#how in the fuck did this character wind up with This Much Shit. it still baffles me

[sapphicmsmarvel]

acotar x reader: one day at a time

Tw for death: 

Reader loses somebody and their friends are there to pick up the pieces. A lil sprinkle sprinkle of az x reader bc that's MY BABYYYY

Lotsssssss of acts of service within the group. 

Also bc im a petty asshole i included a snippet of one of my racist aunts who said some wild shit to me at MY SISTERS FUNERAL and just basically dissing her. (literally why would you stare at my poc best friend who's just trying to support me. This bitch stared at MY GIRL?? MY BESTIE???? NUH UH NOT ON MY WATCH BITCH). 

Said best friend was just like “she’s never seen a brown person before marie it's fine.” 

NO ITS NOT. IDC IF THIS IS MY SISTERS FUNERAL WE’LL MAKE IT A DOUBLE FUNERAL. 

I'm petty. 

soooo this is born out of grief for my sister. My sister passed away on 03/11/21 and this is very much catered to my grief and these are my comfort characters so naturally i'm gonna write about them when it comes to helping their loved one grieve. 

and yeah this is gonna be based around the reader's sister dying. what can i say. I'm on brand. 

also reader is feyres childhood friend that got turned into a fae with nesta and elain. i feel like that’s just the staple with my fics. 

---------

When you got notified of your sister's death, it was actually a pretty good day up until that point. Sunny day with clouds, a wonderful brunch date with Mor, adorable children at the studio with Feyre. Afterwards, the two of you began walking back to Feyre’s, content on playing with Nyx for the evening before retiring to your own home. When you walked up, Feyre looked at you and told you about how the Inner Circle were having a meeting inside the office. So you two quickly joined them. 

When you walked in, Rhysand held out a letter, “this was a letter delivered to you.” 

You made a face and grabbed it, “okay, so why are you all staring at me like that?” 

“This person walked into the Spring Court and dropped it on Tamlins doorstep.” Cassian said. “They dropped it in the middle of night, just when he wasn’t prowling like a creep.” 

“What the fuck?” You asked as you analyzed it. 

No name but yours and a pisspoor address. 

Lady Y/N L/N

Night Court

“We didn’t know if it was a…” Azriel trailed off, realizing how silly what he was about to say was. “Hence, why all of us are here.”

“We’re also just nosey.” Mor shrugged, her nose wrinkling. 

You snorted, and tore into it, “you could’ve opened it.” 

“It’s your mail. We may be protective bastards but you still have a right to privacy.” Rhysand drawled. 

Feyre stood next to you as you pulled out the paper, your eyes tracing over it. 

“It’s from my dad.” You said recognizing his handwriting. 

Then, it all went to shit. 

Your big sister was dead, the woman you fought with a lot of the time but yet would take a beating for. Your big sister who helped guide you through life, who would always be there even if she was pissed off at you for some inane reason.

Gone.

You just froze, not knowing what to do. You’re pretty sure Az asked you a question, then Cass, then Rhys. Then you felt Feyre’s hand on your shoulder. 

I need to leave. 

I need to go before I hurt someone. 

You just wordlessly handed the letter to her and winnowed away. 

You didn’t go to your apartment, you didn’t go to the townehouse, you didn’t go anywhere they would find you. 

You went to the middle of the forest. You just picked a random point to lose it.

And you did. 

You didn’t remember much of causing the damage. Only that you managed to stop when Azriel’s arms wrapped around you. You just kept screaming. “I know, I know. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” He said, his lips against your hair. 

His shadows wrapped around your hands, cool wind kissing away the raging inferno of your cuts. You collapsed, taking Azriel to the ground. 

He just held you as you sobbed. You felt his own tears hit your neck. He usually did a better job masking his emotions, but it was you crying, you who he had a deeper bond with. So he let his emotions run free.

“Y/N!” Feyre called into your mind. Your shields were down and you didn’t even notice.

“Az has me, i’m sorry I-” 

“Don’t apologize. I would’ve done worse if I found out…” Her voice trailed off. 

“I’m sorry I ran off.” 

“Do not apologize.” She said sternly, “After you and Az are done come back to the River House. You can sleep at our house tonight. Guest bed is currently being made up.” 

She left your mind before you could respond. You breathed in the smell of Az. 

Azriel brought you back to Feyre and Rhysand’s home. Rhys had trouble with touch, but never with you. He brought you into his arms instantly. You tried not to let the tears surface again, but it was quite hard when a brotherly kiss was pressed against your head. 

“We got you, Y/N.” He whispered against the crown of your head.

Nuala and Cerridwen made you your favorite food. Which prompted you to start crying again. The twins looked so panicked that it almost made you laugh. Elain made your favorite cookies, which again kept the tears going.

“I don’t know why I’m crying over this.” You said helplessly, you managed to laugh during that. 

Feyre and Elain hugged you from both sides. 

You retired to the guest bedroom, you found a pile of fluffy blankets and your favorite candy. As well as a bouquet of your favorite flowers with Mor’s handwriting scrawled on the note. Amren left you a bottle of your favorite wine too. 

Eventually, after some more tears, there was a knock at your door. You called out for them to come in but saw Nyx. 

The little guy was walking even more, speaking full sentences. It’s insane to you that he grew so fast but it has been 5 years since he was born. 

“Go on like we practiced.” You heard Feyre encourage from behind the door frame. 

“Hi, Auntie.” The little guy mumbled. Holding a glass of water. “I have something for you.” 

“Yeah buddy?” You smiled despite the shitty day. Your nephew made everything better. 

Rhysand walked in behind him, as did Feyre. Rhysand lifted him up onto the bed while Feyre handed you a cup of hot chocolate. 

You were just glad Nyx wasn’t holding the hot drink. 

“Here’s some wata.” He said, his small hands handing you the glass. 

“Oh thank you.” You said earnestly and took a sip. You set it on the table. Then you laid back down and faced him. “Just what I needed.” You were genuine. 

“Auntie, are you sad?” Both Feyre and Rhys froze at their sons question. Clearly, he was going off script. 

You sniffed, “yeah, Nyxie. I’m really sad.” 

“I love you.” His eyes were so big, so genuine. You were going to cry for a whole new reason. 

“I love you more.” 

“Nuh uh.” He said, as a typical toddler wanting to argue no matter what. 

You huffed a laugh and opened your arms. “Come here.” 

He crawled into your arms with no hesitation. You were careful of his little baby wings as you held him close to you. 

You loved this kid. 

Feyre settled in behind you on the bed, Rhysand joined on the other side with his son. 

They held you as you drifted off into a dreamless sleep, hoping to see your sister one last time. 

————————

When it came to planning the funeral, you had to go out to your family’s cottage to help. You said you could go alone, but frankly, good luck telling Nesta and the Valkyries to stay behind when one of their own is in pain. 

So when you saddled up to your family with three warriors behind you, they were scared a bit to say the least. 

Emerie held your hand during the funeral discussion as Nesta watched the director to make sure she wasn’t insensitive to you. Gwyn stood guard behind you. They were protectors, they were not gonna leave one of their girls to deal with this alone.

Eventually, the funeral was planned. The rest of your chosen family came out and surprised you. You sent a notice to them of when the funeral was and told them they didn’t need to come because you knew how busy they were. 

When they showed up on your family’s doorstep to surprise you, you started crying again. 

——-

The day of the funeral, it was the entire inner circle crammed into the living room of the cottage of your mortal family’s living space.  

You felt bad cramming two males with wings into that small space, especially with so many other people. But Cassian and Azriel assured you that there’s nowhere else they would be. 

You slept sharing a flimsy mattress with Elain, since the other two sisters were with their mates. But Feyre and Rhys slept close. So did Nesta and Cassian. Both women facing your general direction. 

Azriel did not sleep. He wanted to be there in case you woke up in tears again. 

Amren slept sitting up against a wall, she wouldn’t admit it but she wanted an eye on you. She only trusted hers. 

Mor was curled on the other side of you. You were sandwiched between her and Elain. 

Emerie and Gwyn slept down by your guys’ legs. Emerie’s head on Mor’s thigh. Gwyn hugging Elain legs in her sleep. 

Azriel chose not to mention what happened when your dad came downstairs in the middle of the night to check on you. 

It was as if he wasn’t sure if you’d really be there. He just lost one daughter, he didn’t want to lose another. 

He nodded at Azriel who nodded back. Assuring him that you weren’t going anywhere. That you always had people watching out for you.  

As everyone got ready, it was a somber moment. Elain did your hair, Mor did your makeup, Amren set out your jewelry and Feyre handled your clothes. They didn’t want you doing anything. 

Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie let your nephew and niece play with their swords. It was the one thing they seemed interested in so they let them do it. 

Rhysand was currently trying to get your dad to accept a check from him and Feyre to pay for everything plus anything else your parents need during this time. Your father was refusing. Rhys spoke bluntly. “Your daughter is my family, please let me take care of her family.” 

Your dad didn’t. But Rhys hid the check in your dads night table. He felt yucky going into their room but did it to make sure they got the check. 

On the way to the funeral, Azriel had offered his arm for you to take, which you gratefully did. Rhysand got the door for you. Az led you in. The overprotective bat boys acted like your body guards, which you appreciated, however you couldn’t help but giggle a little bit at it. 

Nesta told you before the funeral to let her know if you wanted her to intervene to keep some relatives away. 

One of your (racist) aunts kept telling you how you’re responsible for your sister's kids. Then when she saw Azriel, Cassian, Rhysand, Amren and Emerie, she just stared. Before you could intervene, Elain and Gwyn stood in front of them. 

You almost wacked her so hard it was going to be a double funeral. You had prepared them before that some relatives were racist. They didn’t give a rat's ass. 

Oh and then everyone in your party including you were Fae. That also did not help. 

Hence why you lived in Velaris, away from all the bigotry.

During the service, Feyre sat on one side of you, Amren on the other side. Feyre clutched your hand and Amren even held out her hand for you. She always had a soft spot for you. Mor’s makeup didn’t last long throughout the service which is why she did bare minimum on your face. 

Afterwards, you left pretty soon after the service was done. You just had to leave the building. You guys went to a pub in your funeral attire. Azriel sat next to you and Nesta on the other side. Rhys refused to let you pay. But you knew he was trying to get you riled up. It was working. 

He was incredibly happy to see the fire return to your eyes. 

At that moment, with your family, you knew you were going to be okay. 

Just have to take every day one step at a time.

#acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #feysand #acotar x reader #nesta x reader #nesta x cassian #feysand x reader #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #elain x reader #emerie x reader #mor x reader #morrigan x reader #gwyn x reader

[eydi-andrius]

Side Characters End Up Alone (Gojo Satoru x Reader)

cw/tw: angst, unrequited love, childhood friends, drunk gojo, hurt with no comfort

a/n: listen to footnote by conan gray for the added feels

-------------

"Let's just date each other. What do you think?" Satoru asked, laughing with a hiccup.

It hurts.

Seeing your feelings being laughed at after all those years. He knew……he knew you loved him. More than just a friend. He knew and he brushed it off. He knew and rejected you far too many times that you can count.

What the fuck is this about?

"C'mon! Don't just stare like that. What do you think about being my girlfriend?" He joked again. This time with a tap to your shoulder. He was breathless as he laughed at his unfunny joke, alone.

"You're drunk." With a swallow, you tried to remove the glass of alcohol he was holding. He called you earlier because it turns out his girlfriend broke up with him again.

It was his fault. He never really gave her the time she deserved. How many times did she give him a chance? You don't really know.

"Eh! Don't be like that! Let me drink my heart out. I thought friends join you when you're suffering from heartbreak?" He pouted with unfocused eyes. You came here a bit late. You were scared because he sounded so drunk on the phone. And drunk Satoru can be a handful to others.

"Stop being childish. Let's go." With a firm resolve, you grab the glass he was holding and hoist his shoulder to yours to assist him to walk outside.

When you came, bottles of different types of alcohol were placed on the booth. He never drinks this much. It was your first time seeing him this broken. They have broken up before but you have guessed, this time, she might have stepped down on him and called quits forever.

Swaying, you did your best to help him out. He was heavy and the both of you barely walked straight.

He was singing a tune you don't understand while moving his body along. It was hell as you tried your best to move him downstairs without breaking both of your necks.

Somehow, once you stepped at the last drop of the stairs, he turned quiet. Concerned as to why he shut up all of a sudden, you looked up to see that he was staring down at you. His cheeks were tinted pink, his eyes watery and he was breathing through his mouth, letting out the smell of alcohol.

"But really, would you go out with me?" He asked again but this time you snapped.

How many years have you loved this guy? You grew up together. Joined Jujutsu High as a late transferies. Witnessed his blooming friendship with Geto and Shoko. Being there with him when Geto and him had a fall out.

All your life, you have been by his side as a side character. All your life, he knew how you felt. Satoru is no stupid. He knew and still he did this. Something gut-wrenching and cruel to someone who had been with him from the start. Someone who loved him so much that she was willing to let him go and held to their friendship. Because she told herself that it was better to hide and bury her true feelings. Friendship is more important than hers.

"Stop making fun of my feelings!"

Your scream was loud to the point that some patron looked at the direction where you two were standing. Some were too drunk to notice the drama. But it was enough to catch attention.

Eyes blurry with tears and breathing heavily to stop the sharp feeling of hurt, you looked up and stared at his blank face.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He was drunk. You should have been more patient. More lenient.

Looking around, your anxiety spiked through the roof when you saw that the people near you two were staring and muttering to each other. The buzz was not that loud but it was loud for you. Panicking, you stepped back and ran outside.

