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your-regular-toast-enjoyer · 1 year

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Yandere! Batfam x Reader

Batfam x reader or Batfam/reader

Yandere Batfam x reader or Yandere Batfam/reader

Word count: 8639 words

TW: GN reader, adult Damian Wayne, mentions drugs, yandere, neglect, angst and kidnapping.

You were Bruce’s youngest child, a year younger than Damian and several years younger than the rest. You were simply the result of a hookup on one of Bruce’s many business trips, it might’ve been to Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia or even just somewhere else in America. The point is, you didn’t grow up in Gotham until the age of thirteen when your mother died in a violent car crash, one in which you had also been involved.

You had sat for hours in the backseat, slowly seeing your mother’s life drain from her eyes as the fire brigade did their best to cut their way into the car. It had all been for nought though, with her dying before the paramedics even arrived. You were physically fine except for some deep cuts and bruises, but your mother’s abdomen had been pierced as a drunk driver of a flatbed lorry carrying steel poles had backed violently into your car, sending the metal sticks flying straight towards your vehicle. One of the poles had gone through the window and hit your mother. It was a gruesome sight, so vile that you threw up several times as you were hauled out of the wreck.

Legally, you were supposed to go to your father, even if your mother’s parents, possible siblings or someone else were willing to take you, the law demanded that it’d be your father who took you. Bruce had signed your birth certificate, he wasn’t unaware of your existence, and he had since your birth sent monthly child support to your mother, but that was all you really were to him up until that point; A negligible extra expense.

It wasn’t that Bruce disliked you when you came to the manor. You were simply a scared kid who had just lost their mother and was deeply grieving. He had dealt with plenty of those. He had just been busy… He obviously had his obligations as Bruce Wayne: CEO duties, public image and bundles of paperwork, but it was more so his obligations as Batman and to his other children, which pulled him away from you when you first came into his home. Damian, especially, took up most of his time. Not only did the two of them constantly train for protecting the city, thus developing a closer bond than you’d ever have with either of them, but Bruce was also very aware of how Damian’s childhood at the league weighed down on him mentally, so, he kept him close, let him vent his frustrations and slowly but surely get over his trauma.

From the very beginning, you became the forgotten child:

Dick was always so focused on Damian, singing his praises and always taking care of him. He usually forgot to even greet you whenever he visited the manor for a week or two, often going “Oh! I haven’t seen you all this time! Well, bye to you too Y/n”, whenever he left. Whenever the oldest brother was visiting, you’d stand in the doorway to the living room, observing with stinging eyes as he embraced Damian like the boy mattered more than the entire world. You had forgotten how it felt to actually matter that much to someone. You wondered if you ever had. Why you tortured yourself with watching the two, you didn’t know, perhaps because you longed to be in Damian’s position? You weren’t even sure yourself. The reason probably didn’t matter, as your forced your eyes to stay on the two, only leaving when you could feel silent tears run down your cheeks.

Jason was the friendliest, not particularly caring for Damian and Bruce either, often calling the green-eyed boy “Demonspawn”, which you’d laugh loudly at, only to be sent to your room by Bruce for upsetting Damian. Jason understood though, usually going to your room to hang out with you and listen to your stories, unlike everyone else. He came to adore you. Damian might’ve been Dick’s favourite sibling, but you were Jason’s. Since Damian was called “Babybird”, Jason called you “Tiny tweet”, even though you didn’t hold the title of Robin. You loved the times when Jason was there, he made you finally feel understood and heard. Unfortunately, Jason was at the manor even less than Dick, (who spent 90% of his time in Blüdhaven), since he couldn’t stand the sight of Bruce for longer than an hour every other month. So, the brief moments of reprieve the second oldest offered were few and far between, still leaving you isolated most of the time.

Tim barely spared you a glance, too busy with his own school, vigilantism and friends. He appreciated that you weren’t annoying like Damian, who’d constantly attack him, thus automatically bringing you above the little devil on Tim’s tier list of family members… however, Damian was at the very bottom, which didn’t make it a great achievement. If you ever tried to converse with Tim, he’d dismiss you with a wave of his long bony hand, telling you to find someone else to chit-chat with. You stopped your attempts at befriending the middle child after a handful of unsuccessful tries, barely seeing him after that. As a matter of fact, whenever you tried to visualise a picture of Tim, it was the image of his slim dismissive hand which appeared. You had forgotten if his hair was black or dark brown, if his eyes were light blue or grey or if his nose had a bump or not. He bordered on becoming a personal myth to you; You knew he existed in a far-off world, but he wasn’t within your orbit.

Damian was at first fearful that you’d take his place, bullying you, physically harassing you and bringing up your mother until you were left wailing on the floor. When you told Bruce though he’d always tell you to, “Be the bigger person, Damian has been through a lot”. You wished you could have fought against your youngest brother, but not only was he older and stronger than you, but he was also a trained assassin and vigilante. You stood no chance. When Damian realised that you were no threat to his position, he left you alone, avoiding talking to you and interacting with you on the basis that you simply didn’t matter to him. He had actually once accidentally told a teacher that he only had three siblings, not realising that he had forgotten about you until he was on his way home, replaying the conversation in his head. Damian might’ve once tried to become closer to you after Alfred had given him a long spiel about how “family is important”, but quickly realised that you trusted him less than the thieves in Crime Alley, and so he abandoned the idea.

Bruce didn’t mean to ignore you, it was purely accidental, but he had on multiple occasions forgotten your birthday and even once failed to remember buying you any Christmas presents, leaving you as the only Wayne child with no gifts that year, to which you had simply muttered something along the lines of, “Of course”, not in a vengeful or angry way, instead in a resigned and understanding tone, before going back to your room that night and not leaving until a day or two later. Alfred had scolded him for that occurrence, there wasn’t really anything he could’ve said in his defence and even Dick had looked at him with disgust as they all took in the image of you standing there, alone, surrounded by gifts that weren’t for you. It had been a striking visual, yet not enough to make Bruce change his ways. It wasn’t that he held any animosity towards you, you were simply just air to him, he had no idea where you were at any given time or who you were, sometimes he even forgot your face.

Alfred was a kind man, an understanding man. However, just like Bruce, he also had others to worry about, and the more isolated you became in your behaviour, the less able he was to spend time with you. Not only that, but he also refused to hear you talk badly of any of your brothers, and even Bruce was off the table if you felt like complaining. Alfred was a sweet and patient man, but to you it felt as if he had lost the plot, as if he didn’t understand how badly you were treated, because his love for the others blinded him, making him an unfortunate enabler of your torment. Alfred was only really good for giving you a biscuit/cookie when you sat in the kitchen, apathetically staring into a wall, for venting your frustrations, however? He was useless.

Your father neglected to handle your trauma. However, somehow, in his messed up brain, he reasoned that any trauma which was vigilante-related could somehow be considered worse as it was on a much larger scale than a single individual losing their mother. This made you grow resentful of both Damian and your father, the careful way Bruce would adapt everything to fit Damian’s wants and needs, disregarding yours, slowly lit a fire within you, a fire which burned with hatred towards them both.

I could see you wanting to join the vigilante life when you’re perhaps fifteen. You had watched the others train for years and would often sneak into the bat cave after dark to train yourself. You were good, really good, so you decided that you might as well start doing actual vigilante work. You did realise that you hadn’t quite reached a fighting level where that’d be a good idea, so you decided to find a more seasoned mentor. A slight detail, which would become important. Your father didn’t have the time to teach you. So who did you call up? That’s right! Jason.

Jason was reluctant to take you under his wing, at first. He even came to the manor to convince you that vigilantism wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. However, after pouring your bleeding heart out to the only brother who cared, he accepted, still apprehensive though.

Jason started his training from the top, getting into the basics swiftly. You got it down faster than he had at first thought, being an astoundingly quick-learner, something which the red-masked vigilante attributed to having Wayne blood in your veins. After locking down all the groundwork within a year or so, it was time to start your specialisation; Choice of weapons, fighting style and general tactics were all next. While training with Jason, you slowly moved into the spare room in his apartment. It wasn’t like you had a bunch of things to move, but what little you had, Jason helped transport from the manor to his primary safehouse.

When Jason considered you ready, you started working as his shadow sidekick. Never known by the vigilante community at large, but definitely a secret menace to Gotham’s criminals. Jason did a good job of keeping your vigilantism a secret After your first three years of training, you completely stopped visiting the manor, even on holidays. You were technically a legal adult now and felt no obligation to stick around a house whose inhabitants had made it clear that you were unwelcome.

No one except Alfred knew that you had completely left for the first long while, with him being the only one you had bid farewell to. The old butler refused to tell Bruce until the man noticed himself. That day would come approximately four months after you stopped coming to the manor, on Christmas eve:

Damian had been the one to notice your absence secondly, after Alfred. He commented on it during the Christmas family dinner, one which Bruce only held for his sons' sakes, and where the only two not attending were Jason and you. Even Dick was there, on a visit from Blüdhaven, spry and jolly around his favourite younger sibling. Damian.

“Where’s L/N?” The green-eyed man had questioned loudly. Silence followed. Bruce took a look around, you weren’t there. They all knew that Jason wouldn’t be attending, he had declined Bruce’s requests every year since his resurrection, instead opting to go to Roy’s place. A lump formed in Bruce’s throat, yet he didn’t know why. “Damian, can you go get them down? They probably didn’t hear that dinner was served”, Dick requested kindly with a smile on his lips. The man in question would’ve usually complained, but since it was his eldest brother who asked, he got up wordlessly. Conversation at the table resumed, with Alfred biting his lips in contemplation. ‘Should he have informed Bruce of your absence, even though he knew you were at Jason’s?’ ‘Perhaps’, he concluded, deciding to keep silent about the whole matter, it was unfair to you. You had moved on, and even if he missed you terribly, it was not his place to demand your return. A piercing “What!” Stopped all the chatter at the table. Damian came barrelling back into the dining room, grabbing the side of the door with a tight knuckle to stabilise himself. “Their room is completely empty! All their stuff is gone! The only things left are the bed and closet!”

Bruce had stood up immediately, his chair colliding with the ground behind him as he brushed by Damian, entering your room, his son had been right. Your room was empty. None of the posters you had brought with you from your life with your mother, no papers lying scattered around and no other signs of use. As Bruce looked closer at the remaining furniture, he found that a thick layer of dust coated every surface. The room was as empty as when you arrived as a child and something in Bruce’s stomach dropped. “Y/n!” He called out. No reply. Soon, the entire manor was looking for you, even Alfred pretended to do so as well, his guilt of knowing eating him up from the inside. None of them found you, you had vanished without a trace.

Somehow, your perceived disappearance became the thing to snap your family’s collective consciousness. All hyped up by each other’s worry and driven into a frenzy. Bruce believed that you had gotten kidnapped or ran away, and it scared him. The thought of his negligence having brought you to extremes was like a spear through his heart, switching something on in his brain. He ordered his available sons to scour the entire city of Gotham to find you, completely forgetting about Christmas and leaving only Alfred behind to stay at the manor, in case you returned on your own. Bruce also ensured that most rooms in the manor were lit, like a lighthouse showing you home. Meanwhile, you and Jason were celebrating the holidays at Roy’s place in Star City, oblivious to what was taking place in all the major cities. You were playing with Lian as the two men chatted about old times and the poor quality of the beer they were drinking; Roy had let you two stay for a few days, so Jason could properly enjoy the festivities without thinking of his alcohol percentage as he was the designated driver. None of you had any idea of the ruckus going on only a few cities away.

It was after this Christmas that the family changed irreversibly. Suddenly, your safety became their top priority. Spear-headed by Bruce, who had a borderline existential crisis as he believed there was an equal chance of you being dead in a ditch somewhere and you being tortured by some rogue. Bruce was overtaken by guilt and challenged this feeling into pure rage as he beat up henchmen and rogues within an inch of their lives, believing them to have somehow connected you to Batman. They hadn’t and were entirely unaware of why the bat was so obsessed with this one person. Were you perhaps vital in an ongoing detective case? Or did Bruce Wayne tip him off to be extra vigilant when finding his youngest? They had no clue.

Well, obviously, Christmas was ruined. When all of the batboys and their father returned home empty-handed, they were in no mood for celebrations. Tim simply sat in a chair, lamenting, as he stared into a wall with something akin to resignation, running calculations in his head of where you could have possibly gone, before heading for the cave to view the security footage as far back as he had stored. Bruce and Damian refused to simply stop looking for the night, not staying long at the manor before they started searching other cities, making some of their vigilante friends aware of the situation. After staying in the nearest bathroom, and regaining control of his emotions, Dick joined his youngest brother and father in their quest for searching other cities. Bruce went to Metropolis, Damian to Central City and Dick to Blüdhaven. They had planned that they would each scour a city tonight and one the night after, it would be impossible to find you during the day, as there were way too many people wandering the streets. Alfred still remained silent, he didn’t think it was fair of them to bring you back, not with the way they had treated you and not when you had clearly left of your own volition.

Bruce had informed his closest friend, Clark Kent, of your disappearance, with the alien immediately insisting on aiding in the search. “It’ll be quicker if we both look at the same time!” Clark had yelled determined through the phone, his southern drawl helping to calm Bruce’s nerves, if only slightly. That was how not only Batman but also Superman started patrolling the streets of Metropolis, in search of a single person, you. Jon too wanted to aid in the search and offered Damian to take over looking in Central city, so he could look somewhere else instead, thus covering more ground, Damian agreed and went to Coast city.

As the news spread to the citizens of these cities that the Supers and the Bats had teamed up to look for one of Bruce Wayne’s missing kids, it became the talk of everyone’s dinner tables. News channels ran multiple stories about it, despite it being Christmas, being hyped up in no small part thanks to Lois Lane, whose heart went out to the Waynes for losing someone so close to them. The story had slowly morphed from you having run away voluntarily, to you having been kidnapped as a ransom. Everyone who heard of your story believed it to be a tragedy committed by someone who couldn’t even hold up the sanctity of the holiday spirits.

Back at home, Tim reviewed all of the security footage and went as far back as four months, that was when he saw you exit the manor with multiple boxes in your arms, loading them into a red lorry. He kept looking at you walking back and forth for a while until a well-known presence stepped out of the vehicle. Jason. Tim stood still, you hadn’t just moved out of the manor, you had moved in with Jason. You had moved in with the second oldest brother, and neither of you had bothered to inform anyone! Tim seethed, he wasn’t mad at you, no, he could never be. But Jason, the mere thought of him now made Tim’s blood boil. He believed that his brother had borderline kidnapped you away from them. His ire intensified when he saw Jason enter the manor and come out with more of your stuff packed into boxes. That was enough evidence for Tim to conclude that Jason must’ve forced you to move out, that it really hadn’t been your choice at all… Skillfully ignoring how none of the people in the manor had ever given you a reason to stay, let alone noticed that you had been gone for over four months.

However, knowing that you were with Jason made him able to conclude that you were likely in one of his safehouses or spending your Christmas with his best friend Roy, those two were inseparable, after all. He decided that he would look through Jason’s safe houses, then he called up Damian, “Go to Roy Harper’s place and look for Y/n. They’re with Jason.” Tim’s voice was dark, foreboding and it even made Damian’s hairs stand straight. Truly the stuff of nightmares. Tim explained the situation to both Dick and Bruce afterwards, as he glided through the air from safe house to safe house. Letting the two know that he had sent Damian after you and that they could come home now. Even if Tim currently held the desire to puncture Jason’s lungs for taking you away from them… away from him, he knew his older brother would never let anything happen to you. You were weak in his mind, and in the rest of the family’s mind too. Perhaps they would’ve worried less if they knew of your vigilante training… or maybe not. Vigilantism is dangerous, after all.

When Roy had turned on the TV briefly, you had all been bombarded with news of your disappearance. Your apathetic face from your last high school photo was plastered on every news network, big and small. News of an all-out search party with multiple vigilantes involved was outlined in great detail. Both Jason and you looked at each other with a mix of concern and confusion. It had been four months since you had last been at the manor, Alfred knew of your departure, what were they doing?! Lian had thankfully been put to bed, none of you wanted her to view the panic that crossed all three of your faces. “What the heck are they up to?” Roy questioned no one in particular. “It’s probably a façade, someone might have noticed that ‘Bruce Wayne’ was down one child and now he needs to find me to assure them that I’m not dead. It wouldn’t be a good look to have multiple children die in your custody. No offence Jay”, you postulated, it was a far reach but still the best explanation you could come up with. Jason had agreed with your assessment, giving you a light smack to the back of your head for mentioning his death. He wasn’t mad, but he always joked that it was a sensitive subject.

The three of you tried to come up with solutions to the problem at hand when you were interrupted by an impatient knock on the door. “I’ll get it”, Roy muttered. Making his way out of the living room, where you had previously stood, and towards the entrance. The moment he turned the lock, the door was swung open by whoever was on the other side, the wooden frame just barely missing Roy’s face. Heavy footsteps made their way towards the living room. Roy barely had the time to realise who it was before they were gone, striding towards where you were.

“Damian?!” You exclaimed, confused. The green-eyed man stood in front of both Jason and you, wearing his full Robin costume. You wondered how he had gotten here so quickly, the news mentioned how he’d been to both Central City and Coast City, both were relatively far away from your current location. “I’ve come to take you home, Y/n. We have been worried for your safety and I see that Todd took full advantage of your little outburst.” Damian’s voice was spiteful, Tim had managed to fuel his ever-latent anger and direct it towards Jason. You tried to rebuke your youngest brother, but Jason stepped in front of you, ready to defend you against the green-eyed menace, “As if! They’re not going back with you, just to end up being ignored by everyone again! Just because Bruce needs his public image to be clean, doesn’t make it their problem! So run along, Demonspawn!” Damian did not take well to refusal, let alone Jason’s uncalled-for name-calling.

Damian marched past the taller man and straight towards you. As he tried to grab your forearm, he was thwarted as you defended yourself, blocking his arm and throwing him to the ground. Damian was shocked and Jason was grinning like a proud father. Roy came strolling in at the same time, having checked on Lian’s safety, no problems there. “What did you teach them?!” Damian screamed at Jason, blaming him for your newfound strength. “Everything, they’re a vigilante. I’m not gonna send them out on the streets without knowing how to defend themselves.” The second oldest brother swung an arm around your shoulders as you stood still, giving Damian a look that promised nothing good.

Well, this was unacceptable to Damian, who had silently called for reinforcement, filming your entire interaction so far on a gadget connected to his chest plate. When Bruce heard Jason’s words, he felt yet another stone sink to the bottom of his abdomen, he had let you become a vigilante, his little Y/n… No, this would not do. All of them agreed on this. Once they had you again, they all decided that anything vigilante-related would be kept out of your reach. While both Dick and Bruce were flattered that you’d share a career path with them, they could not accept the danger it brought you in.

It didn’t take long for Damian’s request to be honoured, as Bruce and the boys took a zeta tube to Star City and immediately went to Roy’s. It took no more than twenty minutes, with Damian engaging in a violent screaming match with Jason, accusing him of kidnapping you, of forcing you to play his mock Robin just to spite your shared father and of many more heinous crimes, which the green-eyed man covered your ears for, despite your attempts to get him to stop touching you. When a barrage of impatient knocks sounded on Roy’s door for the second time, he didn’t open it. Instead, he opted for locking Lian’s bedroom door and grabbing his bow as well as a handful of arrows, which he had reverse-engineered from Oliver’s original ones, aiming one at the entrance.

Of course, none of the dark-haired men on the other side waited for Roy to feel charitable enough to invite them into his home, as Dick harshly kicked the door in, wooden splinters spreading across the entrance hall’s floor. “What the hell are you doing in my home!” Roy screamed, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Lian. His bow was still pulled tight, an arrow aimed at the newcomers as a threat to not tread further into his flat. “Calm down, speedy. I will replace your door. I’m here to bring my youngest home”, Bruce muttered as he tried to enter the living room, only to be stopped by an arrow flying just past his nose. “Do not take another step. You are intruders”, Roy seethed, orange strands of hair swaying in the air as he made his way in front of the bat trio of Dick, Tim and Bruce.

Bruce was almost surprised by Roy's violent reaction. Almost. He was obviously quite aware of the redhead’s close bond with his second oldest, who had in turn evidently been closer to you than he had ever thought. You had moved in together, after all. Bruce did not blame Jason like Damian and Tim, instead, he simply saw it as an accentuation of his own failings as a father. Still, it was a very serious action to threaten the Batman, the very implications of which stunted both Bruce and Tim for just a moment. Dick wasn’t, however, immediately turning on his trusted secret weapon, skilful manipulation.

With slow steps, Dick managed to get right in front of the archer, putting a caring hand on his shoulder. “Roy. Surely, as a father, you of all people must understand why Bruce wants his child back. Y/n and he needs to mend their relationship. For Y/n. Imagine how they’ll feel years in the future when they have no father to turn to? They have the chance to get a real security net, something which I know you always wanted at their age. Surely, you must realise that just you and Jason can’t be enough… Not to go into too much detail, but the two of you haven’t been known to be the most… how would you put it… reliable? Stable? …clean?” Dick’s mention of Roy’s former substance problems broke his initial apprehension. Between Jason, you and him, it was a topic that was never mentioned, it brought back doubts and was probably his second biggest insecurity, his biggest one being… “Imagine if Y/n was Lian? You would want her to have a father, wouldn’t you? Of course, you do! That’s why you stayed. Y/n needs a father too, and not just that they need all of their brothers at their side, Jason can’t stand in for a father. Surely, you would know.” Dick continued. It was a dirty trick to mention Lian, but it worked as Roy lowered his bow, stepping aside for the Waynes to enter the room where Damian and Jason were currently in a screaming match.

Once Jason saw his other brothers and Bruce, he ripped you away from Damian and tried to push past them, holding your hand protectively and tight. It didn’t work, however, as Tim was quick to stun his older brother with a taser, right after Dick had tugged you securely into his latex-covered chest. You didn’t quite know what happened after that, Dick pried your lips and teeth apart, dropping a little round tablet on your tongue, before immediately shifting his hand to cover both your mouth and nose. Shifting the pill around in your mouth to not swallow it, while you tried to kick him away, did absolutely nothing. Dick was stronger and a greater fighter than you’d ever be, your attempts at resistance were little more to Dick than a cat scratching his arms. The blue-eyed man held you close with his free arm, gently cooing supportive reassurances as the pill melted in your cheeks, bitter and promising a nightmare when you woke up.

When your eyes opened again, you were laying in your old bed at Wayne manor. The window had been covered up with thick metal bars, spread no more apart than half of your head’s size. Much of your old stuff, which you had brought to Jason’s primary safe house, was back. They were nowhere near where you had put them when you lived here previously, a testament to how little whoever had reinstated your items actually knew about you. Sitting up, you found that your old cotton bedding had been changed for what you assumed to be silk, it was weirdly soft and you didn’t enjoy it in the slightest. Your duvet was a deep shade of green with golden accents, and you immediately knew who was responsible for the change. Damian. Perhaps he was even the one who had moved all your old stuff back. Their methodical placement, with very few items not lining the wall, certainly looked like how Damian had decorated his own room.

A large red box, filled with all your old clothes, as well as a bunch of new items stood in the middle of your room. You ignored it as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, trying to stand up only to find that your vision was double-crossed and your breaths shallow, you were dizzy beyond measure and your head pounded like mad, not to mention the coating of glistening sweat, which made you feel gross just being in your own body. What in the world had Dick given you?

Still, you attempted to move to the door, even if you realised you couldn’t stand up without fainting on the spot. Grasping your mattress tightly with both hands, you gently lowered yourself to the cold floor. Moving your legs under you, you managed to sit on your knees. Leaning forward, you took the fall with your palms, now standing on all fours. You hoped no one would ever see you in this state, it was humiliating not being able to move about as you normally did, but you had to get out or at least try. You had no idea what your father and brothers wanted with you, but you had a feeling it was nothing good.

