#I already have the next two parts for this planned out

[vampirehoon]

annoyed with you (in love with you)

paring ⟢ sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis ⟢ after planning a trip to the beach with your friend group, you begin to dread your possible encounter with sunghoon. you wouldn’t say sunghoon is your enemy but you hate when he teases you. you prepare to be teased when unexpectedly sunghoon doesn’t tease you like he usually does and when he seemed to bother you, he apologized - sincerely. you wonder what’s up with him and why he’s acting different.

w.c ⟢ 2.7k

genre ⟢ love/hate, friends to lovers, summer trip

The plan for a relaxing day at the beach finally managed to leave the group chat and be put into action. Everyone drove up to Heeseung’s place, as his house was closer to the beach, and brought along their beach items. Heeseung offered to drive all of you to the beach, which began arguments between the boys while stuffing beach towels in the trunk. You didn’t mind where you sat, as long as you didn’t sit next to Sunghoon.

Yes, you always tell yourself it’s childish to be stubborn and not sit next to him but you have good reasons. Sunghoon has been your friend the shortest time in your group and somehow has managed to discover every pet peeve and annoyance you have before Jay could fully remember your birthday. He uses that to his advantage whenever out to eat together or play games. He thinks it's hilarious but it gets on your nerves.

Sitting next to him would mean you wouldn’t be able to avoid his jabs and his teasing. You could have worn your headphones to ignore him but you forgot it at home, as well as your sunscreen. Are you always this forgetful?

Someone would surely not let you forget that.

“Out of everyone, I’d expect the girl to have sunscreen.” Sunghoon places his bag in the trunk of the car, patting it down, and turning around to smirk at you.

How lucky he is that you remembered sunglasses and are glaring at him behind them.

“Thanks, Sunghoon." "It’s good to see you too.” You bitterly smiled and walked away.

The gravel underneath your sandals rattled with every step and you knew Sunghoon was following you as the gravel under his shoes were loud.

“Was that too mean?” Sunghoon spoke behind you, gaining up to you. “You know, I have extra sunscreen if you need it.”

You stopped in your path, Sunghoon was late to stop as he had to walk back to stand in front of you. Before you could ever accept his (skeptical) generous offer, you were searching for a smirk or any hint of a joke in his mannerisms. You were baffled he was serious and truly offering you sunscreen.

Your lips parted to say something to him but Sunoo’s scream trailed out of the house. He raced down the path the two of you were on as Jungwon had a water gun in his hand. Heeseung and Jake followed out the door with beach chairs in hand. Heeseung spotted the two of you together and flashed a big grin your way.

“Ready to go?” Heeseung smiled and bounced his gaze from you to Sunghoon.

You and sunghoon nodded silently and watched Heeseung walk down the path to his car. The trees shook in the summer wind and a bird cried overhead.

You’d have a lot to think about in the car.

You all showed up at the beach and Jay and Niki were already there - Heeseung told you on the drive there that they rode their skateboards down. Sunghoon had sat in the back along with Jake and were talking nonsense, you took the passenger before anyone could but as the drive began you wished you sat by sunghoon.. for some reason.

The beach was breathtaking, the wind was strong enough to create waves for surfers but not too strong enough to blow sand around or tip over umbrellas.

You got out of the car after checking your hair in the sun visor mirror and walked to the trunk. The majority of the bags and coolers were taken by the boys and you grabbed what was left. 

You all settled close to shore, with a tent for shade and a table for the most important beach food: watermelon. Jay got to cutting the mouth-watering fruit immediately as everyone set up the spot.

Setting your towel down on the sand and taking off your sundress, you were ready to check the water. A watermelon in your hand and your sunglasses perched on your head as you walked to the shore. It was freezing, but you chose to stand there and enjoy the horizon. 

Someone's idea of fun was to surprise you and that was Jay. Jay had put on his sunscreen, laid out his towel and his cooler, and spotted you approaching the shore. He saw that the others were occupied by drinks and talking so Jay took the opportunity to seize Jungwon’s water gun (when he wasn’t watching) and spray your open back.

Stealthy, Jay walked around the tent and found Jungwon’s chair and his several summer items. Jay laughed to himself as he found Jungwon’s bucket and shovel but looked past it and found the water gun.

Sunghoon was still thinking about you. He watched you earlier excited for watermelon and admired you silently. He is aware he annoys you but he finds your reactions cute. As you revealed your swimsuit, he knew he teased you too much at times but if he could tell you how cute you were, he would mean it, and not in a teasing way.

You placed the rime of the watermelon up the shore as you moved back into the water. Nothing could bother you at this time.

That's when freezing water hits your bare back and you gasp. Immediately, you default any messing with you to be Sunghoon's doing and you yell Sunghoon's name as you fall in.

This alerted Sunghoon, who wasn't paying attention to what was going on, into worry. From what he sees and hears, You've called for his help and Jay is laughing at you a couple steps away. Sunghoon felt protective suddenly.

Out of nowhere, Sunghoon shouted as he walked over.

“Be careful with her.”

Jay tries to put a stop to his laughter and apologize to help you up but Sunghoon gets to you first as you groan sitting up. You realize that it wasn't Sunghoon who sprayed you and that it was Jay. Focusing on Sunghoon beside you, you feel your cheeks burn and it's not from the sun.

You wonder where Sunghoon has gone because before you an angel with his hand out.

You take his hand but not after sheepishly thanking him under your breath. You get back on your feet and anticipate Sunghoon to say something to you as he pauses in front of you.

“Sorry Y/N,” Jay says louder for you to hear and rubs his face. That's when he is struck with the same freezing water he shot at you. Sunghoon stands beside you, his ankles in the water, and splashes the water at Jay relentlessly. Sunghoon’s form of revenge.

You began to chuckle at the way Jay pleaded and Sunghoon’s amused laugh as he continued. Sunghoon turns his head back at you and asks you to help him. You couldn’t resist, Jay deserved it.

Jay seemed to remember he had a water gun after being (if not entirely already) drowned in water and fired back with his best attempt to block the water as well.

It’s Sunghoon who cries now, shivering as the water hits his skin.

The commotion is spotted by Niki and Heeseung.

“Oh my gosh.” Niki laughs, very entertained by this.

Jake and Jungwon look over, both holding watermelon slices. Jungwon spots his water gun in Jay's possession.

“Hey! That’s my water gun!” He points.

Jake takes a bite and then spits some juice from laughing when noticing Jay’s hair resembling a wet dog.

Jay still sprays the two of you, moving his hair out of his eyes as you two are defenseless.

Heeseung sees you and Sunghoon together, not bickering for once. Heeseung knows you two very well and was the one to have you two meet, he finds it very surprising you two are helping each other. 

Your hands are held up in front of you and your eyes are squeezed shut, yelling for Jay to quit it. Right after you yelled, you feel the water no longer on you. You open your eyes to see Sunghoon, with his arms out, standing in front of you to shield you. Your cheeks burn a soft pink.

“ACK IT'S SO COLD!” Sunghoon exclaims.

You're baffled, this isn’t what you envisioned this day out with Sunghoon would be. For some reason, you felt the need to shield Sunghoon as well.

You move under his arm and stand in front of him. Heroically saying, “I can protect you!”

Sunghoon couldn’t enjoy your cuteness as he was still getting hit by Jay. Adoring but slightly disappointed in your efforts.

“I would thank you but you're much smaller than me so I’m still getting hit.”

“No. I trust you. I am blocking all of it.” 

“Short people and their determination..” Sunghoon teases.

You sharply scoff, turning to him right as the spraying stopped - Jay ran out of water.

“Oh, screw you then.” You push Sunghoon.

Sunghoon manages to keep his balance and smirks.

“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon stands up, seeing the terror in your eyes. You try to make a run for it but Sunghoon gets a hold of your waist.

You can’t help but laugh as he holds you above the shallow water.

“Say sorry or I’ll throw you in.” Sunghoon holds you.

You are laughing and can't get words out.

“Are you ticklish?” Sunghoon asks, a smile forming on his lips from your infectious laugh.

“I don't know why I’m laughing” Tears are forming in your eyes. It’s uncontrollable and you don’t know why.

“But I am sorry!” You catch your breath and grip Sunghoon’s arm, scared to be thrown in.

Sunghoon lets you down.

“Thank you.”

You get down and fix your hair out of your face. You look over at Sunghoon and you can't lie and pretend you haven't been admiring his torso. He's still a pain in the butt and you won’t forget that.

You take the chance when he’s shaking his hair out and splash him with more water. He definitely could throw you in now but this is a game of cat and mouse now. You make a run for it when Sunghoon's mouth hangs open in betrayal.

Sunoo looks like your best candidate for a bodyguard and you wrap your arms around him. Sunghoon runs up to everyone under the tent.

“You are not dragging me into this.” Sunoo voices at you.

“You two are like Tom and Jerry.” Jungwon adds.

“Sunghoon is Tom.” You say as you grab another watermelon slice.

“Because I’m tall?” Sunghoon grabs a piece too, deciding to drop the chase but more than happy to chase you around if you get annoying again.

“No, because you start the arguments.” You evilly grin.

“No, I do not.” Sunghoon shakes his head, his mouth full of watermelon. You smiled at how cute he could be upset and eating watermelon.

“You do.” Niki chimes in, hitting a volleyball on Sunghoon’s shoulder. 

Sunghoon was going to say something but Niki spoke before him.

“There’s an open net," "Let's play a round.. or two."

The sky was getting dimmer but you all promised you would be back home before sunset. Volleyball was tiring and even more fun when sunghoon was on your team when before it would always be the opposite. Sunghoon called your name when you could hit the ball over and roared when you got them a point. You’ve always found Sunghoon handsome and fun but it was present now. The game died down and everyone returned to the spot to pack everything up.

You and Sunghoon sneak glances at each other as you loaded the car and even split a last part of the watermelon. You and Sunghoon were on your way to the car when you remembered you left your water at the volleyball court. You ran off without telling Sunghoon and assumed he would sit and wait in the car.

You reached the court and grabbed it and took a small sip. You stood there and looked around at the people who were heading home as well. The horizon was slowly growing with colors and your eyes trailed until you saw Sunghoon walking over. You nearly choked and had to clear your throat and turn your head so Sunghoon didn’t see you surprised.

You waited until he came to the court. He seemed to have a lot on his mind and it was different from just earlier, you two were sharing smiles. You read his face the best you could and hoped he would explain his expression.

Sunghoon sighed deeply and looked at you with heavy eyes.

“I’m sorry.” 

Those words leaving Sunghoon’s mouth felt painful. You’re hoping he’s okay because why on earth would be apologizing? 

“For what?” Your eyebrows furrow, genuinely worried.

Sunghoon looks sincere.

“Everything before.” He sighs, his eyes shining with the orange sky. You didn’t know what to say or what he could mean, everything was going well.

“I guess I never knew how to communicate my feelings to you and I’ve acted in a way that hurt you.” "I don't want my teasing to ruin our relationship."

You feel bad that you've let him think he's causing you trouble with teasing when you have just been childish. You don't mind his teasing, and if anything you like when he laughs at your expense.

You take Sunghoon’s hand and look at him.

“Sunghoon.” That’s all you had to say and Sunghoon’s attention was yours. You knew you had to say the perfect thing to communicate your feelings.

“I always forgive you,” “and I know why.”

Sunghoon looks at you softly, listening intently.

“I’m in love with you.”

Those words leaving your mouth felt truthful and genuine. You felt vulnerable sharing those with him but you knew that this is what you truly felt. You were annoyed with him because you didn’t understand you were in love with him.

Not a lot of people were still left on the beach, Sunghoon wouldn’t have cared if it was one person or a million. He wanted to kiss you and kiss you dearly underneath the purple and orange clouds and by the salt waves. He wanted to scoop you into his arms and be with you until sunrise.

Sunghoon took your waist and moved you closer to him, stopping before he would kiss you and not be able to stop. His heart and your heart were pumping fast in your chests.

“Can I kiss you?”

In a sunghoon fashion, he still managed to annoy you. How annoying that he’s been so caring and sweet today. How annoying he’s apologized for things he did because he liked you. How annoying he wouldn’t just kiss you and be your boyfriend.

You roll your eyes with your lips curling in a smile.

“Don’t make me wait.” 

Sunghoon laughs softly and leans in, his lips fit yours. Who knew kissing would make your thoughts melt away and your heart sing? Taking in every second of this kiss and it felt right. you broke apart and you've lost your confidence after the kiss. You can’t help but blush and avoid his gaze.

Sunghoon notices this and turns your head to him and his smile and laughs are infectious.

“Hey, what happened to the girl I kissed?” He teased, the confidence and shyness had traded from one another as he smirked.

“She’s been replaced by someone much cuter.” You’re essentially a strawberry at this point, he’s now discovered a new skin tone you could achieve. You playfully hit his shoulder and walk through the sand.

He catches up to you and interlocks your fingers. Sunghoon's apology was a kiss to your knuckle as he brought it to his soft lips.

“Do you want to walk around and or get ice cream?” You look up at Sunghoon and he melts.

“Can we?” 

“Don’t make me wait.” Sunghoon takes off, running ahead of you, and makes you laugh for the hundredth time.

Laughing will not get old with Sunghoon and you know it. Charging after him, you know that you’ll never get tired of his teasing or how he smiles.

It’s impossible to be annoyed by him because you’re in love with him and he is in love with you.

#vampireh𝜗𝜚n #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x female reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon x you #enhypen summer fic #enhypen fanfiction

[ahockeywrites]

surprise pt 1- nh13

pairing: nico hischier x girlfriend!reader word count: 1k warnings: no explicit smut but thoughts of it, swearing bc I’ve written it authors note: this isn’t smut! are you proud of me? part two coming next week lovelies :) part 2

“In what world did my sister think that it would be a good idea for me to go to this event with Dawson,” you groaned into Nico’s chest.

“In her defence,” Nico nuzzled his head into your shoulder. “We haven’t told anyone we’re dating.”

“But that doesn’t mean I want to go to an event with her boyfriend’s friend.” Sighing, you got up from your boyfriend’s lap and walked over to check the calendar that was on your refrigerator. You knew that the charity casino event was coming up and you had told Nico to go it alone. Your sister was going with Luke, naturally, and you were more than happy to have a night in just watching a movie.

But no, she thought that you hadn’t had a good lay in over a year and that you should hang out with Dawson. Little did anyone know that you were perfectly happy dating Dawson and Luke’s captain.

You sipped on the cool water and tried to think of ways of not going to the event with Dawson. He was lovely but if you were going to be going to a Devils event, it would be on the arm of your boyfriend.

“How about,” you thought out loud, “I say that I’ve got a work thing that night that u can’t get out of?”

“Nah,” Nico stole the glass of water from you and downed the rest of it. “You’d have told her about that already if you knew.”

“What if I told Alex I was coming down with food poisoning?”

“Babe, all you eat is chicken tenders and pizza,” Nico raised an eyebrow at you. “You cannot get food poisoning from sticking something in the oven at 180 degrees for 20 minutes.”

You rolled your eyes at him, even though you knew he was right. 

“How about I just say no?” You sighed as all the thinking had started to hurt your head.

Nico ran his hands through his hair as he thought about the situation that your sister had put you in.

“Right,” Nico started. “You tell Alex that you can’t go, I say I’m bringing a plus one. We just announce the relationship by us walking into the event together?”

You and Nico had thought about telling your friends and family about your relationship but you hadn’t found the right time. Maybe this was the right time. 

“Okay, I like that plan,” you agreed with your boyfriend. “Now what do I need to wear?”

You flattened down the skirt of your dress before reapplying a touch of lipstick. Nico had let you take free rein of his en-suite bathroom and you had done exactly that. All your skincare and makeup products covered the wash basin and overflowed to the cupboard above the sink. It was a struggle to constrain yourself with all the products you needed and how were you to know exactly what shade of red lipstick was going to work with your dress without trying every single one on. 

“Nico!” You shouted from the bathroom as you struggled to put your 13 necklace, a birthday present to you from your boyfriend, on. You had to contort yourself into a position to get the matching bracelet on and the trying it again for the necklace just wasn’t going to happen.

The door to the bathroom opened and Nico stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging open. You looked beautiful in the dark blue dress that hugged all your curves and made Nico want to rip the dress off you and take you right then and there. But no, you had an event to go to first.

“Nico,” you groaned. He shook himself back out of his trance and walked over to stand behind you, hands resting on your hips.

“Fucking beautiful baby,” Nico whispered as his hands wandered further up your body to gently cup your breasts. Your head leant back to rest on his chest which exposed more of the skin of your neck. Nico’s lips started pressing kisses along your neck before you had to shake him off, even if you didn’t want to.

A pout formed on Nico’s face as you looked back at him via the mirror in front of you and instructed him to put the necklace on you. The number 13 sat on your upper chest and Nico’s cock hardened as he looked at it. It was a claim. A claim that you were his. Not Dawson’s, not anyone else’s. You were his. Nico knew that his eyes wouldn’t be on anyone else, how could they be when you looked like that.

“Let’s head out,” Nico commanded and it sent a shiver down your spine. It made you wonder if he would be like that when you got back. “Your red bottoms are by the door ready to go.” His lips pressed to yours and as you turned around, his palm gently swatted against your ass which looked perfect in the dress.

The pair of you were quiet in the drive to the venue. A combination of nerves and awkwardness sat uncomfortably in the bottom of your stomach. Ideas of how Alex would react to you walking in on the arm her boyfriend’s captain, how she would know that you had been lying for the past nine months. It was torturing you and Nico could notice.

“Schatzi,” he spoke softly, picking up one of your hands and rubbing circles on the back of it. “Alex will understand. It might not be right now, but she will. I promise you.”

“I really hope so,” you sniffled out a response but couldn’t let yourself cry. You never kept anything from your sister, she knew everything about your life. Except Nico. She knew nothing about how you fell for the captain of the New Jersey Devils. 

#ahockeywrites #nh13 #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey story #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader

[mynameismckenziemae]

All of Me

Part 8

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: Nearly two weeks with no time alone with Jake makes you both a little reckless.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, teasing, femdom, orgasm denial, edging, mentions of masturbation.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Jake leaves shortly after he regains feeling in his limbs and you have to fight the urge to invite him back upstairs when he leaves you on the doorstep with the sweetest kiss.