The smell of the pavement and the freezing wind welcome you as you race outside. Usually, the after rain calms you. Yet, the feeling of hollowness filled your space. It was cold. And you feel so alone and hurt.

Part of your brain regretted it. Some believe you have done the best thing.

You're not drunk, you shouldn't have done that.

He deserved it for being an asshole.

Your mind quarrels with each other as you try your best to breathe properly after that sudden jog. Being an office worker, exercise was never your strong suit.

What will you do now?

You bit your lip when you finally composed yourself. You're so stupid. Satoru was drunk and he probably didn't mean to hurt you. Right?

You hugged yourself for comfort, finally feeling the chill outside. If you don't go and find your car soon, you're probably going to get sick. But there is no way that you will just leave Satoru alone while he is that drunk.

Deciding to go back and find your friend, you were surprised to hear your name being called out and seeing Satoru stumbling forward when he finally saw you.

"I-I'm really sorry. I was drunk and not thinking. I- I never meant to hurt you."

Trigger words.

Most of the time, you let it go. Well, it was your fault anyway. Deciding to still be friends even though your interest for him is deeper than love itself. You know it was suicide to still be friends with him but you rather have that than losing him altogether. He was that precious to you.

However, right now, you realized something important. A person who has no self-respect will receive the same thing from the people around them. Although it hurts, and it was a slap in the face. And you probably shouldn't have said it because you were too angry, there was something inside you that snapped and decided this was the best course of action. You deserve more than what Satoru offers you.

"I'm so sorry too. I knew it was my fault for still continuing our friendship even though I know I will lose and there will be more times that you will hurt me unintentionally by acting friends because I told you so. But god, Satoru, I fucking hate you!" There, you said.

His blue eyes, to whom you wanted to only and will always look at you, widen with surprise. Even in these dim lights, his existence shines so beautifully.

"I cannot do this anymore. I am done! I am so done being this stupid! I am done trying to follow the crumbs you give me each time. My feelings are always true, Satoru. And I don't deserve being trampled and played like this." Warm tears run down your cheeks as you heave and try to compose yourself, afraid to pass out from anger.

"You know how much I love you but you always, always, do this shit to me! Stop playing with my heart!" Running your hand through your hair, you looked around and blinked trying to stop the overflowing tears that seemed unending.

"This…..this will be the last time you will do this to me. There will be no us anymore. No friendship. No ever. I'm done. We're done. You will never get away from hurting me again." Pulling the bracelet he gave to you when you were young, you threw it on his face.

The beads scattered and exploded when your pull made the old and worn rope, keeping them together, snapped in two.

With a final look of pain and the sight of his defeated face, you walked towards your car and left.

He didn't even bother to stop you. You knew he wouldn't. He never did all those years. Even though he sees the pain in your eyes as he enjoys the company of his lover in front of you.

You watched him for the last time in your side mirror. You watched his silhouette getting smaller and smaller, and just standing there, with no plans to move at any moment.

With one last look, you turned your head at the road ahead and you promised to yourself that this would be the last time you will do this.

This time, all your love will be given to the deserving.

And that person was you.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo angst #gojo satoru fic #gojo satoru #gojo sensei #angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #fic: side characters end up alone #eydi andrius #Spotify

[obsessive-disfuntion]

Gun-Slinging and Impressing the Literal Devil

Your favorite place to hang out was the constantly buzzing saloon owned by one of your acquaintances, Rosie. But after hearing too many men brag about how good they are with a gun, you grew tired of their egos and decided to shut them up. But in the process of showing off your skills you happened to impress a certain cowboy outlaw.

A/N: This is based off of the LOVELY art of cowboy Lucifer drawn by the incredibly talented and sweet @bat-boness so please go give them some love!! This fic is literally so outside of the Hazbin universe, Lucifer isn’t even the king of hell I just took his character and ran with it. Thank you all so much for all the love from my sneak peak for this fic, I barely had the motivation to finish it but you guys definitely helped me out with all the love so thank you ❤️

Warnings: Femme reader, AFAB terms and she/her pronouns used for reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read!

You tilted your head back as you finished off your second glass of whiskey, letting out a groan from the burning in your throat. You pushed the glass back towards Rosie for a refill before tucking the stray hairs falling out of your braid behind your ears.

“Well sugar, I think you’ve had enough this afternoon… I want you to be able to walk out of here,” she grinned, taking the glass and starting to clean it. “Any particular reason you’re trying to drink yourself under the table today?”

“You know I got nothin’ better to do,” you chuckled, looking at Rosie. “And all these boys taking up air in this damned place are making me wish I was elsewhere.”

“They are rather… loud.”

“That’s an understatement,” you scoff. “I dunno how you put up with their bullshit, Rosie.”

A hush fell over the saloon, causing you to perk up and look towards the entrance.

“Shit,” you whisper, absolutely dumbfounded.

“My days… is that Lucifer?” Rosie gasped.

You nod your head, ensuring that your mouth was closed and not completely open in shock. What was he doing here in a place like this?

He walked in, completely ignoring the silence and heading towards the bar. His spurs clinked against the wood floor, and you quickly take in his appearance before looking away back towards Rosie. You only saw his eyes, which were narrowed in concentration. The rest of his face was covered by a white hat tilted over his brows and a red bandana hiding his mouth and nose that made his eyes nearly glow. Although the bandana wasn’t doing much, since the cut of his shirt was rather… low…

He stood to your left, leaning his arm against the bar counter causing him to nearly press against you he was so close. You couldn’t help but look up at him.

He smelled of barley and gunpowder… and his hair was unkempt from the wind that most-likely came from riding horseback.

“Well howdy,” he greeted Rosie, tipping his hat.

…What?

His voice was so… cheery. It didn’t match what he looked like at all. It contrasted his concentrated and unapproachable appearance.

“Well hey there, Lucifer… what can I get for ya this afternoon?” Rosie smiled as she grabbed a glass, being her usual charming self.

He pulled the bandana down to speak. “Strongest drink you have, if you please.”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He was pretty… Smile that could make your knees buckle, rosy red cheeks, and… a surprising amount of manners for such a well-known outlaw.

“Of course… What brings you to our little town? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Just passin’ through. You know me. Well, not really. But I mean- I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Wait, that sounds awful full of myself, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little,” you butted in, causing you to widen your eyes in spite of yourself.

Why did you say that?

This brought his attention towards you, smile still on his face as he gave you a once over. You pretended not to notice, but it made you squirm in your seat and subtly adjust your ruffled skirt.

“Well hey there pretty lady. You come here often?”

You snort, which makes you flush in embarrassment. “Sure do. Rosie here is a close friend of mine.”

“Well, you both look absolutely lovely this afternoon,” he winked at the both of you, causing you to shrink in your seat and Rosie to let out a giggle.

“Why thank you,” Rosie smiled back, sliding over a glass of clear liquid to him. “Enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank ya, ma’am,” he tilted his hat once more and grabbed his glass, taking a sip before heading over to that damned group of men you’ve grown to hate and starting up a conversation.

“Well he was… surprisingly friendly,” you observed, looking to Rosie.

“Yeah… especially towards you,” Rosie smirked, propping her elbows on the bar counter and leaning her face into her palms. “He fancies you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and dismissing the thought. Even if it was true, you couldn’t entertain the idea. He was an outlaw always on the run. You didn’t really want that life.

“Oh please, I could shoot circles around you.”

This caused you to glance behind you at one of the buffoons that was inflating his own ego earlier. Which he somehow had the audacity to say that to Lucifer, which caused your jaw to drop just slightly in disbelief.

But Lucifer didn’t even challenge the statement, for some reason. He just laughed and nodded.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I believe ya.”

“Damn… for a famous outlaw you don’t have a spine, now do ya?”

You slam your hands on the bar counter, causing the group of men to shut up for once.

“Y/N… I really don’t think-“

“Y’all sure are cocky for a bunch of bitches, aren’t ya?” you cut Rosie off, ignoring her warning and standing up out of your seat. 

You ignored the snickers coming from a few of the men, standing in front of them with your back straight and proud. You sure as hell weren’t gonna back down now that you’ve stepped in it. 

“Every goddamn day y’all come here and talk about your skills but I never see it.”

You lift your skirt, high enough to show your mid thigh, which caused almost all of the men to blush, wide-eyed as some stared and others looked away. You reveal your gun holster strapped to your thigh, pulling out your revolver and spinning it by the trigger guard with your pointer finger as you let your skirt fall back down.

“So how about you boys let me show you mine,” you smirk, tilting your dark brown hat back so they could all really get a look at you. 

“Why the fuck would we give you the time of day, little lady? Why don’t you go back to sittin’ and lookin’ pretty at the bar counter there-“

You pull back on the hammer spur of your revolver, lifting the gun up with one hand and narrowing one eye as you aim. You shot directly in the center of the cocky man’s hat, knocking it off of his thick skull before the bullet bounced into the wooden wall, it coming to a stop once it was wedged in between the boards. 

“Hey!” Rosie snapped, causing you to wince. “Not here, not inside- get out! All of you- you too Y/N!”

You shot her an apologetic look as you pushed forward on the hammer spur of your gun, walking outside with an anger bubbling in your chest. How dare those dumbs bastards speak to you that way…

You turn around when you hear the swinging doors open, watching with a smirk as the group of dumbs men get on their horses and ride away, not even sneaking a glance at you.

But then Lucifer walks out, and you look at the ground. Was he angry? But why would he be?

He called out your name, which he probably figured it out when Rosie yelled at you to get out, gaining your attention and causing you to look up.

“Ya still wanna show off your skills?” he asked, raising a brow and giving you a smile.

Your heart fluttered and you gave him a shrug. “Well if I have an audience.”

“Of course you do, couldn’t take my eyes off ya, sweetheart.”

He grabbed 3 empty food cans out of the bag hanging on the side of his horse, which he probably ate out of during his travels, leaving you to stare at him with wide eyes and blushing cheeks at his words. He set them up on different posts on the fence of a pasture that was next to the saloon. 

“Alright, show me what you got,” he shot you a toothy grin, stepping away from the cans as you scoffed.

“Please,” you laughed, making sure to take more steps back than what he was expecting. 

You shot the cans just like you shot the man’s hat from before, one eye slightly narrowed and gun raised with one hand. You shot one after the other, hitting them perfectly and knocking each one off of their posts with only a few seconds in between each shot.

Once they all hit the floor, you put the safety back on by pressing forward on the hammer spur.

“Damn…” Lucifer whistled, stepping towards you. “Haven’t seen someone shoot like that in a long time.”

“Glad I could impress someone like Lucifer himself,” you smiled, tipping your hat before lifting your skirt again and hooking your gun into the holster strapped around your thigh.

You tried to pretend you didn’t notice him staring at your skin as you let your skirt fall.

“Already was impressed when I saw you for the first time. Wasn’t kiddin’ when I called you a pretty lady.”

You blushed at the compliment but played it off, taking a stop towards him. “And you’re strikingly handsome for an outlaw… you’d think always being on the run would ruin one’s appearance.”

“Well, I suppose I’m criminally handsome as well.”

You snicker behind your hand. You really liked him…

“I’m not stayin’ here too long…”

“What a shame,” you frown at him, sticking out your bottom lip in a fake pout. 

“But I’d still like to have a pleasant stay. Any ideas on how I can make my visit a little more… fun?” he asked, stepping so close to you that his crossed arms nearly touched your chest.

Your eyes widened at his words. You looked at him, and his eyes were narrowed, honed in on you and only you and taking in your appearance.

Well shit. Who are you to deny someone like him?

“I might have a few… it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to show a merciless outlaw to my own home, would it?”

“Well… I certainly don’t think so… at least, not this outlaw,” he smiled at you, placing a gentle hand on your hip, and you caught him staring down at your figure.

“Well, let’s get on your horse and I’ll show you the way.”

“You don’t have your own?” he asks, taking your hand and showing you to his horse, which was a beautiful dusty grey color with a black mane.

“Nah- everything ‘round here is walking distance. If I need one I usually use one of Rosie’s- that there is her pasture, she has a few animals she likes takin’ care of,” you explain, ignoring the hand he puts out to help you and mounting the horse by yourself.

Lucifer’s eyes were slightly widened in shock as you made it clear that you didn’t need his assistance, getting on the horse and sitting behind you. “I see,” he smiled, pressing himself against you and holding onto your waist. “Lead the way, darlin’. And take your time, I’m in no rush.”

Your lips part and your heart hammers at the sudden touch, gently snapping the reins of the horse to a soft trot as you guide it to your home.

But just after a few steps from the horse you felt Lucifer’s hands travel down your waist to your hips, and then they slowly made their way forward.

“Lucifer, just what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, breath falling short as you sneak a glance over your shoulder back at him.

“Just keep goin’ sweetheart. I’m just havin’ a little fun.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to concentrate on getting the two of you to your home, breath hitching as his hands travelled down towards the center of your thighs.

“Lucifer, I’m… I’m trying to concentrate here,” you try to scold, lungs sputtering for air out of nerves and excitement when his grip tightens on your thighs and teases the area where your pelvis meets your hip.

“I know, darlin’. You can still get us there, can’t you?”

“Well… yeah,” you sighed, placing one hand on the hand that was getting dangerously close to a place you DIDNT want him touching out here.

“Don’t try to hold me back, baby,” he teased, breath hitting your ear.

You pull on the reigns of the horse, getting him to stop.

“We’re here,” you sighed. “Thank god.”

Lucifer jumped off the horse and you quickly followed. “I have some fenced off land in the back. You can keep your horse there, if you’d like,” you offer, handing him the reigns and showing him to the land you had behind your house.