Sliding your shins forward and following the motion with your hands, you slowly made your way towards the door. Raising a hand to the knob, you were surprised when the door swung open by itself. In the door stood Tim, warm towels in his arms. “Ah! I saw on the camera feed that you were awake! I thought you might enjoy some pampering.” A beat of silence rang out as you met Tim’s eyes, pale blue like a summer sky. You almost impressed yourself as you jumped forward, drilling the top of your head into his knees, making the lanky man fall to the ground with a grunt, as you tried to crawl away as quickly as possible. Tim was quick to get back on his feet, running after you, but you had already reached the closest stairs leading down. It only took one look down the long wooden construction to realise what you had to do, even if it would hurt more than anything. Tim realised what you were trying as he saw your shifty eyes cast a sideways glance down the steps.

“Y/n! Don’t you dare!” You didn’t let him finish as you closed your eyes and leaned to the side, starting to roll down the steps… or at least you would have, had it not been for the iron grip on your forearm. At first, you believed it to be Tim, but as you started to struggle, you realised that the hold was too tight and the hand too strong. Cracking open an eye, you could feel your heart sink into your stomach. Damian. Somehow, your youngest brother was the scariest one. The others were always ambivalent to your presence, but Damian had been openly hostile to you in your youth, oftentimes attacking you verbally or physically, and you didn’t doubt he could be violent towards you again. “What are you doing, Y/n?” His voice was no-nonsense, yet his eyes were soft. A strange dichotomy. “Getting away from you psychos”, you mumbled coldly, your throat was dry and the urge to cough arose as you spoke. The green-eyed man looked pensive, a tick in his jaw betrayed how he was trying to hold in his anger. He didn’t bother answering your insult, instead, he slung you onto his back and made his way back to your room, sneering at Tim when the two passed each other. Once back in your room, Damian held you down on the bed by your wrists, as he sat next to you. A general meeting was called, involving everyone in the family, except Jason, whom you had no clue where had gone.

Bruce had arrived almost immediately, with Dick prancing in not too long after. You weren’t sure what they wanted from you, assuming this was all to save Bruce’s public image, but even if that wasn’t the reason, you were sure that it was nothing good. They had all shown up on Christmas just to take you away from the only people you considered close friends and family. No one with good intentions would do something like that. As soon as the offending Waynes had all arrived, you spat out for them to announce the purpose of your kidnapping immediately. Both Bruce and Dick seemed disturbed by you titling their actions as a kidnapping. With the latter trying to defend it as being more of an obligatory change of scenery. It didn’t work, and you waited for someone to give you a proper answer with a deadpan. Damian had loosened his grip on you as the others arrived and all sat at the edge of the bed, surrounding you and making sure that you no longer had any possibility of escaping. It was claustrophobic and ominous.

Bruce was the one to explain that they had all led you back home to build the relationships, which you had all been deprived of in your younger years, expressing his regret and familial love for you, something which was echoed by the other men in the room. You were unconvinced. Telling them to drop the act and just tell you the real reason already, exclaiming how you didn’t have time to play charades with them. No matter how much they tried to convince you of their sincerity, you would have none of it, throwing their past actions in their face as proof of their dishonourable underlying motives. The meeting adjourned with no real progress made, other than the four of them deciding that you would be a danger to yourself if left alone and, therefore, making a schedule of when each of them would be by your side.

Bruce was shocked at your inability to believe in their love for you, his guilt multiplying by a hundred as he realised how untrusting you had become of your own family. He realised that he was to blame, attempting to grasp your hand, so small compared to his. Yet, when his fingers came close to yours, you jerked away, sending him a stare filled with nothing but disgust and hatred. He swore to change this, to do anything in his power to turn you to the truth of your family’s love for you, his love for you, his youngest child. The one he had almost let slip away.

Dick was heartbroken, he had truly believed that when they revealed their regret, you’d accept them back into your life with open arms. At your apprehension, the acrobat felt as if he was brought right back to when his parents died. Once again feeling his family slip through his fingers. However, this time, he was no longer the innocent bystander, who had done nothing to deserve the situation. No, this time he felt just like the man who had cut the robes of his parents’ trapeze. He had been the one who sabotaged his relationship with you. Still, he refused to let that be how the two of you would part ways. No. He deserved a second chance, he was your brother, after all. Family doesn’t just split with each other because of misunderstandings. He promised you and himself that he would not let it end like this. The two of you would become just as close as he and Damian, no matter how long it’d take. Dick could wait... No, he couldn't.

Tim blamed Jason for your sudden unwillingness to trust their intentions. Not even giving their prior neglect any thought. It was funny how he had practically worshipped Jason when he was younger, but now? Now, he blamed Jason for having corrupted your mind. Tim had completely turned around the memories of you attempting to communicate with him when you were younger. Instead of him telling you to scram every time you walked into his room to talk, he had deluded his own mind into thinking that he used to welcome you with open arms. Certain memories of Conner and him playing video games for hours on end were changed into the two of you doing the very same. He did not blame you for your hesitance, he preferred to solely, yet delusionally, place the entire blame on Jason. The ex-Robin, who had once been Tim’s biggest idol, had now turned into his greatest enemy. The way he so readily placed the blame on someone else spoke volumes about his lack of awareness when it came to your lucidity. He was sure that he could turn your mind ‘right’, by that he, of course, meant, ‘make you believe his version of events’. Tim’s delusional memories might’ve started off as just a plan to manipulate you, but they almost immediately turned into his own perceived truth. Anything to place the blame on Jason and not himself.

While Damian also disliked Jason like Tim, he was nowhere near delusional. He was highly lucid and entirely aware that, yes, they had all treated you like you were nothing more than a nuisance. Yes, you were probably well within your right to deny them any affection or chances. Yes, their new-found obsession with your love had become unhealthy and guilt-ridden, and it was certainly to your detriment. However, Damian had always been selfish and spoiled, two traits of his that he was aware of, yet couldn’t find it within himself to change. He was brought up as a prince his entire life, first as the heir to Eth Alth'eban and then as the unofficial prince of Gotham. There had never been anything he wanted that he didn’t get, and he knew that you would be no different. He was loyal to any cause he set his mind to and now, you would be it. No matter how much you’d fight, he was willing to keep his course. It was better for the both of you, he would get to enjoy your presence, and hopefully your care, while you’d be protected from any and all harm. Damian would give you the world if you asked, literally, so he saw no reason why he couldn’t demand your affection.

After your initial shock at the kidnapping subsided, you came to realise that your family’s newfound care had nothing to do with their public image, but rather some psychotic break in their mentality. Their affections turned clingy and you slowly started to feel a sense of hopelessness. They never let you be alone and they were so demanding of your affections.

Dick was especially bad in that regard, forcing you to cuddle and be physically affectionate, even if you showed an aversion to physical touch. He didn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to be close with your eldest brother, which meant he lent you little to no understanding in regards to any lack in the enjoyment of his company. Bruce never stopped Dick, always excusing his overly affectionate demeanour and encouraging you to do the same. Dick would in general be very open and clingy in his affection, barely letting you leave the couch or bed so that he could just encase himself around you like plastic wrap, rubbing your cheeks together and otherwise holding onto you tightly. It would really just be a way for him to make sure yiu were still there, that you weren’t missing like the night they brought you back. It really changed him deeply. Dick would also likely move back into the manor, much to everyone’s, except you, delight. That way he could be near you more often and better follow the observation schedule that they set up.

Bruce himself was much more willing to let you have your space, but there were certain things which he demanded, like you calling him dad, or at least father, or you eating your meals next to him. The eating arrangements always put you between Bruce and Damian, across from Dick. If that wasn’t bad enough, Bruce also enjoyed watching you eat, feeling a sense of fulfilment as he ensured that you stayed safe and sound. Of course, Bruce had cut you out of vigilante life completely, and if it had been solely up to him, he would’ve wrapped you in bubble wrap and kept you by his and your brothers’ sides forever. However, he realised that bubble wrap might be uncomfortable and probably wasn’t a very breathable material for your skin, so he did the next best thing. He made sure that you were constantly provided for, as well as spoiled beyond measure, giving you any gift that he thought you could possibly enjoy. It was, in a way, his way of giving you back what he felt he owed you for all the birthdays, Christmases and other holidays that he had missed out on. Not only that, but he also enjoyed the idea of him providing for you as a good father should.

Tim spent hours trying to ‘re-program’ your mind. He would describe in great detail how the two of you used to spend time together. He became frustrated when you explained how none of it ever happened and started to double down, blaming Jason for messing up your mind. Sometimes, Tim would even drag you to his room, which had become even messier as he slowly started to spend less time there and more time with you, and force you to re-enact ‘your old memories’ by playing the games he remembered the two of you playing. He would force you to sit on his bed, between his legs, as he caged you in with the rest of his lanky body and rested his head on your shoulder. It made you claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but Tim would get pouty and extend the gaming sessions if you tried to get away. The worst part of being with Tim, however, wasn’t listening to his delusional rants about your old relationship, no, that was an unavoidable nuisance at best. The worst thing was how he would dirty Jason’s name with the vilest of allegations, none of them rooted in reality. Everything from Jason kidnapping you, to Jason wanting to put your life in danger to punish Bruce and, worst of all, that Jason was somehow in a conspiracy with the League of assassins to kill you so that Damian would be Bruce’s only true heir. Whether or not you believed anything Tim said in the beginning, it was hard to entirely brush off all his claims as they were repeated to you verbatim almost every day. Sometimes Tim would even present ‘evidence’ for his claims, like videos of Jason acting suspiciously, or messages intercepted between Talia and Jason, written in their handwriting, mentioning you in a less than ideal light. Most of this ‘evidence’ was either taken out of context or simply fabricated. With many of the letters that Tim claimed were from Talia having been written by Damian, who knew his mother’s handwriting down to the smallest flicker of her wrist.

Damian was perhaps the most refreshing of them. He wasn’t nearly as overbearing as Bruce, nor was he as clingy as Dick and Tim. Damian was simply quite demanding. “L/n, sit next to me”, “L/n, come read with me in the library”, “L/n, come walk with me through the gardens”, and so on. His commands were easy to follow, and not to be questioned, Now, that was something you could do. Damian was less of an affection seeker, he was more patient than the rest, perfectly willing to wait until you were ready to get emotionally close to him. He would wait, with welcoming arms and a composed smile. If you ever showed Damian any affection, like a hug or putting your head on his shoulder while the two of you were reading, he would experience a brief moment of shock, before laying an arm or two around you, careful not to overwhelm you, but absolutely celebrating like new years in his mind. On the other hand, if you were to try and escape, Damian would have no qualms about breaking both of your legs with a sledgehammer, Annie Wilkes-style. Damian is deeply loyal, both to you and to Bruce, but even more so to himself and his personal beliefs. Once Damian sets a goal, he will not lose sight of it, this is also why he can remain so patient with you, but it also means that even if you somehow calm down the rest of your family’s yandere tendencies to manageable levels, this will never be the case with Damian. He will forever remain by your side, ready to protect and serve you. He does almost become reverent in his familial love for you, not in a deity-like way, but he does view you as one of the only people set above him, this reflects in the painted portraits, which he will no doubt create for you. Your room and his will both end up covered in your portraits, from different angles, with different hairstyles and so on, it is almost unsettling to see your own eyes staring back at you everywhere you go, almost like a 1984 Big Brother, only it is yourself. Damian will also take you to interact with his pets, he might keep both Titus and Batcow at a distance at first, afraid that they’ll hurt you, however, he almost transfers ownership of Jerry and Alfred the cat to you, thinking you could probably need some non-human companions to help you settle back in. He would also help you re-decorate your room if you’d like, only to sneak in deep green imagery here and there to remind you of him.

They are all exceptionally loving of you, you are their little prince/princess/royal, and they make sure to treat you like one. Alfred is almost embarrassed at the over-the-top behaviour, but he accepts it, as he feels obliged to always go with what Bruce wants. Bruce was once his little boy, (not biologically but in spirit), and he understands why the man acts as he does, even if he disagrees with the intensity of their treatment of you. He does, however, offer brief moments of reprieve, when he takes observation duty and simply lets you sit in the kitchen, munching on a cookie or two, doing whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t bring you in danger. It feels nice to just be yourself, even if only for a fleeting instant.

Jason had tried to get you back many times but was constantly being fought back by the rest of the family, physically and mentally. He had tried asking Roy for help, but the redhead was afraid of what they’d do to Lian, so he refused. The other Justice League members were of no help either, while they enjoyed Jason’s presence, they were first and foremost Bruce’s friends, and as such took his side in the matter. There was nothing Jason could do, he was powerless to help you as you were practically held captive within your old childhood home.

In short, the family made you the jewel of their eyes, your previous neglect was swept under the rug and you’re expected to forget it or at least forgive them. If I were to rank them from worst to best, it’d probably be Tim, Dick, Bruce, Damian and Alfred, (let’s be honest, he’d definitely turn at least slightly yandere after a while, even if you won’t notice. Heck, the fact that he lets Bruce hold you captive definitely screams “Not entirely against you being here against your will”). I think Tim would be the worst, as he often puts the need to convince you that you have always been close and his hatred of Jason before your actual wants and needs, and he will do things which you will find traumatic and uncomfortable, just to get you to agree with him. Dick is right behind him, as he puts his own need for extreme physical validation before your comfort and will expect you to forgive him relatively fast, as well as not being particularly sympathetic to your situation. Bruce and Damian are both tolerable, with Bruce being slightly worse due to his extreme overbearingness and lesser patience. Alfred is… well he’s Alfred, he treats you like a normal person would, while just being insanely enabling in his lack of action against Bruce. You’ll never escape any of them, so you better get comfortable.

#yandere batfam #batfam x reader #batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #yandere batboys #batboys x reader #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #bruce wayne x reader #jason todd x reader

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gracieheartspedro · 7 months

Text

Somewhere With You

Part 4 of How Long

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

FIND Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 HERE!!

description: sleeping with your exes brother is one thing, but envisioning a whole life with him? that's a dangerous game. but you did it. now you're here, and tommy is fucking pissed.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, there is smut in this part!! fear of being caught by sarah?, unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), joel is a CONSENT KING, dirty talk, overstimulation, titty fucking (yw caly), light violence, tommy is literally evil.

author's note: jesus christ i'm so glad I am finally here with this. I feel like finishing this is my greatest success in life lmao. I will probably continue this series but this is the last part for a while. I appreciate everyone's love on it and I can't wait to get more stuff out to y'all!

“Are we going to have a celebration when we get home?”

Joel laughs, “Yeah, we can. What did you wanna do?”

You just listen to Sarah list off all the possible ways to celebrate winning the tournament. The movies, going to the mall for new jeans, going to the local ice cream parlor every night of the week. Joel shakes his head at that one as he turns the truck onto the highway. You have your knees up to your chest, the zip up Joel let you borrow hanging off your shoulders. You had complained about how cold you were all weekend, so Joel shut you up by tossing you his zip up. You haven’t taken it off since.

The sun was setting over the horizon, drawing the Sunday to a close. You had to work in the morning and you were dreading concluding the weekend you spent with Joel and Sarah.

Everything with them seems natural. It felt like family.

You did not want to face tomorrow, especially when there was no set plans as to when you would be hanging out with them again.

Luckily, Sarah has not mentioned much of anything about what she saw early Saturday morning, so there was no awkward tension. The only time it came up was when you all were tired from Saturday’s events and you arrived back to the hotel room.

“You two sleeping together tonight, too?” She asked, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She wasn’t even trying to be rude or demeaning, she just wanted to know if she could fall asleep in one of the beds without being stirred.

“Yeah, you can have that bed hun.” Joel answered.

Sitting on those horribly uncomfortable bleachers and cheering Sarah on had taken a lot out of you, so you were ready to throw yourself into the plush mattress, too.

You watched Sarah throw herself onto of the comforter, sinking into the pillows face first. It makes you giggle while you grab your pajamas to change.

Joel nudges you while you dig through your duffle, “No funny business tonight, ma’am.”

You shake your head, his comment making your stomach turn upside down with nerves. You smack his chest with the back of your hand, “No duh, asshole.”

Sarah puts her headphones on, drowning out Joel’s humming to an old country song. You just stare ahead, watching him speed pass car after car. His truck revs every time he does it which makes you clench your knees a bit tighter.

“In a rush, dear?”

The nickname makes his heart race.

He taps his fingers, trying to act like that nickname doesn’t drive him insane. “Want to make sure to get you home so you can be rested up for work in the morning.”

“That’s mighty sweet of you, but take your time. I’m in no rush.”

He eases off the gas a bit, taking your advice.

“You talk to your Mama lately? She still likin’ Maine?”

It wasn’t a question you were expecting coming from Joel. You had told him about your mom around the time that she moved away, however long ago that was. You truly didn’t expect him to even remember.

“We talk every week, she likes it there. Wants me to come experience a winter there, so I may go up for Christmas,” You explain, remembering back to conversation you two just had last week. She wanted you to feel what fluffy snow felt like and maybe go skiing with her.

It makes Joel’s heart sink a bit. Not because you would be visiting your mother, but instead you would not be here to spend Christmas with him and Sarah. He had already planned on making a spot for you at the dining table.

“That’d be nice,” He licks his lips, contemplating if he should say what he really wants to say, “‘M bettin’ she misses seein’ your beautiful face everyday.”

You smile, your cheeks burning hot at Joel calling you beautiful. You knew you had to throw him off and give him a sarcastic response to keep him on his toes.

“Gonna freeze my ass off there. May have to borrow some of your flannels.”

He chuckles, tilting his head towards you, “You already havta’ have about four of my t-shirts, now that hoodie. You wanna raid me some more?”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you said I just had to “get with you” to get clothes,” You’re whispering, leaning into him. You don’t want Sarah to hear the words you’re speaking to her father, “How many times do we need to go at it before I get one of those denim jackets you own?”

He peers over at you. You smirk, quirking one eyebrow up.

“You with me to get my clothes or somethin’?”

“That and other things,” You tease, pulling away, leaning your back against the seat again.

Joel peers into the rear view mirror. Sarah is asleep, her headphones blasting her favorite pop album. He tilts his head towards you, his eyes not leaving the road, “You’ll havta remind me of those other things when we get home.”

He could get used to always having you in his passenger seat.

Sarah was dead asleep in the backseat, so you both decided to get all the stuff from the back inside before nudging her awake. You quietly shut the door, grabbing Joel’s one bag from the driveway and slinging it over your shoulder.

You follow close behind him as he unlocks the front door and places Sarah’s stuff on the staircase.

The idea of having to leave made you want to scream. You didn’t feel like driving home and laying lonely in your own bed. You didn’t want to resume your boring life at work. You just wanted him.

This weekend made you realize that you really couldn’t live without him. You’re not only comfortable around him, but he’s exciting. He cracks jokes and compliments you when you don’t expect it. Those couple of months without him were still months he was plaguing your mind, even though he wasn’t physically around you.

You snap out of your thoughts quickly. You start watching Joel’s muscles restrict over his gray t-shirt and it’s enough to send you to your knees. You didn’t even realize how crazy he was driving you. His messy curls that were trapped under a hat most of the weekend are finally loose and curling up his neck. And the way his jeans hugged his ass while he walked away from you? You didn’t know how long to could refrain from telling him you needed him, right this second.

“I may call out tomorrow. Too tired to sit on my computer all day and run reports,” You say while he wonders back to you from his bedroom down the hall. You’re hoping it leads to an offer.

He nods, tossing his keys on the entry table next to you,“Yeah, I am off tomorrow. Have to get this house in order and make sure Sarah actually wakes up for school in the morning.”

No offer. Maybe you could propose it?

“Maybe I could just spend the night.”

The air is thick instantly with tension. You can hear the hitch in his throat. Once you say it, you realize how desperate you must sound. But you want to be able to lay next to him again. You want and need him.

“If that’s what you wanna do, sweetheart. I don’t mind none. Love havin’ you here.”

He grabs your waist lazily, pulling you into his chest. The connection sends chills down your arms.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to you to think I’m being needy.”

He doesn’t even hesitate, he just bows his head to capture your lips with his, giving you a slow sensual kiss. You move your hands up to his neck, pulling him down further into you, eager to be close to him.

When he realizes that’s where it’s going, he pulls up for air.

“Lemme go get the last couple bags and get Sarah inside.”

As he says that, the door flings open behind you. A sleepy Sarah blinks at both of you, shaking her head instantly when she sees her Dad’s arms wrapped around you. You push back, flinging yourself backwards and away from Joel.

“Can you lovebirds do that somewhere else,” She groans, while rubbing her eyes, “Don’t need another sibling created right in front of m-”

“Sarah Jane!”

You smile when Joel drops onto his mattress with a huff.

“So…” You drift off, crawling onto Joel’s lap, “You come here often?”

He chuckles, his hands beginning to trail your waist.

“Come here quite often, actually,” He jokes, his hands resting right under your shirt and on your hips. “How about you?”

You hum, “Not really. Maybe a couple times. Would love to come around, more though.”

“That so?”

You lean down, using your fingers to pull back his brown locks and pivot his head upward. You kiss him gingerly, smiling at his small groan.

You pull away, “I’d love to come to your bed every night, Joel Miller.”

The guttural moan he makes sends a rush to your core. He grabs the nape of your neck and brings you back down to his lips. He takes control of your movements, switching positions by gently laying you back. He leans over your body, his lips carrying the weight of his emotion. You’re scrambling though, tugging at his shirt, trying to rid it off his body. He pulls away to throw it off his body, motioning you to do the same. Soon, you two are completely naked.

“I never get sick of this view,” He rasps, his eyes raking your body.

You smirk, “Back atcha, babe.”

He positions himself on top of you, his lips lingering on your neck and collarbones.

Joel’s kisses are always intentional. It’s like he knows every pressure point on your body. His lips are always wet and supple, dragging across your soft skin.

When his mouth reaches the skin around your breast, you start to arch up for more contact. He grabs your stomach, pushing it softly down onto the bed.

“Patience, baby,” He mumbles, kissing the same area on the other breast. You jerk up again, absentmindedly.

“Can’t help it,” You whine, trying not to sound so desperate.

He clicks his tongue, “You can and you will.”

His lips wrap around your nipple and you just watch with hooded lids. His eyes are closed, so focus on teasing every inch of your body. You can feel the slick pool between your legs at the sight.

“Joel, please.”

He releases the pink nub, “What, baby? Use those words.”

“I want you all over, Joel.”

“Yeah? Where? Here?”

He grabs your breast roughly, making you mewl.

You finally gesture down. Your hand slides between your legs, dragging up and down your own slit. You gather as much slick as you can, bringing it up to Joel’s surprised expression.

“I see…” He brings your fingers up to his lips. You gape at his next actions, amazed that he’s so filthy. He takes your two fingers and licks them like a popsicle. You audible sigh as he sucks on your fingers like a man starved.

“You goin’ to be extra good for me?” He asks when your digits escape his mouth.

“Always am.”

Your voice is shaky when you say it. It makes Joel smirk. He loves when you sound ruined.

“Love hearing those words come out of your pretty little mouth.”

He crawls down your body, peppering kisses from your stomach down to your thighs. You watch him closely as he props your thighs over his shoulders. He does not waste time, diving straight into your divine center. You try to refrain from screaming his name, knowing Sarah may not be asleep yet. You clap your hand over your mouth while he licks your sensitive clit. He lays his tongue flat, pressing into you as he shakes his head back and forth. When he does that, you yelp into your palm.

“Mmm, baby girl wants to be loud so bad,” He chuckles darkly, using his fingers to spread your lips, “You wanna be loud for me huh?”

“Yes, please, God,” You pant, “Need you in me, Joel.”

“Yeah? Lets stretch you out a bit,” He doesn’t even give any warning when he sinks his fingers inside your pussy. “Gotta make sure you’re nice and ready, baby girl. Want you to cum before I stick this cock in ya.”

You swallow, letting him take the lead like usual. You liked it this way, when he ravishes you with his abilities and you get to cum several times. You never had sex like this in your life, especially consistently.