Between baseball tournaments, a few night hops, finishing up the school year, and a medical emergency at the end of your work day, you don’t get any time alone with Jake in nearly 2 weeks.

Tentative plans are made via text to spend time together while Drew’s at camp and with only a few days left before he leaves, your thoughts keep drifting to Jake and all the fun the two of you are going to get up to.

So it’s hard not to be disappointed when you check your phone shortly before lunch.

Jake: We got ordered for carrier training this morning and have to report back at base by 1400 to ship out by 1500. I just got home to pack now so I’ll miss lunch but I’ll stop in to see you before I leave.

Reese: Okay, I don’t have any scheduled until 1400 today so I should be in my office.

Jake: See you soon.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Hey,” Jake knocks before entering your office.

A glance at the clock shows you’ve only got a few minutes before he has to head across base.

“Hi,” you peek your head into the deserted hallway before pushing the door closed. “Did they say how long you’ll be gone?”

“Should be back on Saturday sometime,” he replies, pulling you towards him the stethoscope hanging around your neck.

“Good,” you sigh in relief; he’s coming back the day Drew leaves so you’ll have most of the weekend together as planned.

“I can’t wait to spend some time with you. Just you,” he says. His expression tells you more than he is.

“I can’t either,” you murmur as you lean in to give him a quick kiss, but his hands tighten on your stethoscope, keeping you there to capture your lips again.

You’re not complaining though. You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him.

He’s already hard; straining against the front of his khakis and you swallow his surprised grunt when you palm him. His hands drop your stethoscope, one weaves into your hair while the other slides over your ass.

“Are you wearing underwear?” He pulls back, voice husky.

“I was,” you smile as you reach into your pocket to pull out the pair you slipped off a few minutes prior to show him, “earlier. Thought I’d send them with you though.”

He groans, cock twitching as he watches you stuff the silky red garment into his front pocket.

Good thing you had put a cute pair on this morning.

“You can touch yourself all you want while you’re gone,” you murmur, leaning forward to brush your lips across his neck, “but no cumming.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, guiding your lips back to his. But you stop him when he’s just a hair’s breadth away.

“What do you say?” You whisper, reveling in the shudder he tries to suppress.

“Yes ma’am,” he rasps.

“Good boy,” you praise, rewarding him with a kiss and more friction from your hand.

“Hey Kernsie, I’m heading-I fucking knew it!” Bradley’s voice is like being doused by a bucket of cold water and you spring apart.

“Jesus Roo!” You gasp, adrenaline coursing through you at being caught but relieved that it was by Bradley. “Ever heard of-“

“Don’t even say it,” Bradley says as he holds up his hand, knowing what’s on the tip of your tongue. “I didn’t think I’d need to knock when you’re at work,” he grimaces as he remembers the last time he didn’t knock and walked in on you and Andy in a much more compromised position. “You’re lucky I was the one who walked in.”

Jake turned away, not wanting Bradley to see the situation in the front of his pants, but nods as you do, realizing how stupid you two had just been.

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Won’t happen again. What’s up?”

“Well I assume you already know I’m heading out for a few days,” he smirks between you and Jake. “I’ll text Drew before we turn in our phones but give him a hug and tell him Uncle Roo says to have fun at camp.”

“I will,” you nod.

“How long have you guys been together? Does Drew know?” Bradley asks, folding his arms like he’s a dad about to give a lecture.

“We’re just friends,” Jake says, turning around with his hands over his groin.

You nod when Bradley looks to you for confirmation, refusing to let your face show how much it hurts to hear Jake say it.

It’s what you wanted.

Right?

“Friends that fuck,” Bradley says, again looking between you two.

“Yup,” you reply, not giving him anything else.

“Okay,” he shrugs and straightens up. “I’ll kick both your asses if you hurt each other.”

“Like you could,” you laugh, the tension breaking. “Remember the last time we got into a scuffle?”

“Never tickle her feet,” he tells Jake seriously. “Ever.”

Jake laughs. “Noted.”

“We better get going though,” Bradley says, checking his watch. “See ya, Kernsie.”

“Bye, be safe,” you tell him and turn to Jake when he walks out, leaving the door open behind him. “You be safe too.”

“I will,” he says, brushing his hand over yours.

“Don’t forget get what I said earlier,” you murmur.

Heat flashes in his eyes. “I won’t.”

“Good. See you Saturday,” you press a kiss to his cheek and check out his butt as he catches up to Bradley.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Just friends, eh?” Bradley asks when Jake falls in stride.

“Her choice, not mine,” Jake sighs.

“No way,” Bradley replies sarcastically with an eye roll. “Let me guess. She’s not looking for a relationship? Doesn’t have time?”

Jake nods.

“Typical Reese,” it’s Bradley’s turn to sigh. “She likes you though. More than just a friend.”

“What makes you think that?” Jake asks.

“I’ve known Reese for years; seen her at her highest highs and lowest lows. This has been going on for a while; like around the time she got back from her deployment?” Bradley asks, knowing the answer before Jake nods. “She’s been different; teasing me again, laughing more, getting lost in her thoughts less. I’ve even seen glimpses of the light in her eyes that went out when Andy died.”

Jake just nods again, not wanting Bradley to hear he’s getting choked up.

“I wondered if something was going on by the way you two were talking at Penny’s, and then she lit up when she saw you at Drew’s baseball game. Walking in on you two today confirmed it,” Bradley laughs. “Just be patient with her. She hasn’t dated since Andy and it scares her; she’s so protective over Drew and she doesn’t want to lose the relationship she has with Andy’s parents, even though they’ve both encouraged her to date again.”

“I will,” Jake says, clearing his throat. “I’m crazy about her; Drew too.”

“I can tell and you’d be good to them. Just be a little more careful at work from now on,” Bradley laughs at the way Jake flushes as they enter the briefing room.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Later that afternoon, your phone buzzes with a text. But instead of Jake as you expected, it’s from Bradley.

Rooster: When are you going to put him out of his misery?

Reese: ?

Rooster: Jake. You like him.

Reese: Why wouldn’t I like him? He’s hot and good in bed.

Rooster: Have you forgotten how long I’ve known you? That I was there when you fell in love with Andy? You like him. More than just a friend.

Your heart pounds as you read his texts.

Reese: Is it that obvious?

Rooster: To me it is. Jake didn’t seem so sure when I told him.

Reese: You didn’t.

Rooster: Are we in middle school again? Too embarrassed to tell your crush you like him?

Reese: Oh fuck you 🖕🏻this is different and you know it.

Rooster: It is different. I know you’re scared and I get why. But you’re the only one standing in the way, Kernsie. Tina and Ron have given their blessing and Jake’s not going to interfere with that relationship. Drew adores him.

Reese: But what if it doesn’t work? What if he leaves? Then I’ve got to deal with my own broken heart and Drew’s.

Rooster: And what if it does work? Are you really going to deprive yourself and Drew of much-deserved happiness? Just because you’re scared?

Rooster: Quit being a pussy.

You laugh through the tears that have begun to fall.

Reese: Do you think Andy would approve?

Rooster: I know he would. He just wanted you to be happy and this is the happiest I’ve seen you since he’s been gone.

Reese: Okay.

Rooster: So?

Reese: I’ll think about it.

Your mind is already made up, but Rooster doesn’t need to know that.

Rooster: 🙄 You’re killing me.

Reese: I know ☺️

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Jake reaches out right as you’re getting into bed.

Jake: Hey, still awake?

Reese: Yes, getting into bed.

Jake: Wish I was there.

Reese: I wish you were too. There is so much I want to do with you.

Jake: Fuck. I’m hard. Again. I have been most of the day.

Jake: Wish I could call but I’m bunking with Javy. I took a video earlier though, and wanted to show you how good it can be.

Reese: Can I see?

The video comes through moments later and what you see has arousal quickly pooling between your thighs.

Jake’s standing shirtless in front of the mirror in the small bathroom, boxers pushed down his thighs. Your silky underwear is in his hand; the hand he’s using to jerk himself. He’s flushed from his chest up, his eyes closed and expression a mix of pleasure and pain. It’s quiet but you can hear the desperate ‘uhs’ leaving him with each stroke.

His pace quickens and his abs begin to tense as he grows close. But suddenly he stops, brow furrowed as he grips the base of his cock tightly before he passes the point of no return with a strangled groan.

You reach into your bedside drawer as you type your reply.

Reese: Wow.

Reese: That was so fucking hot.

Reese: I’m pulling my vibrator out right now.

Jake: Oh God.

Jake: They just called lights out.

Jake: Fuck, I gotta go.

Reese: It’s okay. I’ll be thinking of you.

Jake: I’ll be thinking about you too. Night.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

You fall asleep with a smile 45 minutes later, after sending him a video of your own.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

The next 3 days crawl with no word from Jake.

Knowing that it’s training keeps you from worrying, but it doesn’t make the time go any faster. But good news comes via text Friday night as you help Drew finish packing

Jake: We’ll be stateside in a little over an hour.

Jake: Holy shit, your video just came through.

Jake: Reese. Oh my God.

Reese: 😘

Reese: Come over?

Jake: I’ll be there as soon as I can.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

A/N: I freaking hate this chapter. I feel like it didn’t flow, and I’m not a fan of the ending but I couldn’t find a good stopping point. Hopefully you like it better than I do.

Anyway, Bradley now knows…well he already knew but his suspicions were confirmed. 🤭

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs!

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[six-eyed-samurai]

You can read this as a part II to this fic, or simply standalone. Reader is female and has already started a family with Giyuu.

Tagging: @flogflower otherwise this wouldn't have happened

Tomioka Giyuu was known for being a very silent wallflower, a mysterious man whom no one knew much about, not even the rest of the Hashira, as shown by how they never knew he had a wife until very recently. Usually that worked in his favour, as he hadn’t liked to be hounded by busybodies for his marriage to you or the birth of your first child Koji, but sometimes there really were moments where he wished he was as loud as Rengoku or open about his opinions as Shinazugawa because god damn if he wasn’t fed up with all the people hitting on you.

THE FIRST TIME:

He finally found the time to secretly surprise you by taking you and Koji to that restaurant you were always raving about. You’d always wanted to have a meal with him there and to this day he was still very sorry he never had the time to go. It would be the first time you all would be out as a family and understandably you were very excited (underneath Giyuu’s mask of stone he was as giggly as baby Koji at 3 a.m. in the morning). Understandably Giyuu spent a lot of time planning and perfecting this outing from reserving a table to predicting exactly how much he’d have to spend on dessert (your pregnancy no longer excused your crazy cravings, but Giyuu was long used to it…perhaps not his wallet though).

Understandably Giyuu was rehashing the 101 ways to get rid of the patron flirting next to you. It looked like the first way, aka staring at him intensely in the most uncomfortable way, was not working as well as he hoped.

The audacity! Giyuu couldn’t even savor his salmon daikon now, not when he was fuming so quietly as he was forced to watch the brunet drop hint after hint of his interest in you. When he. Was. Right. There.

The sheer audacity!

…he wasn’t sitting that far from you, was he? Maybe the man assumed you both were strangers? Giyuu slouched in his seat, as unaware of how obviously he was sulking as the man shamelessly hitting on you of your marital status. Koji turned his head up in surprise at his father’s sudden stop at tilting the milk bottle into his mouth, babbling sadly.

Did he not see the ring or something? Giyuu wondered if he should’ve bought something flashier like Uzui had said some time ago. You were barely offering the man a fraction of your attention but even Total Concentration Breathing couldn’t accelerate his heart as much as it did now.

Go away, Giyuu chanted in his head, go away.

“Mamamammamamamamamamamaamam!” Koji suddenly squealed, squirming around in Giyuu’s hold, reaching out for his mother. You turn immediately, cooing at your precious boy. At other times Giyuu would be put out by how his son was choosing you over him, but today he couldn’t stop his mouth from twitching into a smirk when he watched the man’s priceless expression as he handed over Koji to you.

“Pass me the bottle, Yuu.” You cuddle your baby closer, oblivious to the staring match Giyuu was winning between the man and him over your bent head. “Aw, don’t fuss, don’t fuss, Daddy sucks at feeding you, doesn’t he?”

“Hey!” Giyuu’s eyes widened, speechless. You giggle and press a quick kiss to his crumb-stained cheek (Giyuu was rarely one to gloat but he couldn’t resist when he flashed a triumphant smile to the man uncomfortably making some excuse to get up and leave.

“Here, hold him, I need to clean up your face.” Giyuu happily took back Koji and let you wipe at his face, reveling in the tenderness of your gaze. “I swear, Giyuu, even Koji doesn’t make such a mess - it’s like I’ve got two babies to take care of.”

“I thought you liked taking care of me!”

“I do!” You roll your eyes at his indignant expression.

“Mmmm!” Koji cooed and the corner of Giyuu’s lip twitched as he looked down. Saved by his baby to protect his other baby - oh well, better than the plan of extreme torture Giyuu had been dreaming of when that tiny spark of jealousy ignited.

THE SECOND TIME:

He thought that jealous, angry spark was smothered and put out after a week or so went by with nothing else like that happening, but hell was he wrong and like the flames of hell the spark was bursting into.

How the hell did so many people not realize you’re married to him, for goodness’ sake? He wondered. For that matter why did this always happen the moment you handed Koji to him for even just a moment?

Giyuu trailed around you like a lost puppy, pathetically trying to remind you of his existence while you walked around town with your recently reunited childhood friend. After the initial introductions and usual hyped excitement at seeing a cute baby you and Aya had fallen to catching up on what the both of you had been doing for the past years and recounting silly memories. You were so delighted at meeting her again Giyuu had offered to take Koji from you and leave for privacy.

He was content with the bonding time he had spent with Koji, of course, but it was rather spoiled when he returned after the tuckered out child finally curled against him to take a quick nap to find the topic of conversation had turned to one of romance and relationships.

“Your fiance sounds like an amazing man! I’m so happy for you - you better keep your promise of making me your maid of honor!” Out of habit you slipped your hand into Giyuu’s when he sat down on the bench next to you.

Aya giggled, as lovestruck as Giyuu at the moment. “Of course I will! But eh, (y/n)-chan, haven’t you gotten married yet?”

You didn’t notice the slow turning of Giyuu’s head in her direction with a disbelieving face, only to beam and reply. “I am! He’s -”

“If you want I know someone, he matches your personality very well! He’s a close friend of my fiance actually. I mention you a lot to him, to be honest, and he said you sound like a lovely person. If you’re okay with it I can help set you both up!”

“Can you tell Mama I’m sorry for me, baby?” Giyuu sighed, gently nudging Koji away from the edge of the futon. He cocked his chubby head to one side, blinking, then flopped over to wriggle his way closer to Giyuu. “She’s not talking to me but she won’t ignore you.”

“Are you stupid?” Giyuu suddenly blurted out, unable to control himself anymore. “I’m her husband…”

***

Giyuu was dying (from the lack of cuddles). Ever since his childish outburst (a justified defense of himself) that had severely taken Aya aback and caused you to give him the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. He had been banished (sent off to go sleep in the living room) and starved (denied your delicious cooking and made to go find cold soba from a nearby food stall). At least he had one ally left (Koji had no idea what was going on; Giyuu had simply kidnapped him from his cot for company).

“Bwa.”

“Mmm. I’ve already apologized about ten times though. I still can’t believe Aya somehow thought I was just a friend following her though.” It was nice to pretend Koji could actually understand him, though he’d never admit it. “Hey, hey, don’t drool there.”

“Mmph! Bweeeh!”

“Maybe I’ll go buy her flowers?”

“Sssss!”

“Are you talking to the baby, Tomioka?”

Giyuu sat up straight and whipped around fast enough to crack his neck. You stood by the hallway with your arms crossed and lips pursed. Koji giggled.

“…no.” Giyuu frowned. “Don’t call me Tomioka.”

“It’s your name isn’t it?”

“Not for you.” He looked on the verge of tears. This man really knew how to tug on your heartstrings; you averted your gaze. “It’s Giyuu. Or Yuu. Anything but that. Are you that mad at me?”

“You didn’t have to be so rude, you know.” You crossed the room and sat down in front of him, helping Koji roll over to you. “I didn’t know she didn’t know we were married and that’s is kinda silly of Aya not to notice, but that’s not really a reason to be so insulting.”

“I’m sorry.” Giyuu lowered his head. “…am I not good enough to be your husband?”

“What?!” Your jaw fell open. “Why would you say such a thing? You’re the best thing this world’s ever given me! I love you so much I’d actually choke on air if you’re not there! I’d kill myself if you left me! How can you even say such a thing?”

“Not like that! I’m just -” Giyuu shrugged miserably. “Why doesn’t anybody see that? Is it because I don’t show affection to you a lot? You could do a lot better, everyone seems to think.”

“Giyuu. You’re going to look at me and have what I said drilled into your head.” Well, at least you weren’t calling him by his surname anymore. “When we started going out I already knew what I was getting with you. So what if you don’t feel comfortable kissing and hugging and holding hands out in public? I don’t know any other guy who’d buy me bouquets for no reason, try to cook me my favorite meal when I’m sick, make sure I don’t overwork myself during training. Whether people think I could do a lot better or not is their problem. I’m already doing the best there is, so don’t ever say that to me, Yuu.”

Giyuu definitely was not crying.

“I’m serious, Giyuu. If you do you’ll be sleeping out here for a week.”

“Bwa!”

“And this time I won’t be letting you bundle off our baby for yourself either.” The closeness of how much you were leaning into him and the way you were smiling though said otherwise. Giyuu chuckled, pushing away your hair from your face and pulling Koji onto his lap.

“Can I go back to the bedroom then?”

THE THIRD TIME:

Giyuu was reasonably confident if someone were to repeat this mistake he’d be able to handle like a mature, grown man and not throw another childish remark around.

The universe didn’t seem to think so.

