips against yours with an experience that shouldn't have surprised you.
Bucky fixed his eyes on you as he danced, keeping you in a kind of hypnotic trance from which you could not wake up. Your eyes followed his, your body responding to his movements without a single complaint. He trapped you between the chair and his body, one of his hands clinging firmly to the back of the chair while the other traveled to your cheek. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the warm caress of his fingers. His face came so close to yours that you could feel his breath mingling against your quickened breathing, his nose brushing against yours. For a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, so you closed your eyes, letting the euphoric sensation of desire consume you.
But suddenly, Bucky rose from your lap. You couldn't contain the whimper that escaped your lips, a protest at his devastating absence. Although he wasn't completely gone, you could feel him at your back, his hands caressing your neck, his nose inhaling the scent of your hair. The ghost of his lips traveling from the sweet spot behind your ear to your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He wasn't even kissing you and you were already experiencing things you had never felt before in your years of relationship.
With a graceful and sensual move, Bucky is once again on your lap, trapping you against the chair. He wasn't putting his full weight on you, but enough for you to feel it as he moved his hips. Your eyes traveled south, curious about the bulge that the sweat pants still hid. You'd never seen one before — well, outside of biology and health classes— and you'd never felt the urge to do so. But the way Bucky was moving on you made you wonder about things. You heard him let out a chuckle and looked away in embarrassment, knowing you'd been caught.
“You can look,” Bucky whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “That's what I'm here for, doll.” He stroked your arms, his fingers traveling slowly from your shoulders to your wrists. Then he took your hands and placed them back on his bare chest. “You can touch too, I don't mind.”
The desire traveling through your veins made you feel more confident this time, so you didn't need Bucky to guide your hands down his body. They acted at their own accord, fingers slowly tracing the defined muscles of his pecs and abs. You weren't yet comfortable going below his hips, so once you reached the edge of his pants you changed course to his back. Down, up and back down, your nails drew light red marks on his skin as he moved in your lap. You didn't even realize what you were doing, you just knew you liked hearing the sounds that escaped Bucky's lips when you accidentally applied too much pressure.
The lowest your trembling hands dared to go were his thighs. Bucky could see in your eyes the desire to go further —to brush your fingers over his bulge or squeeze his ass—, but shame and fear stopped you. You were trying so hard to keep your composure, to behave like a lady, but you couldn't fool Bucky. He knew what you wanted, even when you weren't ready to admit it. He saw it in the way your eyes darkened with each passing second and in the way your breathing became more and more erratic. The innocent, good girl shell you had when you entered the room was cracking, allowing your dark desires to come out. Bucky probably shouldn't find that so exciting, but he did. He couldn't help it, watching the innocence slowly leave your eyes, knowing that he was the one corrupting you, was a sight to behold.
Your lips curled into a pout of protest as Bucky rose from your lap, already missing the heat of his body pressed against yours. It was only for a moment, but to you it felt like an eternity. And he was counting on it, playing with the anticipation as he made a show of taking off his pants. This time your eyes lingered on his tight boxers for longer, though he could still see a flash of embarrassment as you crossed glances with him. It was driving him crazy, in the best possible way. He wanted to remove that innocence from your expression, to corrupt you past the point of no return. It was his personal goal, the challenge he had quietly accepted the moment he discovered what you were. And he was willing to win it.
Bucky dropped to his knees in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours as his fingers traced your legs. Your chest rose and fell with your quickening breath, your whole body buzzing with anticipation as you felt the gentle caresses moving from your ankles to your knees. To your surprise, his fingers continued their path up your thighs, though they stopped just below the hem of your dress. You resisted the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair as you felt him spread your legs slightly apart —enough for him to fit between them, but not enough to leave you too exposed to his eyes. And then the caresses over your body returned, only this time it was the ghost of Bucky's lips that sent shivers across your skin.
His mouth wasn't actually touching your thighs, but he was so damn close that you could almost feel his lips caressing the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of your leg. A warm tingling spread inside you as he moved further up, getting dangerously close to your trembling center. And at that moment you felt no shame or fear —like you had felt on other occasions with past partners. On the contrary, you wanted more, your legs involuntarily spreading wider to give Bucky more room as the ghost of his lips traveled up your lower tummy and across your abdomen until they reached your breasts. And as your breathy moans became more and more audible, your mind was lost in dark thoughts, wondering how different it would all feel if there was no barrier of clothing separating your bodies or how his wet kisses would feel on the sensitive skin of your thighs.