His fingers curl inside you, pumping in and out. You can hear how wet you are, the wetness sequelching against Joel’s fingers. Your pussy is graced with his tongue again while he fucks you with his digits. It’s like it’s pulled out of you. The orgasm sends white hot flashes to your vision. You know you’re saying something, but it’s no word in the English language.

When you come back down from euphoria, Joel’s ontop of you again. He’s kissing your cheeks, mumbling something about how beautiful you are when you cum.

“Joel, please,” Your hands grab onto his biceps, “Want you inside me.”

His cock drags along your navel, as he situates himself between your legs.

“Yeah? Always so eager,” He grabs his cock with his free hand, “Wanna try something a little different?”

Your stomach drops, “Like what?”

He toys with your nipple with his pointer and thumb, “Always wanted to fuck these.”

You smirk at the thought, your stomach finally at ease.

“You want to fuck my titties, Joel?”

“If you’ll let me,” He squeezes your boob gently, “Think these things are perfect. Want my cock right between them.”

You nod, “Fuck ‘em then, baby.”

He pulls you up, practically shoving you on the ground beside his bed. He wasn’t being aggressive, just guiding you to follow his lead. You sit on your knees, watching up at him as he pumps his cock over you. You use both hands to push your tits together. He grins as he touches the head of his cock to your hard nipples.

“So good for me,” He groans, slipping his cock between your cleavage, “Obeyin’ me and doin’ everythin’ I want. My fuckin’ dream girl.”

He starts to fuck your squeezed together tits as you stare up at him with a completely spent expression. You dribble some spit down between the break in your breast to lube up the area. Your pupils are blown and you feel the wetness of you slit soaking the skin of your legs. You can tell by the look on Joel’s face that he could cum at the sight of you.

But he stops and instead, grabs your bicep and tosses you back on the bed. You watch him crawl up between your legs, his face untamed and filled with anticipation.

“Need to cum in that pussy,” He pumps it a couple times before slipping in between your pussy lips, “Do you need me to put on a condom or anything? I don’t have to fuck you raw every time.”

You bite your lip, “I like feeling every part of you, Joel. I promise.”

“Mmm,” He hums, sinking his cock head inside you, “Love to hear that, baby.”

You circle your hips, practically fiening for him to sink all the way into you. He takes the hint, plunging into you with one snap. Once he’s finally sheathed in you, you groan out which only instigates him. He draws out and back in, his pace painstakingly slow. You grip onto his forearms, digging your nails into them. Maybe he will take the hint that you need it faster.

But, no.

“Words, darlin’. Tell me what you need.”

You choke out the words, “Faster. Harder.”

He kisses your lips, shushing you as his tempo picks up. He wants to feel the vibrations of your moans. He knows if you’re too loud there may be listening ears, so kissing you will hush the sounds of pleasure. He sits up and repositions, grabbing the back of both of your legs, practically folding you in half. You smirk in delight, watching his furrowed expression focus on your body’s reactions.

“This pussy is mine,” He huffs, watching himself plow into you, “All fuckin’ mine. Ya know that?”

“Yes,” You manage to peep out, “It’s yours, Joel.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He spreads your legs, opening you up nice and wide. His thumb finds your responsive clit, circling it with the momentum of his hips, “Cum for me, baby. Soak this fuckin’ cock.”

Your body reacts in the way he finds so satisfying. Your hips lift up as the climax takes over, your whole body shaking at the ecstasy he brings you. He doesn’t let up, chasing his own bliss. You are so overstimulated, you are just gasping for air. He starts to falter, his pace slowing as he coats your insides with his cum.

You start to chuckle when his body practically collapses onto you. His sweaty curls stick to your perspiring cheek. You find yourself kissing his temple, practically thanking him for fucking you so good every time.

He stands up, his half-hard dick slipping out of you pain-stakingly slow. You whimper at the feeling, still a mess from your orgasm.

“God, you are perfect,” He mumbles, his hand slipping down your bare thigh, “Could fuck you every day for the rest of my life.”

You are still awestruck by the interaction, you don’t even know you’re saying it, “Why don’t you?”

He smiles while he helps you sit up, “I will. Now let’s get you all showered and ready for bed, huh?”

“Yes, please.”

Luckily for you, your body naturally wakes up at 5:30AM. You creep out of the bedroom, making sure not to stir Joel awake. You find the house phone and call your boss, letting her know you were “sick” and needed to use a sick day. She just mumbled a “whatever” and you hung up, heading back to the warmth of Joel’s bed.

Joel wakes up as soon as you crawl back into bed, but he knew he had to get up and make sure Sarah got ready and off to school, anway. He cuddles you for a bit, watching you nod back off to sleep. He let you sleep in while he cleaned up the house a bit. He tries his best not to much too much noise, not wanting to rattle you awake.

You did wake back up when you heard the vacuum. You pull yourself together, putting your hair up into a bun as you stumble out of the bedroom. Joel stands in the living room, not even aware you’re behind him. He jumps when he notices you in the threshold, turning off the vacuum.

“Mornin’ sleepin’ beauty,” He laughs as he wraps up the vacuum cord.

“Mornin’ handsome.”

You watch him roll the machine back into the hall closet before taking note to how nice and clean the house looked.

“Looks good in here,” You mumble, noting how every surface looks dusted, “It’s missing one thing. You have a vase?”

He silently nods, looking at you confused.

“Go fill it with water, I’ll be back.”

You walk towards the front door, swinging it open as you begin tip toeing to Joel’s side garden. He had started it with Sarah years ago, and for the most part, it was completely overgrown. Some flowers still bloom in the Texas sun, so you pick the prettiest from the dirt. Once you have a bundle, you practically jog inside to show Joel your bouquet.

“Hmm,” He smirks, “Didn’t think we needed flowers.”

“Well, you do.”

He shows you the vase on the coffee table, letting you take on the responsibility to make it pretty. He watches you carefully, your tired eyes trained on the task.

You were his dream girl, truly.

Once you’re satisfied with your arrangement, you make a grand gesture.

“Beautiful, baby,” He beams, wrapping his arms around your waist. He drops down onto the couch, pulling you into his lap.

“Who me or the flowers?” You joke.

“Both.”

You give him a lazy kiss, smirking into it.

This part of life with Joel is so domestic and perfect. You two could create this little world and live in it forever. He appreciated your silly antics, knowing how neglected this side of you must have been with Tommy. He didn’t care about the small gestures like Joel did.

It was so reassuring being with Joel. He praised you like you had never been before.

As you pull away from his lips, you hear a door slam outside. Before you could even react, the front door swings open into the house. You sit on Joel’s lap, turned away from the front door, completely dumbfounded.

“What is going on here?”

His voice scares you. You don’t even want to turn around in Joel’s lap to face him. Joel slowly helps you out of his lap, his eyes never leaving Tommy’s.

When you finally turn to face Tommy, his eyes are wild and bright red. He looks like he hasn’t showered in days, his longer hair greasy and standing in all sorts of directions. It’s not his appearance that scares you, it’s the energy he’s brought into Joel’s living room. It’s the same scary tension you experienced when he lashed out on you before.

Joel finally speaks up, clearing his throat. “What do you mean?”

But Tommy isn’t talking to Joel. He’s looking at you.

“Are you fuckin’ my brother?”

He’s pointing at you, his finger waving at you like an adult who’s scolding a child. You open your mouth, but you can’t say anything. Your throat is dry, the shock and terror taking ahold of your vocal chords.

“Tommy, we aren’t doing this.”

Joel puts himself in between Tommy and you, ensuring he doesn’t creep closer to you. You want to believe Tommy would never get physical with you, but the way he looks now, you’re not one hundred percent positive.

“That’s not what I fuckin’ asking, Joel. Are you two sleepin’ together?”

His voice is booming, bouncing off every corner of the room. It makes you shrink three sizes.

Joel places his head up, warning him silently not to get any closer, “Tommy-”

“Answer the fuckin’ question!”

You want to curl into a ball. You knew this would fucking happen. You knew he’d go insane.

You look at Joel finally. You realize your eyes were trained on Tommy in terror, unsure on how to console him. Joel licks his lips, rolling his eyes a bit. You just nod, trying to answer Tommy’s question without saying anything. You didn’t want him to realize how shaky your voice was.

Once he gets confirmation, all hell breaks loose. He’s pushing on Joel with his chest, screaming expletives at him. You stand in the corner of the living room, your body practically wedged between a lamp and the couch. You want to become one of the dustbunnies on the floor boards, not wanting to be apart of this situation.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole! You fucked my girl-“

Before he can even finish the statement, Joel becomes a brick wall. He’s staring down at Tommy now, all the while snot is running down at his little brother’s face. He looked pathetic. As he nudges Joel’s chest, he hardly moves a milimeter. Joel doesn’t even hesitate when he says the next words.

“Not your girl.”

You truly cannot believe the words coming out of Joel’s mouth. You knew what he was insinuating and it brought chills up your back. Tommy’s movements completely halt and he stands there in a stunned silence. Joel’s jaw is slack, his eyes trained down at Tommy. It’s a stand-off.

Tommy crooks his head to the side, like he’s stretching it. “You want to pull that shit now, Joel? I knew you wanted my sloppy seconds the moment you told me she was at your house that night.”

Being referred as “sloppy seconds” makes your blood boil. It’s so dehumanizing.

“Stop talking about her like that,” Joel warns, his voice a whole octave lower.

“No,” Tommy growls, his gaze finally falling on you again, “You’re a whore. Just like your stupid sister.”

You swallow hard. It’s finally your moment to shine. The burst of adrenaline chorusing through your veins finally propels you forward, pushing Joel out of your way.

“You’re the town whore, Tommy Miller. You fucked your way around Austin and then came home to me every night,” You are shaking. Luckily, your voice isn’t wavering, “You lie. You cheat. You are a decietiful little shit. And I’m so glad you are because if you hadn’t slept with my sister and told me, I would have never realized how terrible you were to me all these years. I wasted so much time on babying you.”

The vein in his forehead is bulging and it makes you smile a bit.

“If I could go back in time, I would’ve saved my fucking tears and ran the other direction.”

He has the audacity to giggle, “Instead you ran right into Joel’s arms.”

You don’t hesitate, “You never gave a damn about me, he actually did. I should’ve taken the hint the moment he brought me flowers for my graduation, and you showed up with a flask.”

“You graduated college! Big fuckin’ deal! Get over yourself!”

Now you’re laughing.

“Bite me, Tommy,” You reach out and grab his t-shirt, pulling him into you. It makes Joel super nervous how close he is to you. He knows Tommy’s temper and how easily he will snap. He doesn’t know the next words about to come out of your mouth.

“You cheated on me, you fucking loser. I told you then we were done that night, did I not? What I did after that point is not your business. I’m not yours anymore. And your brother, he treats me real good. Way better than you ever did. He can actually last, unlike you,” You smack your lips together, “He can fuck me better than you, that’s for sure.”

Joel’s eyes widen at the words. Tommy looks completely dazed, but as soon as the last line leaves your mouth, he pushes you backward, right into Joel. You squeak at the contact, your brain registering that he actually put his hands on you. Joel quickly grabs you from tripping over him, and places you behind him quickly. Tommy reaches out for you, but Joel stops him meer inches from your face.

“Fuck you!”

Tommy tries to throw his hand at Joel’s head next but it’s quickly stopped by Joel’s forearm. Instead of Tommy continuing the fight with you two, he takes it out on the new flowers and vase you just put out on Joel’s coffee table. He uses all his force, grabbing the vase and launching it towards the wall. The glasses shatters, water splashes on the wall, and pieces of flowers litter the floor.

The action sends Joel pushing Tommy backward and against the wall. You want to yell out for them to stop, but all that comes out his Joel’s name.

When he pins Tommy to the wall, he finally turns to you.

“Don’t.”

It’s the only word you can say. You’re shaking, your eyes welling with tears. Joel knows you don’t want to see him demolish Tommy with his fists, so he thinks quick. He grabs Tommy’s collar, dragging him out the front door.

You follow far behind, not sure what Joel’s gameplan is.

Tommy is yelling, telling Joel to unhand him. Joel just tightens his grip.

“Coming into my house, talking to my girl like that. Fuckin’ disrespectful little shit.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” Tommy yells, his voice probably waking the neighbors. Joel launches Tommy’s body into the front yard, right near the flower bed. You watch from the doorway, wanting to keep your distance from the confrontation.

“Remember when you had temper tantrums when Momma told you no as a boy? Nothings changed. You’re an immature little brat.”

Joel reaches down into the flower bed, grabbing the hose. Tommy is still on the ground, scrambling to get up. Joel does something so unexpected, it makes you yelp. He starts soaking Tommy with the hose.

“Yeah, like the girl said before,” He aims towards Tommy’s face, “bite me.”

Tommy starts to spit up water, jumping up and away from the stream of water. Instead of tackling Joel like you anticipate, he just shakingly wipes his hair out of his eyes.

“You two are sick. Fuckin’ sick. And everyone will know about this.”

It makes your heart sink to your stomach. You don’t really care if anyone knows anymore. You knew this was going to be the worst part, but its the way he makes it sound like a threat.

“I bet they will, I just don’t give a damn.”

Joel sprays him while he stands up, making Tommy groan and yell out in annoyance. Joel just smiles, sickly.

Tommy storms off to his truck, dripping wet from the shower Joel just gave him on his front lawn. Joel tosses the hose back into the garden, satisfied with his work. You two stand there, watching Tommy do a burn out and speed off down the road. You breathe out loud, your hands finding your face. Joel glances between his neighbour’s houses, ensuring there is no one outside watching the events unfold. He did not care if they did watch, but he knew you would probably care.

He grabs ahold of your shoulders, guiding you back inside the house. Your eyes instantly fall on all the shattered glass and flowers as you walk inside. Joel ignores it and brings you into the kitchen.

Your mind is racing. You knew every word you said to Tommy was right deep down. But the girl you were, she wouldn’t have instigated his rage. She would’ve sat there and took every word he said to heart and believed them.

But the girl you are now, that girl is completely ruthless. You are petty. You are harsh. You are angry.

You kind of scared yourself.

“Joel-”

“No baby,” he mutters, “You better not say what I think you’re gonna say.”

“Joel, we can’t d-”

“We can. Because fuck Tommy. Fuck everyone,” He grabs your hips, letting his hands settle softly on your curves, “I want you. I want you so bad. I am not lettin’ you get away. Tommy can tell everyone in the fuckin’ world about us, and I won’t fuckin’ care. What he says doesn’t reflect you. You did nothin’ wrong. Okay?”

You swallow. You know he’s right, but you’re so scared of all this fallout. You don’t want it to scare you away from Joel, but it’s nervewracking to wait around and anticipate all of the chaos that will follow this incident. You did not want to tear apart a family. It’s the same feeling you had the morning after you first slept with Joel.

You’re scared to have him because of what it means for him. It means weird holidays and weird stares at grocery stores. It means you will be known as his brother’s ex girlfriend never just his girl.

You don’t realize it, but you’re staring past Joel. He tilts your head towards him, making your eyes connect.

“I love you, okay?”

His words make your heart flutter with relief. Maybe that’s what you needed. You needed him to finally say those words. Because those words were hanging in the back of your mind, simmering, waiting to be said.

“I love you, too, Joel.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #gracieheartspedro

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stevieschrodinger · 8 months

Text

Eddie finds King fucking Steve Harrington crying in a bathroom. It's the last fucking thing he ever expects to see and he really, really wants to laugh about it. Really, he does.

But Steve's a perfect Omega in his perfect cheer leader get up and even with his face blotchy and red he looks fucking beautiful. And Eddie might think King Steve is a bitchy piece of work, and he might think that Steve almost definitely deserves whatever is happening to him...but Eddie's just a weak ass Alpha, and the whole bathroom reeks of distraught Omega, and Eddie finds himself saying, 'hey, man, are you like, okay-'

'Just fuck off!' Steve snarls back at him.

And, yeah.

Okay.

Eddie gets it.

Just as the door is swinging shut on him he hears Harrington shouting suddenly, 'wait! Munson! Hold on-'

So Eddie goes back in, 'yeah?'

And Steve has his wallet in his hand and is pulling out a wad of cash and is fixing to buy every pill Eddie has. Which, wierd enough to maybe clang a tiny alarm bell in Eddie's head but also, like, fuck it. This isn't his problem and Harrington's cash is as good as anyone's, 'you planning a party?'

'Sure,' Steve replies, pocketing the baggies somewhere in his cute as fuck cheer skirt, 'it'll be a rager.'

'Whatever man,' Eddie says as he leaves.

'Oh yeah,' Tommy fucking Hagan. Eddie hates him, but it's hard not to overhear, 'he cried he was so fucking desperate for it.' And all the jocks laugh.

Turns out there is a party tonight; Steves not here yet though, not as far as Eddie can see, at least. Not that he'd thought about it. Not that he was worried about the Omega, or anything. Just stupid instinct.

'It'll be the end of the cheerleading, that's for god damn sure, no Omega of mine will be walking around dressed like a slut.' And Eddie paused, deliberately stops to listen.

'Where is Harrington then, since he's so yours then?'. Some stupid moron pipes up.

'Piss off,' Hagan snaps back, 'doesn't matter where he is; that's my pup in him. He's not gonna have a choice, I'll have him bit by this time next week.'

It takes about four seconds for Eddie to put it together, and then he's running, pushing and shoving people out of the way to get out. He knows Exactly where Steve lives. He's been there to sell at a couple of parties and he probably breaks fifty speeding laws on the way over. The house is dark and no one answers and panic is truly clawing up Eddie's throat now.

He's imagining Steve dead on the floor somewhere, mouth frothing from the overdose.

He doesn't think twice about throwing himself over the back fence, Harrington had big fancy sliding doors out onto the back yard and if those are locked Eddie will just smash them-

Steve's sitting there. Just sitting there. He's got a beer and his feet are in the pool and Eddie can hear gentle splashing where he moves his feet around.

As Eddie gets closer he sees a little pile of baggies and...they all still have pills in them. Eddie's never been more relieved in his entire life.

Steve startles when he realises Eddie's there, must have been so in his own head he didn't even notice Eddie scramble over the fence.

'Hey, Steve, sorry, I just- I was- I got worried.'

Eddie crouches next to Steve, sweet Omega who smells so desolate; he hasn't even opened the beer.

'I, ah, heard Hagan, you know, he, uhm, anyway, got a little- thought I'd check on you, you know.'

Steve's voice is cool and emotionless when he answers, 'he telling everyone about my heat?'

Eddie nods, Steve snorts derisively, 'didn't even want him, just got caught out and he swore he'd use a rubber, lying fucking prick.'

'You don't have to do this, though -' Eddie starts to slide the little stack of pills away, but Steve gets him by the wrist.

'No take backs no refunds, right? That's what you tell people?'

'Well, yeah, but, I mean, I'll make an...an exception.'

'No thanks. Not like I got a lot of choices right now.'

'Steve...there...there's got to be something-'

Steve kicks a little, splashing the water. It's dark now, the stars are out, and he cranes his head back to look at them. 'I'm pupped. Without an Alpha I'll get separation sickness and all that shit. He's going to want to bite me, so my choice is let him, die to the sickness, or just do it now. And like fuck am I letting Hagan bite me, that's a fate worse than death.'

Eddie privately agrees, 'but what about, like, a different Alpha?'

Steve snorts a laugh, 'someone I know? Going against Hagan?'

And Steve is right, there's no one around who would do that; pretty much the whole school would turn on them at Tommy's whim. They'd be a social pariah; Tommy would do his best to make their life not worth living.

Fortunately Eddie knows an Alpha who is already in that position. 'What about me?'

#eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #cheerleader steve Harrington #pregnant #m/preg #mpreg #suicidal ideation #drugs #eddie munson drug dealer

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little-pondhead · 9 months

Text

[inspired roughly by this post. My brain snails started going nuts so I thought it'd be easier to post this separately :)]

…

It was a lovely day in Gotham. Well, as lovely as it could be. The sun was up, peeking through the overhead cloud cover and making the buildings gleam in the rare sunlight. The air was fresher than usual, and faucets ran clear of strange and unusual toxins.

Somewhere in the Upper East Side, in a little neighborhood tucked away from the rest of the city, marched around the new boss of the area. She was a young girl, just barely in high school. But despite it being the middle of a work day, she wandered around her chosen streets, content to do whatever she wanted. Above her, a pair of siblings watched on and discussed the unique situation.

"So let me get this straight: that fourteen-year-old goth girl is a crime boss?"

Mia smiled at Leon, her older brother, and his dumbfounded expression as they rested on her balcony. "She's fifteen, actually. Her birthday just passed. We all got together and threw a block party for her!"

"You know how insane that sounds, right?" Leon turned to her, a bit miffed that she dared to say those words to his face. "She's a kid. Why do you all listen to her?"

Mia shrugged and sipped her beer. "She does good work. Holds her own pretty well, and the kid has connections. Good ones, too. That can be the difference between life and death in Gotham."

Leon rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I just don't get it. How did she end up in this line of work? Do child labor laws even apply here?? Why aren't the Bats doing anything?"

"Don't think about it too much, dipshit." Mia crushed her now-empty beer can in her hand and tucked it into a paper garbage bag hanging off of a hook on the balcony rail. A familiar set of green arrows was printed on the side.

"And now you're recycling?!" Leon realized. "When did you start doing that, Mia??"

The woman shrugged and got up, stretching. "Probably around the time Brambles absolutely reamed out Mrs. Zalinski for littering at the park."

"Wait, who's Brambles?" Leon scrambled upright and followed his sister inside.

Mia laughed. "Brambles is our fifteen-year-old crime boss!"

...

"I can't believe you got a cool name right off the bat," Danny grumbled, flopping onto Sam's bed face-first. Sam smirked and shoved him off with her foot. Danny just squawked and let himself ragdoll to the ground.

"It's your fault for not having a better gimmick." She said to his prone body. "Besides, it could've been worse."

"I think Inviso-Bill is the worst possible nickname for anyone." Danny groaned. "But you got something cool immediately. Who even thought up 'Brambles'? That's such a unique name!"

"Well the kids call you Grim; that's pretty cool."

Danny flopped over, twisting himself much farther than any human was supposed to just so he could glare at her face. "They only call me that cause one of the is obsessed with Harry Potter." He grumbled, pouting.

Sam just rolled her eyes and went back to sorting through piles of papers scattered all across her duvet. Since moving to Gotham several months ago, Sam had taken it upon herself to turn the experience into something useful rather than just moping all the time, as she originally wanted to. That 'something useful' had landed her as the newest crime boss in Gotham, with about a third of the Upper East Side as her current territory.

So many problems had popped up in the last year, and the group had decided that taking it on alone would never work. The GIW had been trying to close Amity's borders, Danny's parents had a scientific breakthrough, tensions in the Realms were high, etc. There was a lot on their plate! Sam's solution was to create a foothold in Gotham City. She would lay the foundations for Jazz to work in Arkham and forge a safer environment for the residents of Amity Park to sneak off to if the GIW went too far. She was essentially weaving a cushion for everyone to fall back on.

Danny, using the power of duplication, was splitting his focus between foiling his parent's plans and resolving issues with his rouges to create a united front. He was the main distraction, and Sam's own heavy hitter when she needed help establishing dominance.

Tucker planned to gather intel with the help of Technus and Jazz. They were trying to gather as much evidence as possible so they'd be in the clear when the whistle blew. The GIW would crash and burn, legally speaking. They were the bugs of the operation, spreading themselves thin and hoarding information like it was candy.

Dani was their wild card, their jester. She was keeping the JLD's attention focused solely on her and all the supernatural hijinks she was stirring up. When the time was right, she'd point them in the direction needed and let them loose. After winding them up so much, the hope was that the Justice League Dark would descend upon the GIW like hellfire.

But those were their future plans. Right now, Sam was in possession of specific files from Arkham Asylum and the GCPD. She was looking for anything to give her an edge in the upcoming meeting with a few other crime bosses. Some annual thing they host to renew Goonion contracts, see who's still alive, and examine how much the territory lines have changed. Stuff like that. Red Hood was supposed to be there, and she knew she needed an ironclad defense against him and his nosy colony of Bats.