It was peaceful where you lived- just at the end of town but close enough to everything you needed.

Once Lucifer let his horse back, and made him comfortable, he turned to you with a smile. “Thank ya, darlin’.”

“Why, of course,” you teased with a smile, taking his hands and leading him inside your home.

As soon as the door closed behind the two of you, he grabbed onto your waist and you gripped onto his shoulders as he pulled you into a lip-bruising kiss. 

He pulled you close, hands lowering to your hips and slotting one of his legs in between yours to press his thigh against you.

“Lucifer…” you breathed, running your hands to his hair and gripping onto the roots, moving towards his neck and pressing soft kisses along the skin. 

“Baby, you are…”

“C’mon,” you interrupt him against his skin, pulling back and leading him to your bed. “You wanted some fun while you’re in town, right?”

“Right,” he nodded, pushing you atop the covers as soon as you got near the mattress, kicking his shoes off and getting on the bed.

He hovered over you on his knees, already beginning to hike up your skirt which made you laugh under your breath, slightly nervous. You reached for your ankles, sitting up slightly as you unlaced your shoes and threw them to the side as Lucifer removed his hat and serape and putting them to the side.

You watched carefully when he took off his shirt, pulling it off and placing it aside, immediately inviting you- whether he meant to or not- to touch all of his chest and stomach that you could. You sighed out a deep breath (of slight disappointment) when he pulled away from your hands and pushed up your skirt enough to see your bloomers and under-skirts which he quickly removed. “You alright?” he checked in, looking up at you, barely able to rip his eyes away from your body.

“Yeah,” you whispered, giving him a smile and reaching out to run a hand through his hair. “Of course I am.”

He gave you a cheeky smile, immediately ducking down and starting to kiss along your upper thigh. He didn’t even have the patience to take your skirt off first, he just lifted it up so it would be out of the way and pushing it back so he could still see you. Right after the skirts were out of the way, he unclipped the gun holster around your thigh and dropping it onto the floor.

“Damn, you’re impatient…” you teased as an attempt to keep your composure, letting out a small, nervous laugh as he looked back up at you.

“I said I wanted to have fun while I’m here… and I don’t play around. I get what I want, if ya didn’t notice, sweetheart.”

“Aw, but you don’t wanna take your time with me?” you teased, trying but failing to hide your smile.

“I think you and I both know you like it hard and fast too, darlin’. I don’t really think you care if I take off our clothes or not. Do you?”

You flushed at those words, unable to get yourself to answer, let alone decide what to say.

“That’s what I thought.”

He dives back into your thigh, immediately making his way to your pussy and spreading your folds before licking a stripe across your hole and to your clit. 

“Jesus- fucking christ, Lucifer,” you gasped, glancing down at him and placing your hands in his hair to brace yourself. 

He doubles down, chuckling against you causing to let out a breathy moan. You felt your whole core spasm against the sudden attention, tilting your head back and getting lost in the feeling as soon as he thrust his tongue into your hole. 

“Fucking shit, Lucifer!”

You let out a small cry when he holds your thighs open, causing them to shake. “Please, oh my god-“

He pulled away so that his lips were just barely against your clit, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Please what, baby? What do you want?”

“You, you… please-“

“Already desperate for me?” he whispered, having the audacity to laugh at you.

“Shut your trap…”

He apparently didn’t like that response, so he gripped your thighs harder and started sucking on your clit with an unwavering vigour.

“What- Lucifer!” you cry out, one hand gripping onto his hair and the other slamming onto the mattress, gripping onto the sheets in a desperate attempt to keep your composure and not burst into tears right there. 

He moves one hand from your thigh up to intertwine his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly and still keeping his gaze on you.

He finally gave you a break, pulling away and giving you a smile. 

“You’re so beautiful…” he breathed, studying your face and tracing his fingertips along your thigh.

You blushed under his admiration, looking off to the side out of embarrassment from his intense gaze.

“Whatta ya say, darlin’?”

You look back at him, face warm and eyes wide. “Thank you…”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, sitting up on his knees before leaning over you, his arms planted by your torso against the mattress to keep himself up.

He pressed his face against your neck, causing you to inhale a sharp breath and gripping onto his hair with one hand again as he peppered kisses along your neck. “Are you teasing me now?” you laughed under your breath, slowly lifting your bare hips to press against his.

He let out a gentle groan, nipping at your jawline. “What can I say? I wanna take my time with ya…”

You scoff, smile evident on your face as you trailed your hand down. It rested at the top of Lucifer’s pants, slowly undoing his belt. “But I thought you were here to have fun, sugar… where’s that needy attitude now?” you mutter back, placing the belt next to you two on the mattress and trailing your hands down again to push down his pants, just enough to…

“Well, you’re gonna take away my fun by rushing me,” Lucifer frowned, immediately grabbing you by your wrists and pushing your hands away. “Fun doesn’t mean quick, sugar,” he mocked. “Let me play a bit.”

He gently pressed your hands down against the mattress, a silent signal to keep them there, before trailing his hands along your chest. He grinned down at you, slowly unclasping the hooks from your corset and throwing it aside before beginning to undo your shirt. “Beautiful- best part of this town.”

You shudder at the touch to your breasts, letting out a small laugh. “Do you say that to all the girls you bed?”

He looked at you with a raised brow, unbuttoning your shirt all the way as he obviously began to lose his patience with you. “Haven’t done this in years, baby. You’re special, don’t you worry.” 

He tossed your shirt to the side, straddling your hips and running his hand along your jaw. He ducked down, kissing your lips and nipping them immediately. You opened your mouth, tentatively, which he took advantage of and invaded your mouth with his smooth tongue.

You gasped, his tongue working wonders as you were able to taste yourself, and you lifted a hand to place on his hip as an attempt to get him to not stop.

He pulled away, though, and stared down at you with narrowed eyes. “I thought it was obvious I wanted you to keep your hands to yourself, but apparently you didn’t pick up on that.”

You opened your mouth to complain, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed his belt, which made your mouth go dry. “Gimme your hands, love.”

You stutter, tongue feeling as if it was swollen while your hands remain still. “Lucifer, you won’t-“

“C’mon baby,” he interrupted, gaze turning slightly cold which sent shivers down your spine. “Hands.”

Your eyes widen and you shakily hold up your hands, embarrassed at the feeling of your pussy already dripping onto the bedsheets.

“Don’t worry, angel. I’ll still treat you right. I’d never hurt you,” he reassured, slightly alarmed at your shaking, but he gave you a look that you knew was him telling you you could stop whenever.

There was the man that you saw at the bar. Bless his heart, he’s too kind.

“I’m…” you trail off, thighs nearly twitching when he pushes your hands against the bed frame. “I’m just fine.”

He wrapped the belt around your wrists and the headboard of the bed, finally fastening it which caused your thighs to press together.

“Goddamnit will you PLEASE get on with it,” you felt your voice betray you, causing Lucifer to pause as soon as the belt was fastened. 

He pulled away, going back to hovering above you with a smug grin. “Darlin’… you like the belt?”

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?”

“Oh, touchy… you’re a brat, aren’t ya?” he laughed at you, situating himself so that he could reach back, pushing past your thighs and pressing against your clit in between your folds, before reaching down further and pressing one finger into your hole. 

Your eyes closed, body relieved at the attention as you slumped against the mattress and gently tugging against the belt around your wrists. 

“You do like it.”

“Perhaps,” you muttered, looking down at him. 

“Oh, no need to be shy… it’s alright, you can tell me anything,” he teased, slowly pulling his finger out of you, then slowly thrusting back in. 

You gasped, now realizing just how powerless you were at the fact that your wrists were completely restrained, looking at his face as he pressed barely-there kisses along your sternum.

He teased the pad of his second finger around your entrance, then slowly pushed it inside to join the finger that was already there. He was stretching you out.

“Lucifer… please go faster, I’m fine, y’know. Don’t need to worry about me.”

He looked down at you and smiled, pressing a quick and soft kiss to your lips before pulling back slightly to look at you as he rubbed against your walls with his fingers. “Ya sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He chuckled, pulling his fingers out of you before trailing them up to his face and licking his tongue along the two fingers slowly, savouring the taste. “You’re just perfect, love.”

You shrank under the praise, heart skipping a beat in your chest at his actions. He pulled away though, tugging down his pants. You watched, with hardly any shame at all, as he throws them to the floor, and he climbs closer to you again, leaning over you as he uses one hand to press himself against your entrance. He looks up at you with his hair slightly in his eyes and an excited grin stretched across his lips.

“You ready, angel?”

You smile, surprised that he checked in with you so suddenly, but it made your heart swell. “Yes… of course,” you nod. 

He gave you a soft smile which made your chest tighten, and he pushed himself into you slowly. Your breath got stuck somewhere in your throat, and once he noticed that your breathing stopped, he stopped too. “Breathe, sweetheart… breathe.”

You gasped for breath, probably louder than you realized, and your wrists slacked then tightened against the belt. “Keep going,” you whispered, words barely falling out of your lips.

“Okay, just… tell me when you need me to stop, alright? I don’t wanna hurt ya,” he soothed, leaning up and pressing careful kisses against your cheek as he pushed in further.

Tears welled in your eyes at the stretch, your back arching and your jaw nearly going slack. Lucifer tightened his grip on your hips, keeping you still.

But then he kept going, and your eyes squeezed shut at the lack of control. But you weren’t panicking. 

There was something about the smell of dust in his unkempt hair against your face, and the way his body slotted against yours, that just made you trust him completely. Which was… jarring, to say the least, since you just met him.

You grew used to the intrusion, even if it did just keep growing and growing. But then his hips slotted against yours, and you were finally able to breathe again. 

“Wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

“Easy for you to say…” you panted, smiling at him when he pulled back to look at you. 

“Mmm… not THAT easy. You have no idea how much it’s taking for me to not fuck you into this bed right now.”

It was then that you noticed that his arms were shaking, and you smiled a little to yourself. He felt this way just for you?

“You can go, baby… just go slow, please,” you instructed, holding back a laugh at the way his face lit up.

“God bless ya, darlin’,” he laughed breathily as an attempt to tease you, gently pulling out, which made your wrists unintentionally tug aggressively against the headboard. 

But once he slowly pushed back in, your vision went white and you let out an unfiltered, drawn-out whine. You didn’t want to say it out loud, but holy shit… he was huge.

“You’re so pretty like this, love. Look at you…”

You open your eyes a bit, peeking at him only for them to roll back when he pulls out and pushes back in again, this time a little faster.

“Sound so good, angel. And you feel so good, too. Easily best part of coming to town.”

You let out a breath, or at least tried to, since your lungs were absolutely fluttering at the feeling and his words.

“Lucifer, you can go… faster,” you muttered, looking at him with watering eyes and a wobbly smile.

He cursed under his breath, examining your face for a moment before pulling out again. The friction against you made you cry out, weak and soft, only for him to push back into you.

But this time he didn’t stop in between thrusts, he just kept going, which made your hips twitch.

“Fuck…”

He groaned, turning his head so that his lips pressed against your ear. His breath hit your skin, causing you to shiver against his hold.  He liked the reactions you were having, though, which made him double down and push your limits even more.

“I felt that, baby… You’re reacting like that just for me?”

Your eyes squeezed shut, nodding as an answer. He pulled back a bit to look at you, giving you a smug grin before lifting your hips slightly and deepening his angle.

“Oh- oh…! Lu-!”

“I bet you’d like me to come back every now and again, just for me to fuck you like this over and over. Ain’t that right?”

“Yeah-! Right, Lucifer!” your voice hiccuped with the way your body moved against the bed with each of his thrusts, eyes half-lidded.

“Lucifer, wait,” you gasped, jaw clenching. 

He stopped in his tracks, not moving as he looked down at you. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, of course not. I feel so good… just… please undo the belt. Please.”

He immediately nodded and reached over you to the headboard, quick to listen. As soon as the belt was unfastened he threw it off the bed and massaged along your wrists, trying to soothe the slight burn. 

Instead of letting him continue you grabbed his hands, pushing him away before sitting up, pulling him back so he was laying down. You straddled his hips, placing your against his chest to keep him there.

“What are you…?”

“You pick up on things easy, just wait.”

You reach back, lining him up with yourself before lowering down onto him. He let out a breath, instantly gripping onto your hips.

“Baby, sweetheart, I can’t keep this up that long if ya-“

“I know, that’s the point,” you smile down at him, raising yourself and lowering again.

He let out a noise. You’d never heard anything like it, it was soft and high pitched, but you’d do anything to hear it again. 

You looked down at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open as you rose and fell again, then again, until you started consistently bouncing.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so goddamn tight.”

“Just for you, baby.”

Something in him shakes and he slams you down on his cock, forcing a near scream out of your throat. 

“Just for me?”

“Yes- yes, just for you!” you exclaimed in surprise, doubling down and speeding up your pace.

He tilted his head back in response, becoming lost to the feeling which just made you shudder all over.

“You’re so pretty, love… so gorgeous, I could watch you do this for hours,” he praised, tracing along your hips before tightening his grip again. 

Your face flushed and your body shuddered at the praise, the friction from your bounces starting to get to you. Lucifer noticed and trailed one of his hands down from your hip and immediately circled his thumb around your clit. 

“Ah! Lucifer, I’m close, are-“

“Right there with ya, angel,” he smiled at you, albeit a little wobbly since he was barely containing his own whimpers.

You clenched around him, bouncing stuttering only for Lucifer to help you out with the hand that was still on your hip.

“You’re such a good girl- so good you make me want to stay,” you heard his weak voice whisper in between his whines, causing your eyes to widen as you looked down at him.