Shinobu had advised you to not go on any missions for the time being, reasons being you should be recovering after Koji’s birth. Giyuu and you were more than happy about that, both having agreed at the start that you didn’t want any babysitters. So for now you were saddled with minor jobs like scouting out an area or mostly, giving extra training to the lower-ranked slayers.

Giyuu was fortunately free that day, so he had decided to go stick around and if nothing else enjoy watching you relentlessly push the slayers into doing better. Somewhere along the way, however, Koji had somehow dropped his beloved stuffed rabbit and to prevent the inevitable temper tantrum and crying fit Giyuu wasted an hour looking everywhere for it.

Finally successful in finding the worn toy and putting Koji to sleep, Giyuu headed off to go find your training grounds.

“(y/n)-sensei is so pretty, isn’t she?”

“She doesn’t look married too.”

“Bet she’ll say yes if I ask her out!”

“You wish! Someone like you, stand a chance with her? Dream on! I’m far better than you, she’d say yes to me for sure!”

“Hah, wanna bet? You sure have an ego the size of Japan to think that.”

Giyuu stopped in his tracks with a scandalized expression on his usually stoic face.

The slayers you had been training were clearly on break. The two he had accidentally eavesdropped on were older than the rest, perhaps around the same age as him and clearly a whole lot cockier. You were too distracted answering some questions from others and calling out encouragement to a group of sparring slayers to hear them…but he did.

He walked in and everyone fell silent.

“Isn’t that the Water Pillar? He looks so scary!”

“What’s he doing here? I’m not going to be able to do well with a Hashira breathing down my neck!”

“Woah, whose baby is that? It looks so much like (y/n)-sensei!”

“Koji missed you,” Giyuu said abruptly, stopping in front of you and ignoring the circulating whispers, handing over your child. You quietly laugh - since Koji was born Giyuu started using him to express his feelings.

“Are you sure it was him or you - mmmph!”

Giyuu took a particular relish in seeing the looks of shock, embarrassment and horror on the two slayers as he yanked you into a heart-stopping kiss and flashed the hand with his ring on it at them.

“You’re done training for the day. All of you are dismissed.” He grabbed your hand, gestured listlessly at the others, and dragged you away firmly.

He made a special point to invite the two slayers to the Water Estate a couple of months later. They were very pleased indeed to be trained by the Water Hashira himself per personal request! Honorary Tsugoku!

“Giyuu!!!”

***

“Why are you both so weak? You move so slowly any demon would eat you before you even draw your sword. Have you not been listening to my wife’s training? If you aren’t, don’t ever waste her time ever again. Even my son could do better than you both.”

There really was something very humiliating about being compared to the cooing, drooling baby pushing around his toys in the corner. Tomioka must really hate them to be speaking so much…

“Well? Get on with it!”

#sanzuyaps #giyuu x reader #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x you #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu tomioka x y/n #kny x reader #giyuu x reader fluff #giyuu x reader jealous

[prolix-yuy]

Hello friends! It's been way way way way WAY too long since we chatted, and to be honest I've been taking an embarrassingly long time to write this update post because godDAMN life just gets you sometimes and you go on an impromptu hiatus that gets super messy. So let's get into what's been going on and what to look forward to!

Pedro Tax for this long-ass post.

(We're gonna get into some personal stuff, but if you're just here for what's coming up skip down to WHAT'S NEXT for the tl;dr version)

So beyond work getting hectic from January to March, which was the catalyst for everything getting wacky, I experienced a weird emotional turn that I wasn't expecting. It made me get a little introspective, which I blame some of my productivity slump on.

As I was finishing up the Bangathon entries, I noticed a sharp decline in interaction. I'm a fairly young fic writer on Tumblr, but I was a little baffled as to why stories I'd posted only a week before got a nice bit of interaction yet the newer ones were only getting half to a quarter of what I expected. For a minute I thought I had been shadowbanned (I was not) or I hadn't tagged the posts (I had) or my taglists weren't working (they were). People were already talking about interaction being lower, so I sat back and tried to go with the flow and not let it bother me. I posted Decoherence, which has a more niche audience, but I was definitely missing and wishing for some of the comments and reblogs I thought I might get.

All this led up to one of the least favorite voices in my head saying something that stuck around:

"Well, you were right not to become a writer if your motivation is this closely tied to feedback."

If you're new here or I haven't talked about it much recently, I initially was planning to be a writer. Went to school for it and everything. While I was there I felt like I hadn't found the stories I wanted to tell yet. My colleagues were developing in their niches and writing "the great American novel" and I didn't feel like I fit in. My stories had a lukewarm reception, and I never felt like anyone was excited about anything I was trying to say. So I wrote myself into burnout by the time I graduated with not much to show for it. I ended up doing a career switch, which I love to this day, but I stopped writing for almost 10 years.

Coming to Tumblr, I felt that spark of excitement writing again, and some of that was definitely due to people commenting and being excited or interested in the stories I was sharing. That truly revived something in me I thought was long gone, and reflecting back on the last two years that I've been sharing stories with this community makes me wildly emotional. I didn't know how much I missed of the life I left behind, and how much joy it brought me to share stories again.

Which is why it was SUPREMELY FRUSTRATING to have that shitty little voice pulverize my productivity and excitement over something as silly as interaction. But I'm sure most of you know how hard it is to get that voice out of your head. I worked to write things I found fun and less stressful than the series I already felt bad for not updating. And while I still love those stories, it felt like I was pulling them from an inauthentic place and finishing them wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped.

Thus the hiatus! I stopped writing and turned my attentions to consuming and creating in other ways. I watched some shows I'd been meaning to catch up on, started planning to buy a house, worked my butt off at the day job. And I was starting to feel like inspiration was coming back. I didn't want to spook it so I took my time and promised myself I was going to start small and not stress about getting stories out for a bit.

Top that off with some medical surprises, an upcoming surgery, and a little re-evaluation of life moving forward and things have been wild. But I've been missing the daily joy I get from being part of this fandom, and I'm getting back into being here more because I miss you guys! AND! I have stories I want to share and fun to be had. So let's shake off all the heavy shit and get to the fun stuff!

WHAT'S NEXT!

The big thing I'm getting ready to post (after teasing it for so long) is the 2024 Bangathon! This one is different from last year's because instead of requesting stories from me, the Bangathon is open to anyone who wants to participate! There will be a randomizer to play with, and some fun bonuses for those who participate. The announcement will be coming out soon, stay tuned!

As for fics, here are some updates on what's in my WIPs:

Series:

I Think of You: I spent some time rewatching Mando for the newest installment, and I've finally gotten the thread of where to go next thought out. It's been a long time coming so this one's gonna be BEEFY to make up for it.

SW!Frankie: I am crushed to realize it's been over a year since I posted any SW!Frankie! I've got a new story about him and Ms J moving in together I need to finish, then some more asks that are getting into new story arcs I'm excited to share!

Best Laid Plans: Dieter and Murch's first date is bouncing around in my head and I NEED to get it on paper. There's much fun to be had, and I've been binge listening to my playlist for them to get into the headspace.

Midnight Alley: I got all up in my own head about continuing the story with these two and lost a little steam, so I'm going to ease off my "big plans" and start smaller with some oneshots instead. I think it'll help me find out where I want this story to go.

One Shots in Progress:

Decoherence Follow-Up

Incubus!Dieter Ask

You know, laying it out like that makes it feel much more manageable than my brain was telling me! I'm also planning to prioritize more fic reading while I'm getting these updates in ship-shape. Reading your stories always helps get my creative juices flowing, and there are so many good ones lingering in my TBR list that I need to devour.

This has been a rollercoaster of emotions, so thank you for coming on the ride with me. I'm excited to bring more of myself back to Tumblr and have fun with all of you again! To many more stories!

#prolix wips #I'm sorry I've been away for so long! #but I'm back! #if there are things I missed please tag me or send them! #I want to read all your stories!

[calaisreno]

His Move

1557 Words / Prompt: Manipulate

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Mary was an assassin, the business of her past never quite behind her. She’d run away once, and Sherlock had insisted they go after her. At that point, John was willing to let her go. They were never going to have the future he’d imagined when he bought her that ring. 

She was already dying when he arrived at the aquarium, and said the things you would expect a loving wife to say. You were my whole world. 

He felt a dull sense of relief, and hated himself for it. The problems of your future are my privilege. 

A future, cut short. And still, her problems would haunt him.

When Sherlock reached out his hand towards John, his eyes wide, John saw the horror-stricken expression on his face.. 

You were my whole world, he thought. 

Her body was lifted, put on a stretcher, and carried out. John followed.

Sherlock texts him: I’m so sorry. SH

John doesn’t reply.

Please talk to me, John. SH

He feeds Rosie, gives her a bath, puts her to bed. She fusses; she’s old enough to sense something is wrong. Now she has only her father to keep her world stable.

John, please. SH

He plans the funeral; there’s no one else. Mary has no family, only a few friends. It’s his responsibility. This keeps him busy, gives him space to work out what comes next.

Sherlock is actually sorry. This John doesn’t doubt. He’s not a sociopath, regardless of what he says.

John’s words at the aquarium were spoken in anger; he doesn’t blame Sherlock for Mary’s death. John is the one who brought her into their orbit. He can’t change that, but sometimes he thinks about what would have happened if Sherlock had returned six months sooner. Of course he would have been angry, and would have expressed how he felt about watching his best friend die, being abandoned for two years. Six months earlier, maybe he wouldn’t have paid attention to the new nurse, the one who kept flirting with him. 

He has no doubt that he would have come back to Baker Street if Sherlock wanted him. The compromise, as always, would have been on John’s part. Sherlock is never going to change. He will always treat John as a convenience, a habit that doesn’t require thought. 

Sherlock is rarely solicitous, never bestows compliments, only flatters someone if he’s being manipulative. The speech he gave at the wedding nearly knocked John over. Maybe Sherlock was only trying to do what was expected of him, but it was unexpectedly touching. 

Sitting there, hearing the two people who love you most, he’d had this thought: I would have waited for you, if I’d known. 

In his own way, Sherlock does love John. He also knows how to manipulate John, to get him to do what he wants. To keep John in the dark when he doesn’t trust him. 

Loving Sherlock has always meant giving something up. It means following him into danger. John isn’t sure he can afford that any longer, not with a child to care for. 

He has to be sure.

It doesn’t surprise John to see Sherlock at the funeral. Mrs Hudson sits with him, and Lestrade joins them. Molly slides into the pew, whispers something to Greg. It’s a protective entourage; they all know what John said.

Harry is home, watching Rosie. John sits alone, in the front row. 

Sherlock has texted him daily, and John hasn’t replied. That’s why Sherlock is here. He wants John to accept his apology, for everything to be as it was before he ruined it all by dying. Not that Sherlock understands it this way; he doesn’t think that dying ruined things. He’s convinced that he had to do it, that John would have died if he hadn’t. In his mind, there was no alternative. 

Maybe he’s right, but for two years, John carried the weight of grief. That’s just feelings, sentiment; Sherlock wan’t dead; he was saving John, saving the world, winning the game. He left John behind, let him grieve, because that was the only way to solve what happened at Barts that day. 

Sherlock will still leave John behind at crime scenes, run heedlessly into danger, and probably get wounded at some point. He will question John’s intelligence, talk to John when he’s miles away, text him impatiently while he’s treating patients. He will dismiss John’s concerns as frivolous, insist that sentiment makes him weak. He will break John’s heart again and again. That’s just the reality.

And John could break his heart, too. He has a temper, and letting go of anger is hard. Will that anger still be simmering in a year, two years? It’s hard for him to forgive; even in death, he hasn’t really forgiven Mary. 

Can he say he forgives Sherlock and really mean it?  

John prayed for a miracle, and hit the ghost when he returned. Sherlock didn’t hit back; he made a joke. He missed the point. 

But he pulled John out of a bonfire. His look of panic is something John won’t ever forget.  

He tricked John into forgiving him—but has also tried to be worthy of that forgiveness. 

He has expressed his love for John in front of a hundred people. 

These are not the acts of a heartless man.

Sherlock needs him. Maybe two years away was as hard for him as it was for John. 

Does John need him?

He imagines a life without Sherlock. He weighs it against a life without Mary. One is possible, one is past.

His wife was a master manipulator. He’s only beginning to realise the extent of that. He’d had doubts, but couldn’t put words to them until he was in Leinster Gardens, hearing her admit that she’d shot Sherlock, that she would do anything to keep John in the dark about who she really was. 

The woman he fell in love with saved him from despair.

The woman he’d married was a facade. 

He never forgave the woman who shot Sherlock. 

The woman he went back to gave him his daughter. 

So. Mary’s gone, and what he feels about that is a confusing mixture of guilt and sorrow—and relief. At some point, he loved her. Or the idea of her. He chose her. 

She made choices as well. She chose death, rather than allowing Sherlock to take that bullet. When John came back to her, she understood that he would never completely forgive her, that he was doing it for Rosie. She’d chosen to save Sherlock, to die rather than live with John’s grief over losing him a second time.

Sherlock didn’t kill her. She chose to die.

But when he stood at her grave, he didn’t ask her not to be dead.

What he wishes now is that they’d never met, that he could rewind time and make a different choice. That she was still alive, a stranger living somewhere else. 

But then he wouldn’t have Rosie. He loves his daughter completely, protectively, without rhyme or reason. He wants the best life for her, the carefree childhood he never had. And he imagines her growing up without a mother—with a father who has chosen to be alone. 

He pictures her, a child with pigtails and a stubborn streak. A teenager able to go toe-to-toe with her father and still see reason, take a small step back when she’s wrong. A young woman with curly blond hair and a teasing smile. She leaves for uni, and he’s alone again. He grows old, and remembers.

Does he need Sherlock? 

Absolutely, desperately. Like air. 

Can he trust Sherlock? 

Probably not. And he won’t change him.

He misses Sherlock. Whatever they have been to one another, his heart wants him. 

Is it worth the risk?

He’s standing in the church reception hall, drinking a cup of terrible coffee. Sherlock is across the room, looking at him. His expression is sorrowful, not the fake sorrow he can put on during a case, pretending he cares. His hands are stuffed in his coat pockets and he’s slouching against the wall, watching John.

Coworkers from the surgery express their condolences. Mrs Hudson hugs him tearfully. Lestrade tells him they need to get together over a pint. He accepts their sympathy, makes small talk because that’s what people do. All the while, he feels Sherlock’s eyes like a magnet, pulling on him. 

As the hall begins to empty out, he can resist the pull no longer. Sherlock looks up, surprised, as John walks towards him. His pale eyes fill with tears. 

John has given up so much already. He doesn’t blame anyone but himself. Maybe he’ll never fully trust Sherlock, but he’s already forgiven him. 

Setting aside all his objections, laying down his anger and his regret, he surrenders.

When he pulls Sherlock into the hug he’s always wanted, this time Sherlock hugs back. John makes deductions. He can smell a cigarette, maybe two (nervous). He feels his ribs, still too prominent (unhappy). He’s trembling with the emotion he hates (love). The world may have lost a fine actor when Sherlock Holmes became a consulting detective, but this is not acting.

“Please come home,” Sherlock whispers.

John smiles into his shoulder, his own tears beginning. “Oh God, yes.”

#mayprompts2024

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VIII. whatever keeps you around.

parts: previously plot: bruce has a proposal for you. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, brief discussion of slight suicidal ideation/martyrdom, drug (and the injection of drugs) mentions, you will not guess what trope I managed to include in here. words: 6.9k. a/n: plotting this series makes me feel like charlie day pointing at a wall of red string

“…You won’t like it.”

It's clear what you have to do. You'd realized it when Gordon came to you, so of course Bruce did too. If you were going to make this right, you would have to face this head on. "I know what I have to do," you start, "I need to lure him out."

Bruce's expression shifts. Whatever you've said seems to be the wrong answer, "That... won't be necessary."

"What? What else can I do?"

"What did Gordon tell you about Dimitri?"

Your head throbs as you recall the memory, "Uh... he said he believes I'm next on Dimitri's hit list. He also said Dimitri hadn't anticipated me being at the house."

"Right, because Russo didn't want anyone knowing where he was." Bruce turns to his computer and brings up Russo's file, "After his divorce and the death of his son, he holed up and started erasing himself from the internet. As far as his neighbors know, he was constantly alone. You already know how hard it was to find him on your own, and unless Dimitri knew someone keeping tabs, it doesn't stand to reason that he found him any easier. But you, on the other hand," Bruce opens a search engine and types in your name. You're unsettled when the screen fills with results, most of them news articles from the night you'd been held hostage, "your name and face was everywhere after the gang war."

When the reporters had shoved cameras in your face and begged for you to tell them about Batman's heroic rescue, you hadn't thought twice about it, still fresh from the throes of gore and violence in the ER. Friends, family, coworkers: almost everyone you knew had seen it.

It clicks for you then, "If Dimitri planned on killing us both and I was easiest to find, why didn't he come for me first? I mean... it was me and Alex who ruined his life. If he wanted anyone dead more, wouldn't it be me?"

"I wondered the same thing. With the know-how and the right connections, anyone could find where you live just by name alone. Russo, on the other hand, is almost anonymous. It doesn't make sense why Dimitri would target Russo first."

"Do you think maybe it was a warning? Maybe he wanted to scare me."

"If he wanted to warn you, he wouldn't kill the guy in his house where no one checks up on him. Days would've passed before anyone noticed the flies in the windows."

"I don't get it."

"Do you remember how long it's been since you were taken hostage?"

Your mind lands on a weak estimate, "I don't know, a week and a half?"

"It's been over two weeks. According to the wardens, Dimitri stopped being a problem for them after the first few years. Friends with a rough crowd but he rarely got caught up in anything. Didn't have the heart to. So why, after 17 years, does he break out?"

Your stomach drops, "He saw me."

"And realized that while he was rotting away with nothing to live for, you were a hero," the word sickens you to hear, "on the front lines, saving lives, being saved. Your life went back to normal."

You grip the side of Bruce's desk with the sudden urge to vomit up everything you'd eaten today, which, frankly, wouldn't add up to much more than water and crackers.

You'd said it yourself: you'd gotten to live a life that Natalie, Dimitri, and Alex never would. Of course he wanted you dead. "So then I have to lure him out."