Danny untwisted himself all of a sudden, making a weird face. "Sorry, got to go." He apologized. "Vlad just showed up to my house."

Sam waved him off. "Go, I'll be fine for today. Just be on time for the meeting on Friday. And I want you, not a double."

"You got it!" Danny did finger guns at her and promptly melted into a pile of green goo. Right on her bedroom floor!

Sam sighed and got up to throw a towel over the puddle. The ectoplasm would evaporate eventually, returning to the original Danny little by little. But for now, this would keep anyone from asking about it until it was all gone.

Sometimes she really hated living in student dorms. People always felt the need to burst into her room for no reason.

Who even made dorm rooms for high schoolers in the first place??

...

Jason couldn't help but stare at the new recruit.

Well, 'new recruit' wasn't exactly accurate. 'Potential to be the most headache-inducing supervillain' was more like it. Standing at a solid 5'10" with platform boots, Brambles, the newest crime lord who had taken over half of the Upper East Side in under four months, was almost tall enough to look him in the eye straight on. Which she tried to do anyways, tilting her chin up oh-so-slightly (in that stupid way aristocrats do when they want to look down at you) and glaring at him with open hostility.

Brambles was young, way too young to be in this line of business. At the start of the annual underground crime meeting (yes, they couldn't come up with a better name), she had announced that she was fifteen, went by she/her, and would snap the dick off of anyone who looked at her funny. Most everyone laughed at her, thinking it was an empty threat. Brambles proved it wasn't by sucker-punching a younger lieutenant who tried to get handsy with her five minutes into the meeting.

When the lieutenant's boss protested and threatened a gang war, Brambles had snapped her fingers and summoned what could only be a fucking pit demon from the depths of hell to threaten the man back. The creature looked like a teenager, just like Brambles, at first. But it was...off. The longer you looked, the worse it got.

It wore a draping black cloak that covered most of its body, with the ends turning to mist when it reached the floor. It had a pale, young face and white hair. Its eyes glowed just like Brambles', except they were a toxic green that made Jason's heart skip a beat in fear. The creature was snarling, with a fucking muzzle on it to keep its sharp teeth away from wandering fingers.

With a nod from Brambles, the creature bounded forward and knocked the guy to the floor, its arm elbow-deep into the guy's chest. The dude looked terrified, and a little sick "Would you rather lose a lieutenant or your life?" She had snarled, sounding almost a bit demonic herself. The other boss had backed down without another word, writing off his subordinate as dead and gone.

Instead of killing the guy, however, Brambles simply banished her little guard dog to a corner of the warehouse to play with its new toy in peace.

"Is she allowed to do that?" Someone whispered.

"They weren't unionized, so the Goonion won't say anything." Another answered.

It was the most awkward meeting in the history of the criminal underworld. No one even died since they were all focused on the newcomer.

Jason could feel a headache forming as the meeting came to an end. Brambles was still sitting in her chair. The creature had grown bored of its toy and was leaning against her, sprawled out lazily and barely flicking an ear at the onlookers in acknowledgment. A few people were idling around her, mostly women, trying to talk some big game and get on the kid's good side. Brambles was humoring them, taking tight control of the conversation when they got too prying.

Jason sighed. He knew he'd have to go over and have a talk with the kid, even if it was just for Bruce's files. He hauled himself upwards and stalked over. "Pardon me, ladies and gents, but I'm going to borrow the kiddo here for a moment."

The creature hissed at him, tensed at his approach. Brambles kept a tight grip on the back of its muzzle, keeping it grounded. The other criminals scattered like flies. They were the only two (three?) left in the warehouse within minutes.

Bramble rose to glare at him. "What." She spat. "If you're here to convince me not to get involved with anything, I will set Grim on your ass after lighting it on fire."

The creature, Grim, growled in agreement. The sound echoed strangely like he was hearing it from underwater.

"Relax, I'm not here to do any of that." Jason raised his hands in surrender, immediately abandoning that possible line of thought. "I'm just here to talk business. You're young, and while you don't want to admit it, inexperienced."

"Stop the fancy words, Red Hood." Brambles' eyes glowed again, and she released her hold on Grim's muzzle. "If you want to make a deal, say it to my face. If you're here to dig for information, either ask me or hit the road. I prefer honesty over flower talk, so tell me what you want before I take over your area, too."

Jason bristled. His vision was tinted green as he snapped, "What the fuck is your problem, kid?! I just wanted to make sure you were safe and not being forced to do this. I was even going to offer my support and protection if it was too much! I know you aren't going to stop, but that doesn't mean I want a kid to die just because they got into something they shouldn't and they think their fancy guard dog will always be there to protect them!"

Brambles' eyes stopped glowing, and her stare softened a bit. Grim went deadly still, just floating there, staring at Jason. His heart beat like crazy in his chest. What was he saying? It was all true, but he could've been nicer about it. Dick would've found a way to be nicer.

-krrrk- "Ibis, reporting in. I think you can trust him, guys. Even if he's a Bat, his connections and experience would be useful in our plans. Ibis out." -krrrk-

Jason flinched from the sudden noise, looking around to find the source. It sounded like it had come from everywhere, even inside his own helmet. Brambles immediately switched out her hostile look for an annoyed one, tapping an earpiece he hadn't noticed before.

"Ibis, you really have to stop opening up our comm lines to the public." She snapped, but there was no real heat to it. "And I thought I told you to stop eavesdropping!"

-krrrk- "Sorry, can't help it. I'm everywhere now! You shouldn't have given me this power." -krrrk-

Grim hissed.

-krrrk- "Don't hiss at me, young man! You were the one who suggested this!" -krrrk-

"I'm sorry, time out!" Jason made a T with his hands. The green from his vision had completely disappeared now. "What the FUCK is going on now?"

Brambles sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know what? Fine. We'll trust you. My name is Sam. Nice to meet you, Jason Todd."

Jason stepped back, immediately reaching for his gun. Grim darted forward and promptly flew through him, stealing all his weapons in one go. "I'm Danny!" Grim-Danny?-chirped in a human voice, giving him a shit-eating smile. "Sorry for the act, Mr. Hood. And sorry about the name drop, I'm the one that told them."

-krrrk- "I'm Tucker! There are more of us, but they're busy. I have literally so many questions for you, Mr. Hood." -krrrk-

"Now that introductions are over-Danny don't eat his smoke bombs, you're not gonna look like Dorathea-we'd like your help."

Jason squinted at them. "You understand this is all suspicious as fuck, right? And how did a pit demon find out who I am?"

-krrrk- "Yeah, we know. But lives are on the line here, and I think you'd really be a help!" -krrrk-

Brambles-Sam-sighed and pulled out a flash drive. "I was going to use this as leverage, but I guess it'll have to be useful in other ways." She tossed it to Jason, who numbly caught it. "Look over it if you want. If you don't, then just burn it. Do not try to plug it into the Batcomputer. Don't try to send it to the Batcomputer, either. A virus will target that specific IP address as soon as it makes contact. Any other computer is fine."

"Look it over, and we can go from there," Danny added, spinning in midair while chomping on one of Jason's knives. (His good one, too!) "And I'm not a pit demon, but I am dead. That's how I knew about you. Whatever brought you back to life gave the Realms a real headache for a while. It wasn't hard to look you up in the records."

"This is so much information. Lives are on the line? And two, three kids are dealing with it? By becoming crime bosses?"

-krrrk- "Technically, Sam's the only crime boss here. And that was kind of an accident. She was supposed to create a safe foothold in Gotham in case we needed to evacuate our town. But we all got cool nicknames out of it! And you're the only adult we've told this stuff to!" -krrrk-

"I'm what?"

"The only adult." Sam's unwavering gaze seemed to pierce his soul. "There are quite literally no other adults that can help, Red Hood. None that we trust, not really. Any adult intervention needs to be planned carefully so it doesn't backfire on us. We're trusting you here, Jason. Not only are you like us, which technically puts you in danger too, but you have power and connections to support a whole town of people the government wants to eradicate."

Jason looked at the little green flash drive in his hand. He didn't want to ask. "And this...?"

"A fruit basket," Sam said simply. "Originally, it was supposed to be blackmail. But instead, this is a present to show our goodwill and faith. To show you our skills. That drive contains information on other gangs, upcoming rogue attacks, chemical breakdowns of Joker Venom and Fear Gas, unfinished antidote formulas, etc. Tucker and his team scoured the underbelly of Gotham and gathered dirt on every single prominent figurehead. Including Bruce Wayne, should you choose to use it."

"I would never-"

"But you've thought about it." Danny cut in and scratched his neck. Jason's hands shook. "It's not a bad thing. It's just the nature of the dead. Wanting to right the wrongs left over from their time with the living. Even if you walk and breathe now, that doesn't mean desire disappears."

"The point is, we need help. Even if I'm loathe to admit it." Sam rolled her eyes, and suddenly, Jason didn't see a potential supervillain in the making. He saw a teenager trying her best, shouldering the responsibility of hundreds of people, both in Gotham and her hometown. Danny looked the same, no matter how other-worldly he was. What battles were they facing? Why weren't there any adults to turn to? What kind of lives were they leading if they immediately trusted a known crime lord with their lives upon the first meeting?

"I'll think about it." Jason finally said. Danny trilled in excitement, and some tension bled out of Sam's shoulders. "If the situation is bad enough, however, I'm calling in someone else for help."

Danny shrugged. "As long as it ain't Batman! I don't think he'll appreciate us smuggling a town of liminals into his city."

Sam poked Danny's shoulder, prompting him to look at her. "Let's go, before you break his brain with more info-dumping. Bye Red Hood!"

"Uh, yeah. Goodbye!" Jason stuttered. He watched the two kids walk towards the exit door, before shimmering out of sight before they even touched the handle.

What the fuck.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #kinda strayed away from the prompt #and that's why its a separate post not a reblog #long post #not beta read #no beta we die like danny #pondhead writes #this leans into more of a ‘Sam did it on purpose but said it was an accident’#Tucker read the vibes from all the way in Amity and the other two just roll with it #Tucker: we can trust him #Sam: here’s our entire life story then #Danny: I hope you don’t mind us info-dumping :)#Danny will eat anything #he’s a growing boy! (hopefully)#he wanted to look like Dorathea when she’s a dragon #I cannot stress enough I don’t know shit about dc #so if someone is already in charge of the upper east side #then shut up Sam is their boss now #not continuing please don’t ask I will cry #someone else is free to take over from here #it’s literally just brain vomit to get myself going

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starryknight-tarot · 10 months

Text

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

my masterlist<3 . paid readings

Hello beautiful souls! ✨ Today we will be looking into what your first date with your future spouse will be like. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Pile 1

Cards: Page of Cups, Six of Pentacles, Three of Pentacles rx, King of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, Strength, Death rx, Knight of Cups Back of the deck: The Lovers

I got A LOT of pentacles for this pile so your fs could be loaded or you or your fs could be an Earth sign so Taurus, Virgo, or Capricorn. If not, you could have a lot of dominant Earth signs in your chart. I am specifically seeing Venus in Virgo. Your fs is gonna want to spoil you during the date. They could take you somewhere really fancy. I am getting very strongly that they wanna impress you. They may insist on paying for everything so you can enjoy yourself. I am getting that they are going to take you to a crowded place. I am seeing an amusement park or arcade. I don't feel like this will be a random place for them, they may go there often. Your person will plan the whole thing and really try to make it perfect and romantic. They wanna win games and get you a big prize. I see them winning a big teddy bear and you hugging it while blushing. They will lead the way and show you a bunch of really cute things that probably teach you a lot about them. For some of you, you will go to a festival and there will be a lot of colorful bright lights and yummy food stands that you guys will enjoy with them. I am getting this person could live or have lived close to you. All smiles and laughs with this pile. Your fs really wants to impress you, they may have had a crush on you before you even knew and really want to make sure everything is perfect. I am getting such a cute vibe for this date it's all so positive for this pile. They may tell you before the date that they want you to relax as much possible with them and to be yourself. This may be because some of you are kind of introverts and maybe this kind of stuff isn't your scene, but they want to show you how fun these kinds of things can be. I feel like if you get overwhelmed at all they will be SUPER supportive and do anything to make sure you feel better. I am getting for some of you, you will know that they are the one from this date or you will know you wanna marry them. I feel like you guys may even end the date with a kiss or a big hug that just feels so right.

Advice Cards:

Your acts of love, kindness, and unlimited forgiveness bestow grace upon you Give up resistance in your current situation Remember that in universal law, all is well and fair A powerful dream will guide you Your spirit wings are unfolding, It is time to take flight! Reflect on one of your blessings

Channeled Songs:

Pile 2

Cards: Judgement, The Star, Two of Cups, Three of Swords, Three of Pentacles rx, The Lovers rx, Page of Pentacles, Four of Wands rx, Two of Swords rx Back of the deck: King of Wands

I am getting that you guys won't even realize that this was your first date until like years later. A very unintentional date. I am seeing some of you drinking a little too much or something, you could be at a bar or just out with friends. If you don't drink, you would just be retreating to your comfort place, some of you that may be a cafe. I am getting that around this time, you are gonna be down in the dumps, I am hearing for some of you specifically love is making you feel sad. Some of you may feel like you have no chance in love or some of you may have just been dumped. I am getting that you will be crying, a rare moment of vulnerability and your fs would approach you. I feel like some of you are gonna feel scared by their presence at first but you will very quickly see they are just trying to see what's wrong and help you out. Your fs is gonna have a strong urge to take care of you and make sure you are ok and safe. They really want to cheer you up, I am hearing they don't like to see you cry. I am suddenly seeing someone with a motorcycle so you or them could have one but I feel like it's more likely them. I feel like your fs will take you from lying around crying and take you somewhere fun (please don't let strangers take you to random places yall unless you completely trust them). I am hearing, I am spending this magical night with you. I feel like you will spend all night with your fs just watching stars and talking about your lives. Things will just feel right, like everything is how it's supposed to be. I am feeling this date will be mostly conversation, just expressing yourself and pouring your feelings out to them and return the conversation almost perfectly. I am hearing some of you will feel like complete opposites but still match each other's energy. I am getting that they just want to listen to you or that they could listen to you talk all day. They will really raise your mood and you will just feel so comfortable with them. They will make sure you get home safely and you guys won't be able to stop think about each other.

Advice Cards:

No better time to exists than right now Make a commitment and follow through It is important to understand and value your own energy Complete the project or task. Something is calling for closure Pay attention to the issue that time plays in your life right now Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off You are intuitively gifted. Trust your guidance

Channeled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: Ten of Swords rx, Temperance, Ace of Wands rx, The Magician, The World, The Wheel of Fortune, Ten of Cups, Knight of Swords Back of the deck: Ace of Cups

I keep hearing that this person is your classmates or you could have known them for a long time. Childhood friend vibes. I am getting that you guys could have had a crush on each other for a while now and like everyone knows but you have just never talked about it. I feel like this date will come about very suddenly like one day yall are just chilling and one of you guys is just like, "dude let's go on a date" or maybe not that direct like "let's just go somewhere." and it becomes a date. I feel like you are gonna be the one to ask. VERY random message but I feel like some of you may be Hispanic or Latino. Obviously not for everyone lol. The moment will just feel right and you guys will go hang out and you will just go everywhere. You guys will go get snacks and drinks like lemonade or popsicles. I am getting summer vibes from this date, you could go to the beach. I feel like you guys will just connect like you never have before, it will feel different then other times you have been with each other. I really feel like your conversations with each other will flow more naturally and you guys will be more flirty with each other. I feel like you will be doing a lot of walking, not knowing where you are going or what you are doing but you know you have each other and that feels really comfortable. I am seeing you might be messing around at a playground. During the day you guys will be very active, I see people playing volleyball on the beach and swimming in the water, splashing each other. You guys may also like to tease and playfully bicker with each other. But during the night time it starts to get a more intimate kind of comfortable where you just lay down holding hands on the sand as it surrounds both of you, feeling comfortable in each other's presence and just talking about everything under the sun. I feel like you will have really deep conversations and talk about your future together. I feel like you guys might become an official couple on the first date and also kiss for the first time. I feel like this kiss will just feel so right. Like fireworks are going off for both of you. I am hearing you both have a very destined relationship, your fs could be your soulmate Pile 3.

Advice Cards:

Your heart is a center of intuitive intelligence. Listen to it! You can manifest your heart's desire Make a commitment and follow through Be bold. It's time to leap forward! You are divinely protected. Remind yourself how safe you are Expect good things to come to you

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: Page of Cups rx, Eight of Swords, Death, Three of Swords rx, Knight of Wands, Ten of Swords, Six of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, Page of Wands Back of the deck: Three of Wands

I feel like a lot of you have experienced heartbreak, you may have been in an on and off relationship with someone. I am hearing they could have been a karmic. It was unhealthy for you but I am getting you will cut them off for good. Once you are no longer trapped by this manipulative person is when your fs will make a move. I feel like you may need time to yourself after this relationship (I am hearing spirit really encourages some time to yourself, some of you need to learn to love yourself before putting yourself out there again). But I feel like your fs is someone you already knew, I am hearing specifically a coworker. I am getting your fs has had a crush on you for a while now, but was too afraid to make a move. Your fs is really shy but they want to be the one to ask you out. This may be around winter time for you Pile 4. I am getting that you may have barely noticed your fs before they asked you out. When you do go out, they will take you out for dinner somewhere nice. I feel like they will be so nervous and afraid to make a bad impression. I am getting when the date starts they may compliment you a lot and it is all super fluffy and cute cause they are just in awe in your presence. The date may start a little awkward and silly but I do feel like you guys will warm up and have really comfortable conversation. I think you guys will realize you have a lot in common and they will make you laugh a lot. I am hearing you may get stares because you guys are laughing so hard. Your fs will feel very different then anyone you have ever been with. I feel like you both will get really flustered and I am hearing it will just feel blissful. I don't feel like you will immediately realize you are falling in love with them but I do think you will think about your fs a lot after this and you will start spending a lot more time together after this date. You can see the start of something beautiful.

Advice Cards:

You are birthing a new self You are healing at a cellular level Reflect on the state and use of your personal energy You are ready to receive your fortune. Be miracle minded! Practice the pause Make a commitment and follow through

Channeled Songs:

(I really felt called to add a third channeled song for this pile so congrats lol)

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

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bby-deerling · 5 months

Note

Who is it with either Law of Kidd please! Congrats on the milestone!

this might be the most filthy, nasty, and dirty thing i've ever written, i hope it's your cup of tea! it's also my first time writing for kid!!

kid + who is it (afab!fem!reader nsfw)

18+, mdni, nsfw wc: 1.7k masterlist

cw: jealousy, possessive behavior, super toxic relationship (reader is bad but kid is worse), breathplay, choking, handcuffs, inappropriate use of kids metal fingers, hair pulling, spanking, impact play, degradation, cheating, hole stretching, orgasm denial, creampies, slight breeding kink stuff if you squint ig, kid is a mean, nasty menace in this read at your own risk.

“I thought I told you to stop getting close with the enemy.” Kid says, roughly grabbing you by the back of the collar and pulling you away from your card game with Penguin and Shachi, leaving them confused and disappointed. Had you been flirting with the pair in hopes of going home with a bit more than just their money? Maybe—but that still didn’t give Kid the right to interrupt.

Annoyed, you take a deep breath, trying to not lose your composure in public; he had yanked you off to the side of the Victoria Punk, but you were still very much visible to any potential nosy onlookers. “Last time I checked, we’re still in an alliance.” you bite back, turning to face him and crossing your arms.

“Last time I checked, you were still my woman.” he growls, shoving the index finger of his metal hand into your chest, pinning you against the wooden side of the ship.

“Since when, Kid? You just play around with me when you’re bored and forget about me when you’re tired of me.” you say, tired of being on the losing end of a double standard—he’s been far from loyal to you, but the second your eyes start to wander, it’s the end of the world to him.

“Quit deflecting, I’m giving you an order right now.” he says dismissively, attempting to pull rank over you to shut you up.

Not wanting to relent, you continue, raising your voice. “Why the hell do you even care what I do? How many times am I going to have to watch you go to bed with someone else while I sit around and wait for you to remember I exist?”

“So now I have to come to bed with you every night just to keep your needy ass from whoring around? Sounds like too much work.” he snarls, venom on his tongue.

“What the hell do you even want from me then, Kid?” you cry out, hands tugging at your hair in frustration.

“I want you to keep your ass over here and stop trying to fuck the losers in the animal hats!” he yells, so angry a few drops of his spit scatter across your face in the process.

“Why?” you shout, becoming increasingly more enraged at his mixed signals. “So you can use me for the night and toss me aside tomorrow? I don’t think so. Maybe Trafalgar Law could show me a good time, he probably wouldn’t discard me afterwards like a—"

Your words are cut short by the cold, soulless grip of metal fingers surrounding your throat, pressing into the sides of your airway. “Like what? Like a whore? He wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” he sneers, voice dangerously low.

“What’s that say about you, then?” you shoot back, unwilling to back down, even when backed against the wall and with your life hanging in the balance between a few of his fingers. “You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Kid’s chest rumbles as he laughs and his grasp on your throat tightens, making you squeak in shock. “You’re gonna regret running your mouth like that.” he says, wicked grin on his face as he lets go of your neck and unceremoniously throws you over his shoulder. Storming onto the ship, he makes a beeline for his room and tosses you down on the bed; you move to sit up, but his metal hand presses into your stomach and keeps you in place. Looming over top of you, he regards you with a look somewhere between distaste and anger as he leans over and pulls a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand. Flipping you over and pinning you to the mattress with his hand to your lower back, he roughly yanks your arms behind you and clicks the cuffs into place.

“If you’re gonna act like a dirty whore, I’m gonna fuck you like one.” he growls in your ear. The sound of fabric ripping meets your ears, and you silently bury your face further into the mattress, not willing to show him how excited you were to see him wanting and wholly interested in you for a change; however, it was impossible to hide the glistening arousal already coating your pussy as he spreads your ass cheeks to get a decent view of you.

He makes you yelp as his good hand strikes your ass hard and laughs cruelly as he smooths the point of impact by kneading the soft, pillowy skin. “Fighting with me really gets you excited, huh?” he chuckles, letting his fingers teasingly slide between your folds.

“You wish.” you bite back, despite being in no position to do so, and wince as he smacks your ass again, this time with his metal hand. He makes no attempts to soothe the pain this time, letting it linger as little volts of electricity run along the impact point.

“Really?” he says, voice dripping with smugness, “What’s this then?” he asks, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling your head up before shoving his soaked fingers in your mouth. He inhales sharply as your tongue swirls around them, sucking on them lewdly.

Focused on his fingers, you’re caught off guard when one of his cold, massive, metal fingers pushes deep inside you with no warning. “Mmmf, Kid!” you cry out; his only response is to pump his finger harder and faster, making you moan and squeal for him. Each time his digit slips in and out of you it gets increasingly warmer as your needing, aching pussy warms the metal, and eventually, the unfamiliar chills subside.

And then he adds another.

Wrists rattling against the handcuffs surrounding them, he has you writhing like a bitch in heat, completely succumbing to his whims and desperately waiting for what he had in store for you next. Your whines and whimpers are muffled by his fingers, still shoved in your mouth, until he hooks them in the corner of your mouth, keeping you open and unable to hide your cries from him.

“Slut.” he spits out teasingly, “Those two wimps wouldn’t be able to handle you, you’re too fucking dirty for them.” He withdraws his metal fingers from you, chuckling at your whine of frustration before shoving his cock inside you, slipping past your wet folds in one fluid motion.

“Quit squirming and let me fuck you good.” he warns, placing his metal hand on your back to pin your hips in place, two of his fingers still damp with your arousal.

You try to respond, but the punishing way he buries his dick inside of you leaves you unable to do anything except mewl and cry out for him. His pace is brutal as he fucks you hard and raw, and you’re whining and pleading nonsense to him as his hand rubs harsh circles into your clit. Legs beginning to shake, you let him know you’re close, but it only prompts him to remove his hand from your aching bud.