You gasp, your back arching and your stomach fluttering as you climax. Your eyes just barely caught Lucifer’s expression while he finished himself, his eyelids nearly falling and his breath hitching before letting out a strained whimper while he finishes inside you.

You cried out at the feeling of him spilling into you in the middle of your peak, doubling over as your moans stutter and hiccup while you finally get over your peak.

“You did so good, love…”

He slowly sat up, breath still erratic as he gently and carefully pulled out of you which caused you to whimper from your own sensitivity. 

“That’s it… just breathe, you did so well, darlin’.”

He laid you back down, grabbing a quilt that was folded on the bottom of the bed and placing it over you so you’d stay warm. You smile at the soft fabric against your skin and watched his hand cup your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your face. He delicately took your hair out of its braid, massaging your scalp once your hair was down and splayed out along your shoulders. 

He moved to lay down behind you under the quilt, slotting his body against you from behind and hugging around your waist. “Can I stay the night?”

You decide to not let the reality that he has to leave hit you yet. With how his arms felt around you, with this new feeling in general, is presence just felt… right. Might as well pretend that the feeling doesn’t have to leave for a little bit longer.

“Of course you can.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading <3 sorry that it took me so long to write, I literally hate school with a passion :)

Taglist: @heavenlyraindrops

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin x reader #cowboy au #western au #rosie hazbin hotel

[luna-rainbow]

Thanks for your answer for the last ask.

What is wrong with the writers of the new MCU material? Do they just hate Bucky, especially the writer of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier (he's NOT the Winter Soldier anymore!)? Did Bucky kick their cat or something? This hatred and victim blaming is not justified! "Oh Bucky's just a cray-cray psycho killing machine with cool metal arm but probably belongs in a padded cell. Lol he says he had no choice such a lame excuse..."

Soo…I don’t know if people still remember the rumours from back in 2021 and I don’t know how much of it is true, but my guess at it is this: there were supposed to be two main writers on the series. Spellman was supposed to take Sam’s story, while the other guy wrote Bucky’s story. For whatever reason, the other guy quit before he finished, and didn’t give the writing team enough time to put things together.

From a story craft point of view, Bucky’s story in TFATWS reeks of first-draft-ism. It’s a scattered plot of events that don’t quite string together, and a self-contradictory characterisation that hasn’t yet been smoothed over (but was made a little more believable by Sebastian’s efforts). You can tell some central character themes had been planted in the first draft — the PTSD, the guilt, the messy way he’s trying to relearn how to interact with people (Yori, Sam and later the Wakandans), the struggle with breaking free of his past. These were all strong, interesting character beats for Bucky to work through, and it honestly could have been a good story. And I think that’s when the original writer bailed.

When Spellman picked up this draft, he was pressed for time, he hadn’t watched CATWS and he never thought he’d needed to know about Bucky’s story, so he reads TheMovieSpoiler summary of the movie and tries to piece the rest of the story together. But Bucky’s not his priority nor his interest. There’s already beats of the story that were planned and have to be there for IP reasons. So beyond what was already in the first draft as mentioned above, Bucky is made to be the fall guy to make the rest of the plot happen. Zemo’s release — well we can’t make Sam help break out the criminal that killed an African king so we’ll make Bucky do it, who cares if it makes no sense for his character. The counselling session — the show’s few moments of levity, doesn’t matter that it makes no sense but hey, forced homoeroticism is hilarious, isn’t it? The Wakandan three-way fight — I may be remembering this wrong but I think Skogland said it was one of the first scenes that she had planned for. That fight had to happen, and again Bucky was made to provoke the Wakandans to the point Seb had to step in and say, almost literally, “he would not fucking say that” to make them wind back the animosity between Bucky and Ayo. Sam’s suit — oh no we can’t have Sam asking for it himself that would be too egocentric, we also can’t have Wakandans offering because well, not like the plot actually made Sam a strong ally for Wakanda, so we get Bucky asking for Sam’s suit to be made minutes after he fixes his mistake of releasing Zemo. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense if it’s Bucky doing it, cos I really think by this stage Spellman didn’t give a shit about a character that wasn’t supposed to be his responsibility in the first place. It’s like when you’re doing group project and your teammate bails on you, you’re gonna do just enough to get that pass but you ain’t putting in the effort for a distinction cos just looking at the unfinished work is pissing you off. So then Bucky also becomes the token white male who pushes all the wrong buttons during the few token racism scenes cos we gotta make Walker have some redeemable qualities and he’s already a dick so we can’t make him racist too.

So instead of having a thoughtful story about a veteran trying to grapple with his guilt and PTSD and lack of agency and making some mistakes along the way, you get a weird disjointed plot of some guy…with some bad dreams…who randomly does things for no good personal reason…who gets made the butt of the joke for the stuff he’s experienced cos he’s got a metal arm and super soldier serum how hard could it have been he just needs to go and apologise for killing people while simultaneously having multiple poignant scenes portraying his lack of agency.

Every writer who tells you “a hero is only as interesting as the villain” just secretly wants to write a simpable villain. And when that writer isn’t very skilled, you get the disaster of TFATWS where a lot of effort is spent on making Zemo funny and personable, and Walker nuanced and sympathetic, instead of making either of the titular heroes funny or personable or nuanced or sympathetic. And yeah, I really don’t think Spellman ever cared enough about Bucky to want to make him sympathetic…or a hero. Remember when he said Bucky pulling open the van door was the first time Bucky has ever been a hero? Fuck right off with that.

#bucky barnes #tfatws critical #asks

[foxconfessorandthewolf]

Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]

#snarry #i need them to hatefuck it out #i need snape to be cracked open and see all the tender parts fall out

[gotouhitori]

Okay, so. I'm in Love with the Villainess. Watashi no Oshi wa Akuyaku Reijou. WataOshi. Whichever title you want to refer to it by.

Before reading or watching it, I wondered why the hell people were holding up this random villainess isekai light novel with an over-the-top masochist main character as a landmark yuri title. Okay sure I don't doubt there's yuri going on, but how can it be so special?

Then I watched the anime. "Huh. The series and its main character are clearly and unambiguously lesbian in a way that so many other series can't bring themselves to be. And it has the most frank discussion of queer issues I think I've ever seen in anime or related media. Yeah, I think I see now, it is a cut above." And both because I've heard the novels get into a few things a little more and because the series now has its hooks in me enough for me to want to read the novels anyway, I read the first novel. And yeah, that does add a bit.

And then I read the second novel. The latter bit of the anime does cover the first bit of the second novel, but it's mostly new territory for an anime-only or anime-first such as myself. And holy fucking shit. Spoilers under the cut.

For one thing, the anime/first novel dropped some trans hints about Yu, and that turns out to be a whole transfem allegory - which isn't unheard of by any means, but it's not especially common in a work where that isn't the main focus. And not only that, but there's an actually explicitly textual transmasc in Rae's past life, who forms part of Rae's motivation to make considerable effort and take considerable risk (up to and including treason) to make sure Yu can live as a girl - once Yu states that is what she wants, it is important to note. Random yuri villainess isekai light novel says trans rights, and will absolutely stand by it.

And then all of the stuff about class and inequality comes to a head, and remember how the game that Rae's in the world of is titled "Revolution"? Yeah. One of those happens. Various hints have been dropped about what happens, largely centred on Rae making efforts to save Claire's neck in the most literal way possible when things really go down. But holy shit does that turn out to be more effort and a much more complex endeavour than it appears at first... or for most of the time while it's going on, for that matter. Ultimately she arranges things so that while the revolution still happens (it is basically inevitable), overall loss of life and suffering is minimised, and the general situation is as good as it possibly could be. By the time the proverbial smoke clears, Rae and Claire are openly living as a couple, which is a lot more than you usually see - one of the things Rae comments on is how in per previous life, too much of the yuri she read ended with at least one of the girls either dead or winding up with a man, which annoyed her enough to write fanfic based on series she likes with unsatisfying endings to fix that. And though the game did have a yuri spinoff, the original - the events of which she was living through and manipulating - was het. The character she winds up with was never supposed to be a romanceable character to begin with.

And that's just the first two of the five novels. Living through and changing the course of an actual revolution and settling down with her partner is just 40% of the whole story. (And less if more novels get published.) I've just started the third novel, and it's certainly looking like the rest is going to be at least as much of a ride as the first two were.

This really is an outstanding series. It's Dungeon Meshi levels of "I cannot stop thinking about it" to me, which if you've seen how much I post about that, says a lot. And I haven't read even half of it yet.

#i'm in love with the villainess #watashi no oshi wa akuyaku reijou #wataoshi #yuri #trans rights #lesbianism #lgbtqia

[kira-broflovski]

Secret || Kyle Broflovski x Reader

note: characters are aged up to high school!! decided to add an element of social media into this one 🫣

It was an evening just like any other in the Marsh residence. However, in a moment of impulse, Randy decided to treat Sharon for a night out.

Shelly was now in charge of her younger brother and sister, Stan and Y/N. Not that either of you needed supervision considering you were in your senior year of high school. Your older sister was fully aware of this, so she just kept to herself in the living room.

She decided to reside downstairs, also knowing that you and Stan would stay in your respective rooms.

Playing all the video games he wanted with nobody to tell him to keep it down, Stan lazed about in his room and mumbled along to his gaming playlist that was blasting from his speaker. He sat back without a care in the world. Although, he was starting to get a little hungry.

Then, there was you. Cool wind was blowing in from your wide-open window, your 'love' playlist contrasting the music coming from your brother's room, as you laid on your bed and texted your boyfriend.

The boyfriend that nobody else knew about, none other than Kyle Broflovski, of course.

You had been dating Kyle for a few months now, and how you haven't been caught is a mystery to both of you.

Most of your conversations did happen over the phone for the sake of not blowing your cover, just like the conversation you were having with him right now. God forbid Stan found out about his own best friend dating his twin sister!

You mentioned your parents were out, so Kyle decided to play a risky game.

Curious, you slowly turned your head to look at the window like your boyfriend had said to do. You jumped out of surprise, not exactly expecting said boyfriend to be leaning into the window.

"Kyle?" You whisper-shouted.

"Help me in." He laughed.

You scrambled out of bed to help, not wanting him to get hurt.

Your room was at the side of the house where the garage was underneath the window, so Kyle had somehow got onto the roof and waited for you to notice him standing in your open window.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, sitting back down on your bed.

"Uh, I didn't want to wait to see you again." He shot you a sheepish smile that you couldn't stay mad at.

Shaking your head and laughing quietly, you patted the bed next to you and he immediately sat down beside you. He threw his arms around you, unable to contain his affection. You laid back, still holding Kyle in your arms, and he gladly leaned back with you, getting as close as physically possible.

Thankfully, the music playing from both your room and Stan's room was loud enough that your brother next door couldn't hear anything, nor could Shelly downstairs.

After taking a deep breath, Kyle mumbled into your neck, "this is nice."

"Yeah, it is."

Due to your relationship being a secret, moments like these were rare. But that made you both appreciate them much more.

The last time Kyle was able to sneak in was a month ago. He told his parents he would be at Stan's, which wasn't a total lie, but they didn't know Stan was out on a camping trip with his scouts group.

Everything was going well. You and Kyle just laying in each other's arms, listening to music and talking about whatever came to mind.

It seems, however, the music was a little too loud as you didn't hear Stan walking downstairs, back up, and down the hall.

"Hey, Y/N, Shelly's ordering food so— what the fuck!?" He interrupted himself when he saw a random person laying with you.

"Oh shit!" You yelped.

"Who the fuck is that?" He couldn't see who it was as Kyle's hood was up and he was facing away from the door, where Stan was stood with his arms crossed.

"Uh..." You had no idea what to say. What could you say?

Kyle slowly got off of you, still refusing to turn around and face his best friend. This was not how either of you were expecting your relationship to be found out.

"Well?" Stan stepped closer.

Knowing there was no getting out of it, Kyle slowly turned around and looked at him.

"Kyle!?"

"Now, Stan, listen—" you started.

"Listen? What the fuck is going on here?" Your brother exploded. "Guys, I'm not fucking stupid, so don't treat me like I am."

"We never said you were," Kyle mumbled.

If looks could kill, Kyle would be dead where he sat.

"Of all people, you decided to date my best friend?"

"Stan."

"How long have the both of you been doing all this behind my back?"

"Stan!"

"Answer my question, Y/N."

"A few months." You mumbled.

"Months!?" He yelled out of disbelief, feeling like he had been betrayed by two of the closest people in his life. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Listen! For once, just fucking listen." You got up and stood in front of him, getting fed up of his shouting.

Kyle stared at the floor and played with his hands nervously.

"Neither of us can control who we like, alright? And we just so happen to like each other. We knew you'd try to stop us, so we kept it from you and have been dating in secret." You stated calmly. "He treats me so fucking well and makes me feel like nobody ever has in my life, so excuse me for wanting what's best for me, Stan."

"But my best friend? Really?"

In reality, he had no idea what else to say. He knew you were right as he knows you've been happier the past few months.

"Hey, I didn't say shit when you started dating Wendy!" Now it was your turn to get mad.

Your brother stared back and forth at the two of you in disbelief, trying to find something to say. "Just wait until mom and dad find out about this."

You simply rolled your eyes in response, and Stan turned to Kyle.

"I'll tell your fucking parents as well, about how you've secretly been dating my sister. I'm sure they'll love that!" He pointed a finger deep into Kyle's chest, before turning around and storming out, slamming the door on his way out.

A couple minutes of uncomfortable silence passed before Kyle peeped up. "That could've gone a lot better..."