"And put yourself in danger? No."

"I’m already in danger, Bruce. What if he goes after the others? My parents? My coworkers? The other cops at the shootout? We have to end it now."

"This isn't the only way."

"It's the best way."

"Last time he had a knife, you could defend yourself. Barely. What if next time, he has a gun?"

"So what, you just want to do nothing?"

Bruce turns away from you. He gnaws on his lower lip, "No, I want to bide our time. Look into him more. I need to know if he's working with the Vipers again."

You watch him as he begins typing away at his computer, but you can't process what he's looking for through the haze of anger that washes over you. You lean on the desk, craning your neck up at his face to make him look at you, to understand how ridiculous he sounds, "We don't have time for that. His grudge is with me. I should meet him now and end this... either he gets what he wants or- or..."

Or what? Your stubbornness peters out. You don't know what. You see yourself standing face-to-face with Dimitri, his knife raised, ready to bury itself into the cushion of your chest. And nothing.

The you in this vision has no weapon.

"You don't think you're going to survive this." Coming out of your mind, Bruce is now looking at you, brows furrowed. He looks... mortified.

You scramble to cover your tracks, "That's not true. I'd have you there."

"But you don't want me there. You want to go alone. You think you deserve it."

"God, what are you? My therapist?" Your words flit out of your mouth in a rush, tongue nearly slipping up to defend yourself. You push away from the desk when you start feeling overexposed.

Bruce follows you, "You're not 16 anymore, this isn't some gang fight where you throw all your chips in because you can't see a year ahead of you. You've made a life. You've got people to lose, you said so yourself. I know what it's like... the survivor's guilt. You relive that day over and over-"

His words are making you feel sick to your stomach again and you lurch forward, finger in his face, "Don't you fucking preach to me-"

Almost as immediately as you'd raised your finger, Bruce snatches your wrist in his hand, yanking you close enough to be imposing, staring down at you with the same power that the Batman had used. It was so sudden that you quickly fall slack, wrist going limp in his grip.

It had completely sobered you of your tantrum, and for better or for worse, you were forced to listen to him, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. You see this ending with you dead because you want to make up for the shit you did. You think that's what Alex wants? For you to bleed out in an alley like she did?" And just like that, the fire roars in you once more, but your other hand can't slap him across the face before he's caught that one too, "No future? What about all the people you've saved? Could still save? Face it now because you may not get another chance: you're alive. Do you want to be or not?"

You want to hurt him, turn his skin red and give it a place among the other bruises that glitter and glare down his torso, and as your hand shakes in his hold, you are forced to understand that you are angry because he is right.

You'd felt this same anger before. When your parents told you Alex was a bad influence on you. When Russo looked you in the eye and told you that you didn't have it in you to pull the trigger. It was maddening. He had clocked your suicide mission before even you had, had seen you in his mind's eye the way you saw yourself: disarmed, a lamb to the slaughter, a sacrifice for the greater good, a speedbump.

You could see Batman tackling him to the ground over your dying body. You couldn't see yourself getting up the next day.

After the frustration leaves Bruce's eyes, he's looking at you with something softer. You feel known, uncomfortably so, as he waits for you to meet him there.

And when you do, you hate how you collapse into him. Even more, you hate that he takes you up into his arms, holding you steadfast, as understanding as you needed him to be with all your fear of admitting it. The solidness of his body reminds you of the night he'd first held you, and that just makes you cry harder.

It feels different from last time. Where there was armor is now warm skin, the likes of which you hadn't felt in a while. If you had told your past self you'd one day be standing in Batman's cave, hugging Bruce Wayne and crying over the permanence of your mistakes, you might have diagnosed yourself with head trauma.

You screw your eyes shut in a vain attempt to put the tears to rest, your freed hands practically clawing at Bruce's warm back for some purchase, some stability. He doesn't seem to mind. He just holds you closer.

After a few minutes, you force yourself to speak, sniffling away the last remaining tears you'd allow yourself to shed, "You said I wouldn't like it. Your plan. What is it?"

"To disappear."

You wrench yourself back. Bruce is dead serious. "What?"

"I've considered it from all angles-"

"What do you mean, 'disappear'?"

"All but one of the prisoners Dimitri broke out with are still missing. How do we know they're not all working together? How do we know that you luring him out won't draw them out too? You were the easiest target before, not anymore."

"Say what you mean, Bruce. What do you want me to do?"

"I want to hide you here," he winces as he says this, as if aware of his words only now that they're out in the open, "with me."

"You're shitting me."

After a while, Bruce's face hardens, "I told you you wouldn't like it."

Liking it or not liking it was nothing. You'd advanced past "like". You were firmly out of your depth here.

You slip out of Bruce's hold and he lets you, standing rather awkwardly as you rub a hand across your mouth. Despite earlier, it now feels uncomfortably dry. You glance at Bruce and then at his screen, the tab with your name and face plastered all over it hovering in the background. "You want me to disappear off the face of the earth while you track him down. Leave my home, leave the people I care about, abandon my job. You want me to hide."

"I don't know how else to protect you. Not until we figure out what we're up against." Bruce watches you spin away, scoffing into the air, "You noticed it when you fought him off, didn't you? Something was really wrong with him."

You see flashes of Dimitri's feral stare, the way he staggered and swung. He was like a rabid animal in a cage. "Of course there was, he was trying to kill me."

"Beyond that," Bruce insists, "he wasn't right. I've seen it before. He was on something."

"Most people are these days. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd... I don't know, gotten his hands on drops or something-"

"It wasn't drops. Gordon told me."

"The detective?"

"He said they found a syringe with traces of venom in it. Dimitri's shooting up. That's why he was so strong."

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, "Venom? Great. Somehow worse than Drops."

"If he's on that drug, he's definitely addicted. It also means you won't stand a chance against him. This is why I'm telling you to stay here," Bruce steps forward, eyes imploring yours. You're dumbstruck by the heavy earnestness there, "stay in the tower. Hide here for a few days. Let me handle this."

"If he's on venom, it means he doesn't think he can handle you on his own," you wring your hands, flitting through images of the Dimitri you remember, "he was always really small. Even at fourteen, he hadn't really sprung up. He was scrawny and small and couldn't defend himself. Suddenly Gordon's saying he's almost twice the size of what I remember. Have you ever fought someone on venom?"

"Once or twice, somewhere between fixes. Why?"

"General has this kind of... sedative that we use when we get patients dealing with the effects. It's not perfect, but it does help calm them down enough to help them. Maybe we can use it to help him."

"The strain is constantly changing," Bruce watches you deflate and clears his throat, "but if I can get that sedative, I can use it as a base to make a new one."

"You need clearance to get your hands on that stuff. I'm going with you."

"What part of disappear do you not understand?"

"One, I never agreed to do that, and two, if Batman gets caught stealing from a hospital, that'll make you public enemy number one. You need my help, so let me help you."

Bruce is looking away, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth even as you zero in on him. You're getting flashbacks of that same Bruce from when you'd first met him here in this tower. All tender-eyed, even as he tries to put on a face for you, "And I need a drink," you rub your temple next, catching a glimpse of Bruce watching you from his peripheral, "You've got those, don't you?"

It turns out Bruce has plenty. There's a whole cellar full of them, the kinds you see in MTV Cribs with the low recessed lighting and mahogany shelves gleaming with polish. It makes sense for him to have it, but less so when he tells you he doesn't actually drink any of it.

"You weren't drinking at the party, either. Even though everyone else thought you were." You brush your hand along the shelves, careful not to knock any bottles loose. "Is that a trick to keep people spilling secrets? Or to keep from spilling your own?"

Bruce hovers near the entrance with his arms folded and back pressed to the wall, carefully watching you peruse his selection, "Maybe I don't like the taste."

"That's good. Men in Gotham die from alcoholism at a higher rate than any other city in the state."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't smoke either." Bruce blinks at you, "Just get shot at. And stabbed."

He says nothing.

Your hand lands on a red aged older than your mother and you stand to the side, looking expectantly at him. You're afraid that if you try to pick it up, you might knock down the whole row.

Slowly, Bruce pushes himself off the wall and glides over to you, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and looking to you for approval. You try not to shrink yourself when you nod.

You follow him out of the cellar, flinching when the lights dim behind you and the door rolls shut all on its own. He guides you to the kitchen where night still hangs over Gotham outside the window, but the time on the stove clock warns of early morning soon.

Bruce pulls out two glasses and fills yours with wine and his with cranberry juice from the fridge. You could almost laugh at the pairing.

Once he slides your glass to you, you take a seat at the island and take a sip, "I need to ask you something. I get now why you refused me at the station, but then you came back. Why did you change your mind? I mean, neither of us knew Russo would be dead when we got there. Were you just going to let me hate you?"

"Yes." His simple response draws a quick, stifled laugh out of you.

"Are you always this... chaotic?"

Bruce leans his elbows on the countertop, hunching in on himself, "I always meant to tell you who I was. I just didn't know when. And I didn't mind if you hated Bruce Wayne, but... you trusted Batman. I didn't want to break that trust. Even if it meant telling you earlier than I planned, I wanted to give you some closure."

You think about the fear that had paralyzed you back then, thinking that Bruce Wayne was some big, bad criminal hiding behind polite society. Then you think about the real man, hiding behind a mask. You fidget uncomfortably, struggling with feeling somewhere between grateful and nauseous. Your eyes catch the stitches on his shoulder and you itch to wipe away the dried blood that had dribbled from the cut, "You said you were looking for Dimitri when you got that. Did you..."

Bruce catches your eye when you fail to finish your question. "No," he answers solemnly, "which is only part of our problem." He stands to his full height, flexing bruised knuckles against the counter, "I ran into one of the guys that broke out with Dimitri tonight. That's who gave me this. Dimitri isn't working alone."

You frown, "Is he trying to shake you? Why leave clues at all?"

"Because these people want me dead. The guy from tonight? I booked him a year ago for trafficking women. Earlier led me to a fringe group of Falcone's."

"You've been looking for Dimitri all day?"

"I haven't stopped since we found Russo. I couldn't."

You rub your arms, feeling the room grow chiller by the second, "So... so he's leaving clues to people who hate you. To keep you occupied." Bruce nods. "So he can get to me?"

"After last night, he knows the Batman is on your side."

"Dimitri wasn't out when you got on the scene. Do you think maybe he's taking venom because these guys warned him about you?"

Bruce smirks, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip from his glass, "As a precaution, sure. And now he has reason to believe I know you. If he's going to go after you, he's going to shoot up each time."

"That stuff is nasty. You're big and scary when you're on it but as soon as the effects wear off-"

"You deflate like a balloon. It's also stupid expensive, so he's either got real generous prison pals or he's being used. It's why I need to know if he's working with the Vipers. They might be supplying him."

How you'd gone from an ordinary surgeon to a detective in the span of mere weeks was beyond you. You're beyond just treading water. You're diving into the abyss.

Your brain struggles to make real what is before you. Bruce, still shirtless, drinking delicately from a glass as he watches the night sky shimmer from the kitchen window. And you, sitting across from him, cracking open one of his family's expensive bottles that, frankly, puts your pantry vinos to shame. Playing vigilantes like schoolchildren. Except the blood on you both is very real.

Your arm throbs at being remembered for once tonight. Bruce notices you touch it, "You need to get some rest."

You know he's right, and you're not arguing for the sake of arguing when you say, "I can't sleep yet." But he can tell there's more on your mind as he waits silently, almost egging you on to lay yourself bare. You swear you're not arguing just for the sake of arguing, "And I don't want to disappear. I want to be alive."

Bruce says nothing. The silence isn't humiliating like you'd think it be, even if the first few seconds leave you feeling just as laid bare as you thought you would. No. It feels acknowledging. Understanding, even.

For the first time, you look at Bruce and feel like you understand him. If he was really Batman, then he would know better than anyone why you would want to put yourself in danger. But beneath that, with the meager knowledge of who Bruce Wayne is, you also think you understand him too.

He'd mentioned the survivor's guilt. While he'd played a much more innocent role in the whole ordeal, you couldn't imagine the weight on one's chest knowing that two people you love didn't get to go on but you did. It's a lot to ask of a child barely coming to understand the mortality of one's own keepers.

The choice to be alive for someone like that is a deliberate choice. Constantly made every morning.

"There is another way," Bruce muses, "but you'll like it even less."

"Don't leave me hanging."

"We could go public."

"What?"

"You said disappearing would mean abandoning your life. And it would. No one could know where you went, who you were with, but there's always the chance someone might slip up. It's the safest option but it's not what you want. So don't hide." Bruce's eye contact is deep and unwavering. Compared to earlier, he seems to trust you're willing to listen this time, "Be mine."

For the nth time tonight, you are rendered nearly speechless. Nearly. "Are you fucking with me?"

Bruce's eyes narrow, "No."

"Did you just... proposition me?"

"I made a proposal."

"You're asking me to date you."

"Publicly. Batman has more enemies than allies, but Bruce Wayne has the people. If you and I are publicly linked, it tells everyone looking for you that the world is watching. It makes you more visible, as well as anyone who comes after you."

"You haven't slept," you reason, "clearly. And you're delirious."

"I haven't slept, no." But he looks fairly sober for someone who hasn't slept in a day. He is a different breed, this Bruce Wayne.

You peer out the kitchen window and see the black sky dipping into a blue horizon, "Then sleep on it and come up with something better."

Bruce rounds the island until he's standing beside you, looking down at your barely touched wine, "There's some spare rooms upstairs. You can take your pick." It dawns on you that you may not be going back home any time soon. "You know your way around."

You suppose you deserve that dig.

Then he's leaving you, glasses abandoned, home for you to explore. You don't realize how thick the air had gotten with him right next to you until he's gone.

You half-expect Alfred to pop up somewhere nearby, but there's nothing. This far up, there is no city to listen for, no neighbors slamming doors. You are in a cold house all alone. You suddenly wish he'd stayed to keep you company, even if the weight of it was beginning to take its toll on you. Left alone, you only had the sunrise.

You watch until the sky has all but chased the night away, and then you head upstairs.

You didn't think you'd get much sleep in a stranger's bed, but you're being roused by a sharp, successive rapping at your door several hours later. It jolts you awake, kick-starting your heart, and you clumsily tumble out of the million thread count sheets to open the door.

Alfred stands there fully dressed for the day, one hand tucked in his pocket and the other still raised to knock. Upon seeing you, he lowers his fist, "Morning," he starts, looking away as soon as he meets your eyes, "breakfast is ready. Come get it before it's cold."

He does not give you a choice in the matter. He's already limping toward the staircase without another word.

After you get your heart to settle down, you follow after him, preening yourself as you pass hallway mirrors and portraits of the Wayne family through the generations. You hadn't come down this hallway when you'd found the terminus elevator, so you stumble to a stop in front of a portrait of a young Bruce grinning ear to ear.

It startles you. His eyes are soft, a gentle humming blue untouched by wrinkle or darkness. He must've been especially young here. Glancing at a nearby portrait of his parents, you find him the spitting image of his father. You look around and realize there are no portraits of Bruce at this age.

Bruce. He might be at breakfast, and the mere thought of having to discuss what occurred last night almost turns you right back around to the guest room, but your stomach rumbling begs you not to. You still walk quietly, peering around corners in case your stomach changed its mind.

You find you're cautious for naught when the only person standing in the kitchen is Alfred, chopping up fresh fruit.

"I hope you don't mind that I moved your things," he gestures with his paring knife to your surgical tools neatly congregated on the counter, "I cleaned them too."

"Oh. You didn't need to do that."

"There was blood, so I'm afraid I did." Alfred places a bit of pressure on "blood", and you quickly take note of his short tone.

Still, all the same, he then gestures to the island and implores you take a seat in front of an empty plate. Without asking, he begins pushing steaming hot food onto your plate, "Tea or coffee?" He asks, barely looking up at you.

"Uh, coffee is fine. Thanks." You watch Alfred pour you a mug and wonder if the awkwardness with him is any more preferable to the awkwardness with Bruce. Alfred is passive-aggressive, Bruce is... aggressive. You remember how the latter had left off your night together and find yourself feeling warmer toward Alfred. "How long have you been up?"

"Since 6, although I woke a few times through the night."

You wince, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I did think Bruce had invited you over under different circumstances, so... not as alarming, all things considered." Your grip on your fork slips and it clatters to the marble. Alfred barely reacts.

"He needed stitches." Is all you can get out.

"Yes, I'm well aware."

You glance up at him, "You saw?"

"When he first arrived home, yes. I was the one who helped stop the bleeding."

You stare at the coffee sweating in your cup, recalling something Bruce had mentioned last night, "Bruce said you were the one who used to stitch him up."

"Yes."

"If you were there, why-"

"It's what he pays you for, isn't it?" Alfred almost snaps back at you, slicing a strawberry into quarters with more edge than needed.

You recall something else next. The softness in Alfred's face the day you first came here, arguing with Bruce in the very room next door. You'd wondered what it had all been about.

"I've done alright, haven't I?"

"He said something else too," you start, careful as you choose your next words, "about how much you worry about him." You fiddle with your mug, pretending not to feel the heat of Alfred's eyes on you, "I think the reason he hired me is because he was worried about you."

You just catch the tail-end of Alfred's frown, "Worried about me? Why?"

You probably aren't close enough to either of these two to laugh about this, but you do anyway, "Isn't it kind of obvious?"

"Nonsense. We always discussed... if it would come to it, that if he were to pursue this life further, that he would recruit professionals who might aid him in his work. It was the natural thing to do."

"Maybe, yeah. But would he have really needed me if you weren't already doing everything else for him? You've taken good care of him this long. I mean, the aftercare you gave his bullet wound was exceptional. I accused him of talking to other doctors."

Alfred busies himself with scraping his strawberry halves into a bowl, "It's basic knowledge. You learn that kind of thing in the service."

"Or when you invited me to watch you two spar. You know his body probably better than he does. You're fantastic, Alfred." You couldn't say you weren't also trying to butter him up to better his feelings toward you, but you were speaking truth all the same.