“Kid, please!” you whine, hips grinding against nothing, mourning the absence of his touch.

The dark, wicked laugh he lets out clues you in that he has far more twisted plans for you. “Careful what you wish for.” he teases, slipping two fingers in your dripping hole alongside his cock. His cock was already girthy, and the addition of his fingers has you stuffed to the point of tears, unable to do anything but babble nonsense as he continues to fuck you brutally. The mismatched, uncoordinated rhythm between his hand and dick is beyond overstimulating and has you gasping and drooling all over the dirty sheets beneath you.

“That’s right. Come all over my dick, stretched out like a little whore.” he growls as he curls his fingers against your sweet spot; the low, husky rumble of his voice is enough to push you over the edge. Head buzzing as you see stars, your walls spasm around him so hard that his fingers slip out. Swearing under his breath, his thrusts get sloppy and deeper as you milk his cock for all its worth.

“Say my name.” he rasps, “Tell me who this fucking pussy belongs to.” His metal hand strikes your ass, eliciting something between a scream and a moan from you before his name falls off your lips.

“Kid, it’s all yours, Kid—” you choke out as he pulls at your hair, cock slamming into you at a brutal pace.

Somehow, it’s still not enough for you.

“F-fuck, fuck me harder, Kid.” you whimper. He lets out a sinful growl in response and presses the back of your neck hard into the mattress as his thrusts pick up speed, his head bruising your cervix with each pass. Riding the line between pain and pleasure, your head goes dizzy as he digs his nails into your hips and you bite at the blankets below you.

A flurry of curses and grunts leave his lips as his hips stutter against yours and he cums inside you, thick white ropes shooting straight into your womb as he fills you up. He’s left you too much of a mess to move and he knows it as he slowly starts to pull out of you, giving you one last deep thrust to make you cry out before withdrawing from you.

Too lazy to search for the key, he crushes the handcuffs around your wrist to bits with his metal hand, lazily wiping the debris off the side of the bed before climbing in and pulling you close.

“You gonna quit hanging around them now?” he says, phrasing it more as a demand than a question.

“I don’t know, are you gonna quit cheating on me?” you snap back, with less venom than before, exhausted and craving sleep far more than another fight.

“Fine. Didn’t realize it was hurting you so much.” he says, leaving you flabbergasted at the audacity of his statement, but you were too tired to respond with anything but a sigh.

“Promise?” you ask—this time you’re the one demanding, eyes narrowed towards him.

“I swear on my good arm, I won’t step out again.” he says, offering you his hand to shake.

You take it firmly, making him smirk in response. “Deal. Pleasure doing business with you.” you say teasingly; keeping a grasp on his hand, you roll over and pull his arm around you, content to fall asleep smothered in his touch and surrounded by the mess and filth he’d reduced you to.

#one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kidd x reader #eustass kid x you #eustass kidd x you #one piece smut #250 follower event #mdni #x reader #once again i have gotten carried away writing smut

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rrenzwrld · 9 months

Text

more golden retriever connie bsf + alt black reader hcs that just make sense to me bc he has a painfully obvious crush on you

well.. i did say y’all would see more of them 🤷🏽‍♀️

i’ll work on more connie x bimbo cheerleader hcs too bc they’re also a fan favorite + lmk if i’m doing too much connie stuff, i just have lots of ideas for him💀

anyways enjoy! 🤭

— connie calls you his goth gf even though you correct him every single time.. he even has that as your contact name in his phone so he won’t have to change it when y’all get together

“you’re delusional, connie.”

“it’s called manifesting, get with it bae.”

— if you get a bf, he’ll get all jealous but he secretly gets happy if the relationship doesn’t work out

— you come to him with whatever problems you might have even if you call him at 2am, he’s up with you.. sleepy and all

— his mom absolutely loves you and likes to refer to you as her daughter in law when she talks to connie but he just laughs it off

— your mom likes him and your dad only really tolerates him bc he thinks connie is full of too much energy (he’s really old fashioned)

“is that boy on that stuff? because if he is—“

“no, dad. i guess he’s just happy to live.”

“he a lil too happy for me, needa sit his ass down somewhere.”

— sometimes you don’t even have to call him when you get off bc he makes sure to ask for your work schedule everytime you get a new one

— you’ve probably only came to two of his games and he’ll honestly tell you they were two of the best games he’s ever played

“i’m sure you always play good…”

“yeah but like, i felt like i played a lot better with you being there”

— he vents to his friends about how he really feels abt you and he gets mixed reactions

“tell her how you feel!”

“nope, don’t do that. you’ll ruin a friendship.”

“just do it! she probably feels the same way.”

— yeah he’s stroking himself to you some nights but he regrets it later bc he knows he probably shouldn’t want to fuck his best friend

— but little does he know… you catching feelings too and you’re falling for him. you fallin for him hard

#aot #aot x reader #black reader #aot x black reader #connie springer #aot connie #connie springer x y/n #connie x black y/n #connie springer x black y/n #alt black reader

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1000sunnygo · 3 months

Text

One Piece Academy chapter 41: The Dark Bingo Tournament, part 1 (Quick translation)

The lore deepens..

source | previous chapter | part 2 | index

Cover page side note : Sanji-kun's morning starts with black coffee.

Editor's note: what was discussed while playing trump at the Doflamingo countermeasure headquarters?

Everyone: An undercover investigation?

Cora: Yeah...

Cora: Doffy is supposed to attend a certain meeting tonight. Law and I will have an investigation trip.

Robin: 'A certain'...?

Luffy: ..Party with Mingo? I'm coming as well!!

Nami: They just said it's an investigation!

Law: Outside, it's a Bingo party with the Grand City enterprises.

But in reality... It's a meet-and-greet ceremony with the Dark World's residents.

Chopper: The Dark world... Meaning the bad adults? Er, Eleven-Back...

Robin: Eight-Stop (T/N: these are Daifugou card game terms)

Cora: It's all my intuitive prediction, though.

Doffy got himself his first new suit in a long time. There's something to this...

If they meet, it's possible that he'd sign a contract to become part of the gangs then and there. We have to stop this somehow.

Zoro: What do you mean 'somehow'? You haven't decided what to do yet?

Sanji: You want to stop them without being busted. It ain't a simple task at all.

Vivi: Definitely a high risque plan for high schoolers.... Triple Queen.

Cora: I'm one of the students who is given authority by the country and the school to 'investigate and use force'.

Coby: Something like Student council, or Public morals corps?

Cora: Right... Coby, you were part of the Public morals corps, aren't you.

Nami: Hey, Cora-chan... Was Doflamingo always like this? You've lived with him, haven't you?

Cora:....

Our family, the Donquixote Family "used to be" one of the great families of the world. We brothers were raised by kind hearted mother and father.

Vivi: The Donquixote Family! I've heart bits about it from Papa.

Cora: 'Cause Vivi-chan's Nefertari family is also one of those great families!

Usopp: That sounds like a nice family!

Brook: What do you mean by "used to be?"

Cora: A fall from a prestigious family to rock bottom... That's what I mean.

Father, unfamiliar with business, tried his hand at several private charity projects. Unfortunately, every single one ended in huge failure. Our family lost all its possessions, and we lost our social standing.

Those were terrible days, filled with hunger. There were people who's mock and laugh at us for getting the boot, kicked out of the town.

All of it was probably unbearable for my brother. He developed a deep seated hate towards the townsfolk and father.

Then, Doffy disappeared from the sight of me and family. As years passed on...

Cora: I discovered him in the streets as one of the thugs.

Sanji: I guess, he was royally messed up.

Vivi: So he has a past like this behind that perpetual jolly demeanor...

Chopper: Vivi...

Luffy: Corao, I'm bringing leftover food with me.

Cora: Bring with you? You're going somewhere?

Luffy: Why, at Mingo's party!

(Continues in reblogs) ⬇️

#one piece #one piece academy #sanji #one piece sanji #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #donquixote doflamingo #monkey d. luffy #one piece vivi #donquixote homing #roronoa zoro #one piece nami #one piece coby #zoro #nami #coby

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sanjisprincesswifey · 4 months

Note

hi cherry!!! happy holidays to you 🤍! i love your writing so i rushed to put in a request for the secret santa! can i request corazon, law, or zoro with a female reader? thank you a bunch, have a great day :)💞

happy holidays to you too, honey! i’m so honored, thank you for participating! have the best day! <3

you’ve received corazón + warming up by the fire

❆: lover boy cora <3, cora uses sign language to communicate because of his devil fruit, reader is implied female, 900+ words!

the parties that usually took place during the holidays, that were thrown by a certain arrogant brother, usually weren’t cora’s favorite ways to spend his nights.

before you, he’d steal a couple bottles and hoard himself in a room somewhere free from all the noise. now that you were here, he’d deal with the droning on and insufferable voices of the donquixote pirates all day long.

it had gotten late into the night and you had managed to get your hands on a bit too many christmas themed beverages.

rosi had been holding your hand all night, your soft skin cradled within his as you sway back and forth toward your room.

“where are we going?” you softly ask, feet basically dragging behind you.

he glances down the hall; usually using his devil fruit in such a high risk area was a bad idea, but as the entire group had been stuffing their faces with booze all night, cora figured he’d be okay for right now.

“to your room. just want you to get some rest, beautiful.”

you’d usually protest, attempting to keep up with the avid drinkers of the crew, but as your steps don’t feel like they’re yours, you’d rather comply.

“i should not have let doffy make my drinks,” you chuckle, allowing your boyfriend to take ahold of your arm for your stability.

his brows furrow, “wait, my brother made your drinks?”

nodding, you glance up at him with cheeks as red as the poinsettias the adorned the halls.

‘of course he did,’ he thinks, discontent fueling his frustration.

“okay, here we are, make sure you get changed and wash up,” he instructs as if you were a child. the door creaks open as he leads you inside your room to settle on your bed.

the crackling of the fire can be heard throughout the large room, sure to keep you nice and toasty throughout the night.

“got the fire going, that should keep you warm tonight, my love.” you look over your shoulder at the fireplace which glowed with red and yellow hues.

a pout forms on your lips, grasping at his hand as soon as he turns around. “wait, you’re not going to stay with me?”

a tingling warmth writhes through his body at your words. you had been dating for nearly a year yet your desire to keep him with you still tugged at his heart.

“yeah, i’ll stay,” he hums, kissing the top of your head. “let me get you some clothes.”

cora can’t help but notice just how many photos you had owned of the two of you. one on your nightstand, a couple on your dresser and even some risqué ones hidden away inside.

“change into this.” he hands you a shirt that was way too big to be yours and some sleep shorts.

“this is yours,” you giggle, inspecting the item. “but okay.”

it seems that chivalry had only run through one donquixote brother as cora quickly turns around, allowing you to change in privacy.

“i love you, you know.” your voice is muffled, the sound of old clothes being tossed onto the floor as you pull your shirt over your head.

a wide, goofy smile pulls at his lips, every time he hears you say it he can’t help but grin like an idiot.

“i do know. i love you too, a lot.”

a light laugh rings through his ears and as soon as your dressed you’re tugging at his arm to join you in bed.

you slip underneath the covers and he’s quick to follow, though he’d probably be leaving the second you’re asleep to change out of these clothes.

“i think i love you more than that,” you faintly purr, leaning your back into his chest.

cora’s arm slides to pull you tighter to him, placing a tender kiss to your shoulder blade.

“guess i’m lucky then,” he breathes.

you drift off rather quickly, most likely with the aid of the alcohol you had been consuming all night. but he doesn’t leave like he initially planned.

rosi stays, holding you close to him, making sure to sync your breathing. he brushes your hair back if it falls in your face, gently tracing your features, admiring your beauty.

for the first time in his life he felt happy, excited for his future…with you.

the following morning corázon paces the corridor, the large wooden door standing in his way.

no matter how many times he planned gracefully strolling into doflamingo’s room, creating a script in his head if his brother had any possible objections, he still finds his knuckles wavering before they can make contact.

too lost in his own head, the door creaks open out his brother appears.

“cora! you scared me, is something the matter?” he asks, but continues down the hallway, expecting his brother to follow.

‘do you still have mom’s wedding ring?’ he signs, which causes doffy to halt in his tracks. for once he doesn’t have any condescending comment or crude joke to make, just pure, stunned silence.

doffy rubs his temples, “yes, it’s, um, it’s in the top drawer of my dresser.” they both glance over in that direction, but before cora can leave, doffy grabs ahold of his arm. “took you long enough.”

this time his light-hearted jab is one that cora appreciates, offering his brother a smile before they both take their leave.

rummaging through all the [most likely] stolen items, a small velvet box catches his eye. the ring inside had a gold band with three embellishing stones, just as pretty as he remembered it.

he stores it in his pants pocket for now, knowing it’ll come in handy some months down the road.

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#donquixote corazon #corazon x reader #donquixote rosinante #rosinante x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 12 days

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F The Police- Spencer Reid x Alternative!Reader

Summary: Reader takes ‘f the police’ a little literally

Word count: 1, 162

A/N: Has tones of being anti-cops so if that’s not your thing please don’t read

Even though you despised the police and especially the FBI, you couldn’t deny how cute the agent in front of you was. He tried to be professional while asking about your missing coworker but you couldn’t help but make him blush.

“So is that all the questions you got, doc?” You asked him, standing in the empty car park of the bar together, your hand not very subtly reach over his cardigan.

“U-uh ahem, ye-yeh for now.” He asked trying to maintain his composure.

“Well if it’s alright with you, I’d like to ask you some questions.” You smirked up at him, slightly backing him against the wall.

“O-okay.” He stuttered out nervously as your hand skimmed his chest.

“If you promise to not bring the badge and gun would you come back to see me on Saturday? We had a band fall through so I’m gonna play some songs.” You stare up at him, batting your lashes at the handsome agent. “Although that’s not the only way you can hear me scream.” You whisper in his ear, lightly kissing his cheek.

You know you shouldn’t be so forward with an officer who’s interviewing you about a disappearance, but the way he blushed, and the slight moan you hear as your breath fans along his neck, you just couldn’t help it.

“Wh-what time?” He slightly moaned out as you lay sweet kisses on his neck, his hands now lightly on your hips.

“Be here around 9.” You almost order as you step away from him. “Got any requests let me know.” You shout over your shoulder with a laugh as you walk back into the bar.

*******

Spencer shouldn’t have done that, he really shouldn’t have. He should have stopped you and certainly shouldn’t have pretty much said he’d see you play, but he couldn’t help it.

You weren’t really the type of girl Spencer would usually get all flustered for, but he couldn’t deny how beautiful you were and he couldn’t help but be commanded by you.

*******

“So you did ended up making it, Doc.” You smirk up at Spencer as you both stand at the bar, the bartender handing you a glass of water.

Spencer barely registered what you’d said, too busy staring at your smudged makeup and sweaty body, especially your chest.

“Ye-yeh!” He nervously shouted back.

“Not really your scene is it, baby? Maybe we should go somewhere a little quieter.” You spoke loudly in his ear over the music.

“Ye-aaahh mhmm.” Spencer began to answer before your bites and kisses on his neck made his body tingle and his words slip.

“Come on, Doc.” You encourage as you take his hand, pushing him through the bar and to the toilets.

Luckily for you they were surprisingly empty.

Before Spencer had a moment to worry or spout off facts about hygiene and bacteria, you had him shoved against the toilet door, quickly overpowering his mouth. Reaching your hand down, you began to unzip his trousers, already feeling how hard and desperate he was.

“W-we shouldn’t be doing thiiiiss.” Spencer whined out, your hand now palming him over his underwear.

“Here or in general? If you want to stop now we can and I won’t judge you, but if you want to fuck in one of those stalls where no one can see us then we can.” You explain gently against his ear, sweetly nipping at his neck as you begin to palm him faster.

Spencer weighed up his options. He didn’t feel pressured by you and he did really want you, but he also knew all the laws about doing such things in public and all the facts about how unhygienic these toilets probably are. Soon his rational mind begin to quiet as he simply craved you.

“Please, please let me fuck you.” Spencer suddenly blurted out, your teasing becoming too much.

“You’re so dirty, Doc.” You tease him as you roughly pull at his hair, pushing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss.

Not bothering to break from the kiss, you backed up until you both fell into the toilet stall. Manoeuvring each other around, you pushed your own back against the wall of the stall, Spencer crashing into you hard and fast.

Making quick work of Spencer’s pants and underwear, you pulled them both down, revealing his leaking and bouncing cock.

“All this for me?” You tease him, smirking as you begin to jerk him off.

“Yes.” He answers breathlessly, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

Letting go of his cock, Spencer’s eyes shoot to yours, pleading you not to stop. Before he can protest too much though, he sees you’re stepping out of your panties. Cheekily smiling up at him, you put them into his jacket pocket.

“Hold onto those for me, baby.” You smile at him as you pull a condom out of your bra.

Opening the packet, you jerk Spencer’s cock a few times before putting it on him. Once it’s slid on, you raise your leg to sit over his hip, opening yourself up to him.

Surprising both of you, Spencer grabs both of your thighs as he holds you up against the wall and pushes deep inside you.

“Oh fuck!” You shout as Spencer quickly fills you up with his cock.

Spencer is quick to setting a brutal pace and you’re quick to grab at his hair and begin biting his neck.

“Fuck, baby! You really are a dirty boy!” You shout as he fucks you hard against the door.

Your nails begin to dig into his scalp, pulling his hair back to expose his neck. Licking, sucking and biting at him, you make sure not an inch of his neck and chest is left without a mark or saliva.

The room is filled with both of your moans and grunts, grabbing at each in, desperate and animalistic need driving both of you.

Feeling Spencer was close, you keep one hand in his hair as the other makes its way down to your clit, rubbing it so you can both meet your ends together.

“You close, Doc? You gonna cum for me? Come on baby! I’m so close.” You moan out as you throw your head back against the wall, the pressure becoming too much.

Spencer seeing an opportunity for a little pay back, leans down to your exposed neck and begins sucking his own bruises.

“Aaah-ah! Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He shouts as he thrusts a few more times into you, both of your releases coming at the same time with loud shouts and moans.

Rocking into you a few more times, he places you back onto the bathroom floor. Both of you wobble slightly as your hazed-filled minds come back down.

Spencer truly was a sight right now, all roughed up and sweaty.

“Maybe you should come to more of my shows.” You joke as you stare at the sweaty, bruised and roughed up agent before you.

#spencer Reid #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #alternative!reader #Spencer Reid x alternative!reader

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eddies-house · 6 months

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Eight - Sweet as Apple Pie

W/C: 6.9K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Honesty ensues well into the quiet hours of Halloween.

A/N: this chapter is so full of dialogue....do y'all prefer a lot of dialogue throughout chapters or more scenery descriptions? Or a good amount of both?

Masterlist

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The living room was only illuminated by the flashing, gory scenes from the TV playing A Nightmare on Elm Street. It wasn’t your first choice and you had made that clear as you talked your way through the intense parts, keeping your focus on the popcorn bowl in your lap as you scavenged for a melty M&M. You preferred something more lighthearted but your unintentional guest insisted that with it being Halloween and all, it was ‘like the law’ to watch a horror movie. Perhaps you were somewhat okay with it, at least you didn’t have to pretend to have fun at a party and you were in fact cozied up on the couch watching a movie while eating your Halloween candy like you’d longed for in the first place. The only difference was the blood and violence playing out on the screen that you hadn’t planned to endure.

“You’re not even paying attention.” Eddie tosses a pillow your way, sending popcorn and M&Ms tumbling all over your lap.

“Eddie!” You scold.

When you glare at him, you’re met with an expression that can only be recognized as the kind someone exhibits when doing all they can to contain their laughter. Crinkled eyes and pursed lips ready to explode in a fit of boyish giggles. He wasn’t drunk anymore, no longer able to escape your incessant teasing should you choose to hold it over him.

A handful of popcorn mixed with candy is flung at him, a piece successfully clinging to his hair and several M&Ms rolling down his chest into the crevices of the couch that would never see the light of day again. There’s no ignoring the adorable pout on your lips and the way you’d become such a stubborn thing from the smallest inconvenience.

“Haven’t I been through enough tonight?” He frowns, dramatically picking the snack out of his hair to toss it toward you, landing somewhere on the rug below for you to some day clog your vacuum with.

Ignoring his question, the bowl is abandoned on the coffee table, movie long forgotten about as you bring your legs up to your chest and shift your eyes directly to him. Beneath his remaining eyeliner, you can make out the exhaustion forming under his eyes, bags growing more intense with every waking hour, his chapped lips parted ever so slightly as the light from the TV flashes over his features.

You begin to feel selfish for changing into your fluffy pajamas earlier, your pants a checkered orange and black pattern while you opted to wear a well loved gray t-shirt with faded letters that could barely be made out anymore. Eddie remained in his black jeans and tattered cut off, his jacket that previously adorned your shoulders hung snugly on the hook near the door.

There was no way you had anything that would accommodate his long legs although you could probably get by with offering him one of your larger shirts. You wonder if his skin is covered in goosebumps or if he tends to run hot and remain unbothered by the chilliness of your home. Embarrassingly so, you hadn’t learned how to use the fireplace yet. Blankets were a necessity and you found yourself cuddling up with nearly five at a time as the weather grew more frigid.

“I meant to ask, what is your costume? Yourself?” You question. An attempt to ease into offering him something warmer to wear as well as genuine curiosity.

“No?” He leans forward laughing, his attention bouncing between you and the movie. “Ozzy. Ozzy Osbourn.” He states proudly.

His tattoos draw you in as he brings his arms up to cross over his chest, his posture uncharacteristically comfortable on the opposite end of your couch. You were sure he was almost sober so it must have been sleep deprivation allowing him such luxury. A laugh bubbles in the back of your throat as you process his costume, something so convenient as it was practically his actual wardrobe, only a tad more revealing than what you were used to him wearing.

“What, so you just smudge some eyeliner on and you're Ozzy?” You giggle.

“Oh.” He scoffs. “And you put your hair in pigtails and you’re Dorothy?”

“Um, no?” You cock a brow. “A lot of work went into my costume. It just looks like you shredded up your poor shirt and smudged black all over your eyes.”

A giggle vibrates through his body, an actual giggle, almost a squeal as he buries his head in his hands. Another postcard for the space in your brain that was becoming larger with each interaction.

“Also, aren’t you cold? I’m fucking freezing and I’m covered in layers–”

Eddie continues to laugh, the image of a slap happy boy becoming clearer and clearer. His heavy hand makes contact with his thigh, deep chuckles following as you study the crows feet forming at the corner of his eye. Extra prominent tonight.

“I am–I’m fucking cold.” He throws his head back.

It’s contagious, the energy lingering in the air as you join in. You’re unaware of what’s so funny; it seems the mundane act of being alive is hilarious.

Tears threaten to spill, the kind that don’t come around very often; the kind that hold pools of joy, seas of dopamine longing to spill down your cheeks. A salty mess that would paint the prettiest memory, glossy eyelids and parted lashes more immaculate than any piece of art Eddie could imagine. Before you can allow him to indulge in such a sight, fat tears of euphoria are sucked back in, any excess wiped on the pads of your fingers.

“Do you…want a shirt? I-I dunno if I have any that’ll fit comfortably but…if you’re cold? Or I might have a sweatshirt!” You hop up, recovering from your fit of laughter in your moment of realization.

You don’t give him time to answer, immediately retreating to your room. His heart feels as if it's gnawing through his chest at the way you worry about him; the fact that you would even be concerned for his well being is still something he would never get used to. Not many people have offered him that courtesy throughout his life, always equating his family name to something undeserving of any friendly gesture.

When you return, an oversized navy blue sweatshirt in hand with a grin on your face, he swears his heart convulses on the spot. And when your fingers brush against his as you offer it to him, his lungs are rendered breathless, the desire to linger a little longer pulling him in like gravity. Your soft skin against his rough fingertips is enough to mess with his brain chemistry, reducing him to a useless man at your mercy, though he’d never admit it. Not because he didn’t want to but because he was him, and why would someone as delicate and kind hearted as you ever settle for someone as damaged and twisted as him?