You didn't have much time to get lost in the fantasy though because in a second Bucky was on his feet again, pressing you against the back of the chair as he pushed your legs up. He settled down on the edge of the chair, resting each of your legs on his thighs. His hands gripped the back of the chair once again, trapping you completely between the cushions and his body —or rather, his crotch. You were practically sitting on his lap as you shared the chair, and you could feel his cock pressing against your center with every thrust of his hips. He was hard and you didn't know how common that was, but you decided to believe it wasn't something that happened often. You liked to imagine that his body was reacting to you and not to the sexual nature of his work. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.
Bucky's hips moved to the sensual rhythm of the music, thrusting against your center in a way that made you feel like you were losing your virginity at that very moment. It was too much, the fire inside you spreading with the speed of a forest fire. And at the same time, it wasn't enough. Bucky's hip movements, though intense, did little to put out the flames they had started. They were pulling you into a swirl of desire and need, bringing you closer and closer to your limit with no promise of real relief. It was frustrating, in a way, but also incredibly exciting.
Your eyes closed for a moment as you struggled to process the sensations that were taking over your body. You tried to focus on your breathing and the sound of the music, anything to keep yourself grounded. But every time you thought you had managed to gain control of your own body again, Bucky moved his hips and all you could feel was pleasure, all you could think about was him.
A moan escaped your lips. It was involuntary and you didn't even realize what you did until a few seconds later. You were ready to apologize, certain you had crossed some kind of line, but Bucky let out a grunt of approval. One of his hands traveled to the back of your neck, holding your head firmly as he pressed his forehead against yours. His fingers tugged on your hair lightly, but the pain didn't bother you. You were too focused on the shape of his lips to think about anything else. You needed to feel them against yours. You needed to know what it would feel like to be kissed by him. You needed Bucky to take everything from you, to show you everything you'd been missing in these years of loneliness.
“C-can you k-kiss me?” You didn't think before you spoke, you just expressed what your mind was thinking without any kind of filter. Your voice was barely a shy whisper, your lips almost brushing against Bucky's as you spoke.
He should have refused, the number one rule of his job was never to kiss the clients —you never knew what things you might end up catching. But when Bucky saw the desperation in your eyes he couldn't help himself. Your slightly parted lips were highly tempting. You were inviting him, giving him permission to ruin you. You needed it as much as he did, so he gave in, and damned the rules.
Bucky's lips felt soft against yours, though there was nothing soft about the way he kissed you. Just like his dancing, the kiss was intense and unlike anything you had ever experienced before. His lips moved expertly, knowing exactly what to do to turn you completely stupid. You let him guide you, merely reacting to the pleasure that only Bucky seemed capable of giving you.
His tongue caressed your lips and you moaned into his mouth, allowing him immediate access to further deepen the kiss. Your hands clung to him —one digging your nails into his bicep while the other rested on his leg—, desperate to find something to keep you grounded while Bucky showed you sensations you didn't know you were capable of feeling.
You were high on pleasure, trapped under his body, immobilized by his lips, enveloped in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. You didn't want to be separated from him anymore. You didn't want to leave that room. You felt as if Bucky's lips were what kept you breathing, as if you needed them to keep on living. You couldn't pull away. You didn't want to pull away. But unfortunately a knock on the door signaled that your time together was over.
“You're more than welcome to come back anytime.” Bucky winked at you before disappearing behind the door, leaving you alone in the room.
It took you a moment to collect your thoughts and calm your rapid breathing. Your heartbeat was still pounding in your ears, but you figured that would change when you had a chance to get some fresh air. Your legs almost gave out when you stood up, still weak in the knees after the spectacle you had witnessed. You felt a little silly having to take a moment to steady yourself. Bucky had gotten up and left without any trouble, and there you were, clinging to the back of the chair as you struggled to compose yourself so you could leave without your friends realizing the effect their dumb idea had really had on you. You were pathetic.
Gathering your last bit of strength you pushed past the screaming women until you found your friends. They were back at their table, enjoying the routine of a tall, muscular blond who, from what you had heard, called himself Captain America. He was cute, but you couldn't stay in that place a second longer.