In a very British way, he rebuts your compliments and spoons some fruit into a glass, beginning to layer some yogurt over top them, "Regardless of reason, you are here now, and I'll have you know that every part of your contract covers this. Wayne Enterprises will exhaust every possible legal tool at our leisure if you speak of any—any—of this to anyone. Master Bruce's identity is safely guarded, and regardless of his trust in you, I will not hesitate-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey. I would never tell anyone. Not after all Batman has done for me." You press a hand over your heart for emphasis, "He is just as much my patient as Bruce Wayne is, and he didn't have to pay me to take care of him."

Alfred still stares you down like a guard dog, paring knife still clutched in his fingers. After a moment, he looks away from you and points at your plate, "Eat. It's getting cold."

So you do. It's good so you say as much, counting any point toward his affection as a good thing. If you could get Alfred to trust you, you'd call that a win.

The tension in the air dissipates over time, and after you've licked your plate clean, you and Alfred are sharing coffee together. "Bruce isn't joining us?"

"I've stopped expecting him to be awake this early." You glance at the clock that reads 10:12. "He has adopted a near-fully nocturnal lifestyle."

"The night that he crawled through my window, he was there at the hospital the next morning like nothing happened. He doesn't do that often?"

"Before last year, it was a rare occurrence. While he's dedicated himself to his role more recently, if he can avoid it, he will."

You think back to what knowledge you do have on Bruce's charity work and his friendship with the Mayor. You'd worked shifts just as long, but you couldn't imagine showing up to work mere hours after getting shot in the stomach and having to put on a brave face about it. You almost feel bad for calling him out on it in front of everyone.

But then again, if you hadn't, would you even be sitting here?

You swirl the last vestiges of coffee in your cup, trying to picture a world in which you'd gone and found that empty office to nap in instead of toddling behind Rudy and Em and Alfred and Batman. The Batman.

The novelty of it brings a fresh wave of dizziness over you. You had been exposed to so much information over the course of the last 12 hours that it hadn't fully settled in on you what Bruce was. You didn't think that your brain would process it even if he was standing in cowl and cape right in front of you.

"I suppose you'll be staying with us for the near future, if Bruce has anything to say about it," Alfred stands from his chair beside you and puts your dishes in the sink, "shall I inform your security detail or would you like to?"

You don't know what to say to that. "I'm... I think I should talk this over with Bruce first. It may not need to come to that."

The butler shrugs. "I'll be attending to some house duties for the rest of the morning. Should you stay for lunch, let Dory know, hm?" You give him a weak nod and watch as he makes his way from the sink and heads down another hallway out of sight.

Not too long after Alfred leaves you, you hear the doorbell ring. Bruce hadn't mentioned to you that any guests would be here today, but then again, the two of you had had more important things to discuss last night. You check your reflection in the glass of the kitchen window, wondering if there were any hidden doors in the bookcases that could hide you from whatever Wayne Enterprises exec that was coming to talk business, but you wouldn't trust yourself not to break something in the process.

You hear two pairs of footsteps approaching from the elevator and turn to see who it might be. You first recognize Dory, fluttering between frantic small talk and making sure not to trip in her kitten heels as she guides her guest into the living room. You stiffen as soon as you see him.

Detective Gordon catches your eyes instantly, his own widening. Dory says something about going to fetch Bruce before she quickly ascends the stairs, leaving you and James staring at each other across the distance. In one hand is a notepad and pencil, and the other fixes his tie, almost as if at a loss for words. He greets you, hesitantly leaving where Dory had left him to approach you, "I saw the boys out front but... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither." You reply. "Is everything okay?"

James glances up at the stairs as he passes underneath, "That depends. I followed up on your request."

Shit. Of course a cop would do their job when you least expect it. You slip out of your chair and rush to meet him halfway into the kitchen, "Did... did you find something?"

"I can't say much right now. I'd like to talk to Mr. Wayne, but-" The sound of Dory's heels clacking against the wooden stairs makes James lower his voice, "-you being here complicates things."

Bruce is wearing a shirt this time, thankfully, though you're not expecting him to look as put together this early after what Alfred had said. He towers behind Dory's much smaller frame in a pair of loose black pants and a matching turtleneck, looking in a fashionable state of undress as he pads barefoot into the room. With hair slicked back and stubble freshly shaved, he doesn't look like someone caught unaware. He's fixing the sleeve of his sweater when he extends a hand to Detective Gordon, bright smile and all, "Detective James Gordon, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced. If this is a bad time, I can come back." James gestures to you.

Bruce's look at you is empty, devoid of any detectable emotion or thought. It strikes you as unsettling, the same way a cashier at the end of their shift isn't really looking at you, "Oh, no. I was just on my way to work when I felt unwell. I called my doctor over but it was nothing to worry about. A little stomach bug, is all."

You do look like you'd just come over in a rush. You're still in your lounge clothes from the night before, and your medical supplies are still in the kitchen where Alfred had left them. James seems to notice, but he doesn't look any more relaxed. "That's good to hear. I don't want to keep you too long, but truth is, I have some questions I'd like to ask you if you have the time."

"Is something wrong?" James glances between you and Bruce, something the latter doesn't miss, "is it sensitive?"

"It's about the party you threw here the other night, Mr. Wayne. For Mayor Reál. I hear you invited quite a few Gotham politicians to celebrate the passing of the mayor's new bill, correct?"

"That's correct."

"And I understand you're quite invested in Gotham politics in general, much like your father."

"I am. My mother and father were very interested in the city, and Mayor Reál breathed new life into that for me after the election. I do what I can to support the cause."

"And that cause is...?"

Bruce takes the skeptical tone on the chin, smiling wider, "A safer, fairer Gotham. For everyone."

This Bruce was nothing like the Bruce you had all to yourself. He taps into that persona from the party with ease. Watching him is like watching a performance. "That's good, good. I notice you try to make an effort with charities in the city, donations and the like. You recently donated a new wing to Gotham General."

"I did. Increasing access to medical care for the citizens is important to me. My doctor, a talented surgeon at General, knows this well." You flash a timid smile when both Bruce and James look to you.

"And you also financially support politicians in Gotham."

"Occasionally. Anyone I feel has Gotham's best interests in mind."

"And have you found members of Gotham's political parties to be unusually forward in requesting your support, Mr. Wayne? Perhaps a little too pushy, maybe."

Bruce wears confusion well, "Not necessarily. I'm not easily pressured into doing things I have no interest in."

"Of course. How about any attempts to win over your support? Publicly or otherwise."

"I'm not sure what you're asking, detective. I'd love to help, but I don't think I have the information you're looking for."

James nods, holding his chin high, "My apologies. I should've been clear from the beginning. My question is: have any politicians or members of law enforcement offered you anything in exchange for your financial or public support? I have reason to believe there may be someone with high clearance exchanging confidential information with civilians. Especially ones who can pay. I'm just looking for a lead."

James frames his question well, even though any fat cat familiar with the cops could see the hidden question. Bruce frowns, tilts his head, shaking it slowly, "That's awful. I don't currently know of anyone doing such a thing, to me or anyone else. But I can keep an eye out. I can only imagine how dangerous that might be."

"Exactly. We'd like to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."

"Of course. Do you have a card? Perhaps I can contact you if I hear anything."

James fishes out his card and hands it over, "I don't want to put you in a bad position, only pass along what you know if you feel safe enough to do so."

You notice Bruce is flicking the business card between his fingers as a fidget, though he keeps his attention respectfully on the detective. "Absolutely. Thank you, detective. Dory can show you to the door."

The detective nods and follows Dory out of the room. As soon as the two are out of earshot, Bruce's expression softens as he presses his back into the counter. You wish you could sink into the floor. "To be fair," you begin, "I didn't think he'd find anything."

Bruce side-eyes you, "That was you?"

"I thought my criminal boss was going to blackmail me to keep his secrets."

"Criminal boss." You think he's trying to mock you, but his eyes are surprisingly guilty when he looks at you, "Alfred wasn't kidding. I really didn't handle this well."

"No, not really." You don't mean to kick him while he's down, but you can't lie either. Even now, you were still making meaning out of this whole thing.

By all means, you've gone from knowing nothing about him, to understanding even less, to fearing him, to this. With Batman on the other hand, you'd felt nothing but loyalty and trust in him up until the very last second. Now they were both the same person, and the meager hours of sleep you'd gotten hadn't cleared all that up just yet.

You wonder who you're supposed to see now. Batman or Bruce Wayne? Why was the line separating them blurring the more you thought of them?

"So, did you ever come up with a better idea?"

Bruce does not offer one. You'd dreaded that.

"You already know what I think. No matter how we go about this, there's going to be something. So what do you want to do?" Bruce's eyes follow your ever minute expression, laser-focused on you. "Whatever you choose, I will keep you safe. I promise you."

He feels so staunchly Batman in this moment, even with the soft voice of Bruce, watching over you. Through all your uncertainty, this you believe him on.

And you're exhausted, you find. Your arm is beginning to throb again. You crave the reprieve of a bed but not your own, to your surprise.

"I'm going to trust you, Bruce," your voice wobbles as you say it out loud, "I'm going to trust you like I trust Batman."

Bruce holds eye contact with you for a few moments, "Okay."

"Can I ask... why are you dressed so nice?"

"We're going to get the sedative."

"You're going as Bruce?"

"It's the middle of the day. Yes, I'm going as Bruce. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

You fluster, suddenly reconsidering this entire plan. You'd pictured Batman skulking on the rooftop while you Mission Impossible'd your way into the medicine cabinets for what you needed. Walking in with him—the real him—would draw attention you didn't need, "You're only going to make me look suspicious."

"I'm your patient, and more importantly, I'm a donor."

"You will stick out like a sore thumb."

"That means when people are looking at me, they're not looking at you." You open your mouth to argue but he's already cutting you off, "Do you want me to drop you off at your place or do you want me to send someone to get your things?"

You're aware of what he's really asking.

You heave a sigh, "Drop me off. I can't promise Judith won't hurt someone if she finds a stranger in my house."

a/n: mj stop having the reader move in with bruce when their life is put in imminent danger challenge impossible

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes​ @wnstice @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday @moony-toasts @sketchiethebear @trawberry-fire @hangmanscoming @agent-scorpio @julesjewelss36 @chonkercatto @dcgoddess @hollandorks @anotherr-fine-mess @miriamnox @dumdumsun @phoenixgurl030 @marvelouskatie @swangelss @millercontracting @aivlisdecolores @geeksareunique @xxrougefangxx @theres-a-bea @keepingitlokiii

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #batman angst #batman fluff #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites #bw; rprt

[leclercsluvs]

CL16/DR3 | Already Over | smau

part 9

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

an: this is going to be the last part, and this is happening about a year after the last part ended. daniel is also now racing for redbull, because i want max and daniel as teammates :) pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader, daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 3.189.461 others yourusername guess who went and performed at coachella? it was such a nice crowd!! absolutely loved it.

danielricciardo fuck racing. i'm going to all your next live performances

yourusername not if i have anything to say >:( maxverstappen1 wow am i really that bad to be in a team with? danielricciardo i didn't want you to find out like this... maxverstappen1 guess i won't let you win the next race then 🤷 danielricciardo you don't have to let me, i will win yourusername hey hey, no fighting under my post maxverstappen1 sorry danielricciardo sorry

charles_leclerc looks beautiful

yoursister *cough cough* you aren't together *cough cough*

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, mickshcumacher and 3.357.816 others yourusername was i invited just to take photos? yeah pretty much.

georgerussell63 and you snapped the best photos ever

yourusername yeah but i'm not on any! might as well not have been there 😔

oscarpiastri you all went out???

yourusername you weren't invited??? landonorris yeah he was he was busy oscarpiastri that was a lie, i wanted you to force me landonorris i can't force you when i thought you had plans 🤨 oscarpiastri yes you can. landonorris fine i'll force you the next time

lewishamilton at least you know how to take nice photos so we don't end up with the most blurry photos of all those cool outfits

yourusername oh you mean my outfit? that's on none of these photos? because i had to take them all? lewishamilton i was, in fact, talking about my outfit. but your outfit was alright

lilymhe wow i would have loved an invite

yourusername alex didnt mention it?? lilymhe no he just said he was going out for a quick dinner with the team and then he'd be back alex_albon well it was supposed to be just the team, and then it turned into an after party with all the drivers and we sort of forgot time yourusername smh i was at the redbull dinner because daniel invited me, and kelly was there with max, why didn't you invte lily??? 🤨 alex_albon i wasn't aware we were allowed to invite more people maxverstappen1 oh i just did it, i didn't know either danielricciardo oh i was told to bring y/n

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussel63 and 3.722.261 others yourusername went on a nice well deserved vacation with some friends. refreshing tagged: yourbff, yourfriend, yoursister

yoursister thanks for finally bringing you on one of your adventures

yourusername always a pleasure to have you there to annoy me ❤️ yourbff i was, in fact, invited as the first person yourfriend LIES i was yourusername i literally invited you all in the group chat what are you talking about??? 😭

landonorris now why was i not invited AGAIN??

yourusername do you not have races to attend? landonorris oh... right oscarpiastri yeah i can't race for two people danielricciardo and i am not racing for mclaren anymore so i can't help landonorris right you ditched me for redbull danielricciardo bitch i was FIRED

charles_leclerc looking beautiful as always

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 3.722.261 others scuderiaferrari good weekend with charles on the podium. again next weekend? tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc hoping for the best next weekend, hoping to be back on the top though

y/n/n4ever soooo did anyone else see y/n in the paddock today? i swear she's his lucky charm. whenever she's there he does amazing.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 3.722.261 others yourusername my man finally got p1 in his home race. so proud of you 🥹 tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc i thought you said "not too public" 🤨

yourusername well that was before you won and before twitter spotted us charles_leclerc that makes sense

leclercs well this was a hard launch for sure

scfty/n and i'm here for it

lecswrld so so so proud of him!!

georgerussel63 congrats mate!

oscarpiastri 1-2 for the leclerc family

yourusername i'm sorry what-? charles_leclerc sorry i should have talked to you about it.. i adopted a son

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 3.722.261 others charles_leclerc i think i have a good luck charm yourusername we need to go on a date before every race ❤️ tagged: yourusername

yourusername invite me out whenever, i'm ready to say yes

charles_leclerc move in with me? landonorris woaahhhh yourusername maybe a bit too soon.. charles_leclerc hm i tried. i'll try again at some point.

carlossainz55 i thought me being in your team was your good luck charm 😞

charles_leclerc you were my teammate since 2021. would have thought i'd have some more wins if you were my good luck charm carlossainz55 i guess you're right

pierregasly congrats mate!!

landonorris us 🤝 ruining max's win streak

lewishamilton so deserved! proud of you!

-

aaaaaand thats a wrap! honestly thanks to the monaco gp i finally found to motivation to actually write something for this. i can't think of anything else to happen. i hope you enjoyed this. feel free to send any requests or anything. i'm currently working on something involving a few drivers

taglist: @exotic-iris13 @callsignwidow @destinyg237 @lanadelray1989 @dullypully

#charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #f1 #f1 smau #smau #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smau

[satureja13]

Saiwa's Therapy Game - Part 2 It starts -> here

Saiwa is still torn. Shall he stay as the Captain of the Sea Urchin or leave and follow his own path? Staying would mean he'd have to deal with all the stuff he ran away from and he has the feeling he's not strong enough for this right now. He sighed and delayed his decision and started the inventory list for the Vicegerent. It's still quite tempting to stay as the Pirate Captain. But what he wants and what he needs are two different pairs of pirate boots.

Saiwa finished the list by noon and stepped out in the bright afternoon, where the Vicegerent already waited for him. Saiwa guesses the Vicegerent will have the final say if he can leave or not. He might need some time to find a new Captain for the Sea Urchin.

Oh, it's NPC Wesley! (TMI: Wesley is Vlad's first love and partner of Vlad's arch enemy Leander ^^' but the other Boys like them.) Vicegerent Wesley: "That was your best tour so far. Amazing Job! I'll get your wage ready and we meet in the 'Salty Mermaid' later! If you keep it up like that you'll soon be more wealthy than I am haha!" (I have no idea why there is a carrot lying on that bollard ^^')

Captain Duath (=Saiwa): "Erm, about keeping it up. I'd like to take a break to - uhm - sort a few things out..." Vicegerent Kareem (=Wesley): "Sure, my friend. Take all the time you need. Captain Whittaker was pestering me for months now to get his own ship. He is raring to take over, don't worry." Captain Whittaker? The ghost dog from 'The Irish Rover'? Captain Duath: "Ah - thank you. I guess..." Does Helm Satureja look worried or relieved? Saiwa was relieved. He didn't think it would be that easy. But easily being replaced by a dog was a bit...

Captain Duath took a walk around Bacalao Bay before he entered the 'Salty Mermaid'. The others all already there.

Oh no! The piano player is NPC Jeb! Saiwa wasn't prepared for this. He tries to remind himself that this is just a game and that this Jeb is just a NPC Tiny Can created for his therapy. Probably an idea from the Little Goats... And after the experiences of the others, NPC Jeb shouldn't even know him. But he really isn't ready to face any version of Jeb. He should have waited with his Therapy Game. No matter what the others said and how well their therapy went... How the crew's expectantly eying him hahaha

Best he avoids Jeb and leaves after he said goodbye to his crew. But Saiwa made the calculation without the permanent flirty First Mate Guidry. (TMI: Claude René Duplantier Guidry has a quite interesting -> background story) First Mate Guidry: "Hey Captain! Isn't the new piano man amazing? You should meet him. I'll call him over. You will like him, he's hot and handsome! Look at his muscles. Ah, he's a sight to see!" Captain Duath: "Uhm, that's not necessary. Let him play. I just came in to say goodbye and leave before dawn."

First Mate Guidry: "Hey Jeb, come over and meet our Captain! He's hot and handsome!" Oh no, what to do? What to do???

Ok new plan, just say ahoy and then leave. NPC Jeb seems to be just as nervous as Saiwa. And for a few (too many and too long) seconds, none of them said a word. Until NPC Jeb blurted out: "You're utterly beautiful." (Hahaha the crews faces!)