"Tell me about it." You sat back down and grabbed your phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting Shelly what we want to eat."

#kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park boys #stan marsh #shelly marsh #randy marsh #sharon marsh

[mayashesfly]

Some thoughts I have about the differences of my Forgotten Radio AU and Canon. (Mostly focused on Vox since he's my favorite character despite this being a SilentStatic AU. Unfortunately I'm not well-versed at writing Alastor's character even if I wanted to :')

After calming down Valentino's tantrum just like in Canon, Val tried to rile up Vox by mentioning Alastor. However, since Vox has already wiped his memories and added some… preventive measures, he merely dismissed Val's comments.

But because the Princess of Hell was involved, Vox still brought more spy drones onto the Hazbin Hotel to monitor the happenings there in addition to the drone Valentino already sent in to inform him.

They didn't bring Sir Pentious or someone else to spy on the Hazbin Hotel for them because of this.

Sir Pentious takes some time recuperating after being Team Rocketed by Alastor before he'll eventually strike again on the hotel again.

Ever since Alastor's return and seeing the remnants of his partnership with Vox first things first since he returned (The Radio sHack in the Pilot), he was bidding his time for Vox to get wind of his return and react explosively in some way for his entertainment and to take advantage of.

However Vox didn't do anything of the sorts. Unlike how he would've reacted otherwise if he still retained his memories.

When Alastor caught sight of the painfully obvious Vox drones around the hotel, he purposefully posed in front of them a few times, hoping to finally gloat out the tv-headed demon from his hiding. Much to his growing annoyance and confusion though, nothing happened as the drones flew passed him due to the corrupting footage in order to clearly see what else was happening in the hotel.

He did this for a few times a day in slowly increasing frequency for the entire week before Sir Pentious attacked the hotel again and proceeded to get fucked over for ruining Alastor's coat. Alastor barely letting the poor demon alive thanks to Charlie's pleas.

Vox and Velvette discussed to one another who should be the one to attend the Overlord meeting. Valentino is forever banned from attending any of these things after a particular incident that the Vees would rather not repeat again.

It took some back and forth between the two of them before they agreed on Vox going to the meeting. But the only reason Vox's head wasn't ripped out like the torn up models Valentino so gracefully provided her is because she has a big fashion show incoming and those fucking models aren't going to dress themselves.

"Seriously Vox are you sure you don't have anything better to do? Like that bullshit Angelic Security of yours?" "Carmilla would be there. Which is all the more reason for me to go there myself" "Just don't forget the plan you flat-faced fuck, who knows what would happen if we screw this up?" "Well someone else could get screwed instead~"

Groan

"Shut up Valentino! I'm being serious!" "Who says I wasn't being serious too, Velvette~?"

"GUYS"

"You have nothing to worry about. I have this all handled, just trust me alright?" "Well you better keep your words Vox, cuz I have a show to run and no time for a shitshow to fix" "That's my boy~"

After Alastor's wonderful talk with Zestial, he finally meets Vox again outside of the meeting room. Being on time for the meeting unlike Velvette.

Vox introduced himself to Alastor, thinking he was a new Overlord because he never saw him before. Much to Alastor's slowly growing frustration and realization.

Thankfully, Rosie took note of Alastor's presence and promptly lead him away from Vox before he tore out the other's head before the meeting started. Being able to catch up with him and tell him to visit her in Cannibal Town sometime.

Upon taking his seat besides Rosie, Alastor makes a comment about his reappearance, hoping that it would distract him from whatever the fuck Vox was on. Unfortunately, just like in canon, Carmilla does not give a shit. Causing Alastor to steam in his frustration.

While whispering quietly, Rosie admits to Alastor that she doesn't exactly know what happened to Vox. But three years into his absence, something about Vox has changed when he was suddenly more active after three years of mostly being inactive.

It only makes Alastor's head swim in confusion and possibilities of what might've happened.

Unlike Velvette who instantly hijacked the meeting upon entering, Vox waited for the perfect opportunity to present the information he had about the Angel's death. He first showed the scene of the crime on the screen Carmilla was using in her presentation before bringing out the literal Angel's head once he was questioned about the credibility of his source.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't bring the entire body with me. But surely this is enough evidence to show you that what that screen is showing isn't faked?"

Alastor became curious and impressed by such information. It was a rather valuable information he could use for himself after all... Perhaps finally having something for the Princess...

Though it didn't completely ease the discomfort he had from Vox's strange behavior. Vox was barely glancing his way, if at all, during the entire meeting when used to feel those stolen glances from him, even after their partnership ended and he had teamed up with that disgusting pompous moth instead.

His gaze never failed to land on him one way or another before.

Unlike now.

Vox still pitches a similar idea to Velvette with a bit more professionalism, noticing the odd reaction Carmilla had upon seeing the golden blood stain the table. But saying nothing of it as a musical number rolled around.

The complete details and differences between this AU and Canon's Overlord Meeting eludes me since there's a lot of character dynamics at play. But the meeting does end up much shorter than usual as Vox tries to casually take his leave, if not a bit annoyed by the words thrown his way.

That was the very first time Alastor saw Vox fight someone else for once. Except for him.

But regardless of his feelings on the matter, he has a sneaking suspicion that Carmilla may know something even when Vox said nothing of the sorts.

Without Sir Pentious and thus the Egg Boiz in the picture, Alastor couldn't easily eavesdrop on Carmilla and Zestial without possibly outing himself as the eavesdropper.

And unfortunately for him, he couldn't hide in his shadows in Carmilla's office to hear the information straight from the Overlord's mouth.

Vox never said his suspicions about Carmilla's involvement during the meeting, however he did say it to the other Vees about his findings and suspicions. Perhaps that private meeting with Carmilla would yield more results than just for Angelic Securities after all.

Time passed and Alastor was utterly bored. There wasn't as much development between his thralls and Angel Dust's relationship ever since he joined the hotel. They have already tried "trust falls" and "show and tell with the group" and whatever else nonsense the Princess had thought about. But nothing of interesting was happening.

He never caught wind of the TV demon as well besides his usual drivel despite seeing the bumbling drones around the hotel.

It was strange, knowing that his rival didn't give him any mind unlike before. And it was just making him inch for a bloodcurdling fight to ease his boredom.

It was only during a traumatic experience in the middle of a turf war did his thralls and Angel Dust bond.

Much to Sir Pentious' misfortune, he just had to attack the hotel while Alastor was in a bad mood about Vox, the dear Princess nowhere in sight.

And well…. he still very clearly remembers Sir Pentious now after he ruined his best coat.

#may asher writes #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vees #radiostatic #voxal #silentstatic #one sided radiostatic #Forgotten Radio AU #I would really love to write more about Alastor's inner thoughts #unfortunately my brain just empties itself whenever I try to enter Alastor's brain like I'm Niffty in front of a camera

[mixelation]

reborn au plot.... stuff. has plasticity spoilers. also canon characters die!

i said this recently, but i don't have much in the way of an overarching story after tori's, like, 17. part of this is just that i haven't made some major decisions about the premise (like what orochimaru is up to) and part of it is that...... what problems would even challenge these characters. like we have a bunch of weird interpersonal shenanigans but like obviously one appeal of this au is giving tori opportunities for Feats.

so i decided on a Feat.

i think as an ongoing looming threat, i might have some petty proxy war stuff going on. no one wants to reignite a multi-nation shinobi war, but everyone is scrambling to grab things for themselves, especially since konoha just like.... stole from iwa??? ame burned down half of kusa? oto-nin are just? in the wind???? someone probably hires orochimaru. people are out trying to snatch jinchuriki left and right.

so i was thinking thusly: one of the bigger nations captures fuu for the seven tails. ame sends an akatsuki pair which includes tori. somehow, the situation goes completely to shit. multiple nations are involved. the seven tails is released, killing fuu. everyone wants this weapon and they don't care if they had to kill a young girl to get it.

akatsuki's solution is that they should simply control all weapons. tori knows this will fall apart. she also knows that, even if she wrestles the raging seven-tails into a container and gets around the multiple nation's people ALSO vying to capture it for themselves, and she takes it back to konoha, this also solves nothing. and so she thinks: if no one can resist the temptation of a weapon, then i will remove the weapon.

this is the part that's a pretty big plasticity spoiler, but also a few people guessed it so i don't mind sharing. basically, the shinigami doesn't like tori because he can't have her. she's a weird, foreign thing that shouldn't be there. functionally, she can't die. she can be irreparably maimed, so she still has a healthy fear of most life-and-death situations, but she technically can't die. (she's unsure if this still applies in this universe in the earlier parts, but we'll let her figure it out eventually.)

the side-effect of this is that she has more bullshitty leeway with summoning the shinigami than other people. it can't take her soul so it will take things around her more indiscriminately, so she's not going to use it if her allies are around. but if she's fed up and doesn't care if everyone dies? fuck it, we're going to kill the tailed beast itself.

i want how this to be accomplished to be kind of metal and/or gross. you know that scene in plasticity where tori is simultaneously herself AND the shinigami and she's confused? like that but they're eating the seven-tails.

tori comes to later and the whole battlefield is dead, from the shinobi to the plants and wildlife. whatever other akatsuki was with her is either some probationary schmuck, a canon character who got separated, or hidan-but-he's-not-revived-yet (i'm leaning towards this last one). at first i was like "how does she explain she killed a tailed beast" to other people but THEN i decided

tori realizes she's done something she should not have been able to do. she's just created another weapon people will want to use. so she gets up and goes home, and she lies.

the seven tails killed everyone and ran off. yes, even the forest. even the little bugs in the trees. the soil is irradiated. i guess it was pissed off. how did i live? aren't i a barrier specialist..........?

and then of course everyone goes out looking for the tailed beast. like, you can't just have a wild bijuu running around!! but they can't find it. it's nowhere. it will never be found because it no longer exists.

probably at some point she'll tell someone, most likely itachi and/or deidara. hidan might confront her about it. but i just love the idea of her getting a major feat and then immediately denying it.

also she may or may not decide to repeat the experiment

#reborn au #here you get every thought that comes into my head for this au #even the ones that would be huge spoilers for other story concepts lol

[polichinelle]

yeah fuck it i'm making this its own post. basically very long winded (but still not as extensively detailed as i'd like) thoughts on adam & ronan (sort of) & whelk & noah

i remember reading the raven boys back in 2014 (ten years of rot in my brain!) and being sooo disappointed that there was basically zero fandom interest in whelk & noah beyond "omg whelk is evil and awful and terrible, poor baby noah!" when that is not the narrative surrounding them, not really. i feel it's a disservice to both of their characters to do that, especially noah's:

there is nuance there. there are implications. like... it's ALL about the implications!!! we basically see nothing of whelk and noah beyond what's left after the carnage. and it's a theme in trc for characters to have irreparably changed before we ever meet them (gansey, ronan, whelk, noah). we don't know what they were actually like when noah was alive, when they were best friends. when they were tight as ticks.

what we do know is this: whelk was noah's gansey. whelk was cheating on his own girlfriend with noah's, which is a shitty thing to do for sure, but something we also have zero context for. we also don't know how true it is, because whelk has such a self-inflicted warped view of his past. he keeps rewriting his own memories to think lesser of noah, because his absence hurts that much! we know they were best friends, the same way adam & ronan are best friends with gansey. we know they did everything together

okay, changing gears a little.

i'll paste the part where adam is possessed, sorry for the amount of screenshots:

and this line from a bit further along the chapter:

then, from noah's possession scene:

compare this to whelk's recollection of killing noah, and the effects it had on him:

"red lines streaked in the corners of his vision" "in whelk's head, unearthly voices hissed and whispered, words blurred and stretched together" "dictated by something larger and more powerful than himself" "somehow invited into his body through czerny's death" yes i am going there, yes i am making that point. i think, to some extent, barrington was possessed when he murdered his best friend. neither noah nor adam get their own pov while possessed, so...

i mean, time is a circle. noah needed to die so that gansey would live. noah had already died, gansey had already lived. it needed to happen, and so it would.

where the difference lies, i think, is in barrington's reaction to being possessed, versus adam/noah. for all that i'm arguing possession, i don't think barry's a stand up guy, he's a kid who's never had good role models (need i pull out the quotes about his shit parents) and who was raised by money and objects and reputation, which is why i think the possession worked. the idea to kill noah might've seemed like his own in the moment, an escalation of the situation he was already in, but unlike adam/noah there was no one to hold him back (not to mention barrington isn't as familiar with magic things(?) as they are). in that moment, whelk did truly lost it. he did the unforgivable. but there is no universe in which he doesn't.

for every time we see noah reenacting his death, we also need to imagine barrington whelk, seventeen and shivering. realizing as he's committing the act that he can't go back. perhaps realizing too that he couldn't stop his hands from gripping onto that skateboard, no matter how much he wanted to after that first hit. ("But instead, he remembered the sound Czerny made the first time he hit him.")

there's also adam in this. both him as a parallel to barrington, and as a strange sort of part of noah in a way. adam and noah interact the least out of the main group, arguably, but they too are a two-headed creature; they started out as one singular character and you can sort of tell. something something hands and eyes, something something sacrifice. ronan sort of parallels noah, in that he is not the same lively person we hear about, and he never will be that person again. both are cabeswater personified (although in different ways).

some more things:

"he once had been tight as ticks with his roommate czerny" "only whelk and czerny, treasure hunters and troublemakers" "it was possible that czerny's death wasn't for nothing after all" "[...] his days a ribbon floating aimlessly in water" (in relation to: "he had been a swimmer himself, once") "czerny, you're in a better place than me, i think" "whelk, standing in the wreckage of his life, didn't laugh this time" "the dry, half-eaten burger on the passenger seat / the first fast-food burger he'd had in seven years" "these days, when whelk was trying to comfort himself, he told himself that czerny was a sheep, but sometimes he slipped and remembered him as loyal instead" "[...] took him back to that moment, the skateboard in his hands, the sad question gasped in czerny's dying sounds "we were friends like —"

also, whelk dying in the same place noah did. these lines:

both noah and barrington look the same in the end. broken, rumpled, forgotten. noah's family will never know his bones were reburied outside of their family plot. whelk's mother, however distant she is, will never be notified that her son has died. i think in a way barrington died at the exact same time noah did; something something invited into his body through czerny's death.

basically what i'm getting at is, noah and barry could've been ronan and adam i think, had the circumstances been different. they never will be, but i think about it sometimes.

and there's so many more things i'm not even gonna TRY going into, like noah and whelk both being parallels to gansey (the three of them kings in their own right), or the disparity between whelk talking about czerny vs adele talking about noah, or whatever the fuck is going on with whelk's backstory in general (what's the deal with his mother? how the hell did he get the aglionby job? a random headcanon of mine is that his and noah's search for the ley line lead them to fox way, seven years before the events of the book, and that's partly why whelk refuses to give out his name to maura, because barrington is hard to forget, and easy to trace back)

there is so much to talk about here and i'm so peeved no one is doing it properly... why are we still talking about declan bringing his weekly girlfriend over to monmouth for no reason when we could be talking about whatever the fuck kinda soul-fate-destiny bullshit noah and whelk have!