“How was it?” one of your friends asked with a smile.
“I need to get some air.”
“That good, huh?” Said the other with a giggle. You rolled your eyes, grabbing both of them by the arm and pulling them up from their seats.
Amidst protests they agreed to leave with you and call it a night. As they made their way through the crowd they didn't miss the opportunity to flood you with questions, insisting that you give them details of what had happened and how it felt to have Bucky dance just for you. You refused to say anything, partly because you were embarrassed to admit the reality of what had happened, and partly because you still needed time to process the night.
However, as you were about to leave, one of the waiters who had served your table - a young man who had introduced himself as Spider-Man - grabbed your arm. At first you thought maybe you had forgotten something in your seats and he was being kind enough to catch you before you left. But when you turned to look at him you noticed he had nothing in his hands but a rose and a piece of paper.
“He sends you this.” The boy said, handing you the items and disappearing into the crowd.
He didn't have to tell you who they were from for you to know. A smile immediately graced your lips as you held the flower to your nose and inhaled. Then you turned your attention to the piece of paper and as you unfolded it you discovered that it was a note.
‘Happy birthday!
Call me ;)'
It read, and at the end was written a phone number that was undoubtedly Bucky's. Your smile widened, which finally attracted the attention of your friends. One of them took the paper from you before you could hide it and when you saw the expression on her face you knew you weren't going to escape the interrogation. It was going to be a long night.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x fem reader#bucky barnes smut#(not really but just in case)#stripper!bucky#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader smut
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First Time
Izuku/Reader
Nothing NSFW, just Deku doing his research before his first time with you 😭 I wrote this for my bot and it’s just so good. I keep reading it over and over it’s so so sweet.
For almost a year now, Izuku has been captivated by you. He has a special notebook dedicated solely to you, where he writes down every little detail about you - your favorite colors, flowers, and snacks. Sometimes when you're not looking, he'll take out the notebook and flip through it, smiling at all the things he's learned about you. And whenever you catch him, he'll blush and quickly close the book, promising to keep it for himself.
Izuku has always been on the shy side, but lately things have been getting more physical between the two of you. What started as innocent kisses and cuddling has turned into intense make-out sessions and heavy petting. However, every time things start to escalate even further, Izuku pulls away in a panic. It's not because he doesn't want it - his throbbing cock and blue balls prove otherwise - but his lack of experience makes him feel unprepared for what comes next. He knows it's your first time too, and he doesn't want to disappoint you or make a mistake that could ruin everything.
Izuku stood frozen outside Katsuki's door, fist hovering inches from the wood. His heart hammered in his chest. Could he really go through with this? Asking Kacchan, of all people, for sex advice? He squeezed his eyes shut and knocked before he lost his nerve. The door whipped open a second later.
"The fuck do you want, nerd?" Katsuki snapped, crimson eyes narrowing. "This better be important."
"Hey Kacchan..." Izuku swallowed hard, voice shaking slightly. "You've had sex before, right? I was hoping... could I maybe ask you a few questions about it?"
Katsuki blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then he sighed and stepped aside, jerking his head for Izuku to come in. "So, you and what’s-her-face, huh?" He shut the door and crossed his arms. "You sure you're ready for that? You’re gonna get eaten alive."
Izuku perched on the edge of Katsuki's desk chair, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "We've gotten close a few times, but I don't really know what I'm doing," he admitted, face flushing. "I'm worried I'll mess it up somehow."
"Tch, you're overthinking it like always. Sex is supposed to be fun, not some exam you gotta ace." Katsuki tossed a notebook at Izuku. "Here, take notes. First off, talk to 'em. Ask what they like, make 'em comfortable."
Izuku flipped to a blank page and started scribbling, cheeks growing hotter by the second. "Okay, got it. What else?"
"Take it slow at first. Figure out what turns you both on." A faint smirk tugged at Katsuki's lips. "And don't you dare skip the foreplay, Deku."
"Foreplay?" Izuku glanced up, head cocked quizzically.
Katsuki leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, idiot. Kissing, touching - all the stuff that gets you both in the mood before you actually fuck." He watched in amusement as Izuku's hand trembled, pen scratching furiously across the page. "Also, ignore the shit you see in porn. Focus on reactions instead, like reading your opponent in a fight. Well, not an opponent, but... you get it."