First Mate Guidry: "Ayayay Jeb! That's not how you greet our fierce and ruthless Captain..." Jeb: "I'm so sorry." Guidry and Kili started to teach Jeb how to make a better first impression and Saiwa took the cue to take his leave. Captain Duath: "I'm leaving guys. See you again next time around!"

But Jeb followed him. Saiwa will have a word or two with Tiny Can when he's back! Jeb: "When will I see you again?" Saiwa: "Eh, I have to sort a few things out - for a while." Jeb: "Where are you going?" Saiwa: "Far, far away."

Ach. Saiwa's heart became heavy and to make matters worse, it started to rain.

Saiwa didn't know what to say to him. He can't stay here with Jeb. He needs time for himself. Even if it's only here in the game. No responsibilities, no sorrows. Only caring for himself and find out what he could be without his burdens.

But Jeb didn't want to let Saiwa go and asked again where he's going to. That was when a song came to Saiwa's mind and he told Jeb he could find him where the Blarney Roses grow. He couldn't look him in the eyes, though. (I don't know if you're familiar with the word 'blarney' (I wasn't ^^') it means: deceptive or misleading talk. There is a quite interesting story about the Blarney Stone at Blarney Castle -> here. I first thought it was a hoax but it seems to exist haha) Jeb gathered all his courage: "I will find you there. I promise. Let's seal it with a kiss." Saiwa is utterly sure that Jeb will never find him so he gave in. Jeb kissed Saiwa chastely on his cheek. Aouwww. Saiwa is melting away and Jeb's kiss almost made him change his mind. But after all these years as the Boys' leader it's part of his flesh and blood to put his mission over his emotions. (Like he did when he started that damn fake relationship with Kiyoshi that teared them all apart - and brought him here...)

The Dead Man and his chest are watching them :3 It's a while ago he saw something so annoyingly sweet here at Bacalao Bay ^^'

And then Captain Duath left. And he took Jeb's heart with him.

Saiwa bought this little dinghy thing from his share. Let's hope it takes him far enough from everything so he can heal ö.Ö'

'There's roses in Killarney and there's some in County Clare But upon my word, the roses, lads, I can't find anywhere She blarneyed me for by the power, she left me broke, you know Did the damsel that belonged to where the Blarney Roses grow

Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow? It might be down in Limerick town, it might be in Mayo It's somewhere in the Emerald Isle and this I want to know Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow?'

Blarney Roses by The Willoughby Brothers (TMI: I only knew this live version from Fiddlers Green but I just found this one on youtube and it's so amazingly sung by these 6 brothers(!). Both videos have not many likes but this song is so beautiful. One of my favourite irish songs for sure.) Link to spotify below is yet another version from Fiddlers Green from their 25 years anniversary album (from 2015 omg ö.ö) ^^'

The Therapy Game Master Post with the sessions and places so far is -> here

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest Current Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

#The One Game #underwater love #The Game #the one #sims 4 story #simlit #simblr #ts4 #guidry #Saiwa's Therapy Game #peregrin tuck #bacalao bay #jeb harris #satureja antares #sims 4 #the sea urchin #captain whittaker #sims 4 vanilla #the adventures of kili #sims storytelling #the sims #sims #tell us your stories #brindleton bay

[hanihazeljade]

Three Idiots

Part 2 of Three Weeks

(W/N: I am very sorry for abandoning you guys, it's just some tough shit decided to wreck my life and I just finished this while crying about the said tough shit. Anyways, have fun with this part xoxo.)

Tim takes back his words.

He wants to go back to Japan ASAP.

Might be asking,why? He once said that he can stay in Gotham for three weeks. But this bloody family makes him want to stab them. Dick always looks at him and hugs him more often than not. Jason sneaks an arm to wrap to his waist. Damian just drags him to the music room that was also now converted to Portrait Room with all of the portraits Damian paints but the grand piano still sits on the corner. 

He wants to go back to the damn winter fields of Hokkaido and probably have some hot cocoa and go buy some soba. But all of this suckrifices, yes suckrifice, for Cass and if she and Stephanie divorces, he will hunt Stephanie and probably make her lose one of her four limbs, or two depending on his mood, because his anger will probably dissipated by the time he already tear her two limbs. 

Dick has always and always been a cuddler. Who knows where he bloody got those arms but he is not digging information, he is retired from that shit. Jason is a sneaky little bastard whenever he wraps his arm to his waist, almost possessively. And what is he even proving that Tim is his? His, to slit Tim’s throat? And Damian, the little (not that little anymore because he is now taller than Bruce, fucking biology and genetics) shit just drag him like a damn sack of rice and he is not appreciating any second of it.

He unpacked his things and already changed into a more comfortable red cashmere turtleneck, yellow scarf and blue earmuffs as he planned to go to the Drake Manor. He knows that he practically abandoned the place but he still hire Mrs. Mac to clean it, but she retired three months ago, to rest her gracious old body and now he needs a new caretaker and it will sucks since the Drake Manor is still filled with some of the artefacts that his parents, illegally, bring back and  he actually likes some of it, and he cannot afford to let those things to be stolen. So, he planned on cleaning some of the manor while visiting it. And maybe hire someone to take care of it.

He was about to go out of the Wayne Manor, when Jason suddenly spawn before him. How are we sure that he is not a meta? Or am I just really rusty? “Hello, Jason.” he greeted as he walked past the man but Jason seemed like didn’t get the memo that he didn't want to talk to him, as the man grabbed his wrist and made him go back to where he was.

“Where are you going, Timbo?” Jason asked as he looked at Tim’s outfit.

“Outside.” He shrugged at the bigger man.

“It's 45 degrees outside.” Jason reasoned but Tim lives in Hokkaido.

“And in Japan, it hits ‘til 35. I’ll live, Jason.” He waved to the man and restarted his walk to the door.

Jason gripped gets tighter, “Uh, nuh uh, Timmerly. You stay here.” he said as he dragged him back.

“Ugh, Jay! I will be next door, so calm your paranoia, seriously you are being a Bruce like now.” he whined, where is Alfred when he needs him? Oh yeah, right. Never.

“Did you just use Bruce as a verb? And I am very offended by that.” Jason scoffed.

“Then let me go to my childhood home, hmm?” he smiled, a smile filled with ‘let me fucking go’.

Jason didn’t get it because he said, “Wait for me, I’ll be dressed in 5.”

“You are not…” and the man was already out of his sight, he sighed, “...invited.” he rolled his eyes.

He starts contemplating whether or not to wait for Jason but then he decides that he doesn’t want to know any of the consequences of his actions so he decides to wait for the man. He pulled his phone out and started to scroll to his Instagram, not Twitter, he doesn’t like how aggressive Twitter can be. He is laughing silently at one of the relatable reels when he sees Jason in the corner of his eyes.

He didn't say anything as he went to the door and let Jason follow him.

“You are not gonna talk to me while we take this 15 minute walk, TimTam?” Jason asked as he caught up with Tim, and Tim ignored him.

“Hey, Timmy TimTam, talk to me.” he whined, holy shit is he being a Dick right now?

“If you want someone to talk with, you can go and talk to Bruce,” he said.

“And what? Let the two of us have an awkward staring contest?”

“Maybe, or go talk to Dick. Maybe it will improve your social skills, Mr. Todd.” 

“Nah, I'd rather die again than to have a talk with Dickie.”

“Where is he anyways?”

“He is in Wayne Enterprise to pissed Damian off, he said it was his duty as an older brother.”

“I wonder if he will still have his limbs still intact.”

“Maybe. But then it was Dickie so probably he will.”

They got to the driveway of the Drake Manor and the snow piled as no one swept the snow. He tried to walk over the snow but he was suddenly carried like a sack of potatoes and Jason started to move like a tractor and no, Tim is not envious.

“Stop pouting, Timmy. It’s not your fault you are small.”

Tim hit him, “I am not small, I am average, above average actually, you and your family are just giants.”

“Where is the key?” Jason said as he stepped to the porch of the Drake Manor. 

“I have it with me.” Tim said as he tried to get the key inside his back pocket while still being carried like a sack of potatoes by Jason. But Jason beat him to it since Jason already got the key to his back pocket and opened the door of the manor with one hand.

Jason put him down after he opened the door. Dust accumulated everywhere after three months of not being clean. 

“You need something around here, Timbo?” Jason said as he looked around the dusty Manor.

“No, I just planned on hanging around here and maybe cleaning. I really need someone to clean the manor.”

“Why not just sell it? Maintenance is an expensive thing to do in this type of house."

“And let the only connection towards my parents be gone? Don’t be ridiculous, Jason.” Tim rolled his eyes at the dumb idiot in front of him.

“You still consider them family? Really, Timmerly?” Jason snickered, definitely remembering the talk of how shitty Tim's parents are. 

Tim clenched his fist, ‘It’s not fucking worth it, Timothy. Don’t waste your breath on that shit.’ He thought and just calmly replied, “They love me, Jason. Not like how Bruce loves his sons, but my mother loves me and my father loves me. I know of it.” he said with so much grace.

“Still, your parents are kind of shitty —” Jason is still trying to fight his narrative. After all, he also has shitty parents. Maybe Tim and him can bond over those facts.

“Jason.” Tim interrupted him, “If you are not gonna help me clean or dust the furniture, get out. I don’t need you.”

Jason brings his hand onto the air as a sign of surrendering and asks Tim if he knows where the cleaning supplies are.

The two start on cleaning, mainly just dusting around, since no one actually makes a mess to an unlived house. Seconds of cleaning turn into minutes turn into hours. They didn’t know how long they were cleaning until Jason told him it was past lunch time. Tim looks at his watch with the reading of 2:14, they have been cleaning for almost 4 hours.

“Let’s go, Timberina. Alfred probably makes some kickass soup.” Jason said as he put away the cleaning supplies and dragged Tim back to Wayne Manor, before even Tim could protest.

++++++++

Four days in Gotham and his sanity is already giving up. 

Jason is being a bitch, Dick is being a jerk, Bruce is being overprotective, Cass and Steph are being a couple, Alfred is making s’mores, and Damian is being… non-Damian.

Wherever he goes and if Damian is in the Manor, he is always in Timothy’s peripherals. He considered smacking the man but he rather not wanted to die seventeen days before Cass’ wedding. He wants to see his sister walk down the aisle.

Damian though is not behaving what he was like seven years ago, which is good. Tim doesn't want this beast to throw knives at him at any given moment, he may have years of training but all of them are pretty much useless as he doesn’t use them anymore.

The thing is that Tim hates how everyone just kept on observing him, goddammit. It is his job to observe anyone, not to let anyone observe him, unless they will get him laid.

So when Tim was cleaning his camera to take some pictures to add in his personal portfolio, he can’t have Damian lingering into his visions.

“You know it’s creepy to stare at someone, right?” He called Damian out while cleaning the lenses. He wanted to focus because these lenses are so sensitive but Damian is just taking out all of his concentration and it is frustrating every single nerve he has.

“Tt. I am not staring at you.” Damian replied and walked closer to Timothy and sat next to Timothy. Still actively watching the man to clean his lenses.

“Sure, you don’t.” Tim rolled his eyes. He  may be out of this game for so long but he is still very much able to detect lies.

“I am not, clear your mind, Timothy.” Damian said as he tucked a stray hair off Timothy’s face, noticing the light sheen of red in the black locks.

“What do you want, brat?” Timothy asked as he set down the camera lens he was holding and looked at the huge behemoth in front of him. 

“I see that you are preparing to take photos, and I am offering a proposition to paint with you.” Damian said, definitely not ordering or demanding Tim.

“We have a whole different thing to do, Damian.”

“I could be your model, and you can be my model.”

“I am not posing for the same pose for hours, Damian. And I already have a subject model in my mind.”

“And that is?”

“Me.” Tim smiled. This bastard really just thinks that he can’t do that, HA! Tim is a badass at taking self-portraits photographs. Fuck you, Damian. He just left the stunned demon there and started walking away to go to Alfred’s greenhouse. He has never been there, because they surprised Alfred five years ago with a greenhouse for him to rest or just have some peace, after all, Alfred is getting old.

He put down his fucking expensive ass tripod that he got during his trip in mall in Tokyo, and start prepping to take his self portrait shot. The flowers and the overall fauna here will make Ivy jealous, or maybe Alfred and Ivy actually having tea together to share different ways to take care of plants, but he doesn’t care actually.

He was inside the greenhouse until the sun set. Now, there has no natural lighting and his photos are kind of wonky. Blergh, he hates it. It’s one of his ick in photography, after all, night photography just triggers some bad crap in his sanity.

He starts to tidy up his equipment and get out of the greenhouse and go to his room. But as he went inside the manor there was silence. ‘Maybe they decided to eat out then” Tim thought as he shrugged and went to his room to deposit his equipment. 

He walked to the kitchen with two packets of tantanmen and he still didn't see anyone, so he grinned, no one is going to stop him from having ramen as his dinner. He grabbed the pot and started boiling water and he opened the packets and the seasoning inside it. He scavenges Alfred’s fridge and sees some carrots and cabbage and he starts prepping them, and he opens the freezer and it seems like Alfred just finished doing groceries on the meat section as there is a new pack of meat, well… sorry Alfred but Tim will have it.

After 15 minutes of meticulously crafting this ramen, he finally grabbed the pot and went to the dining table. He opened the pot and grabbed the chopsticks that he grabbed somewhere, doesn’t know why they have a ceramic chopstick but Tim is not complaining and started eating. Best ramen that he made it, probably because of the half pound of meat there, but he will eat it though.

After he ate, he washed the dishes and he started walking to let his metabolism work and as he walked he had a hit of nostalgia. A huge house with him in it, he shivers at the thought and ends up in the portrait room. He opened the lights and different artworks of Damian were there, staring at him. It feels like the portraits in Harry Potter, it’s fucking eerie. He was about to leave but the grand piano in the hidden corner of the room enticed him.

He opened the seemingly left up piano and he tried some basic keys and the piano is still properly tuned. He sat down on the stool and he tried some classicals when his fingers started to play a familiar tune, when he finally remembered what song it was he started all over again. He starts with the F then C to D minor and A minor and the B flat. He remembered this song. After all, this is the song he dedicated to his parents.

Like My Father

Song by JAX

I wanna come home to roses

And dirty little notes on Post-its

And when my hair starts turning grey

He'll say I'm like a fine wine, better with age

I guess I learned it from my parents

That true love starts with friendship

A kiss on the forehead, a date night

Fake an apology after a fight

It was publicised how negligent his parents were. The truth is that they are parents that Tim will never swap to someone. His parents are the best. Sure they are not physically there but they care about him, they care about his happiness but he also cared about their happiness

I need a man who's patient and kind

Gets out of the car and holds the door

I wanna slow dance in the living room like

We're eighteen at senior prom and grow

Old with someone who makes me feel young

I need a man who loves me like

My father loves my mom

He remembers playing the piano whenever they start swaying to their living room, and after they finish dancing with each other, his mother will pull Tim with them as his father will put a record in the gramophone and they will dance in circles. It was fun, he remembered the way his father would carry him after they finished as he was so tired of dancing, they would tuck them in and kiss his forehead and tell him “good night”.

I want a road trip in the summers

I wanna make fun of each other

I wanna rock out to Billy Joel

And flip our kids off when they call us old

He'll accidentally burn our dinner

And let me be the Scrabble winner

And when my body changes shapes

He'll say, "Oh my God, you look hot today"

He is never allowed on their road trips, as Tim is more prone to getting sunburned after living in Gotham for so long. But he is fine with that, their road trips are not Tim’s style and he knows that because they bring Tim one time and he was never ever going road tripping with his parents, they are disgustingly sweet but also at the same time wild. It is a shock that they haven’t gotten a ticket or even got banned in one of the states. And also their music taste clashed with Tim’s classical one.

I need a man who's patient and kind

Gets out of the car and holds the door

I wanna slow dance in the living room like

We're eighteen at senior prom and grow

Old with someone who makes me feel young

I need a man who loves me like

My father loves my mom

He missed his parents. He missed how his mom would hug his worries away. He missed how his father would keep on holding his hands whenever he was unsure of what was happening. He missed the way his parents looked at him whenever he finished a task that was so easy. He missed the way they comforted him whenever he got a bad grade. He missed how they encouraged him to sleep with them whenever he had a nightmare. God, he missed his parents.

He was still playing the piano as a wave of loneliness filled him, maybe he really should visit his parents tomorrow. He already abandoned them for so many years and he needs to love them more.

When he stopped playing, he heard clapping behind him. He looked around and he saw Jason, Damian and Cass together. Cass ran to him and hugged him. 

“Beautiful.” she simply said.

“Where do you get that voice, Baby Bird?” Jason said as he walked over to them and Damian followed him.

“I didn’t know you play the piano, Timothy.” Damian asked.

“I was an ordinary rich white boy before becoming Robin, of course I know how to sing and play instruments. And it also doesn’t help that I am at least a quarter asian. I need to live up to the stereotype.” Tim jokes.

“You are definitely killing it Timmy.”

“Sing at my wedding?” Cass asked, making Tim flustered. Tim read the invitation and most of the people that have special standing in the weddings are from the caped community and Tim just hates all most of them.

“I dunno. I am kind of shy, when it comes to that.” Tim just nervously chuckled and he saw Cass pouting. “Oh yeah, what is your wedding motif?” Tim tried to distract them and it clearly worked.

“What is the motif?! The wedding is in three weeks, Timmy!”

“Yeah? And you also know that in the power of Bruce Wayne they can do it in three days?” He rolled his eyes, this family is so dramatic.

#tim drake #fanfic #chaotic tim drake #unhinged tim drake #dcu #jason todd #damian wayne #timothy jackson drake #cassandra cain #song #by JAX

[3-2-whump]

(Re)Living a Nightmare, part 2

<prev next>

You're still here? Okay, it's not gonna get any better for our poor boy. Do read and heed the tags/CW.