#i know trc has its villain of the book thing but i am sooo disappointed whelk is never really talked about beyond #the first novel. like he's one of the only tangible links we have to noah's life... he was RIGHT THERE #he's so interesting to me. i rotate him and noah over and over in my head like they're in a microwave #trc #the raven cycle #the raven boys #noah czerny #adam parrish #barrington whelk #ronan lynch

[nervoushottee]

A Solemn Promise Ch. 4 | Joel Miller Series

Summary: A blast from the past.

Warnings: Cursing, blood, death, guns, like I said previously: just regular the last of us shit.

NOTE PLEASE READ: From this chapter on out, I will be turning reader into more of an OC character. I will keep it in second pov so it still reads how its been (using you, instead of she while reading/writing). However reader will have a name that she will be called throughout the series. You can see a bit of it in this chapter but it will pop up more withthin the rest of the series. Doing this truly helps me get more into the character and into writing this fic.

Thank you for reading that big ass note. Also, Thank you SO MUCH for all the love I've been getting for this fic. It means so much to me truly...Enjoy!

(limited editing)

---- ---- ---- ---

Joel wasn’t surprised to see the dead bodies in the hallway when he did.

When Tess told him earlier that Robert had fucked up with the battery, his hope for it slowly disappeared with each waking hour. He barely had any hope to begin with. But what made him keep pushing was to find his younger brother. 

To find Tommy. Help him, protect him and/or get him out of any trouble he probably put himself in. Because that’s what being an older sibling is. To protect the ones that are younger than you like a parent would. No matter if you were told to or not. And no matter how many years went by, or how old they got, that is what Joel was and always would be. 

So when Tess revealed that the battery the two of them had been putting all their marbles on was simply a piece of junk in the middle of the hallway,  Joel didn’t react. He knew Tess was angry, hell so was he internally, but who wouldn’t blame her from what she had gone through the night before. Joel simply just knew it was back to square one. 

He perked up at the sound of someone else being in the hallway. With the bullet wounds in all the dead bodies that littered the hallway, he already assumed there would be more danger ahead. Joel walked ahead of Tess with his gun raised as he followed the sound. 

Slowly with each step, the sounds grew louder. And just from listening, Joel didn’t think it was anything dangerous, but still proceeded with caution. He peaked out from the corner of the hallway to see two women injured. 

One woman tried to stand and walk away from what looked like a battlefield. Blood on both of them showing that although they survived, they still took damage. Joel slowly walked toward them, aiming his gun at the ready. The question was, would he shoot first ask questions later? Or vice versa. 

He didn’t have time to answer when a door to his right swung open to a young girl charging at him with a knife. He didn’t waste anytime to throw her to the ground with his gun aimed at her face.“Fuck.” the girl muttered, winded from the sudden shove to the wall. 

“Joel?”, he turned his head to see that one of the injured women he almost shot was no other than someone he really didn’t feel like seeing. 

“Marlene?” 

Marlene doesn’t say anything else to him. Instead she brings her attention to the young girl Joel had just pushed. Asking her if she was alright, in which the girl responded with a nod of her head. Her eyes were still staring at Joel. Full of bravery and fear all tied together as she reached to collect her switchblade. Joel doesn’t hesitate to press his foot firm into the weapon to keep her from getting it back. 

What the hell was a young girl doing in the middle of this mess? Let alone with Marlene and the Fireflies.

“Ellie.” Marlene says to calm the girl down.‘So that was the girl's name’. Joel thought to himself. Ellie's attention didn’t move away from him until Marlene called her name a second time. Finally, Ellie turned her head to Marlene, her eyes widened to see the two older women bloodied and injured. “Oh shit!” she exclaims as she stares at Marlene’s side. 

The older woman dismissed her worries, “You can’t be stupid like this.” she says to Ellie with exhaustion in her voice. Both her and Kim lowered their weapons. 

Joel hears Tess walking into the hallway with the rest of them and she isn’t pleased from what he  could tell. “So this is who Robert screwed us over with? The Che Guevara of Boston? I mean, war must be pretty bad for you to be buying from scum like him.” she taunts.

“Yeah it kinda has been. The merch was bad and he obviously didn’t take fuck off for answer.” 

Marlene says.

Typical Robert. Joel didn’t trust that man to give him a drink of water if he was simply thirsty. Let alone keep his end of the bargain for something as big as a car battery. But when you’re desperate, you’re desperate. And he was, hell, even the Fireflies were from he could see.

“What do you need a car battery for?” he asked her, ignoring the plead from Ellie, asking him to let go of her knife. 

The girl didn’t take him ignoring her as an actual answer. Reaching out to grab the weapon still sitting under Joel’s shoe. He turns his gun back on her, honestly not having the patience with the kid in the first place. “Don’t.”

Not even a split second after he aims his gun at the young girl, two more guns are aimed back at him. He hears the sound of Tess aiming her gun at Marlene and the other woman he didn’t know. 

“Not at her…Point it at me.” Marlene says to him quickly. 

Suddenly, there was a faint sound of footsteps coming from behind the two women. Both of them not moving, guns still aimed at Joel almost if they knew who was approaching them. 

“Ellie?!?” he heard a woman exclaim. Her voice grows louder and louder as she rounds the corner and finally comes into view. 

You.

It felt as if Joel’s heart had almost stopped. He could’ve thought he was dead right then and there as he locked eyes with you. There you were, twenty years later. Stuck in this mess of what the world was, just like him.

Twenty years older than what you both were all those years ago. You were here and you were alive. 

How were you even alive? 

He mourned you, he remembers finding out that you were no longer here. It was like the final piece to the puzzle of losing the rest of his humanity. The warm feeling of love and hope went away when his girls left him. When you left him.

 How the fuck weren’t you dead? Where was your kid? Their kid? Joel couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Still stuck in a daze of disbelief, the grip on his gun loosened. His aim towards the young girl started to falter, dropping slowly. You hadn’t said a word. You too had been taken back from the sudden blast from the past. Joel could tell as much when he saw your feet falter as if you were taking steps to run back in the way you came in.  He watched your eyes trail down at him from his head, to his chest to his hands that were still gripping the gun he was aiming loosely at Ellie. 

And almost if a switch flipped, the sudden shock you had on your face was quickly wiped away with anger. You didn’t hesitate to raise your gun at him. “You’d lower that if you know what’s good for you.” you snapped. 

Joel still didn’t move. Still shocked to see you alive and standing there. “Do I need to shoot you for you to understand? What I’m saying is not a request.” you speak to him again. The anger is still in your voice. “Woods enough.” Marlene says to you, her eyes not leaving the situation in front of her. “Joel, point it at me.” 

Woods. He didn’t think he’d hear that last name in so long. He didn’t know if that brought him anxiety or comfort. 

 Joel turns his head back at the young girl, whose eyes hadn’t left the barrel of the gun. Her hands are raised in surrender when Joel sees her. The bravery he could tell was just oozing out of her the moment she came out that door had gone.  Her breath was heavy as she waited on his next move. Slowly, Joel moves his gun away from her and aims it at Marlene. He can hear her sigh of relief as he does. 

Marlene and Kim both lower their guns. You keep it straight forward for a few seconds, before lowering it also. “To answer your question, I need it for a better reason than you do. No offense, but Tommy is just one man.

Joel eyebrows furrowed and he looked back up at you, you had done the same reaction. He doubted it was for the same reason. He quickly looks back at Tess who was just as confused as he was because how the fuck did Marlene know?

 “It’s our job to know things.” Marlene states, knowing the reason for Joel's confusion. 

He scoffs, “To know things? You’re the cause of it. You turned my own brother against me.” 

Marlene rolls her eyes, adjusting her stance and applying more pressure against her wound. 

“That was a lot of gunfire. FEDRA’s going to be on the way.” Kim says to her. He sees you get closer to Marlene. Coming closer into the light he can get a better glimpse of you. You were bleeding. You knuckles bloody,  a cut on your lower lip and the side of your neck had what looked like a cut from a knife. 

“Kim’s right. We gotta go Marlene.” you add, staring at the woman. And Marlene knew, she said as much. But Joel didn’t see she was in a hurry to move. “We were going to move Ellie out of the zone tonight, but we won’t make it anywhere like this. Not for a while anyway.” 

“So now I’m thinking…you’re gonna do it.” 

Joel didn’t like the sound of that fucking statement. No way in hell him or Tess was going to waste their time on some girl. “The hell we are.”

You and Ellie had the same sentiments as you both exclaimed with the same attitude. 

“I’m not going with them!”

“Marlene what the fuck?!?” You exclaim. Kim takes a step closer to her as she speaks. “Let me and Woods take her. That was the plan anyway, we’re just a few people short.”

Joel didn’t want to entertain this any fucking longer. His night was waisted, his battery was gone, and he’d have to go home and start back over again at square fucking one. To try and find a way to get to Tommy. “Tess, we don't have time for this.” He insisted. But from the looks of it, Tess was intrigued. “Who is she?”

“To you? She’s cargo.” Marlene replied quickly back to her. 

Joel still wasn’t having it, pushing the statement that it wasn’t going to happen. “We don’t smuggle people.” He could tell his statement was ignored as you, Marlene and Kim both converse among yourselves. 

“Let us take her Marlene, I can do it.” Kim pushed. Marlene didn’t waste any time to lay it down on her. “Kim, you don’t have a fuckin’ ear on your fuckin’ head!” And she was right, the woman’s right ear was gone, leaving just blood and scar tissue in its wake. 

“And what’s your excuse for me?” you demand from Marlene. Taking a step closer to her, “We both know that I’m not going anywhere without here and I won’t fuck this up.” 

Marlene sighs, nodding her head softly. “You're right.”

“Woods you go with them.” she says loudly for both him and Tess to hear. 

It was like Marlene loaded the gun and pulled the trigger all at the same time. Joel didn’t want to do this. Despite knowing you were alive, it wouldn’t be good for him. Or you. It would bring up things about himself, about his past that he spent years pushing away to stay alive. “Are you even listening to me?” Joel questions.

He sees you shake your head, “That wasn’t the plan Marlene.” you say bitterly. 

And as if Marlene was through with the back and forth she turns around quickly but regrets it with a groan from her chest. Her injury is still causing pain from being left untreated. “The plan was to send you and Ellie out there with a group of us, not just you. What if you die? What then?” 

You try to protest at the question but Marlene doesn’t give you time to do it. 

“There’s a team of Fireflies waiting for her at the old State House.” Joel shook his head as he scoffed at what Marlene was telling them. “So why don’t you let Woods take her like she wants. No use needing us.” Joel snaps, putting emphasis on what they’d been calling you. 

“I can get her there faster, those two would just slow me down.” You say to Marlene but your eyes never leave Joel’s. Slow you down? How the hell would you even know if him and Tess would “slow you down”? 

“Is that right?” Joel question. 

“Damn right.” you say without hesitation. 

Joel didn’t know why he was upset at your assumption. He should just leave it alone, he didn’t want to be around you in the first place. 

“Both of you enough.” Marlene sighs, “I know what’s out there. We were going with an entire squadron for that very reason. But now, I don’t have a truck, I don’t have a squadron and for the last time Woods, you going out there by yourself is too risky of a chance for me to take. You know that.” she states. You sigh, shaking your head. In a way, Joel could tell that you knew she was right. 

For whatever reason why this girl needed to get out of the city, it seemed important enough that the three of you were willing to get shot for her when Joel raised his gun

. 

“FEDRA is five minutes away, and what I do know is that I have you. And I know what you both are capable of. For better or worse.” Marlene finishes. “What are they capable of?”, the young girl's eyes widened in intrigue at the woman’s statement.

“Ellie, not now.” you say to her quietly. 

Joel had noticed that Tess hadn’t said much of anything since she asked who Ellie was to them. Still listening to Marlene’s proposal and letting him do all the talking.

“You get her there safely with Woods and they’ll give you what you need. Not just a battery. The whole thing. Fueled-up truck, guns, supplies, all of it. I swear.” 

Now that was something that perked his interest. He turns to Tess to she what she thinks,  the woman tilting her head in the other direction so the two of them could talk about it privately. He walked over to her but not before sliding Ellie’s knife further away from her. “Asshole!” the girl exclaims. 