Someone so dainty, so lovely, would never in a million years look at him and find him desirable.

When he thanks you, it comes out as an ungrateful mumble, his eyes suddenly glued to his lap in insecurity. That look on his face that you’d come to recognize, a look of absence. His mind fed on him and sucked him dry of emotion, eyes blank and devoid of the life that just seconds ago they were so full of.

“You okay?” You ask, a gentle approach, voice velvety soft with hints of concern.

He doesn’t give you a verbal answer, only nodding while his gaze stays on his lap, the sweatshirt held weakly between his ringed fingers. His silence is reason enough to believe that it was a lie. You just couldn’t put your finger on what exactly had happened in the time you’d left the room to you handing him an article of clothing.

“Do you want…to go to sleep?”

The question pierces his doughy brain, stuffed with self depreciation and alienation, only a smidge of room available to process your words. But even as the words puncture his thoughts, the self hatred won’t deflate fast enough. So he stares. He stares at you, those big chocolatey eyes dipped in sadness and self loathing, the ambience now melancholy. An ache seeps into your chest, traveling up your throat and stinging your eyes at the sight of such a sorrowful man who had just moments ago blessed your ears with his deep laughter and looked at you with such glee. Suddenly he was gone and once again, he was chasing his inner monologue, you could tell by the way he stared off into the distance, how he had removed himself from the room momentarily.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You crouch in front of him, the blue light from the TV the only thing allowing you to map out his features.

“Nothing.” He whispers, snapping out of his trance.

His irises warm up, only slightly, but you can still make out the muted glaze cast over them leftover from his moment of despair. He isn’t out of the woods yet.

“I-I’m fine. Sorry, was just…thinking.” He mutters, slipping the sweatshirt over his head, the material fitting comfortably over his torso, hair now frizzier than before.

“What are you thinking about?”

You almost lose him again, thoughts swallowing him and nearly drowning him right before you. But the touch of your hand over his pulls him out, a token of your kindness. A wordless reassurance that reels him back in.

“Everything.” He sniffles, head shaking as if to ward off the waterworks.

Eddie doesn’t let any tears fall, withholds them. Forces them back into his tear duct, regretting the vulnerability he was further pushing onto you.

“Like what?” You gently push, thumb stroking over the back of his hard working hand.

Moments follow your question, contemplation behind his gaze while he hesitates. The world seemed to never be patient enough for him. So you would.

For him, you would.

As the gap of silence grows larger, you only give him more encouragement in the form of your thumb continuing to stroke his knuckles, your stare soft on his profile. There was no rush, not when he’d just hours ago welcomed you into his tortured past. Not when his nose crinkled as his eyes grew wet again, lashes coated and lip bitten between his teeth anxiously.

“Um–” He chokes out, not a single tear allowed past his waterline.

You offer a squeeze of your hand, sympathy pouring from your touch into him. He only tenses up at the sentiment, its effect foreign to him.

“I should go.” Dragging his hands down his face, he’s puzzled when you stop him from standing.

“Eddie.” You maintain eye contact with him, even as his eyes dart around the room, you attempt to keep him focused on you. “I don’t know what’s bugging you but…it can’t be anything crazier than what you’ve told me tonight.”

Uncertainty pools in his dark irises, honey hues nearly gone in the almost-dark room. The TV lighting only offers you the tiniest crumb of espresso and swirling caramel that usually brought him to life. Though, you aren’t entirely sure they’d even be there had you turned the lights on, his grim demeanor clearly yanking away any happiness he had experienced moments prior.

“I-I–why…why are you trying to help me?” He struggles to get the question out, appearing to be engaged in an internal battle, almost as if he was blindly attempting to make his way back to you, his mind holding him hostage.

You can’t hide the surprise taking over your face, the utter horror at the fact that he would ask such a thing. Maybe he regretted sharing everything now that he was allegedly sober again? But that didn’t change your feelings on the topic, you cared. Whether he word-vomited due to his scattered brain thriving off the alcohol or whether he was stone sober, his feelings mattered to you and you wanted him to know it.

“Because you’re a person, Eddie.” You begin, once again taking his reluctant, clammy hand and draping your touch over his knuckles. “Any person deserves compassion. So what’s bugging you? I won’t judge. Promise.”

Holding your pinky out, an empathetic smile paints your lips.

“Pinky promise.”

Within seconds his eyes go from dark discs of despair to those famous honey pools of fondness. You take note the way he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his pinky around yours, warmth blossoming in your chest and spreading all throughout your body. And if he needs another moment of quiet after that, he doesn’t communicate it but you gladly welcome it.

My feelings. My feelings are bugging me. Taking me hostage.

It’s what he wants to say but realistically he shoves the dreadful words into the back of his throat as he comes up with something else, another way to convey his thoughts without simply outing himself, making a fool out of himself that you would surely laugh at.

“I-uh, I’m not very good at this.” Eddie tries to escape the conversation.

To be fair, he did the same thing with his therapist, it wasn’t anything personal. It was his own flaw. But you may have better luck than his therapist, he regrets. Simply because he would become something he didn’t want you to see him as: an emotionally stunted boy with too many complicated feelings, love drunk on the first girl who had given him more than the time of day. Just because you were nice to him, didn’t entitle him to reciprocated feelings.

“That’s okay. I don’t think anyone is.” You whisper.

Eddie’s eyes shut tightly, his thoughts too painful to voice yet he forces them out–or rather they claw their way out of his throat the second he looks into your begging eyes. Wordless pleas reach out to him as his brain threatens to shut down any and all communications.

“I just–I don’t…I shouldn’t even be here.” He sighs deeply. “I-I don’t deserve to be here.”

At his admission, you find it difficult to voice anything comforting. Any words you had waiting for him were swallowed at the raw emotion he was displaying. The look on your face forces him to continue, he needs to fix the situation but he fears he may just make it worse and chase you further away. He had been digging his own grave for some time now, never learning when to just stop and lay in it.

“Chrissy–um, Chrissy.” He whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

None of it made sense and he was trying his hardest to wrap things back around and allow you to make the connection in your head.

“You–you remind me of…C-Chrissy.” A tear trails down his cheek, his hand rapidly wiping it away as he pathetically attempts to repair the conversation.

Instead of offering another squeeze to his hand, you make your way onto the couch next to him, thigh dangerously close to his as you run a hand up and down his back. You expect the discussion to end there but he only continues.

“And–and that scares me. Cause, it-it should’ve been me, I should’ve been dead–I should be dead!” Eddie’s face grows more red, the topic clearly weighing heavy on his heart. “I can’t–I can’t do it again.” More tears flow down his tinted cheeks, uncontrollable at this point.

“It feels–it feels l-like it’s going to–to happen again.” He becomes more and more worked up, barely breathing while he rushes the words out in one breath. “Like–like the universe or some shit i-is gonna punish me.”

Your eyes sting, that uncomfortable frown beginning to pull at the corners of your mouth as you watch him self destruct before you. Something you’d never ask of him though he was voluntarily spilling the contents of his bleeding heart into your hands.

“Okay, okay.” You begin to soothe.

“I d-don’t get good things.” “G-good things don’t–don’t happen to me.” He hiccups.

“Shhh, you don’t need to get upset with yourself.”

Bravely, you go to use the corner of a nearby blanket to blot at the tears trailing down his face to which he flinches away, shaking his head. That alone would normally be enough to send you to the other side of the couch, bashfully avoiding eye contact until he took the initiative. But something within you realized that he shouldn’t be left to take the initiative. Not when he was displaying such pain, such vulnerability that you were convinced not many people had ever seen.

“God, so pathetic.” He utters under his shaky breath.

“Hey.” You softly scold, hand wrapping around his forearm. He doesn’t flinch at your advances this time. “You are not pathetic.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Eddie.”

“Don’t throw me a pity party.” He grits.

“I am not throwing you a pity party. Stop that.”

It’s out of character, the way you stand up to him. If it were anyone else you probably wouldn’t have made it this far into the conversation but you can feel your blood boiling as he dismisses his emotions. You can’t sit by and allow him to continue throwing punches at himself. Your sudden anger appears to silence him, his glassy eyes glancing at you in disbelief but still obeying your demand.

“I’m being a hypocrite but I-I just…stop.” You whisper, the devastated look on your face enough to bring him to his knees if he were standing. Instead he remains seated with his focus solely on you.

“I know…” You search for the right words. “I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t deserve good things.”

Eddie doesn’t interject your speech, only listens intently with sad eyes and wet cheeks. He doesn’t deserve the time day let alone your dedication to his sorrows and worries.

“I, um, I grew up practically raising my siblings.” You begin to explain. “And, um, that responsibility really makes it feel like your needs come last. And it just gets worse and worse as the years go on because…it’s hard. Feeling emotionally neglected while tending to everyone else’s emotions.”

His gaze doesn’t once wander, completely devoted to you, to your story. There’s not an ounce of judgment seeping out of him. The familiar feeling you were so used to when you opened up every once in a blue moon where you felt deeply misunderstood and silently criticized was nowhere to be found. All you could make out was pure empathy. Compassion. Curious brown eyes searched into your soul, not just scraping the surface but fully diving into the depths you so willingly lead him to.

“I-I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that–like you did Chrissy.” You tread carefully, as if you were afraid to even mention her name. “I mean–I lost my dad recently but…I didn’t witness anything and it was because of health issues. We weren’t close and I actually…really hated him.” You nod, staring meanly into the carpet.

“But, I, um, I know what it’s like to keep people out. It’s not fun but it’s all we know isn’t it?” You chance a laugh, earning you the tiniest upturn of his lips. “And I mean, things are fine with my siblings and my mom, I guess. But it still feels like I need to shut them out. To protect their emotions. And for some reason it just…makes sense to leave them out of it? I dunno.” Your voice trails off, confidence wavering.

“It does make sense.” Eddie speaks up, voice scratchy.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He bites his lip, canine digging into his own flesh before releasing it to speak again. “Feels like they wouldn’t get it. Or they shouldn’t have to. At least that’s how it feels with Wayne. I know I can tell him anything but…why bother him with all the shit going on in my life when the man has already gone through hell because of me?”

He takes in a deep breath before sighing and continuing. “Fuckin’ had to raise a kid that wasn’t even his.”

There’s a certain disappointment to Eddie’s tone, a condescending scowl splayed across his face, only directed at himself as he twists his rings around his fingers.

“Um.” He pipes up again, seeming to snap himself out of a trance he’d lured himself into. “‘Nough about me.” A smile spreads over his pretty lips, not a genuine one.

“Eddie.” Like silk, your tone is soft.

“Stop doing that. You don’t have to do that. Not around me.”

His chest deflates with an exhale, his pretty eyes still wet and wandering around the room. There’s a lost child hidden within them, someone desperately trying to cling to the current adult reality but appearing to get lost in the process. That look was too familiar and there was a sliver of relief in knowing you weren’t the only one who wore it but it yanked on the most tender parts of your heart to know Eddie was suffering just the same as you, if not more.

“T-tell me about Chrissy.” You whisper. “Only if you want to.”

When Eddie’s roaming gaze finally lands on you, he never would have expected to be met with such sincerity. Not a drop of malice in your voice, not one trace of aggression. The kind that he was buried in when forced to confront a whole town who suspected he was responsible for her death. Every mention of her name was always followed by an accusatory finger and seething anger, pitchforks practically aiming for him. The worst part was he didn’t blame them. Now, he didn’t mention the hellish underworld beneath Hawkins to you and had explained that the earthquake took Chrissy with a vengeful force right in front of him. You had no reason to believe him, but you did. You could’ve believed he was a murderer as everyone else. You didn’t. A piece of him wishes he could go into detail about the horrors that once lurked under Hawkins but he’d already breached his contract enough telling you that he was attacked by “creatures”, never going into full detail and telling you that they were gigantic bats. And you didn’t seem to mind, never pushing for further explanation, only taking what he was willingly giving to you.

“I…” He begins. “I…she…she was…”

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to–”

“No.” He whispers. His fingertips swipe underneath his eyes, collecting a fair amount of running eyeliner. “I-I uh, I want to.” He nods to himself.

“Chrissy was uh, was one of the good ones. Not a mean bone in her fuckin’ body.” Eddie starts. “Even if she was in the ‘popular crowd’ she never bullied anyone. She thought I was mean and scary at first but…she never…she never showed it. She’d wave to me every now and then.” He laughs at the memory, only making your soul ache.

“Now that I think about it, maybe she only waved because she was scared of me.” He chuckles in self deprecation. “Can’t blame her. Everyone’s scared of me. Always have been.”

“I’m not.”

Your sudden interruption has his brows knitting together, a softness overcoming his eyes. He was a mess of a man and you continued to tend to him as if he was deserving of any of your attention. He wasn’t, and he truly believed that.

“What?” Eddie attempts to buy some time, stupidly racking his brain for something of some kind of intelligence.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“I–thought you were. I mean, I wasn’t exactly…nice to you when you first moved in. I yelled at you all the time–you don’t have to lie to me.”

“I used to be, yeah. I’m scared of practically everyone before I get to know them so it wasn’t just you. But I’m not anymore.” You explain honestly. “Keep telling me about her. If it’s not too much. She sounded like she was a lovely person.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was. Had a crush on her for like forever. Like since middle school when we kinda hung out at the talent show.” Suddenly, he’s shaking his head again, as if to erase his previous thought. “It’s stupid. ‘M twenty four and I’m whining about–”

“Stop.” You whisper, a bold hand squeezing at his knee. The action sends his nerves into a frenzy.

“Nothing you say is stupid.”

No one has ever been so patient, so accommodating over his feelings and deepest tragedies showcasing themselves in his darkest hours. It’s strange enough that he begins to wonder if someone is pulling a prank on him. If he’s being played like a violin only to be laughed at when the curtain is pulled back. He couldn’t help it, it was all he had come to learn after all. Eddie knew you didn’t have it in you to commit such a heinous act against another individual but his mind had been poisoned time and time again, only sending him into a spiral of ‘what-ifs’ any time positivity lingered just out of his reach to grasp if he was brave enough.

“I barely even knew her.” He seemingly gives up, hand lightly smacking down on his thigh. Your touch remains on his knee, burning a hole into his bones as he stares at it.

“That’s okay. You clearly care about her.”

It makes him want to scream, the way you validate every sentence he utters out. It’s not what he’s used to, his therapist never even gives him this amount of attention. And it’s not fair that a soul like yours had been damned to hear his problems and witness everything that made him ugly. Eddie was convinced that his soul was tainted and if he imagined what it looked like, it was an inky black stain on reality with hardly any signs of life. If he only knew that in the two months you had known him, he was the most vibrant and adoring soul you had ever come across.

“I–we just–we really connected. Right before she died.” He manages to struggle through his mind demanding that he internalizes his thoughts. “It felt–good. She saw me…for me. Instead of some–some motherfucker that poisoned the town’s precious ecosystem and she didn’t see me as…a freak.”

You offer a nod, an encouragement for him to keep going. His heart that he kept locked up tight in his chest had been slowly oozing out of him, trickling into your living room.

“She, um, she had a boyfriend. Jason.” He clears his throat, staring at the ceiling. “He was an asshole. Not to her, he treated her real nice. But when Chrissy wasn’t around he was a douchebag. Started a manhunt for me when shit went down. He thought I—he–he thought I killed her and—and sacrificed her?” Eddie almost questions, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.

“All because…I was the leader of a Dungeons and Dragons club.” He admits bashfully. You only let your thumb glide over the rip in his jeans, a comforting gesture. “Everyone, uh, thought it was a cult. Satanic panic and all that shit.”

“That’s fucked.”

“I agree. Super fucked. Especially because it dragged everyone down with me. Dustin basically put his life on the line for me, I’ll never be able to make it up to him.”

As he expresses his gratitude, Eddie pulls his right arm out of the hoodie sleeve, pulling the material up to display his bicep to you. The one with the very badly doodled character, somewhat resembling a gnome.

“But…” He drags out, slapping the ink proudly. “This did really excite him at least.”

You examine the drawing, taking his bicep in your hand without a second though as you try to determine exactly what you were looking at. You didn’t want to offend him but you genuinely couldn’t make out the picture. It was messy and scribbly and could have been created by a five year old. “Eddie, I’m sorry but–what is it?”

“Dustin drew it. It’s his D&D character.”

“Oh!” You smile brightly.

“You don’t have to pretend it's good, he’s a shit artist.”

“Not shit. Just…inexperienced…maybe?” You joke, wincing at your own words.

“Very.” Eddie confirms. “Dustin’s more of a brains kinda guy. Gareth and I took care of all the artwork, y’know like logos for the club and our band–”

“You had a band?” A grin sneaks past your lips.

“I–uh–yeah.” He admits with defeat, his shoulders slumping.

It’s only then that you realized you still had been tracing your fingers over the inked drawing, not one protest stopping you from doing so. In fact, Eddie only glanced down briefly and smiled, his cheeks tinting pink. It wasn’t clear whether it was because of your touch or because of embarrassment.

“Hang on, when did this all end up being about me?” He glares at you with mock anger.

“No, no, no. Don’t turn this around. What was your band’s name?”

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, distress evident in his tone though his face only conveys amusement.

Eddie didn’t have to entertain the playful conversation that had suddenly engulfed the two of you. He didn’t have to banter back or let you touch his arm. He didn’t have to talk about Chrissy even though his mind was plaguing him and he was the one who brought her up. Nothing was required of him and you made sure he was aware of that.

But oh, how you reveled in his endearing blanket of an aura as he allowed you to peek behind the oh so heavy curtain that hid his deepest and most tragic thoughts.

–

Marvin’s Grocery had become more and more familiar with your frequent trips over the weeks. You were determined to perfect an apple pie recipe that would make anyone melt at the taste. Donnie had extended an invite to her famous Thanksgiving dinner and though it was weeks away, preparations were still under way, your oven enduring more use than it ever had in its short lifetime.

Guilt ate away at you as you placed the freshly baked pie on the counter to cool. You didn’t want to be an intruder but Donnie was so insistent when gracing you with the plans back at the supermarket. It would be your first Thanksgiving away from home and you were set on spending it alone, preparing to create a one person feast and pig out all by your lonesome. Now, you were going to be faced with at least 30 other guests according to Donnie. That was intimidating enough and when you tried to reject her invitation to save yourself some embarrassment, she only interrupted you, stating that everyone is going to love you and that even your short time in the spotlight at the Halloween bash left a great impression. That everyone wanted to get to know you.

Then she bestowed the responsibility of one dessert upon you. Everyone was required to bring at least one dish, store bought or homemade…it didn’t matter as long as you contributed. You had weeks to perfect it and though you didn’t need to go through the trouble, the people pleaser in you raged on.

Cinnamon and nutmeg graced your nose, a comforting scent that had you salivating and yearning for a piece of warm, gooey apple pie. The kitchen was a mess, bowls scattered along the counter top and a bag of flour leaking onto the floor. You were usually consistent in keeping clean as you worked but the daunting task of perfecting your pie held your complete and undivided attention.

Buttery, flaky crust called your name as you finished folding your laundry. The TV blared some popular sitcom that had to have been new as you didn’t recognize it. Regardless, the pie had interested you more.

It came out beautifully, nearly commercial ready with the criss cross crust and everything. This was your best outcome yet and you only hope it tasted just as delicious as it looked. You’d finally perfected the design and it didn’t completely deflate on itself this time, a win in your book.

Regretfully, you cut into the perfect dessert, forming the perfect triangle and plating it as delicately as possible. This was your baby as far as you were concerned and the passion that had gone into it was going to be recognized, even if only by you. A quick dollop of whipped cream is placed on top, the only thing missing was ice cream although you weren’t the biggest fan of pairing the two treats, satisfied with just the baked slice of heaven.

It was too flawless, the slice had been perfectly cut and presented like a five star restaurant had prepared it. Such perfection could not be recreated and you simply needed at least one witness to applaud your work or at the very least acknowledge your newly discovered baking skills.

–

Two knocks and no movement. Yet…

The breeze nips at your cheeks, leaving you to regret not throwing a sweater on even if only for a few seconds. Your hand shields the fresh slice of pie, a desperate attempt to conceal its warmth. Your masterpiece would not be spoiled at the hands of the inevitably changing weather.

Another two knocks. A bit more urgent this time.

You can hear shuffling just beyond the door, an eager shiver running down your spine. Irritation begins to build within you at the stinging sensation at the tip of your ears, the temperature being especially unforgiving.

Two more knocks.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”

You hear the grumble and can’t help but feel your spirits lift.

“Wha–Bambi?” Eddie reveals you, a shivering mess on the porch with your hair in disarray and a plate of pie in your trembling hands.

Without hesitation, he steps to the side and waves you in. There’s a certain coziness to him, his hair extra frizzy as if he had been laying on it and his eyes a tad puffy. Almost like a large teddy bear. His black sweatshirt swallows his torso although he’s wearing shorts, a psychotic move in this kind of weather.

“Try this.” You demand, holding the plate out in front of him.

His eyes only stare widely at the treat, grogginess obvious in the way he rubs his eyes and yawns. Another postcard moment.

“What is it?” He asks gravelly. It just about melts you into a puddle on his floor.

“Apple pie!”

Your enthusiasm takes him back, a surprised expression pulling at his features as he hesitantly takes it. It crosses his mind that you mentioned taking on baking recently, a slow shift at The Bourbon pulling you both into mindless talk as you cleaned. He gathers that you were at the peak of your sugar rush, no doubt stealing licks of batter and tastes of sugar as you baked. If this was the result of you baking all day, he needed a minute to wake up.

“Okay, okay.” He sighs, brushing past you to set the plate on his kitchen counter, snatching a fork from one of the drawers.

“Why do you need me of all people to taste test?” He asks a bit unkindly. He doesn’t mean it but you did wake him from a deep slumber, one of the best naps he had in a while. Probably the only nap he’d taken in a while as he recalls.

You don’t seem to recognize his irritation, thankfully too caught up in the bubbling excitement around your homemade treat. “Cause it’s for Thanksgiving and I really want it to be good.” You explain, bouncing on the balls of your feet impatiently.

An eye roll has you blushing–it shouldn’t–but it does. All of Eddie’s little quirks whether they were forming out of grumpiness or not, only made him all the more endearing. The fork finally meets his mouth, heaven about to bless his taste buds–or at least you hope.

As he chews, he makes it a point to keep a straight face, watching you squirm with anticipation being far too fun for him.

“How is it?”

Eddie shrugs. Okay, maybe not all of his quirks were endearing.

“Eddie!” You wail, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“Alright, alright.” He mumbles, taking a step back as he swallows. The crust crumbles just right on his tongue, warm gooey apple goodness filling his taste buds and sending him right back to his childhood. The happy parts. “Really fuckin’ good. You have any more?” He asks, going in for another bite, a smug grin displaying across your face.

“No, you were being rude.”

“Wh–c’mon.” He just about whines as you steal the plate from his reach, tucking it behind your back.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m not sorry, now give it back.” An adorable frown pulls at his mouth.

“Eddie.”

“Bambi.”

Big brown eyes stare into yours, stubborn intent evident behind them. It instantly fades when you give him your best pout, your eyes shining with a silent plea. With a deep sigh and another eye roll, he gives in. It was like stealing candy from a baby except even easier as he fumbled his stoic expression and contorted his face into something more apologetic.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbles.

“You’re what?” You smile, acting oblivious.

“I’m sorry!” Eddie throws his hands up in surrender. “Happy?”

“I guess.” You sigh, placing the beloved dessert back on the counter for him to devour.

“Why you baking so much?”

His mouth is crammed with pie after he asks, crumbs resting at the corners of his mouth and whipped cream decorating his upper lip. You determine that he’s a messy eater, sloppily shoveling pie into his mouth until it physically can’t hold anymore.

“Thanksgiving. I’m in charge of a dessert. What are you bringing?”

“Nuffin’.” He mumbles through a mouthful.

“Why not?” You practically whine.