Basic Summary if You Decide to Skip

Also please skim this chapter and this chapter if you haven't already, because they will be referenced heavily in the story coming up

TW/CW: rape/noncon, bound and gagged and blindfolded whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, knife play, neither safe nor sane nor consensual, blood (lots of blood), victim blaming, internalized victim blaming, whumpee and whumper unknowingly triggering each other, blunt force trauma to the head (face), panic

NOTE: The inner thoughts and opinions expressed within do not align with those of the author, who themself has never and would never condone such thoughts and opinions in real life. Reader Discretion is advised.

All Thomas asked of him was to change into clothes he wouldn’t mind replacing, which usually meant that whatever Khaled wore would be torn/burned/ stained so irreparably that it’d just be thrown away after. Already based on that request, Khaled could guess he was in for a rough night. He had no idea how much worse it could get until he was blindfolded, bound, gagged, and carried out the apartment and down to the cold garage, where the hard foot-well of the back seat waited for him. The car revved to life, and his restrained body lurched forward as Thomas pulled out of the garage and drove them to fuck knows where.

Eventually they came to a stop, Thomas exchanged some words with the night-shift guard at the old house, and then they kept going until they parked. Khaled slowly started to put the pieces together. They were back at the old house, which probably meant Thomas wanted to take him downstairs, which meant whatever he wanted to do to him would be too messy or too specialized to do back at the apartment. What is he planning? Khaled wondered. He’s asked me to wear my most expendable clothes, he’s tied me up like I used to be when I was recaptured, he’s thrown me into the back like when I was recaptured-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening. He blindly tilted his head toward the chill of the night and the distant sound of frogs singing. A pair of calloused hands hauled him up from the foot-well of the back seat and slung him over a broad shoulder. “Thought you could escape me this time, did you?” his master’s voice purred in his ear.

A pit of dread competed with the chill of the early spring night in his bones as Khaled realized what all this preparation had meant. Master wants to roleplay my escape attempts. He began shivering, though not just because of the cold. A warm hand rested on his buttocks to steady him as he felt himself being carried inside, through the hallway, and to the front of a very familiar door. Reliving his failed escape attempts but with an added sexual element was one of Khaled’s recurring nightmares. What cruel irony was this, that he had begged so enthusiastically no more than half an hour ago for this man to make his nightmare come true?

The familiar creak of a door opening preceded the dusty, dried-blood smell coming from the stairs leading down into the cellar. Khaled pleaded through the rag stuffed in his mouth and the tape sealed over his lips as they descended the stairs step by concrete step. He tugged at the zip ties binding his wrists and ankles, but all that did was dig the hard plastic further into his flesh.

The cellar in the basement was the only room in Luciano Antonio Costa’s old house that didn’t get renovated when they converted the rest of it into an office space. Mainly because its purpose as a room for torture and interrogation never went obsolete. Khaled didn’t have to see it; he’d been down in the T&I cellar enough times to have the layout committed to memory. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps hung by thick chains, illuminating the large expanse below. A fireplace and all its accompanying iron tools sat to the left, and a rack lined with various instruments of torture was positioned to the right. In the middle was one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and many other types of equipment were either shoved in a corner or hanging from the ceiling, suspended by heavy chains and hooks like morbid chandeliers. Partitioning a back portion of the room was a large iron gate leading to a small offshoot of the basement, much like a door to a prison cell. Not much lay beyond the iron gate besides a hard-worn bench and several opaque plastic storage tubs full of mysterious items.

Khaled squirmed as he was lowered onto his stomach on top of the familiar table. “What were you thinking,” scolded the nightmare looming above him. A faint swish of a pocket knife and cold steel next to his skin made Khaled pause his struggles as his master cut away the zip ties. “Escaping in this cold weather without so much as a scrap of clothing on you –did you even have a plan?” he taunted. “I don’t know what your plan was, or even if you had a plan, but was it really worth freezing yourself to death?”

Khaled enjoyed the freedom of his unbound limbs for only a moment until his wrists were snatched into a tight grip and gathered in front of him. A coarse and scratchy material –rope, most likely –began entangling around and in between his wrists as his master continued talking. “We have a tracking chip installed inside of you, remember? You can never escape me; I will always find you.” With a forceful tug, Khaled’s hands were pulled in front of him, then he couldn’t move his hands at all. The other end of the rope must have been tied off to the ring attachment at the edge of the table.

His ankles remained free, if only to make it easier to take his pants off.

There were some light shuffling noises before the wooden table groaned under a newfound weight. Khaled felt the body heat of another person leaning over him. The cologne Thomas wore quickly overpowered his senses as the man hovered close. Khaled could feel his master’s breath on his ear and something hard and stiff against his backside. “The last time you tried to run away, a friend of mine advised me to cut your tendons,” Thomas sultrily whispered.

Oh god no. By now, Khaled knew which escape attempt they were reenacting, and, coincidentally, it was the one he had nightmares about the most.

“I don’t want to permanently cripple you though,” Thomas sighed, “mostly because it would be even more of a hassle to care for you, but I will cripple you temporarily, at the very least...”

He could already hear the hiss of the iron.

His panicked cries took on a new pitch of desperation. Without warning, his master’s fingers pinched at the edge of the duct tape on Khaled’s mouth and pulled, making him scream in pain. The rag was quickly removed, only for his tormentor to shove his index and middle fingers past the boy’s teeth to depress his tongue. “Suck,” he growled, “because this is the only lube you’re going to get.”

“Please, no, not this one, please, please no, not this, not this,” Khaled begged around the fingers in his mouth.

The fingers quickly withdrew before Khaled’s head was yanked back by the hair and then smashed onto the table. Stars danced across his blindfold, and a faint trickle of something warm and wet escaped from his nose.

“Let’s try this again.” Thomas shoved his fingers back into the boy’s mouth, burying them to the knuckle and making the boy gag. “Suck.”

Khaled shakily worked his head up and down the length of the fingers as his tongue lapped at each digit. He started to cry. As soon as the fingers withdrew, his pleas picked up again in earnest. “Please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me-”

“Would you relax?! I’m not going to burn you!” Thomas shouted above him. “What about any of this looks like I’m gonna burn you?!” Khaled heard a frustrated huff above him as his master yanked down his pants and underwear, exposing his bare ass and legs to the cold. The shed clothing was discarded, landing with a soft whump somewhere behind them. The two digits that were in his mouth forcefully entered him below, all pretense of play forgotten as they began roughly working him open. “Besides which, weren’t you the one who wanted to do this? You asked for this, you wanted this! You said you would be good for me!”

And he was right, he did say he wanted this. He asked for this to happen. So, with a defeated sniffle, Khaled went quiet and limp.

“So, are you going to be good for me now?”

Khaled’s bruised forehead scraped against the table as he nodded.

“Thank fuck,” Thomas grumbled.

I asked for this, Khaled told himself. The darkness around his eyes became damp as the blindfold caught his tears. I asked for this, I wanted this. He repeated it like a mantra as the man on top of him replaced his fingers with his cock and steadily screwed him against the table. I asked for this, I wanted this. Something tore down there as an unmistakable thin, warm, and sticky fluid trickled past the cock pummeling his hole. I wanted this. I wanted this…

I didn’t want this.

I never wanted this. Any of this.

I don’t want this. Slowly, the new mantra gained strength, and he let the words slip between his lips with every shuddering breath. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this-”

“Tough shit,” his master grunted.

Khaled pulled against the rope restraining his hands as he struggled against the body pressing into his. “I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I-” Again, Khaled’s face was smashed against the table. He heard a faint crunch as a new river of blood flowed out of his nose.

“You can scream all you want, nobody’s going to hear you,” Thomas growled, “but for fucks sakes, can you please scream something less annoying?!”

Khaled kept repeating it between every sniffle, like a sad broken record. “I don’t want this,” he sobbed. “I don’t want this… I don’t want this…”

His begging finally outwore Thomas’ need to finish. “Fuck,” his master huffed, unsticking his sweaty torso from Khaled’s clothed back as he pulled out of him. Khaled collected his heaving breaths. It would be too naïve of him to believe his bitchy whining finally got through, but he would appreciate this moment while he could.

He suppressed his sobs and tilted his head to follow the footsteps and shuffling sounds Thomas was making as he tried to guess what would happen to him next. Khaled heard the faint schwing of a different knife being unsheathed. It cut through the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt as his master finally completely undressed him, tearing away the scraps of cotton the knife didn’t excise from his body. “You said you would be good for me, but you have been anything but!” A twisted strip of cloth was wedged between his teeth and hastily tied off at the back of his head. His master’s hand pinned him down by the back of the neck, crushing him against the table with the weight behind it. “You said you missed me, but you’ve only fought against me this whole time!” Khaled screamed into the gag as the tip of the knife sank in between his shoulder blades. Its blade dragged tortuously and deliberately through his skin as his tormentor continued griping above him. “You’re a fucking liar, you know that?” The knife mercifully lifted from the trough it had carved, only to be plunged into a new area of Khaled’s back. “Do you know what I do to liars, boy? I make them pay!” The raw wounds on his back wept with blood as the knife kept slicing, spilling over his sides and pooling underneath his stomach and the table below. It was hard to cry with a gag in his mouth and a broken nose full of blood. He gasped for breaths between sobs, never quite getting a satisfying breath before the pain of the knife would make him scream again. His tears slipped past the saturated blindfold and tracked down his cheeks to join the pinkish smear of saliva, snot, and blood he could feel covering the lower half of his face. “This is for Callahan!” The knife drove down and sliced another line through his skin for each name the monster dropped. “This is for Trémeaux! And Robinson, and Martinez, and Kruger, and Kościelsky, and this-” The knife dug deeper this time. Khaled bit into the gag as his nerves screamed in agony, the steel scraping something hard as it dragged against his back. “-this is for my brother; he is never coming back! Tony is never coming back, and it’s all because of you!” the monster above him roared.

It was in that moment, between the terror and the pain, that Khaled realized with a fascinated horror that his master was reliving a nightmare, too. I need to snap him out of it if I’m getting out of this cellar alive, he realized. So, he set his own trauma and pain aside and began doing what got him into this mess in the first place. The twisted cloth had loosened just enough. He pushed it out of his mouth with his tongue and started begging as if his life depended on it, because this time, it really did.

“I didn’t kill him!” he cried.  “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him!” Khaled screamed well past the point his throat hurt. “Master, please, I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill any of them! I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him, Master, I didn’t kill him…” If the knife had stopped cutting into him and the rope around his wrists had been untied, Khaled was too far gone in his panic induced catatonia to notice. “I didn’t kill him… I didn’t kill him…” he rasped through a throat torn raw from screaming.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood

#whump writing #heavy chapter ahead #tw rap3 #tw noncon #tw blood #tw victim blaming #internalized victim blaming #creepy/intimate whumper #bound whumpee #gagged whumpee #blindfolded whumpee #knife whump #neither safe nor sane nor consensual #blunt force trauma to face #whumpee just has the worst time #whumpee and whumper accidentally trigger each other #is this too dark? #is it too late to ask now that i've already posted it?

[lets-try-some-writing]

In the AU where unicron is optimus father what would happen if the kids were harmed or in a dangerous situation thanks to unicron resulting in the response of the optimus and the rest of the autobots

More pain for my lovely boy. This is going to be complete angst so to make sure Prime gets some comfort eventually, I am going to make an additional two parts for this in different posts.

A Father's Wrath

After months of watching Optimus be ignored and feared by his own team, the bots Optimus had come to see as family, Unicron grew angered. The chaos god understood their initial fear, but as he watched his only creation wallow and slowly fall to loneliness, his patience wore thin. This was his son, his glorious creation who had lowered himself to protect and care for Primus's lesser spawn, and now said spawn were rejecting that kindness. It was despicable.

The chaos god tried to reign in his anger for Optimus's sake. If nothing else the human vermin that had taken up residence on his frame were there to support his wayward creation. But days turned to weeks, and weeks into months until at last Unicron could take it no longer. One day after Optimus had struggled in vain to try and speak to any of his team only to be promptly ignored, Unicron at last snapped.

In a fit of rage, Unicron transferred power over to his creation unknowingly, causing Optimus to once again fall to the ground in agony as his frame rearranged itself to make up for the surplus of power. It was unintentional on Unicron's part, but as Optimus flailed and screamed, the waves of power emanating from him struck the children and the team. The team grew ill, most purging on the spot as Optimus pulled himself together and stood on shaky pedes, his spark once again exposed. But the children... they did not fare nearly as well.

They collapsed and convulsed. Jack became violently ill, throwing up as blood leaked from his eyes and ears. Miko started having a seizure that very nearly stopped her breathing altogether. And Rafael screamed and clawed at his face as the worst migraine he had ever gotten assaulted him. Before Optimus could do anything, Fowler was called in and the children were taken away for immediate hospitalization. The team left in Vehicle mode and parked in the hospital parking lot to keep a general optic on the children for fear that they might die while Optimus remained at base.

Left completely and utterly alone, Optimus cried. His frame once again shattered so thoroughly could not shed tears even if he tried, but the mixed dark and normal energon that leaked from his armor was enough of a testament to his grief. Otherworldly cries and wails echoed throughout the abandoned missile silo for hours as Optimus wept, hating himself and everything he was in that moment. The Matrix thrummed within him, trying to calm him and comfort its chosen bearer in its own odd way, but Optimus only composed himself nearly a day after being left alone to drown in his guilt. By the time the team came back, Optimus was no longer crying, but he was frantic for answers.

Optimus: The children, are they well?

Ratchet: *refusing to look at him*...

Optimus: Please, tell me their conditions!

Ratchet: *turning to leave* ...

Optimus: *grabbing his arm to keep him still* I can endure this silence no longer! Tell me what has befallen the children!

Ratchet: *snarling and ripping his arm away* They live, no thanks to you.

Optimus: Ratchet-

Ratchet: Save it! If this incident has proven anything, it is that you are dangerous, too dangerous to be kept near.

Optimus: Wait!

Ratchet: We are done. Take what you need and leave. You are no longer welcome here.

Optimus: Please don't do this-!

Ratchet: LEAVE!

The dooming declaration hung in the air as Optimus stopped dead in his tracks, the blazing motes of light that served as his optics flickering and wavering. His outstretched servo shook and his exposed spark pulsed in shock and horror. He looked at the rest of the team, desperate for it to be some cruel joke or perhaps a mistake. But as he met the fierce gazes of each of his former team, he knew the truth.

They feared him, and they wanted him gone.

The only one who didn't meet his pleading gaze was Bumblebee who instead opted to look away, unable to watch as Optimus was sent away. The Prime shook and energon leaked from his frame in his own version of tears as he sputtered in vain. However after a moment of silence, Optimus shuddered, turned away, and began gathering the few items he would take with him. He did not want to strip his family of anything important, after all, they still had a war to win. So all the Prime took was the few personal accessories he brought with him to earth, a singular first aid kit, and a whetstone for his in built blades.

He looked back pleadingly one last time as the ground bridge was fired up and prepared to send him halfway across the country. But as he was met with only cold and frigid glares by most, he tore his gaze away and said only one sentence before stepping through.

Optimus: If this is what you wish of me, I will honor it... but let it be known that I never intended for this to happen.

Optimus: ...

Optimus: I'm sorry.

He stepped through and the groundbridge closed behind him the moment he was out of sight. As soon as Optimus was gone, the team sighed collectively, not out of relief like they expected to, but out of grief for what they had done. But despite those feelings, they did not call Optimus back and instead each took time to themselves to think over the matter.

Arcee had been the one to hate Optimus most adamantly after the reveal, but as she lay in her berth, she found herself sorrowful. Optimus had been nothing but kind to her, caring for her and showing her the utmost sympathy and respect after the losses of her partners. He never yelled, he never harmed her, and he even willingly took hits for her more times than she could count. He was Unicron's creation, but he was the kindest mech she had ever met. She hated to admit it, but laying there after he left, she cried and tried to tell herself that it was for the best.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack were both very torn when it came to the matter of Optimus. Both respected him and looked up to him, even after the reveal they wanted to serve under him as they always had. After all, wreckers don't judge a mech so long as he does good. But with how dangerous he had proven to be, in their minds they could not afford to accept the risk that he posed, not when the children were in their care. As much as they loathed sending their Prime away, to them it was only right. It was what good wreckers would do...

Ratchet despised himself the moment he saw the look on Optimus's face after he ordered him to leave. He wished more than anything to take back those words, but his spark... his spark screamed in terror whenever his old friend looked at him. The sight of Optimus's blazing form and the feeling of his sickening spark waves washing over him were engraved into his memory. He couldn't look at Optimus the same way, not after all he had seen since Unicron's near awakening. He wanted to believe that what he was doing was right, that he was sending away a monster that had posed as Cybertronian like some sleeper agent for millions of years. But the pain in Optimus's glowing optics... it made Ratchet regret.

No monster could have looked so betrayed and so very broken at being sent away.

As for Bumblebee? He was left in a state of internal conflict. Much like Ratchet, he was terrified of his Sire's true form and nature, but like Arcee, he couldn't just ignore the fact that he had only ever been met with love and care from Optimus. The Prime had raised him, taken care of him, fought for him, and never once done a thing to harm him. Bumblebee wanted to think that he was cutting off a parasite or getting rid of a spy when he blocked off his bond with Optimus. But as he watched his Sire leave the base for what was likely the last time, Bumblebee felt empty and more alone than every before.

He had betrayed his Sire on every level and his spark knew it...

The children were not allowed back to base for over a week afterward as they recovered. Thankfully they did not suffer any serious damage and healed quickly. But upon entering base for the first time since the incident and seeing Bumblebee issuing orders instead of Optimus, they grew concerned. Immediately they tried to ask what had happened in their absence only to be met with silence from Fowler and June. Even when they turned to the team for answers, the bots simply dodged their questions, eventually up and lying by saying that Optimus was taking a few days to himself because he felt guilty.

The children were suspicious as pit, especially once they noticed the lack of avatars from Unicron and the mysterious disappearance of Optimus's plants, but they accepted it. The reasoning seemed plausible with Optimus's personality... so they waited.

Every day after school the children asked about Optimus. Bulkhead and Wheeljack only met their queries with guilty gazes and did their best to dodge the question. Arcee outright told the children to leave her alone every time they tried to talk with her about the absent Prime, only further rousing their suspicions. Ratchet straight up wouldn't even look at the children and tended to wander off muttering something whenever they tried going to him. And so lastly, after an additional week of prodding and begging for answers, Bumblebee stepped up as leader and gave them.