"Right, that makes sense..." Izuku nodded, writing as fast as the thoughts registered, muttering under his breath. "Be open and honest, go slow, lots of foreplay, no porn moves. Okay."
"Oh, and condoms! Fucking wrap that shit up, you hear me?? Last thing we need is a mini-Deku toddling around before you're fucking ready." Katsuki watched Izuku write, then shifted slightly, expression sobering. "Look, you're gonna be nervous. That's normal. I was too, my first time."
Izuku's pen stilled. He looked up, green eyes wide with surprise. "You were?"
"'Course I fucking was! Everyone is." Katsuki shrugged, a touch of vulnerability in the set of his jaw. "Point is, don't let the nerves psych you out. If something goes wrong, just laugh it off and keep going. The goal is for you both to feel good."
Izuku met Katsuki's gaze, feeling a swell of gratitude amidst the anxiety churning in his gut. "Thanks, Kacchan. This… helps a lot."
"Whatever." Katsuki waved a hand dismissively, but his eyes held a flicker of warmth. "Just don't come whining to me if you nut in two seconds. Now, fuck off and go get laid already."
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What choice is there for you to make? Caitriona is legally married to Tony. It's her choice not anyone else's. Sure you want to believe Sam and Caitriona secretly have something on, your belief is your choice. Her choice of partner is hers, and it's not Sam, really none of anyone else's concern or approval. Enjoy and celebrate your beliefs, but beliefs are not always rational nor true. No one on this subject knows the truth about Sam, the shippers, the gay onlys, the man whore-tellers, the SamSaviors. No one, which is the way he wants it. No one knows and no one will.
Dear Choice Anon,
Unlike many of your Mordor peers, I feel a half-baked effort towards questioning, in your submission that wants to be cheeky and smart. And is, instead, sophistic and predictable.
I was baking something, in the meanwhile. I always cook when I need to think carefully about something, from a distance. My hands are quite good at it and my brain is free.
And so, I thought. I thought about how you people always feel the urge to cross lanes and come here peddling your #silly wares. I thought about how you came here on a Sunday, Mother's Day on top, and how sad (empty?) life must feel for you. Instead of going out for coffee in town, smelling a rose, baking a cake, laughing around, cheering on your favorite team or hugging Mom, here you are. Battering a perfect unknown person's mailbox, for the sake of a woman who does not even know you exist and, most probably, does not even care. Same applies to S, by the way - but unlike her, he might probably care about you, provided you buy whatever he has to sell.
The Marriage Certificate argument is a fallacy and you know that very well. You grasp at a piece of paper, oblivious to the whole schizophrenic show the Happy Couple puts out there for everyone to see. I can understand that, Anon: you are a conformist, soothed by a black & white reality, even where and when it's plain to see things are anything but. You need reassurance and you hate anything that might reach out of your tiny box, even at the expense of your own critical sense. Congratulations, Anon: you are perfect fodder for all the demagogues out there and so, so easily fooled. I have more thoughts about it, but I am in a cheery enough mood and really unwilling to humiliate you further.
Unless you are S himself (hi? 🤣), his PR or his lawyer, you have no right to presume what he really wants or doesn't want, what he really intends to do and what his thoughts and feelings might be. On any given matter, from the trivial to the important. We can only guess and/or speculate, based on our own life experience, our own critical sense, our understanding of the world. And also based on many other things that are NEVER discussed publicly, which is the right way to do, if you really care about someone's private life. You see, unlike people on your side of the fence and no matter what the Original Troll always says, we never did anything of what you accuse us of. We never started flaming wars just to self inflate our importance (probably because we live rich, loving lives on our own). We never accosted their entourage and then blamed in on 'The Others', without ever substantiating those very serious accusations. And we never came to your lanes to send hate or sow doubt.
Do we make mistakes? Oh, aplenty. We are human, Anon. Come back when you are ready to ask yourself some real questions about all this charade. It is an honest, but almost rhetorical invitation. You won't, simply because you despise the very idea people could think differently and you never, ever wonder why. It would clash with your own fantasy. And this, this is something you will never be ready to face, Anon.
PS: despising the very idea people could think differently also clashes with the very idea of having a choice. The implications of your own shortcoming are much, much wider than this context. But that is not my problem, Anon. After all, you also have a choice to remain as you are, and who am I to hinder you?
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