With a rough swallow, Eddie licks his lips, leaving no trace of the coarse sugar that was previously sprinkled on the crust. When you glance down, the plate is empty, the pie had vanished into Eddie’s stomach.

“I’m not going.” He says simply.

Not going? If he couldn’t go back to Indiana for Thanksgiving, where was he going to go?

“I don’t uh, I don’t do holidays.” He elaborates.

“Don’t do holidays.” You scoff. “You did Halloween just fine.”

It should gross you out when he retrieves a carton of milk from the fridge and starts chugging it straight from the container. It doesn’t. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he sets the milk on the counter, eyes meeting yours as his elbows come to rest on the counter, his head propped up in his hands.

“Then that’s the only holiday I do.”

“You have to go.” You whine like a child, stomping your foot.

“I don’t have to do anything.” There’s a certain kind of attitude in his tone, a playful attitude that wasn’t actually meant to offend you, only to spur you on.

“You have to go or else you can’t have any more pie!” You complain. “Please Eddie! You’re like one of the only people I’ll know, you can’t not go.”

Your worried eyes and pouty lips are convincing enough though he might as well have a little fun. Get under your skin.

“Now you’re being mean.” He juts out his lip.

The look on your face is priceless, eyes widening and mouth hung open in shock. “Am not! You’re going to Thanksgiving because if you don’t then I’m gonna feel guilty the whole time I’m trying to pig out.”

“Guilty?” An amused grin plasters itself to his face, his figure returning to tower over you as he ceases leaning over the counter.

“Yeah, you can’t spend Thanksgiving alone.”

He swears there are tears in your eyes, making it unexplainably hard for him to tell you no. Then again, he always found it hard to tell you no. Just last week you and Jett begged to decorate the bar with pumpkins and other Fall objects. The only reason he said yes was because you looked up at him with those perfectly pleading puppy dog eyes, your hands behind your back as you swayed back and forth. And because you offered to use the pumpkins from your porch, the bar’s dwindling budget sure to be untouched.

“Tell you what…” Eddie begins his proposition, you listening eagerly as you lean over the counter with your head propped in your hands as he had done seconds ago. “If you make me my own personal pie—“

“Done.” You chirp.

“I will consider it.” He finishes, glaring at you.

“How about…I give you the rest of the pie I have sitting at home right now and you promise you’ll go?” You light up at your own idea.

“I will consider it.” He repeats.

“No deal.”

You cross your arms stubbornly, eyes closing as you tilt your head up in a snobbish manner. A groan escapes him, you peeking an eye open only to see his nose scrunched in defeat, his tongue licking the back of his teeth and clicking.

He lost the battle.

“Fine.” He sighs, exhaling through his nostrils in annoyance.

You don’t miss the tiny smile tugging on his lips as he collects the remaining whipped cream from the plate and licks it from his fingers. His front was faltering, the big scary dog ready and willing to fall at your feet if you just said the word.

~end~

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kindasleepywriter · 5 months

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BoP - Chapter 4: Rough Landing

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: Your arrival in Velaris ruffles some feathers.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2.4k.

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There was nothing that you hated more than winnowing. Sure, it was a great timesaver and a practical way out of dangerous situations, but it made you dizzy, and you always had to fight back the urge to spew your breakfast for at least an hour afterwards.

Every time someone winnowed you somewhere, it felt completely different than people said it should, you weren’t just ‘stepping’ across the room. It was more like you were hurtling towards it at light speed. Not a great experience. Another fun reminder of your power or, well, your absence of it. This, however, was nothing like winnowing.

The Shadowsinger had tried to convince you that flying would be the easiest way to get to where he was bringing you, but you’d scoffed in his face. The idea of being held like a child for the entire flight felt humiliating. You missed flying, but not like this.

After minutes of arguing, he’d finally given up and told you to winnow instead. While the prospect of nausea didn’t feel much better, at least you’d save face at least a little. You mentioned to him that you couldn’t winnow yourself that far, to which he’d quirked a brow but said nothing in the end. Contempt, pity, or suspicion? You couldn’t tell. It was probably all of them anyways.

However, when he grabbed your arm to leave for Velaris, instead of feeling like you were being thrown across the sky like a projectile, you’d simply been shrouded by complete silence and darkness until you’d emerged on the other side of the Night Court, barely a breeze passing you.

The relief was short lived, however, when you found yourself suspended in mid-air, dozens of feet above the stone balcony underneath you. Your eyes widened as you started to fall, and panic overtook you. The absolute audacity of this motherfu-

You didn’t even have time to finish the thought before you were roughly encircled by arms that slowed your imminent fall and deposited you on the ground, crushing your wings painfully against your side in the process You turned quickly the second your feet were on stable ground, immediately shoving the Shadowsinger away and pulling your fist back aiming to break his damn nose. He stopped the blow with a single hand, looking unimpressed. What he clearly didn’t plan for, however, was your knee straight to his crotch.

He doubled over as he let out a loud swear, letting go of your fist and looking at you like he was planning your immediate murder. You smirked. You’d bargained to cooperate with the High Lady, not him. And technically, he was the one who’d let you start a freefall and had grabbed you against your will, hurting you in the process. This was only self-defense. You hadn’t technically broken any laws. He couldn’t do anything to you.

“I swear by the mother,” he growled, “I’m going to rip that leg straight off your body the second you’re out of this court you feral, conniving-”, only to be cut off by a loud boisterous voice.

“HA! I don’t know what you did to deserve that brother, but she got you good”, the man laughed, “Maybe we should ask her to come to training. I’m sure she has a lot more in mind for you.”

At this point you’d already jumped back a couple steps to place yourself out of the Shadowsinger’s immediate reach, shaking out your wings as much as you could without opening them, and you spun to see another Illyrian striding out of the balcony doors, a grin on his face as he mocked the one you’d aimed your anger at just moments earlier.

On average, Illyrians tended to be taller than average, just like Peregryns, but didn’t share the gracefulness and speed of the dawn-born faes because of the large amounts of (unnecessary, in your opinion) muscle from the brutal training they put themselves through. This man, however, was simply gigantic.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a descendant of the mountain giants that once ruled over the mountains of Illyria. Of course, no such person existed as the species had been extinct for millennia, but if anyone were ever to make you doubt the fact it would be him. The muscle, the height, his face… a fine specimen of a man, truly, although you cut short that train of thought before things got out of hand.

The Shadowsinger was still in the process of gathering himself and straightening back up again, his dark eyes unwaveringly glaring daggers at you with a hand posed on the railing for support. His numerous siphons were glowing as if in warning. If looks could kill, you’d already be six feet under.

“I’m Cassian,” the giant lookalike introduced himself, fully turning his attention to you. “Hopefully, we’ll start out on better terms than Az has managed to. You must be the Peregryn that caused Rhys to be mentally harassed from the moment he woke up, and apparently a Peregryn who can also manage to get a hit on Azriel’s favorite parts. Truly, a pleasure.”

He held out a hand for you to shake. You glanced at it and didn’t move a hair. You weren’t surprised Rhysand had heard all about your forest shenanigans. Daemati really did have it better than everyone else.

“Ah, so you’re the silent type.”, he said, amused, “Not exactly what Az had portrayed of you, I must admit.”

“Trust me, she had plenty to say earlier.”, Azriel bit out from across the balcony, now standing at his full height and advancing towards you slowly with his eyes fixed on you and his wings spread wide. “Don’t tell me you’re too shy to spit at him the same insults you did earlier?”

“I have none to give to a man who’s acting like a decent human”, you flatly said and rolled your eyes, “perhaps you have a few things to learn about the subject from him.”

Cassian let out a low whistle and put a hand on the Shadowsinger’s chest to stop him from advancing further . “I can almost smell the hatred between you. What the hell did you do to her, Az?”

Azriel didn’t have the time to respond before another figure emerged from the open doors. This time, it was an annoyed looking High fae that held a book in one hand and a teacup in the other. She was in relaxed, comfortable clothes, but they did nothing to hide her toned arms and legs, looking every inch as much of a warrior as Azriel and Cassian. Looking just as attractive as them too– humanoid faes were generally considered very attractive, but this was almost impressive.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at her, keeping the Illyrians in your peripheral vision to better prepare yourself for the possibility of Cassian letting Azriel have his fun.

“I don’t know what you guys are doing, but I’m trying to read.”, she said, waving the book in the air, “I didn’t agree for Rhys and Feyre to use my home for a “special meeting” just to have you both keep me from the best part of my novel.”

She passed a look over the two Illyrians, evaluating Azriel’s murderous stance before her eyes finally met yours and swept over your body, assessing you as if she’d only noticed you just then.

“Ah.’, she sighed, “So you’re the reason why the boys are all so wound up. Hmm. Thought you’d be more… assassin-like.”

You bristled at the comment, your emotional walls coming back up. They’d been lowered only the slightest bit with Cassian’s opening words and her initial relaxed state, but she had made sure, voluntarily or not, to remind you of your place here. A stranger. A suspect.

“Play nice, Nesta. We don’t want to run her off before she’s even arrived.”, Cassian said as he stepped closer to her and landed an arm on her shoulder. Despite the clear familiarity between the two faes, Nesta shrugged him off, laughing a little. “Old habits”. She faced you again, her smile disappearing instantly. “Come with me.”, she said. “They’ve been waiting for you.”

You nodded, hoping she only meant the High Lord and Lady. You had already seen too many Illyrians today. Nesta led you through the mountainside mansion, guiding you into a study with large windows overlooking the bright city below. It was mid-day by now and the sun shone strongly against the windows, but the room still maintained a comfortable temperature. The wonders of magic.

To your relief, the only people in the room were the two imposing figures standing behind the wooden desk: the High Lord and Lady of the Night court. Rhysand you’d seen before, although it had been centuries ago, and he’d been sporting wings that time. You weren’t surprised to see him without them, it wasn’t exactly a secret that he had the ability to conjure them at will, just like the woman beside him.

She, on the other hand, was a new face to you. A very intrigued looking face, certainly, watching you as if she was a child examining the shiny new toy she got for winter solstice. You shifted, uncomfortable.

With Cassian standing at your back, Azriel moving closer to the High Lord and Lady in front of you, and the annoyed book-reading fae standing at your left, you felt quite like a caged animal. You held your mental shield strong, hoping your face was just as unbreaking. You felt the slightest relief knowing they couldn’t hurt you. Not yet anyways.

It was the High Lady who broke the silence first, calling your name softly.

“We’ve heard a lot about you. Azriel mentioned he found you near our borders, is that right?”

“Yes, High Lady.”

She laughed as if you’d made a great joke, putting up a hand placatingly.

“Please, call me Feyre, Rhys and I don’t keep court matters as uptight as they do in Autumn. You may call him by his name too.”

Rhysand nodded beside her, smiling a wicked grin at her words, not helping in easing the tension. You were straight as a rod, face completely unmoving. You felt a brush of claws – no, talons – against your mental shields. Your stone walls held strong against the albeit gentle touch, and Rhysand’s eyes narrowed.

“If you prefer it.”, you said in the same flat tone you’d used earlier.

Feyre, seemingly unphased by your lack of reaction, continued.

“We were informed that you’d agreed freely to come meet with us here, I can say that we appreciate you not making a fuss about it. It’s only for the good of our court, I’m sure you understand.”

Agreed freely without a fuss? That’s not exactly how you’d describe securing a bargain with their court’s Spymaster, unless… they didn’t know, did they? You couldn’t help but glance at him. For once, he was sternly avoiding your gaze, confirming your suspicions.

The curious look Rhysand and Feyre gave the both of you went unnoticed.

“I simply wish to be able to continue on my journey, my Lady.”, you said, “If it matters, I’m quite keen to do that as soon as possible, as I’m sure you are too.”

“Well, it seems like someone doesn’t appreciate our hospitality”, Rhysand snarked, “Perhaps we’d appreciate your company for a few days. You sure seem like an… interesting character. A clipped Peregryn? We don’t see that often.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“I’d have thought you’d be used to the concept, given how much your camps love that particular tradition.”

“I’ll remind you that the practice has been banned since my predecessor passed away, as you surely know.”, he replied.

“And I’m sure the hundreds of fae that lost their ability to fly since that law was passed hundreds of years ago fully support the way you’ve been enforcing that law, High Lord.”, you spat.

A hand almost painfully grasped your shoulder from behind you. “I would watch your tone, Peregryn, or one might think you’ve come here with dishonorable intentions.”, Cassian warned.

“I couldn’t hurt any of you even if I tried, didn’t you know?” Both Rhysand and Feyre looked at you suspiciously.

From where he stood, there was no way Cassian couldn’t see the black markings that surely peaked out underneath the collar of your tunic. His hand roughly pulled down the fabric, far enough to reveal a few more of your vertebrae. You heard his breath catching in his throat. Bingo.

“You didn’t think I’d come here without any protection, did you?”

The eyes of everyone in the room, except for Azriel’s and Feyre’s, widened. Rhysand turned quickly to the Shadowsinger, slapping the back of his head angrily as Azriel failed to duck in time.

“You bargained with her?”, he growled as you chuckled. His attention turned back to you instantly and he waved at the door.

“I am not done with you yet either. Cassian, if you’d escort our wonderful guest out of here and into a room, while I deal with our idiot of a brother.”

“Actually-” Azriel tried to argue, but Rhysand didn't give him the chance to breath out another word: “You, shut it.”.

The Shadowsinger tried to protest again, but not before you had the chance to speak up. “He must be the one to approve who accompanies me, actually. Another part of our agreement, I’m sure you understand.”

Another slap to the head from Rhysand’s hand. Azriel groaned but took the hit without any further comments.

“Any other surprises I should expect?”, the High Lord bit out at you.

“I’m sure your spymaster will love telling you all about it.”

“You can go with Cassian”, the abused Illyrian sighed, having apparently accepted his fate. “And Cass? If she tries anything, you’ve got every right to beat her up.”

You snickered. As if.

Cassian shoved you out of the office, the doors snapping closed as he lead you down the corridor. You went along willingly. You couldn’t leave this court until Feyre let you, and you didn’t quite feel like jumping off the balcony down to Velaris, thousands of feet below.

The last thing you heard before you were not-so-kindly pushed through a bedroom door was a roar from the now distant study, its doors vibrating audibly from the other side of the manor. “AZ, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?”

Rhysand’s voice echoed through the halls as if in response to his anger. You let out the smallest smile. You were looking forward to leaving this place but, in the meantime, maybe you could let yourself have some fun.

Glad to be back to reader's POV! I don't know what Azriel expected after touching her wings 🤦‍♀️

We're about to get into the thick of the plot, maybe our little bird-bat duo will finally get to discover a bit more about each other and hopefully not rip out each other's throat in the process.

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

Text

welcome to eden

this is a love letter. inspired by this song

As soon as Steve picks up the phone, she knows she’s making a mistake.

“Rob?”

“No,” she says instead of hanging up like she should.

“Nancy?” He sounds more alert now, and she can picture him standing up straighter, calling to attention at the sound of her voice. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Not really,” she sniffs, hating herself for it. “I—can we talk?”

He’ll say no. He’ll say no, because it’s one in the morning and he was probably asleep before the phone rang and she shouldn’t be asking to talk years after she broke his heart and didn’t even remember—

“Of course,” he says, and Nancy could kick herself. “Over the phone?”

“No. Not over the phone. I’m sorry, it can wait, you can go back to bed.”

She hears him huff a laugh, even though there’s nothing funny about any of it. “I wasn’t in bed,” he assures her. “Am I picking you up?”

Tears spring anew to her eyes. “If that’s okay.”

“Works for me,” he says. “See you soon.”

“See you,” she echoes, and hangs up.

She spends the time it takes pacing quietly in front of the front door, berating herself for using him like this. But she needs to talk to him, and the sooner it’s over with the better.

Headlights cut through the window way too soon, and she nearly throws herself out the door.

She gives him a look when she opens the car door, telling him she knows how many traffic laws he must have broken to get here this quick. He just grins in return, ready to point out the felony in her closet.

“Where are we going?” He asks, and her heart clenches. He’s so good. He’s so good, and she couldn’t-can’t love him like he wants. She has to tell him.

Tonight probably wasn’t the best night for this conversation, but her skin feels like it’s peeling off and the faster she says something the quicker it will be over with and she can go back to how it was before. Back when she didn’t have anyone to talk to, because Robin might never speak to her again after she breaks her best friend's heart for the second time.

Just rip the bandaid off, Nance.

“I don’t know,” she says instead. Maybe she’s a coward. “A field? Somewhere I can see the stars.”

“I can do that.”

The drive goes by in silence, Nancy staring stubbornly out the window. She can feel Steve periodically checking on her, and she knows he wants to know why she called. She can’t open her mouth to say it in the suffocating enclosure of the car. She rolls down a window.

They get to a field almost out of Hawkins, and the car is barely in park before she’s climbing out, going around to sit on the hood. Steve cuts the engine and follows.

She still doesn’t say anything. She called him to have a talk, why can’t she just open her stupid mouth—

“Nancy?” Steve asks, gentle in a way that used to make her melt. She pulls her legs to her chest, feeling vulnerable. “What’s wrong?”

“Jonathan and I broke up,” she finally gets out.

“Oh shit.” He looks genuinely surprised. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it was never going to be forever.” Except she’d thought otherwise. She thought they were Nancy and Jonathan, the two of them against the world. She hunches her shoulders. “We never talk anymore, and he was pulling away from me, and he was lying to me for months-“ she shakes her head, clearing the anger she feels at that. “It doesn’t matter. I’m starting to realize there’s things I need to work on, too. A lot to work on, actually.”

“I don’t know what that could be,” he says, flashing her a smile filled with boyish, roguish charm. “You’re already the best person I know.”

She sniffs, and suddenly she’s crying into her knees, shoulders shaking. He freezes beside her, before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. She leans in for a second, chasing the comfort, before remembering what she came here to do and ripping away violently.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t—I can’t—this isn’t what I—“

“Hey,” he soothes. “Slow down. Let it out.”

She wipes her eyes, suddenly furious. “I don’t want to date you,” she says, finally looking him in the eyes. “I don’t—I’m sorry for calling you. I just remembered how much better you used to make me feel, but then I realized that’s like…really shitty of me.”

“Why?” He asks, as if Nancy didn’t come out here to break his heart again. “I want to make you feel better. I like knowing I can make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to lead you on,” she says, mouth screwing up. “That’s why I called you out here. And I know it’s shitty of me—“

“Nancy, you’re not leading me on. I…I don’t want to date you either.”

That stops her in her tracks. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he echoes quietly. “I—don’t take this the wrong way, okay, ‘cause I know I’m gonna sound like an asshole saying it, but, uh, I can’t do that again. And even outside of that, I don’t like you that way anymore. Uh, sorry.”

She tries not to sag at the overwhelming relief she feels at that.

“Are you sure?” She studies him closely, trying to see if he’s saying this for her sake or if he means it. “Back in the Upside-Down, and when we were fighting Venca, it seemed…”

He grimaces, and Nancy thinks if it wasn’t dark she’d see the beginning of an embarrassed flush on his ears. “I…may have been feeling things,” he admits. “I was testing the waters, I guess. I started feeling nostalgic, and you were there, and everyone was encouraging me, and it all just ended up in this weird…feelings soup. Sorry.”

“You said you wanted to have six kids with me,” Nancy reminds him. “And travel the country in a Winnebago.”

He groans, covering his face with his hands. “I am,” he says, “so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. That had to be so weird for you.”

“It was kind of sweet?” She tries, not letting her relief show. Not yet.

“We haven’t been together in years, and I decided to tell you I used to dream about you having my babies. How do you deal with me?”

“Well it helps to know you were dropped on your head. Puts everything in perspective.”

“Yeah, yeah, yuk it up.” He looks at her, really looks at her, and she tries not to fidget under his gaze. Too earnest, too caring for someone who doesn’t deserve it. He’s always tried so hard. To woo her, to be a better person, to keep back the vicious streak she still sees in him. “I meant it, when I said I loved you,” he tells her gently, no sign of that cruelty that had him painting her as a whore for the whole town to see. “Back then, I mean. I just wanted you to know that.”

She wants to cry. “I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it back.”

“It’s okay,” he says like he means it. He leans back against the windshield, looking at the sky. After a moment, she copies him.

They watch the stars together, and the air feels clearer.

“Where do we go from here?” She asks, afraid of the answer.

“What do you mean?”

“What happens with us now?”

“Well,” he says gingerly, like he’s testing the waters. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve heard you’re a pretty kickass friend.”

Friends. She doesn’t know that she and Steve have ever been friends, not properly. Even after the apologies they made to each other, she doesn’t know that she could call what they had friendship. It wasn’t substantial on its own, needing Jonathan as the barrier between them. When it fell, so did they.

“I haven’t had a friend in a while,” she admits. “Robin is kind of a novelty for me. She’s amazing.”

It’s funny, in a way. She was so jealous of Robin, of how close she was with Steve in a way Nancy wasn’t. She’d thought, at first, that it was because they were so clearly dating. After Robin told her they weren’t, she realized how badly she’d just wanted friends. She missed hanging out with Steve, missed his laugh and his squint and his bitchy attitude. She’d hoped that eventually they’d get to that point, was sure they were almost there before Starcourt. In a way, she’d been jealous of Robin for stealing Steve. She knew it was ridiculous. Steve had found a friend, a real friend who hadn’t cheated on him or slept with his girlfriend. She couldn’t begrudge him that.

She just missed him.

“She is, isn’t she?” Steve grins, but sobers up quickly. “I didn’t really think about that. How lonely you must be, since…”

She’s already shaking her head. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t reach out.”

“I didn’t exactly reach out either.”

They fall silent again, at a loss for words. Barb’s death, as always, the canyon between them.

Finally Nancy huffs. “It’s both of our faults,” she declares, “or neither of our faults. I don’t know. I just missed you.”

“Well shit, Nance, I missed you too,” he says, touched.

“I’ve heard you’re a pretty kickass friend too, you know,” she says, glancing at him. He smiles.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Nancy Wheeler, I would be honored to be friends with you,” he says, and sticks out his hand to shake, like they’re meeting for the first time.

She stares at him, and starts laughing. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

She shakes his hand.

Max has always felt like a mirror. One Nancy wanted to smash, pull her out of the shards of her reflective grief and hug. Stroke her hair the way she wanted someone to do for her and say you’ll get through this. So Max could hear it from someone who knows.

Except Nancy doesn’t know anything. Still drowns in her guilt, the ball and chain dragging her into the depths. She can’t help when she’s still such a mess, three years later.

Her hands clench when Mike says Max is pulling away from Lucas. She wishes she could look her in the eye and tell her you don’t have to be me. You can be better.

She’s Mike’s friend. They barely know each other outside of a quick hello as they cross paths or fighting monsters. Max has enough on her plate, she doesn’t need her friend’s weird older sister butting in to tell her how to mourn the right way.

Nancy just hopes she’s getting out of bed. Remembering to eat. Brushing her teeth. She had more cavities in the year after Barb died than she’d ever had in her life, and she knows Max doesn’t have insurance.

Now, sitting next to Max’s hospital bed, Nancy wishes she’d reached out.

With school back comes studying, and with studying comes Eddie Munson, in all his super-senior glory. Nancy is going to get him a diploma if it kills her.

He laughs when she tells him so. “Shit, Wheeler,” he says. “The day something manages to get you is the day this shithole goes down for good.”

Robin turns down her offer to form a study group. “I’m pretty sure if I joined, I’d just distract Eddie, and let him distract me, and we’d end up throwing things at each other until you killed us. Sorry. Steve’s going to help me study for finals, though!”

She looks at Steve, eyebrow raised. She’s pretty sure it’s fair to be dubious, since she was the reason Steve passed his finals in the first place.

“I’m her rubber duck,” he says as an explanation, and she nods in understanding.

Her mom isn’t about to let her study alone with a boy in her room, though, and especially not a boy like Eddie, so she drags him to the library three times a week. He complains, he bitches, he tells her he doesn’t care about his fucking history class anymore. She just hands him a Rubik’s Cube she found to keep his hands busy as she quizzes him.