Joel doesn’t react to her insult as he walks over to Tess. But he hears the sound of footsteps coming towards him and turns briefly to see you walking over to Ellie. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” your questions full of concern as you place a gentle hand against the back of her head. 

Ellie quickly shakes her head, “No but you are. What happened?”

Joel turns away quickly. An old, yet painful memory creeps up his skin that makes him think of what could have been. Years before all of this happens. He forces it away before walking back to Tess, who had seen the whole thing.“You trust her? Marlene?” Joel gives her a look that clearly indicates he doesn’t. “Me either, but she seems desperate.”

“Firefly vehicle usually means repurposed FEDRA stuff. So, better than a decent chance of making it to Tommy in one of those.” Joel tells her. He hated to admit it and truly didn’t want to do it in the first place, but it was the best chance they could get. It was either this or going home and starting all over again.

Tess nodded, agreeing with Joel’s statements. The woman still stood there, giving him a look that he could tell she wasn’t satisfied. Like she wanted to say something else. “What?” Joel pushes.

“Who is she to you?” Tess questions. 

Joel knew who Tess was referring to. You. The woman he mourned, the woman that haunts his dreams from time to time still after all these years. You who makes him think of his past self that is no longer a part of him.

He could play dumb and ask her who she meant. He could act like he didn’t have a clue who you were. But he knew better, Tess knew better.

 “Nobody important.” he dismisses

Joel can tell that’s not the answer Tess wanted from him, and didn’t doubt for a second that she would press on it more later. He tries to change the subject, “The second we hand that kid over-” 

“Y’all can talk this through but please remember I’m bleeding out.” Marlene says loudly with desperation. Reluctantly, he and Tess make the decision quicker than they would like.

“Okay. Here’s the deal.” Tess begins as she walks back over to the group of women. You were still crouching down at Ellie’s level. Your hand resting on her shoulder. “We’ll get her to your crew at the State House. But before we hand her over, they give us everything we want. If not we kill her. There and then.” 

“Not with me there you won’t.” You say, standing quickly in defense against the young girl.

‘Who was she to you?’ Joel thought. A small brief thought lingered in his brain, bringing up something, or better yet, someone, who he could’ve thought she was to you. But from the looks of it, the girl was pretty young. And who Joel didn’t want to think too hard about would’ve been way older by now. 

“Deal.” Marlene agrees.

Ellie scoffs, “Really? That fast?” the girl looks between you and Marlene. 

Marlene sighs, “You are all that matters. My team won’t jeopardize that. Woods knows that.” she tilts her head up to acknowledge you. You look down at Ellie before speaking to her, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Remember what I told you…go get your backpack.” The injured woman instructs. Ellie doesn’t move, still upset about  the decision.

“Ellie, go.” you say to her, the young girl looks at you. Almost pleading for this exchange not to happen. In the end she sighs, reluctantly getting up to get her things. Stomping in her wake. 

Ellie comes back out with her things, heading to stand towards you. Joel watches as she stares at Marlene. “Let’s go.” Tess tells them as she walks back the way they came. Ellie stares at Marlene a little longer as do you. 

Both Marlene and Kim nod their head at you as a goodbye. You reciprocate the gesture and softly pull Ellie’s arm for her to start walking. You don’t look at Joel as you pass him. Your eyes straight forward as you head the same way Tess goes. Ellie shoves Joel’s shoulder with her body as she walks past him, causing him to turn in annoyance. Watching as she grabs the knife he had kicked away from her. 

He sees you stand and wait for her to catch up to you. Your arm extended toward her, you fingers wiggling softly for the young girl to take. 

“Joel…” Marlene calls for him, causing Joel to turn away from the gesture he just watched between you and Ellie. “Don’t fuck this up…Please.”  If this didn’t finalize how desperate Marlene and the Fireflies were then he didn’t know what would. Without a word, Joel turns and leaves. Leaving the two women alone once again. 

— — — —

AHHH THANK YOU FOR READING IT MEANS SO MUCH *comments and reblogs are SO appreciated <3, thank you for your support!*

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#joel miller #joel fic #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us imagine #the last of us book #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic

[noah-shin]

Popular yandere x reader

Warning: yandere themes, manipulation

Word count: 800

________♡________

Name: Silas Reynolds

Pronouns:he/him

Age: 19

Occupations: student

Likes: attention, you, sweet foods, late night walks

Yandere type:執着型

shuuchaku gata - obsession type

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who has known you since high school for being in the same friend group.

Who never talked with you that much because you were apparel useless and thought of you as a background character.

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who had girl's line at his door to fuck with him, not that he minded tho. Dripping with attention and compliments. More of a ladies man.

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who didn't value you in his life until he did. He was saved by you after a very bad car crash. He might as well just think you as an angel sent from above in his daze

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who couldn't just ignore how caring and worried you were for a not so friend like him and surprisingly it wasn't even pretentious(he didn't realize you were like that with everyone).

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who thought you filled the void of an ideal lover in his heart. So beautiful, caring, kind and fragile just like a flower

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who can read through you like a book but still can't figure out why he likes you. What hooked him up to you

I mean you're a very average girl living a simple life, well that's what he thought

Suddenly he will notice every simple thing you do, staring at you is his new hobby. Forget about anything else, his world actually revolves around you.

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who notices how you h/c hair flows in the wind, how you smile at the silliest thing, how you just look so perfect. He's just so infatuated in your life spending all the time thinking and looking out for you

Not that you mind because you don't know someone is following you everywhere you go.

Yandere who would have a series of dreams of you just being there looking ethereal.

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who will have thousand of pics of you and accessories you left behind. He will prevent anyone from causing harm to you and will change his playboyish tendencies.

He's no longer a low class playboy.He will change just to be the perfect lover for you.

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who will try to pursue you to be his girlfriend knowing you will agree but you just straight up rejected.

Now that hurt his ego. Guess he will have to go to extreme levels to get you.

⌱⧼⊹ He's the type of yandere who will spread malicious rumors about you and your s/o to isolate you from everyone else. When you are the most vulnerable and lonely, he will just scoop you right in consoling you, expressing his undying love for you and saying how others don't know of your worth.

⌱⧼⊹ He is more patient with you than anyone else so that he can have a normal relationship with you. He will always try his best to impress you all the time. You liked that dress in that shop, be ready to get it before even the day ends. He's always ready to spend his money on you. He will do anything for you but the only thing he wants is your love.

⌱⧼⊹ He knows you will never love him as much as he loves you but it's okay, his love is enough for you two. He feels like he's in heaven when you praise him saying how much of a great lover he is and cuddles with him. He basically thrives on your attention.

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who will smile at everyone and act normal with them when he's only thinking about you in his mind. Downright simping for you 24/7

Yandere who will get annoyed when someone talks shit about you but just reminds you to stop listening to them cz dogs will bark anyways.

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who will put on a facade of being a loving person so that even if you try to leave him or run away, nobody will believe you.

Who in their right mind would even run away from someone like him?

⌱⧼⊹ Yandere who will use others to eliminate his rivals and useless people. He just doesn't like the idea of smearing his hand with the blood of filthy people.

Extremely manipulative and smart, there's a big chance you will never know about his unhinged thoughts about you, it's more peaceful if you don't.

Has a big god complex and is actually able to manipulate his s/o to maneuver his way into her life pretty easily. He will definitely marry you soon so that you can be his legally.

He craves for you

He want to own your heart, body, soul and hopes that you will be with him till death pull you both apart.

#yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere playboy #yandere #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere x oc #yandere x female reader #yandere x you #manipulation #dark theme #yandere oneshot #obsessive bf #obsessive love #irl yandere #yandere themes #yandere thoughts #oc x reader #oc headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #aestethic #tw obsessive behavior #obsessive aesthetic #stalker #stalking

[acrux-jr]

Okay Im rusty with my writing, and ive only seen like 512 episodes of one piece, but I do know some of the spoliers pls go easy on me 😭

NSFW/ 18+ ONLY

MINORS PLS DO NOT INTERACT-

Aokiji has been on my mind lately. ngl mans is fine as hell. The characters are not as canon as I would like, but 🤷🏻‍♀️ I am working on a 2nd chapter pls lmk if you guys want it.

Not beta read- hope you enjoy!

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

You sighed as the man you love started to freeze you. The past memories came back.

-

You started off as his subordinate. On your first meeting with the rest of your crew that was transferred, he waved and left to take a nap. He infuriated you. To you he was lazy.

Somehow that same day you bumped into you falling as the 7ft man towered over you.

"Arara, my bad Miss …"

You glared at him and started to pick up the paperwork, "Last name is _ Admiral Aokiji." He hummed and picked up 2 documents by his feet.

He handed them to you and gave a quick wave. By the grace of god you were promoted to Vice Admiral. Picking up his slack, which was almost always.

The relationship between you turned teasing somehow. It started with sarcastic remarks under your breath and him smirking when he heard them.

He would sleep at his desk while you did his paperwork, something that was the normal routine for the two of you.

Kizaru always jokes when he invites you for a night cap, that there was more between you two, which you would laugh off. "The thought couldn't be more unfathomable." Was your reply. He shrugged and muttered to himself, "Wouldn't be surprising." His wife and him would share a look but left it at that.

Kuzan would be little more in your presence when he caught wind every time you went to Kizaru. Clingy in a way but you never thought much of it.

"So Dove let's go have a nightcap together." Oh that infuriating nickname got on your nerves but you kept calm. Moreover you were shocked, but nodded yes.

Well Kizaru wasn't wrong about that there was something more you felt you never would have imagined that Kuzan liked you back.

Aokiji was lazy, a smartass, and so fucking hot. His sarcastic remarks and playful banter, when he would have energy, made you fall for him a little more. When he had a shit eating grin leaving his work to you to leave and nap made you tingle.

"Arara you're so wet for me already F/N." He looked you over with lust filled eyes. You bit your lip and looked away with your cheeks stained. He grabbed your chin and kissed you. He kissed your neck and trailed down. He cooled tongue and battled against your heat slicked pussy. You groaned and bucked your hips.

"Ad- Admiral-"

"None of that now, no need for titles in bed Dove."

"Aokiji! Please."

"Hmm Kuzan my little dove. You're so desperate to have my cock inside you huh?" You nodded feverishly.

"I want you to fuck me Kuzan."

"Arara there's the spitfire I know. So demanding."

You gave a grin at that. He picked you up easily and leaned on the headboard. "I want you to work for it."

You rolled your eyes, "You're just too lazy to continue." He huffed out a laugh.

You slowly eased on his cock. He watched you hungrily as you inch by inch took him. He groaned once you bottomed out. "Fuck tight." Was all he was able to utter and you rose up and slammed down. You fucked yourself on his dick, feeling the the pressure in you lower stomach. Your pace quickened but he held you still.

"So impatient F/N. Enjoy the ride a little more." You looked down at him through half lidded eyes.

"Please Kuzan, make me cum. Then fill me up with yours." In the moment Aokiji wanted to have you face down and ass up as he rearranged your guts. He kept cool though, his dick twitched inside you.

"Hmm you sure know how to make a man weak." You gigled.

The time you two fought after fighting with the white beard. Unbeknownst to him, you had encountered the strawhats before him, letting them go but you were close to one particular straw hat before joining the marines.

"It was wrong!" You hissed.

"It is my job."

"Your job is to help maintain justice! Not make up rules of what you think is justice."

"You should know better than anyone that that is what we do."

"Like killing your best friend for trying to save a child? Or killing an entire island because of ancient text reading abilities?"

He froze, his aloofness gone. "How do you know that?"

You turned away. "The fight was gruesome and all the casualties were unnecessary. And you wanted it to continue to catch straw hat."

You had agreed with Coby, it was too much death and the "justice" was out of control.

"I'm an Admiral L/N." You stiffen at the usage of your last name.

"Of course, your duty comes before actual justice." With that you slammed the door of his office and left, to hell with the rest of work. What were they gonna do? Demote you? Good riddance.

Your relationship was tense after that. It started to thaw and blossom again until the fight with Admiral Akuinu. When he awoke you cried in relief. That night he wanted you to ride him in his hospital bed. You were, of course, appalled but complied nonetheless when everyone went home.

The week after that he was gone. He left a letter saying he couldn't do it anymore, your relationship, the new fleet Admiral, and his wayward justice.

Kizaru was there to help you pick up the pieces. Him and his wife would check on you on your days off, she would constantly fuzz over you. You and Kizaru had a friendship of silence and understanding.

Coby was there for you too. He was a sweet boy who would do great things. You hoped that his sense of justice and understanding never changed.

When you gave birth 9 months later you gave birth to a beautiful little girl. She has light brown skin and light brown curly hair. She was perfect.

You requested more time off and raised her, with the help of Kizaru's wife and Kizaru of course. Coby was her uncle. And Robin knew who her father was upon seeing her. But she did not cast her fathers sins upon her. You had helped Robin as a young girl running. Giving her a place to stay and eat before she got up and left again, it was too dangerous.

By some miracle you met again again as a rookie in the marines. You were off duty. You talked and talked. It was nice to hear she was alive.

By that time you kept in frequent touch.

You were appointed to the new world for a mission. It was quick, to get intel and after that it would be your last mission.

Smoker called you into his office. "Kuzan will be the enemy for this mission F/N. He saved me during the Doflamingo incident, he's still alive and with the Black Beard pirates." Your heart stopped.

You were silent. But nodded your head.

"Be careful please. Kiki still needs at least one parent."

"I have the calm calm fruit. I'll be quick and silent. Not engaging Smoker." He nodded. You two grew closer in the past months.