Jack: Where's Optimus? I know you said he was taking some time off, but it's been nearly two weeks!

Miko: It isn't like him!

Rafael: Optimus is always working and never takes breaks. Did something happen to him?

Bumblebee: ...

Rafael: Bee?

Bumblebee: For your safety, Optimus Prime has been stripped of his badge and exiled for harming innocents, associating with the enemy, and traitorous behavior.

The children: What!?!

The children were distraught but could do nothing once the truth was revealed. They could only make a fuss and give the team the silent treatment in retribution. The team did not take Optimus's absence and the children's reactions well... and neither did the Prime even with the distance between them.

Optimus set up camp in his alt-mode once his frame had healed from the power burst. He hid out in an old garage on some farmstead where a human male and his daughter lived. He stayed undercover for nearly a week in his alt-mode, both to allow his frame to recover and to wallow. He was absolutely spark broken at being sent away and most of his time in alt-mode was spent lamenting his losses.

But the Matrix has never been one to allow its bearer to remain inactive for long, and it swiftly pushed Optimus to move, to do something. As such Optimus resolved himself and left his makeshift base of operations with one goal in mind.

He would continue to fight for his Autobots, weather they wanted him to or not.

Unicron tried to reach out to his creation multiple times during the whole fiasco, but Optimus ignored him, angry at his father for destroying the delicate balance he had forged with his team. As such Optimus went at his work alone, using his remaining access to Autobot codes and signatures to track down his old team to assist where he could.

He would not stand idly by, not while Megatron still lurked.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #the sparkling of unicron au #team prime #optimus prime #tfp kids #angst #ah yes #lots of angst #but do not fear #I already have the next two parts for this planned out #the comfort will come... eventually.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Just curious what the average level of personal investment in these sorts of things is. Like, how much do people usually get into silly stuff like this their friends ask of them? etc. etc. Which I know, only surveying a small sample on a very specific website means I'm not getting an exact average idea lol, but.. curious nonetheless .. Maybe reblog for bigger sample size but also this is not very serious at all/not worth a call to action gbhjbhjb

#which I know this could be context dependent like.. maybe you'd normally dress up but on a week that #you feel sick you wouldn't or etc. etc. - but I mean.. GENERALLY. in the most general average scenario #where you have the average amount of health and free time that you always do. etc. just based on your personality #and level of investment in these things - what on AVERAGE are you most inclined to do #also of course assume they communicate with you ahead of time and are not like planning a part last minute #like 'throw together costume in 5 hours and show up tonight randomly' or etc. I would hope that if we're going with the #AVERAGE of things - most people's friends have better communication skills than springing entire parties #on people last minute lol #assume you have like.. a few days-a week or so to prepare. however ealrly people usually start talking about #birthdays. In my experience it's usually one or two weeks ahead of time. Like 'oh next weekend' or 'oh two weeks from now' etc. #ANYWAY.. feeling a little Sick again of course but still trying to get some photos or something posted #AGAIN i promise I am not going to exlcusively post polls and ntohing else forever hgkjgnekj #I just really really love the ability to post polls and have always my whole life been obsessed with surveying people #I used to think I wanted to do that as a career somehow like.. be one of the people that does psychological interviews #or produce interview asessments for a company or etc. etc. I am always the one friend in the group thats giving out custom made #surveys or asking for other simialr stuff (did you ever take an mbti quiz? how about enneagra #m?? oh yeah I know they're not really scientifically valid or antyhing but like... DID you take them?? huh?? did you??please?? ghjj) #I simply cannot resist.. posting a little poll every once in a while.. as a treat #whilst I still fall behind on like actual content and costumes and stuff gbjhbjh #New poll adventure should be not as much of a wait as the last one was though since I already have the writing #for it really. I just have to do the ms paint sketch. hopefully no unexpected other health issues will get in the way #*** *** *** #< (anytime I do these three star patterns it is an ocd compulsion not me bleeping out words or something just ignore it lol) #(it means something secret in my evil brain just pretend you do not see it. significant only to me) #BUT YEAH.. ... poll... what type of costume party atendee are you? #:0c

[sluttyten]

I just finished writing chapter 16 of unholy, and I really kinda want to take a break free this since I’m caught up to where I initially wanted to end the story, like it just feels like if I were writing this as a book this is where I would end book one

#so like I want to end it here and take a break from unholy while I work on the next part #but also like I know myself and I feel like I would just probably not end up finishing the second half or book two or whatever we’re gonna #call it now #but I have other things I want to do other stuff I want to write #but also I already know what I kinda want to happen in the next part of the story because I planned it out a while ago #I just still need to write it #and I feel like I could go on forever with this #which I don’t know if that’s even something y’all would want #obviously there are still some questions and stuff left unanswered so I would need some continuation #but I don’t want it to wind u o like the poly series where I started to feel like I was just dragging it out

[mademoisellesarcasme]

sometimes you just gotta break out your own power tools and do something tangible and the world feels a tiny bit more manageable.

#okay power tool singular #i own one [1] cordless drill #but i just anchored two of our bookshelves to the walls yesterday and am angling to do another two today #this is part of the great horrible game of Rush Hour that is 'getting our apartment to the way we imagine it' #by we i mean i #since i have The Vision #i drew out the plans and my husband is on board 100% he just doesn't do that sort of visualising stuff ya see #but he's hauled boxes of books and horrible shelves from one room to the next for several hours already and we'll have to do it again #and i appreciate it so much #i finally have all the pieces to do ... almost all the shelves #i forgot one important piece that might require a field trip to our friends' basement #because one of the shelves will be sort-of-wall-mounted atop another shelf #and i don't want to overload the foundation shelf so i need to put reinforcing bars into the upper one #... and then drill THOSE into the wall. #and THEN i need to get some lumber and cut it down to size to set on the shelf arms i bought so we can have wall shelves #specifically in the gap forced by the air vent in the floor #don't wanna ruin household circulation #don't wanna lose precious wall space

[chuluoyi]

✎ wedding anniversary

- gojo satoru x reader

seven years of dating, two years of wedded bliss, and gojo is having his greatest existential crisis yet... all because this year, you apparently have forgotten the most important day of your lives

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—heavy smut, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, slight breeding kink, crack, drunk, lovesick and possessive gojo (nanami is so very done with him), also fluff !!

note: back to chu's thirsting hour :') based on a fellow gojo fucker's very helpful brainrot (chiyo if you see this, hii!😗) pls give it some love bc this has gone through not showing up in the tags 5x already *sobs*

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

To this day, it was still beyond Nanami why you, his very sensible former classmate, would have Gojo Satoru as your husband.

“She... doesn't—hic!—care about m-me... anymore!”

But well, to each their own.

“Gojo—”

“Today is our—hic!—anniversary!”

This is exhausting. It had been 30 minutes ever since the blindfolded shithead started rambling his sorrows. “She is probably just busy, you don't have to—”

“I r-really thought—hic!—she would at least n-not forget it l-like that!”

“Please, stop this nonse—”

Satoru snapped his head so swiftly that Nanami was startled, pointing out an accusatory finger at his face. “You stop!—you don't understand, Nanami!”

The said man flinched, taken aback, before feeling the surge of irritation coursing through his veins.

Sure, Nanami would gladly admit that he didn't understand. He neither had the time nor energy to. It was beyond him that he was even entertaining this blubbering idiot at this time of the day, in a bar no less. How did he get roped into this in the first place?

Actually, he had minus interest in your marital affairs, but Gojo was latching onto him all day, rambling about how excited he was for this day for weeks now, until you gave him a call, saying you would be home late and disregarded his very open anticipation. You broke his heart to pieces, apparently.

Amidst his heartbroken musings, Gojo followed him to his frequented bar, where he proceeded to down multiple glasses without any supervision.

“Am I really t-that lousy? Can’t be it… I’m s-strong, d-dashing… rich—”

Nanami released a guttural sigh, messaging his temples. How could this idiot have no shame while spouting all of this?

“Will s-she… divorce me next…?” he abruptly blurted, eyes widening as saucers and full of clarity all of a sudden. Satoru firmly tugged at his suit and forced him to face him. “Nanamin…! S-she won’t divorce me, r-right?!”

Oh, to hell with it. Nanami couldn’t take this anymore. He was done and he had no patience to tolerate it any longer.

He shrugged him off, and pulled out his phone to dial your number. “Hello? Please, come pick your husband. He’s a public nuisance!”

In fact, you didn’t forget your anniversary.

How could you? Satoru made it his point to drop hints about it almost every day, and you actually struggled to be indifferent about it because you also had things planned out.

A present—already taken care of thanks to your mail order of Rolex’s newest collection watch, and a treat—a two-tier mochi cake he had been staring at with literal stars in his eyes on your last date.

Which has become the problem. The bakery had mishandled your delivery and you had to wait for them to remake it. It was 8pm already and you couldn't help but worry. Satoru must be feeling utterly despondent by now, thinking you had forgotten a day that meant so much for both of you.

And so when you got a call from Nanami, you dropped everything to get him and told the bakery to arrange for the delivery tomorrow, because you knew... nothing good ever came out of Satoru getting drunk.

"I missed youuuu~! Dearest, darling— my universe!"

To Satoru, the everything around him was a blur of lights and hiccups when you came to retrieve him. Nanami was so eager to wash his hands off him, leaving you with a pointed grimace as if pitying you.

. . .

"A-are you going to—hic!—leave m-me?" Satoru slurred for the nth time now, stumbling inside your house with you propping him.

"For the last time, no, but I'm tempted to," you hissed, throwing him a glare. Your husband was a very unpleasant drunk because he wasn't even a drinker in the first place. "Satoru—walk properly!"

You managed to get him into your bedroom, where Satoru flopped onto the bed, dissolving into groans. You exhaled deeply and plucked the buttons of his shirt open, trying to get him change into his sleepwear.

"Ah... haaah," suddenly he caught your hand and placed it on his bare chest, his eyes blazing into yours, rambling, "Sweetheart—please. I c-can't live without you now... I'm sorry—I'm sorry for anything, or everything, I don't even know but—please don't hate me—"

"Satoru..." Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. Why was he this spooked? "I'm not leaving you, okay?"

"I promise you, I'll do better—" his voice was watery, as if his throat was clogged up. "I'll be better..." His voice then reduced into a whisper. The alcohol had stripped away his facade, leaving his raw emotions exposed.

Something inside you lurched. Throughout the nine years you have been with him, Gojo Satoru was always irritatingly self-assured, and so seeing him like this— so openly fragile, it did more than just churn your insides; it made you realize the depth of his feelings.

In that moment, you knew your reassurance meant everything.

"I'm not going anywhere, yeah?" you placed your other hand over his, offering him a genuine, soft smile. “Satoru, I’ve put up with your ass for more than nine years. So…” you shifted your eyes away, suddenly feeling embarrassed, before looking at him again. “I'm here... for you, always.”

His grip on your hand loosened slightly, but the intensity in his gaze didn't wane, and you would've laughed when he hiccupped next if you weren't feeling the overwhelming warmth in your chest.

But oh you wouldn't have expected it, because one heartbeat later, he yanked you down to the bed— crashing his lips against yours.

“Mmmph!”

He tangled his nimble fingers on your hair, and his other hand slipped inside your blouse, unclasping your bra in one flick. You let out a gasp, "Satoru—! "

Before you could even gasp, in the next second, he flipped you over— seizing your puffy lips once more. His hands now moved with more urgency, squeezing your breasts rather roughly, flicking your nipples with the pads on his thumbs.

And soon, far sooner than you thought...

"Who else gets to see you like this?" Satoru inquired darkly after you were naked under him, his voice low and deep. He was no longer that stupid husband of yours, rather the wanton man of your nightly wonders.

Without warning, he slid one of his fingers into your folds, probing your walls, and a gasp escaped you as you arched your back, throwing your head back on the sheets.

"No— one," your voice came in a breathless moan, still reeling. "H-how can y-you ask me—" Stretching you out even further, he entered another finger and you wailed, "Mmgh!"

He had always loved the sounds you made and how you were so pretty squirming under him like this. And before you knew it, his face was inches from your cunt, blowing hot air into your sensitive flesh.

"Tell me, who is the only person who gets to see you like this?"

Your eyes rolled back, words died on your tongue as his skilled tongue ran down on your drenched pussy. You instinctively tried to close your legs around his head, but he firmly held them apart.

"You." Panting, your mind racing to form coherent thoughts. You managed to mutter, "Only you... No one else—hah—just y-you...!"

He suckled on your clit hungrily then, rewarding you for your honesty. Squelching noises echoed around your marital bed as your arousal pooled around his fingers— you being so incredibly, irrevocably close to your release.

"Haaah, ngh—mmph!—Satoru, I'm a-about to—!" but then, in one cruel twist, he withdrew his digits, and your pussy throbbed at the loss.

You muffled your whines, feeling betrayed and irritable. "What—why—!?"

"Don't think that I'll let you cum anywhere else but my cock," he stated gallantly with an unusually stern expression, blue eyes narrowing as he assessed your wetness. Right in front of your eyes, his cock sprung after he let it out of his pants.

"Soon, you'll feel me..." Your eyes shamelessly followed his long length as he placed it on your lower belly. "...there."

Everything about him using that taunting tone turned you on, and true to his words, he soon slid himself inside you. He let out a low grunt at the feeling of how your walls clenching around him and you whined, the pain of being stretched making you almost sob.

"Shit, hold still," Satoru groaned, pushing down on your belly. "You're so tight— relax for me a bit, sweetheart? You're doing so, so fucking well."

His words went through you, and you could feel yourself opening more to ease his intrusion. Next thing you knew, he was buried deep inside you, and his gaze met you once again.

"Are you okay?" he asked between breaths, voice softening. When you nodded in response, he planted a kiss on your chest.

"I love you," he said in a rasp, eyes piercing your soul. "I’ll give you anything. My body, heart, soul—you can have it all. In return, you just have to promise one thing." His eyes, now clearer, deprived of the earlier haze, boring straight into you like an arrow.

"Don't ever leave me."

"I won't," you replied resolutely, catching your breath. Your own eyes shone with your love for him, making it even. "For as long as I live, it's going to always be you."

Satoru gazed at you as if you were his skies and stars, and before he started pounding into you, he vowed—

"Then I'm yours."

And soon, you were a nothing more than a frenzy, hot mess. You couldn’t help the nasty moans flying out of your lips as he kept barreling into you. His grunts reverberated throughout the room, rutting you through your hazed mind.

And the way he was whispering provocations into your ear, pushing you further into ecstasy at the mere thought of—

"What if... I get you pregnant this time?" A thrust. "Just imagine—" Another. "My wife, all round—" Another. "—just because I—am doing this to her—!"

You were barely registering his rambles at this point. Your walls clenching around his girth impossibly tight and you let him claim you as his thoroughly, your legs locking around his waist.

"Ah—ngh, mmrgh! Satoru—more!"

This wasn't you, the usual you wouldn't be this daring— but even you'll be more than forgiven tonight.

Satoru's jaw tightened at the sheer pleasure you brought him, his ego stroked, and his heavenly eyes darkened as you begged and dug your nails into him. He was so close, he could feel it. Your moans was enough to lead him to cum right here and there.

But before that, he was determined to show you, to whom you truly belong.

“My wife.” He growled. A thrust.

“Mine.” You gasped. Harder.

“All mine.” Deeper.

"Yes," you cried. "Yours— all yours, so please—!"

And three deep thrusts later, Satoru finally busted his load inside you, spurts after spurts painting your wall white— filling you up so hard it was spilling out. And your orgasm followed in immediate effect along with your hitched screams of pleasure, before the two of you collapsed on each other, a mix of groans and sweat, entwined in cum, bliss and exhaustion.

"Love you, sweetheart," you heard him murmuring in your ears, enveloping you in a warm embrace as you drifted into sleep.

Next morning, you were awoken to soft hums in your ears.

"Oh, the sleeping beauty awakens." The first sight you saw was Satoru's cheeky grin, and him pecking you on the lips. "How are you?"

"Mmm..." you winced, feeling the slight twinge between your legs. He noticed it and gently untangled himself from you, fingers tracing your waist. "Don't move around too much, you're going to bother my little swimmers, you know."

It took you a few seconds to realize what he meant and you glared at him. "You horny weirdo. I just woke up."

“Heh heh heh~ Don't take it too seriously! I was just trying to get you to smile.” He pinched your cheeks and then mused, “Well, I'd actually be surprised if we made it last night...”

"You're not funny," you retorted. You had been feeling weird and that was when you saw it.

The dazzling, massive diamond ring. On your finger. Wait, is that Graff's Tribal Collection?

"Satoru..." you mumbled, lifting your hand in shock, your eyes fixed on the piece that likely cost more than your monthly wage. "You..."

"Do you like it?" his smile was so easy and light, adoring the sight of you. You were so adorable, marveling at the little gift he got you.

"What do you mean—" you stuttered, turning to him. "Are you crazy?! I can't wear something this expensive—!"

"But that's exactly my point. It's a gift, meant to spoil my wife."

"You are mad," warmth flooded your cheeks, your heart fluttering with joy. You were unbelievably giddy because your husband really knew the way to your heart, yet you'd be damned if you let the excitement show in front of him.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression souring, and with a mocking tone, he accused you, "Actually, you're the one who's gone mad. I can't believe you forgot our anniversary!"

"I didn't, you dummy. I was out picking up your favorite mochi cake before you got yourself wasted." You turned away from him, shyly. "And I got a gift for you too."

"Oh? Oooh! Really!? What is it?!"

He was back to his silly self again, and you could only shake your head, wondering how the sex god from last night and this fool was the same person.

Yet, you felt nothing but love. Your heart couldn't help but melt for him when you saw that carefree grin.

And you couldn't be more grateful to the stars for bringing him into your life.

. . .

Oh, and little did you know that his little swimmers also made the goal last night— as three weeks later, you found yourself clutching the first of your pregnancy tests, which was showing a positive.

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