Three sessions in, he slowly puts a worksheet down and screams into his hands.

“Stop that!” She kicks him in the shin. “If you get me kicked out of the library I’m never forgiving you.”

“I can’t do it,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m so fucking stupid, Nancy. I can’t even get past question two. Is this torture? Did I die and go to hell? That would be fitting, wouldn’t it? Doomed to repeat high school for the rest of eternity?”

“Stupid” her ass. She knows what kind of work goes into those campaigns of his, has absently flipped through his annotated fantasy novels and left feeling as if she’d seen the story anew. Plus, she went and made a tape of everyone’s favorite songs, just in case, and she knew damn well how quickly he’d taught himself to play the song he did in the Upside-Down. “Stupid” and “Eddie Munson” don’t belong in the same sentence, much less belong in the same space in his brain. She hates Hawkins High just a little bit more for it. “Stop being dramatic. What are you stuck on?”

“Fucking nothing! I can’t focus, it’s driving me fucking insane. I keep trying, I swear, but it’s like I can’t even read anymore! This always happens, I swear to God it’s killing me more than the fucking demobats ever did.”

“Don’t joke about that,” she snaps. “You’re smart, Eddie, you know that. You just need to try.”

His face twists, and she realizes that was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, thank you, Miss Wheeler, why haven’t I thought of that? Sorry for wasting your time, I’ll get out of your perfect hair now—“

“Sit down,” she protests as he gathers up his stuff. “Eddie, I’ll help you work through the problem, okay? Just sit down, please.”

“No, Nancy!” He swings around, eyes wild. “It’s what everyone always says. Just sit still, stop doodling, be quiet, pay attention, try fucking harder…I tried, okay! I’ve been trying, I tried for fifteen fucking years, and I can’t do it! I might as well just drop out and get it over with. I’m fucking sick of this.”

“Okay!” She feels herself getting riled up. “You want to fail so bad, fine! I’m not your keeper, do whatever you want.”

“I will!”

“Fine!”

They stare at each other, not moving. Finally Eddie storms off in a huff, flinging open the library door in a grand gesture she pretends not to see. There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she can ignore it.

She pretends not to notice when he comes slinking back five minutes later, shuffling his feet.

“Sorry.”

“For what?” She asks primly, going over her notes.

“Nancy, please.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry too. I’m just…frustrated.”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty frustrating,” he offers.

“It’s not…”

“It is,” he says, sitting down. “It’s okay. God knows I piss myself off with this shit.”

She studies him, looking over his defeated face like he’s one of her flashcards. “You’re trying your best,” she says, sounding it out. She can’t really make sense of it. After all, trying her best has always been straight A’s, not stopping until she knew everything she needed to and more.

“It’s not good enough.”

“It will be,” she says. “You’ve got me this time.”

“Listen, I know you’re trying to help—“

“Do you want fries?”

“What?” He blinks at her, shocked, as she starts packing up her things.

“We’re not getting anywhere today. Sometimes you have to step back, and come back with a clearer head.” Usually she locks her door and cleans her guns, the repetitive motion soothing her mind until she can think again, but she has a feeling that won’t work for Eddie.

“I usually just give up.”

“I don’t. Get your backpack, we’re going to the diner. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

At the diner, he makes her laugh so hard soda comes out her nose. The next day, they go to the library again.

After a couple of days, he solves the cube. After three weeks, he nearly kicks her door down rushing to show her the B he got on a test.

Two months later, he throws his cap into the air and his cane on the ground. Swings her around, both of them laughing.

“Nancy fucking Wheeler!” He crows. “Achieving the impossible yet again!”

“Eddie, put me down!” She shrieks gleefully as he stumbles. She barely makes it back to solid ground before two more bodies are slamming into them, Steve and Robin whooping in their ears.

It was weird, to see Steve and Robin effortlessly communicate the way she and Jonathan always had and have it be so unabashedly unromantic. She’d always thought that knowing someone like that was a sign you were meant to be, and they did it while still loudly proclaiming Platonic with a capital P.

She and Jonathan didn’t do it much anymore. It was like dancing to a song that was always a beat off, syncing for just one moment before stumbling again, unsure that they were still allowed this.

She’d known him better than anyone, once, and he’d known her the same. Now she wonders if that was ever true.

“So,” Eddie says, throwing himself onto her bed. “Steve.”

She sits in her desk chair, raising an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“You broke up with Jonathan, right? Are you going to get back with him? I thought you would, but it's been months and neither of you said anything.”

“No,” she says. “No, that’s not what I want. It’s not what either of us want.”

“Really?” He rolls over, eyes searching. “What happened there, anyway? With both your boys. I’m a nosy little asshole, and I wanna hear it from you.”

It makes her laugh, the way he admits to it so freely. He grins wolfishly at her, baring his teeth in a grin. That’s probably why she tells him the truth.

“I wasn’t okay, when I was with Steve,” she says honestly. “I was distant, grieving…I was a mess, and I stayed with him because I didn’t know what else to do. With Jonathan…I was getting closure, I was healing, and things were good between us. They were so good, but after a while, we just started to…deteriorate. I don’t know if we lost momentum, or if the stress just got to us, but we started fighting more and more,” She traces the desk with a finger, remembering the sour taste of Oliver Twist on her tongue. It was a shitty thing to say. “I thought we’d figured it out, for a little while, but then we just…stopped talking. I think, maybe if we’d talked more, we could have worked it out. But I’m…not upset that we didn’t, you know?”

It’s a different kind of loneliness when your partner won’t talk to you. It was different than grieving, different than not having anyone to talk to at all. Because even when she didn’t have friends, she had Jonathan. And then, slowly, she didn’t anymore.

“Nancy, you’re one of my best friends, so-”

“Steve is your best friend.”

“Steve is my best best friend,” she agrees. “But he’s also more than that? Like, I think we’re literally soulmates. Platonic with a capital P soulmates, but, like, it feels like more than friendship sometimes? Like sometimes it’s like he can literally feel my bad days even when I haven’t talked to him yet. He told me once he just knows sometimes. It’s like I hit my hip on my desk and he felt it, but emotionally. It’s wild. It’s like the drugs literally combined our minds. Where was I going with this?”

“I don’t know,” she says, slightly bewildered. She wants to ask how they do that, but Robin barrels forward.

“Right. So outside of mine and Steve’s platonic more-than-friendship, you’re kind of my best friend? And you’re, like, the coolest person I know.”

She blinks. She’s not sure she’s ever been described as cool before.

After Barb, Nancy tried to cut her own hair.

Her mom found her in the bathroom, unshed tears in her eyes and hair a mess on the sink and floor.

She hadn’t laughed, hadn't said oh, honey, your beautiful hair. Just clucked her tongue and took the scissors from her hands. Stepped behind her and took over, took the uneven mess and made it something good, something presentable.

She didn’t say anything until she was done, setting the scissors on the counter. “Sometimes,” she said, wetting her lips. “Sometimes we need a change, before we can move forward.”

The closer she gets to Emerson, the more she feels like she’s letting someone down. Mike. Max. Jonathan. All the people who have relied on her, all the people who trusted her to fight.

In a strange turn of events, her mom is the only one she doesn’t feel is disappointed in her. Her mom is more excited about college than she is sometimes. Chattering excitedly over dishes about the classes she’s going to take as Nancy dries and smiles and tries not to feel like the ground is being pulled from under her feet.

This is everything she’s ever wanted. Why does it feel so wrong?

She takes Eddie to the gun range, because having a gun in her hands has always made her feel safer. More in control. More like the badass protector she wants to be, than the scared little girl she feels sometimes.

Eddie stares down the scope of the gun and shoots like he has experience, but doesn’t hit a single bullseye.

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m in a fucking gun range and a bunch of small town hicks were hunting me not too long ago,” he snaps, taking another shot and missing the target completely. He swears and changes the magazine. “Excuse me if I’m a little bit on edge.”

She hadn’t really thought of it like that. “You didn’t have to come,” she says. “I just thought with everything that’s happened, you should know how to use one. Just in case.”

“I know how to use a gun,” he rolls his eyes.

“You know how to shoot one.” She looks from him to the target pointedly. “Not the same thing.”

“Deep. I could really feel the judgement there. Tell me, is there anything else wrong with me?”

“There’s security cameras all over this place. We’re not in Hawkins, so there’s no mob coming after you. I’m here, and I do know how to use a gun. No one is going to hurt you here.”

“I know all that.”

“Do you?”

He scowls at her. She looks back unflinchingly. She’s been here plenty of times, and the guys laughed at her until they didn’t anymore. By the time she brought Eddie, all she got was a raised eyebrow and a “boyfriend?” from Hunter at the desk. She didn’t know what was more incriminating, so she just shrugged.

“You’re kind of a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She rolls her eyes, taking the gun from his hands and lining up a shot. “I’ve heard worse,” she says, thinking about Nancy Dre-ew, and Nancy “the slut” Wheeler, and priss, and shoots. It hits the bullseye.

So do her next five shots.

Eddie looks begrudgingly impressed when she reloads and hands the gun back to him. It’s more satisfying than it should be, to realize that while he’d known she had guns he’s never seen her actually shoot before.

She raises a challenging eyebrow at him, and he huffs around a smile. “All right, all right,” he says good naturedly. “Let’s try this again.”

He does a little better this time around, now that he’s actually trying. He does a little dance when he hits one of the inner rings.

“Take that!” He crows. “I bet Steve couldn’t do this. In your face, Harrington!”

“He’s much more of a close-combat kind of guy, isn’t he?” Nancy agrees.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” he says. “Does he really have a bat with nails?”

She blinks, caught off guard by the fact that Eddie hadn’t seen it. She never registered that he hadn’t used it during Vecna. Something about the fact seems weird somehow, as if it was as integral to Steve as his coiffed hair. “He keeps it in his trunk.”

“You and Byers need to update your Steve manuals. He said it’s under his bed now.”

“Ah,” Nancy says, thinking of all the times she’s slept with her pistol under her pillow. Empty, because she’s not stupid enough to sleep with a loaded gun when her little brother sometimes wakes her up after a nightmare, but the comforting weight of it alone makes it easier.

“Just tell me one thing,” he says, widening his eyes imploringly at her. “Did he look as sexy as I think he did? Byers won’t give me a straight answer.”

It’s a joke, but his cheeks are a little pink. She’s not dumb, she’s seen the looks the two of them share, as if he and Steve were circling each other. Caught in a whirlpool, waiting for the moment the vortex would drag them down and they could finally touch.

The looks between Eddie and Jonathan, too, that share a certain camaraderie she doesn’t entirely understand and at the same time understands all too well. Steve and Jonathan had always had a strange relationship, too close to not be friendship but not quite there. Surprisingly enough it was better after she and Steve broke up, Jonathan no longer avoiding them and the talk she’d forced the three of them into clearing the air. Sometimes, she’d wake up to Jonathan climbing into her bed, smelling of cigarettes and a hint of something stronger, and he’d tell her it was Steve who drove him there.

She’s a journalist. It’s her job to notice things. She just wasn’t ready to confront that reality, where the two boys she’d wanted wanted each other as well. But she’s grown since then.

She also knows that whoever Steve chooses, it won’t be easy.

“You know,” she says, considering, “when we were dating, Steve never pressed me up against the wall or anything you’d expect from the King.”

Eddie gets this look on his face, caught between confusion and caught out. “…okay? Did you want him to do that or something? Are you trying to ask me to hint to him?”

“No,” she says. “I’m just saying, he never did any of that. It was kind of funny. He always made it so that he was the one pressed against the wall.”

Eddie misses the next five shots entirely, and she laughs at him through it all.

She’s hyper aware of touching other girls now. She didn’t used to be. Even with Robin, who is a lesbian and definitely won’t hate her. Who’s probably gone through the same thing. She can’t help it.

What if they get the wrong idea? What if someone else sees? What if they can tell, what if they know, what if they hate me?

She hates feeling like this. She doesn’t know why it started, doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s no stranger to casual affection—or at least she didn’t used to be. Why does it make her feel so tense now? It’s been years since she realized she liked girls, shouldn’t this have happened back then?

Deep down, she knows why. The Reagan sign in her front yard. Her dad sitting in his chair, the news always on. “Always that nasty disease, Karen, I swear some people are just asking for it.” She’s always known she could never tell him, but now she knows that if she gets sick he’ll say she deserves it. She doesn’t know what her mother thinks. She’s afraid to find out.

She’s growing up, and her fear is growing with her.

Objectively, Nancy knows she and Eddie don’t make sense.

They’re not cut from the same cloth, like Steve and Robin. They don’t calm each other down, like Jonathan and Argyle. They’re too different, too alike in all the wrong ways, for them to get along. They’re both snappy, a little mean. Eddie’s dramatic enough to get on her nerves, and she’s prim enough to get on his. At their worst, they have earth shattering arguments that end in them not speaking to each other for days.

When people see them walking down the street together, they whisper about “that nice girl Nancy Wheeler” and “that awful Munson boy.”

It’s not fair, never has been. Nancy hasn’t felt nice for a long time, maybe before Barb ever disappeared. Eddie isn’t always particularly nice either, but the court of public opinion takes it to extremes, twists him into something cruel instead of the kindness he carries under his leather armor. Someone to keep their children away from. It really is a shame, because Eddie loves kids in a way Nancy never has. She can see it in the way he interacts with them, his bright smile fading when a parent comes to drag them away. Even when he’s expecting it, his face falls, just for an instant, before spinning around with a grin that won’t reach his eyes.

Nancy wants to take him out of here. There’s an offer on the tip of her tongue that she knows he’d refuse.

He’s not her brother, but he’s not…unlike one. It’s almost like talking to an older, flashier Mike. He’s annoying, is what he is. He picks at her, keeps pressing over the littlest things. Tries to get under her skin, succeeds, until she’s on the verge of stabbing him with her pencil. Looks triumphant whenever Robin has to grab her arm to drag her away, rambling an excuse about “some girl thing I totally forgot, yeah it’s an emergency,” while Steve drags him the other way to have bro time.

“She loves it,” she’d heard Eddie crow delightedly once, when Robin didn’t get her out of hearing range fast enough. “Do you see that fire in her eyes?”

“Do I?” She asked Robin. “Love it?”

“I mean, far be it from me to tell you what you do and don’t like,” Robin answered. “But, uh, as far as I can tell, you totally love it. You look like you’re going to rip him to pieces and enjoy it, and he loves that. I didn’t think you’d be this much of a nightmare together, seriously, like, how are you two at each other’s throats one second and then best friends the next? Steve and I have debated locking you in a bathroom until you get along, but we’re kind of afraid you’ll kill each other.”

So no, Nancy and Eddie don’t get along. They’re kind of a nightmare together. They don’t make sense, and they don’t try to. They have other friends, who they get along with better, that they can seek out.

But when Eddie knocks on her window, the only surprise is that he could even get there.

“How?” She hisses, opening the window. He tumbles in, doesn’t even try to play off the utter gracelessness he’s displaying.

“Wowie, I am never doing that again,” he breathes, flat on his back. “You’re going to have to help me down the stairs when I leave, had to leave my cane at the bottom and I cannot get back down that way.”

She doesn’t even want to know what he had to do to get up on her roof with his bad leg. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m but another lover, nothing but an ant in the face of your unwavering beauty, my queen,” he says, batting his eyes at her. The dramatics don’t hit the way he intends, given that he’s stuck on the floor. He holds a hand out pleadingly, and she rolls her eyes, hauling him up until she can get him to her bed.

“Never mind.” She puts her hands on her hips, a gesture that is so obviously Steve she removes them immediately. From the glint in Eddie’s eyes, he notices.

She tries not to be jealous. She tries, she swears, but…

Three of the four (five? she doesn’t know what Argyle thinks of her) friends she has are dating each other. Two of them dated her, first. She can’t help but wonder, if she’d known that was an option, if everything would have been different. If she wouldn’t have this aching bitterness between her teeth.

(Nothing would have changed, she knows. She’d been too desperate for other things. Trying so hard with Steve so her best friend didn’t die for nothing. Staying with Jonathan because he understood her more than anyone else, so maybe they didn’t need to talk. It wouldn’t have helped anything. She still wonders.)

It doesn’t matter. What’s past is past, and she needs to move forward. She can’t stop to think about could-have-beens, because thinking about boys is what got her into this mess in the first place.

She closes her eyes, taking a shaky breath. That’s not fair. None of this is fair. None of it is fucking fair because Nancy stopped caring about fair when Barb died.

She needs a drink. She needs a nap. She needs to stop feeling like Atlas with the world on her shoulders.

She doesn’t do any of that. She calls Robin.

“Barb was my first kiss.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Nancy says, and keeps talking, because Barb is dead and Robin is a lesbian and she’s long forgotten what Barb’s favorite chapstick was back then. “We were seven, and I liked it but I didn’t know if I liked her. But I was convinced I was going to marry her, until my mom told me that girls don’t marry other girls. And I knew she liked girls when she died. She told me when we were fifteen, and I didn’t know the word bisexual but I knew I loved her and that was all that mattered. Not—not like that, not romantic, or maybe it was but it doesn’t matter because she was my best friend and I still love her but she’s gone forever. I loved her.”

She feels Robin lay a tentative hand on her back.

“I had to look her parents in the eye and pretend. All those fucking NDA’s, I had to pretend there was hope. Pretend she was still missing. It was like everyone forgot about her except for me and them, and they sold their house to find their dead daughter and I wasn’t supposed to say anything and Steve kept reminding me about the fucking NDA’s—“

“Nancy…”

“It’s my fault,” Nancy says, staring at the water. “I lumped in Steve, because it was easier than being alone. He didn’t know her like I did. She was worried about me. She stayed because she cared, and look where that got her.”

“That’s bullshit!” Robin’s eyes are wide, and she waves her hands around as she talks. “If it’s anyones fault, it’s those—those scientist guys experimenting on El! They knew there was a problem, and they tried to cover it up instead of making sure people were safe. You didn’t know it was dangerous. How were you supposed to know it was going to end up as anything other than normal teenage drama? None of this is supposed to be real, you didn’t know—“

“But I left her,” Nancy cuts in. “I left her alone to go lose my virginity to a boy she didn’t even like—“

“He was your boyfriend, it shouldn’t have mattered if she liked him—“

“It doesn’t matter!” Nancy shouts, and Robin falls silent, mouth still moving. “It doesn’t fucking matter how it happened, because it did and now she’s dead and she’s never coming back and it’s all my fault.”

Nancy is sick of crying. Sick of feeling helpless. Sick of not being able to change the past.

“It’s not just Barb. I took Fred to the trailer park—he didn’t even want to be there, and now he’s dead. Eddie needs a cane, Max is almost completely blind and might never walk again and it was my plan that put them there. My plan that almost killed them. I’m responsible—“

“Fuck that.”

“Robin…”

“No, you listen to me, Nancy Wheeler,” Robin says, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You are one of the most remarkable people I have ever known. Max would have died without that plan. We all would have died. Venca-slash-Henry-slash-One would have won without that plan, and I am not going to sit here and listen to you blame yourself for saving lives. And-and Fred! Venca had already marked him, you know that. You couldn’t have done anything! And Barb is not your fault, okay? I-I-I know I can’t convince you, but I’ll say it as many times as it takes until you start believing it, because it’s true. You didn’t kill her. You didn’t kill anyone.”

“I killed Bruce,” she says, just to prove Robin wrong. And isn’t that shitty of her, to forget about him until she can use him to prove a point? She’s a fucking awful person.

“I don’t know who Bruce is, but given your track record I highly doubt that.”

“I bashed his head in with a fire extinguisher.”

Robin pauses, and Nancy’s stomach sinks. This is it, she thinks. This is what will convince her, this is what will make her see that I’m wrong, that I’m poison-

“What was he doing?”

“What?”

“Bruce. You had to have a reason for it. What was he doing?”

It’s like Robin doesn’t even care that Nancy just admitted to first degree murder. “He was flayed,” she admits, knowing Robin will take it as proof that she’s right.

“That’s not murder, that’s self defense,” Robin says, just like she knew she would. “Also, if he was flayed he was already dead. Sorry, I’m sticking to your side on this.”

“But I’m less torn up about killing my asshole coworker than I am about anything else. How does that not make me a monster?”

“He was already dead, Nancy!” Robin shakes her. “You’re not beating yourself up over it because you know he was already dead, a-a-and I know you’re using him to try and push me away and I won’t let you.”

“Robin…” she says, tears springing to her eyes. She’s so fucking sick of crying. So sick of the way she never seems to stop anymore.

“Nancy,” Robin says. “None of us are going to leave you. Stop trying to make us.”

She pulls her into a hug, and Nancy sags into it, boneless.

There, sandwiched between the sky and the water, Nancy starts to feel like she could forgive herself.

“Nancy,” Steve says, putting a hand on her shoulder and ducking his chin to look her in the eye. “They won’t be alone.”

Tears well up, unbidden, at the way he seems to understand her now in a way he never did before.

“I want this,” she insists.

“I know you do,” he says. “Which is why you’re going to go out there, kick ass, and take names. We’ll be here, okay? We’ll keep an eye on them.”

“I know you will.” She swipes a hand across her eyes. “Can you talk to Holly, too? She gets lonely.”

Steve smiles. He’d always loved Holly, when they were dating. He used to braid her hair sometimes. Asked her about her drawings, her TV shows, listened to her talk with the same attentiveness Nancy’s father had never shown any of them. He’ll be a good dad, someday. To someone else’s children.

“I’ll talk to Holly,” he promises. “Does she still like princesses?”

“Ladybugs,” she says. “It’s ladybugs, now.”

“Ladybugs. I can do that. Black and red, and they’re all ladies. What’s not to like?”

“There are male ladybugs.”

“Wait, seriously?”

She laughs, tearfully, but they’re happy tears. Steve wipes them away gently, and she smiles at him to let him know she’s okay. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

“You’re the best person I know, Nancy Wheeler,” he replies, achingly sincere. “You’re gonna have the whole world under your thumb, I just know it. Ever thought of running for President?”

“Can’t be worse than the one we have now,” she says, grimaces as her own joke lands too bitterly to be funny. She sees his jaw tighten before he forces himself to relax.

“I’d vote for you.”

She grins at him, sharp to punch through the tension she’d made. “I’ll make Eddie my Vice President.”

“Oh, fuck no. You lost me,” he says, and Eddie makes an offended noise from where he’s stealing snacks from the glovebox. Jonathan swats him, and she smiles at him too. He smiles back, tentatively, and wanders to her side.

“You gonna be okay up there?” He asks quietly. She can hear the guilt in it, still, and she reaches down to squeeze his hand. The one with the scar that matches hers, so their palms line up. It feels full circle, somehow, the three of them together like this.

“I’ll be okay,” she confirms, and feels the truth of it in her chest. Her boys are here with her, the ones who have been there since the beginning. Eddie’s watching them fondly, munching on a granola bar. Robin is inside somewhere, rambling at her mother. Mike and Holly are probably still bickering over the last cupcake. She loves them so much, all of them.

“Of course you will,” Steve says. “You’re Nancy fuckin’ Wheeler. Nothing stops you.”

She wants that to be true. She can feel in her bones that it will be. Eighteen has nothing on who she’ll be at thirty.

She’s Nancy Wheeler, and the world won’t see her coming.

#welcome to eden au #stranger things fanfic #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #jonathan byers #this is the biggest thing i've posted so far #i ran out of the little fics i'm gonna have to start figuring out how to format the big ones #there's background steve/eddie/jonathan bc this was originally a companion piece to a seperate fic about them #that was 22k before i lost interest #i'll post that one eventually #can you tell nancy is my favorite character. i love u miss survivors guilt <3 #sometimes i think about how nancy has no friends for p much three seasons after barb died and i get very upset #jonathan could count but he also wanted to date her so i'm not counting it #I JUST WANT HER TO HAVE FRIENDS #i also love nancy/eddie friendship they're both judgy bitches #so is steve frankly. nightmare trio #i'm gonna write that ot3 one day (don't hold me to that)

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