"Be careful F/N."

You gave a small smile and left.

"You shouldn't have come."

"You got this Aokiji?" Black beard laughed. He nodded and his "crew" started to leave. "Hurry up, we'll be on the ship."

The two of you were left on the snowy island.

-

"Her name is Kiki." He slowed down the ice. He saw the tears streaming down. "Goodbye Aokiji Kuzan." She accepted her fate. And the ice fully enclosed her.

He cursed. He got her transponder snail. "Smoker."

"Kuzan?"

"I have F/N here frozen. She took too many injuries so I froze her to stop the bleeding. Thaw her out and have a doctor on stand by."

"YOU COWARD! YOU MIGHT HAVE SAVED MY ASS BACK THEN BUT I SWEAR- TASHIGI HEAD BACK TO THE ISLAND F/N ON."

The responder clicked. He left it on her shoulder and froze it. He replayed one of last words. 'Kiki. Well fuck.'

You gasped as you woke up. "F/N." Koby was there with Kiki who was fast asleep. Koby's yelling did nothing to wake her. Your head was pounding and your body ached. You fell right back to an unconscious state.

After a month-long recovery, you resigned. You had enough money saved since you were just taking care of yourself till recently. All you did was save.

You went and bought a home for you and your daughter. Kizaru and his wife Takako would often come on by, as well as Koby, and Smoker, with Tashigi every now and then.

Two years had passed after. Kuzan spotted the light blue house on the shore. There were blue salvias around the house, kind of like a fence.

He saw a little girl running outside with her doll. He slowly walked up the hill. The little girl had her into 2 little puffs. She looked up at the man walking on the road towards their house.

She furrowed her eyebrows and ran inside. "Mama ! There's a man on the road to the house!"

She ran up to you, who was on the phone with Kizaru.

She faintly heard him say "time."

"I gotta go Kizaru, you and Takako can come visit whenever."

You rushed to Kili, "Stay here sweetie. I'll be back." The three year old nodded. You rushed to the door, only to be met with the man that broke your heart, the father of your child, your former Admiral, Aokiji Kuzan.

You activated your bubble. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You think after making me fall in love with you, breaking my heart and leaving me, breaking my heart again and almost KILLING ME you get to waltz over here as if it didn't happen?"

He hung his head. You were fuming. Upon looking at him you noticed he had a black eye and his arm was in a cast. You furrowed your eyebrows, who was strong enough to kick his ass?

"F/n. I know. I am sorry. I left to protect you. I had to do this mission my own way with my own sense of justice, and in order for me to do that I had to leave everything, in-including you, the person I loved."

Your eyes watered but you didn't want to waste anymore tears on this man.

"So that makes it okay?"

"No, of course not."

"Why are you here?"

"To apologize. To see our daughter."

"Our daughter? The one you left before she was born?"

"I didn't know she existed Dove."

"Oh don't you fucking call me that Aokiji." You said his name mockingly. He winced, wrong move.

"F/n. Please, I didn't-I know I fucked up. But I came to you to beg for forgiveness. You are the love of my life and we made a child together. I needed to do this, to keep you safe."

You felt like you were shaking with anger, you probably were. "Aokiji Kuzan you are a heartless man incapable of loving. You left me and then you almost killed me. I will not let you near my child. You have shown your goals were more important and I will not have my daughter be second to a fucking construct. Leave."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I am not going to leave a second time."

The bubble around you started to harden. Kuzan stepped back to be met to the end of your bubble. You stepped back and the bubble let you out. Kuzan on the other hand was stuck.

He tried to freeze the bubble to break it, but it seemed like that just made it more durable.

You went and picked up the responder snail. "Mama who is that?" You stiffened. You scooped her up and took her to her bedroom.

"Stay right here little Dovey I'll be right back. That's mamas old friend."

"Okay mama."

You gave her a kiss on her head. And walked down to the end of the stairs. You sat on them and you realized Kuzan gave up and was laying down.

Fucking typical.

"Moshi moshi!"

"Why the fucking is Kuzan at my door step?"

Kuzan winced, he gave a weak chuckle. "While after I broke the arm that he used to freeze you with and then after Smoker suckered punch him. We um gave him your address."

"Why?"

You could hear his shrug,"He wanted to apologize, and with him weakened by us we knew he wouldn't try anything. Plus Smoker is on your island just in case." You went to the window and saw him and someone else on the shore.

"So you broke his arm for me?"

"Of course. I would've broken the other one too but the man is also down a leg if you haven't noticed so…"

You huffed out an inappropriate laugh. "Well thanks, I'll call you later. Oh and I'm calling Takako to kill you." You heard the groan and hung up. You sighed.

The bubble popped and Kuzan fell on his back. He hit it with a soft thud and grunted.

"Okay you've apologized can you leave." You've made the bubble again.

"No."

"Oh you stubborn, lazy, jackass!" He wanted to grin, you riled up was always so cute and sexy. But he knew if he did you would somehow kill him.

"I know."

"Oh you know? And yet here you are still lazy, stubborn, and a spoiled pain in my ass!"

He just nodded. "Ugh say something you asshat!"

He huffed out a laugh, "Asshat?"

You gave him a blank stare. "Sorry, never heard it like that. It was quite funny "

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah I'm quite the fucking comedian."

Okay, this could go either 2 ways for Kuzan. Him on the floor dead or him on the floor close to death as you ride him and suxk the life out of him.

He was jack shit wrong, but he could dream.

"Did you finish whatever goal that was so important to leave everything and everyone behind?"

"Yes."

You hummed.

"How old is she?"

"3 years and 3 months."

"What's her favorite color?"

You glared at him, "Blue."

"Does-does she know about me?"

"Yes. You have your glasses and a different bandanna so it didn't register to her since she's only seen pictures."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are."

You grabbed the responder snail again. "F/n."

"You and Tashigi can leave now Smokes. I'm fine."

"Are you sure you want him around? Say the word F/n, and Tashigi and I will kill him for you."

A laugh came out of you as Tashigi agreed. "Thank you for that generosity but I'm fine."

"Okay just checking. Call us when you want us over with Barsalino and Takako."

"Will do."

Silence hung in the bubble before you heard a soft knocking to your left. Kiki was there. It finally clicked for her. "I'm going to keep you in the bubble." Before he could protest, you stepped out of the bubble.

She signaled up. Which you obliged. "Is that him?" She whispered.

You smiled as she still had a hard time understanding your devil fruit. "Yes, that's him."

"Can I meet him?"

"Do you want to?"

Kiki stared into Kuzans eyes,and slowly nodded her head. You let the bubble burst. You stood in front of Kuzan.

"Kuzan, this is our daughter Kiki. Kiki, this is your father."

#kuzan x reader #aokiji x reader #aokiji #one piece #yn #x reader #admiral aokiji

[sharonisthebettercarter]

Well the comics did a good job squandering any sympathy and shiz for dicklander, and the show too. I only feel bad for his child self. His grown ass can get attacked by rabid kryptonian dogs for all I care.

i disagree.

and look, i ain't gonna tell you how to feel boo, i can't obviously. i can only spew out nonsense and hope i might reach you or someone else who comes along to read my long winded bullshit.

but while both renditions are pieces of shit, i feel so much for comics homie too if not more. he's even more whoobie than show homie but gets dismissed but i digress.

throughout the story, we're made to feel *suspicious* about the claims on homelander or that his story may have more than meets the eye. ennis presents it point blank. he doesn't tell the reader how to feel about homelander, or anything, or anyone. he makes it clear how billy feels, how other characters feel, but he also certainly makes it show that things aren't quite adding up about him and billy's claim. he presents the story and lets *you* the reader feel (which is what real *good* writing does)

BUT it's framed out in a way to make the reader realize he *wasn't* this big bad awful guy he was made out to be, a piece of shit sure, but and not the real monster they were after, that billy was fuckin' wrong (like his dumb ass always is), that his end and final point in the story was manipulated, coerced by outside force, and not truly justified as a result.

leik, this guy got his WHOLE LIFE fucking RUINED, his whole self image, gaslit into fucking oblivion to *believe* he was a bad guy until he *became* a bad guy, after literally never once getting a *choice* for anything, ever, at all, at any point in his whole gotdamn life.

this boi never had a chance... and even after ALL that. people STILL want to control or punish him when he lacks one major vital thing that would warrant him *actually* deserving that.

AGENCY. fucking agency, the answer is agency, homelander has none of it, never has, and still does not have it. (he pretends to but it's not quite the same, the lack of it is what makes him a ticking time bomb)

you seem like someone to really value your own agency so idk, i feel like you should get that??

BUT GOTDAMN LET THE BOI JUST FUCKING BREATHE AT LEAST ONCE PLEASE????

UGH

just try to imagine if every single choice in your life was made *for you* by *someone else*, and that's homelander. and it doesn't stop into adulthood, it just turns into a fucking fucked up conservatorship beside someone who wants to kill you, oh yeah, and stunted growth so you never get a chance to really grow up and feel like or be your own person either.

like i'm not kidding, he might as well be a child STILL in that regard and it is super fucked up how often people exploit and groom him that way. i don't care if he's fucking 16, 40, or in his 70s, the man *ain't* grown like he should be and *needs* the space to actually *grow* before we decide to fucking judge him, else we're no better than his abusers.

and when a kid commits a crime, it's the parents/guardians that are brought up on charges/trial. there is a *reason* for that.

homelander's very clear lack of sanity/mental capacity and vought being his 'guardian'/conservator?? (if he even is a real legal person...) would put him under this spectrum of bullshit, and baby i don't want to say it's ableist not to acknowledge this, but...

i mean if i'm being real, it kinda sorta is...?? wait... HOLD THE--- FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!! OH MY FUCKING SATAN--it IS!! and I JUST GOT WHIPLASH FROM WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THE BOYS FANDOM WHEN IT COMES TO HOMELANDER.

this motherfucker is *CRIMINALLY INSANE*, emphasis on that last fucking part, in every sense of the word *CLINICALLY*. and when that happens, even the fucking laws in the fucked ol' U.S. of A. DO NOT 'punish' a mofo by regular 'incarceration', they still order institutionalization but with a HOSPITAL for TREATMENT. (granted there are a whole mess of other problems in this country that still do not handle this properly jesus fucking christ--)

ABLEISM! it's fucking ableism that doesn't let fandom recognize this!! EVEN some of the people who claim to love him!!

except THEN make it WORSE on top of everything *because* of the stunted growth and vought AND limited personal agency and... fuck me... UGGGGGGHHHHHHH--

but THAT is homelander. and uh... yeah. yeah, you'd probably lose your gotdamn mind too, i don't think ANYONE could walk out sane, realistically speaking. pain is easy to say we'd walk out clean from, and then we all turn into pussies the *second* it's our turn to deal.

and the whole point of the twist is to rob you of any satisfaction of his death and make you angry at his circumstances rather than at him. again, ennis doesn't explicitly *tell* readers how to feel because it's more of a graphic novel but...

i personally think the show is aiming to recreate this effect because if they can pull it off (and manage to make an entire population feel like utter ableist shitheads for wanting him dead), then they'll be pulling off some kinda magical MAJOR amazing heist of the feels for the ages that will *hopefuly* be enough to push society in some better directions than its current state (man, we really could not have asked for a better time for this series... holy shit--)

as much as it pains me, *this* was why he was killed in the comics. not just for... ugh, sadness, realism... but because it was *part* of the lesson in exemplifying what was actually wrong.

man i am just way too fucking hyper analytical with this shit and also sometimes SO SLOW i--

#homelander #the boys #the boys comics #the boys amazon #meta #character analysis #media literacy #ableism #fandom wank #well... #epiphany #and now i'm upset #i'm gonna suggest not pressing this subject further anon #at least for now #i need some time to be bitter and stew about the state of humanity #humanity

[seasidefallenangel]

game au: voicelines

notes: fluff, paralive game au, no content warnings, kinda brainrot

who else remembers when they lied to us about a paralive game? anyway here's some theoretical lines the characters would have about their significant other

༄ kanata yatonokami:

⁀➷ about their lover:

“ha? the fuck does that have to do with you? 

… did they say something about me?”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

“nayuta and i didn’t have shit growing up as kids, and they were always annoying about it. dropping by snacks, workin’ extra shifts to help us out - not like i asked for anything. i hate owing people though, so - … oi. get that damn smile off your face. they’re the one that wouldn’t leave me alone.”

⁀➷ quality time:

“mhm, i’ll be by later. love you too.”

[phone clicks]

…

“geez, you ever mind your own business? you can turn in that job yourself. i promised them i’d go by their house today and they won’t quit naggin’ me about it. huh? that’s not what i fucking mean! if i didn’t like em, i wouldn’t even be dating them. they just like sitting at home and talking to me. it’s weird but… makes em’ happy, so whatever.”

⁀➷ the future:

“nayuta won’t get off my case about marriage and all that shit ; says i should hurry up and give them a ring. doesn’t he know how old we are?! ‘sides, i don’t need some asshole with a bible to tell me we’re gonna be together forever. it’s either them or nobody, and they know it.”

༄ iori suiseki:

about their lover: 

“i know it’s tempting, but that one over there ain’t one of my hostesses, so try not to stare so hard. my dearest deserves more respect than that, dont’cha think?”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

“honestly, i thought everything was over after the suiseki massacre. my family helped out a lot, but they were the one to really drag me out of my slump. it’ll be hard as hell for me to ever repay em’ for that, but ‘m still tryin’ to this day.

speaking of, can ya run out and grab em’ for me? it’s been an hour since i’ve seen em, and i’m goin’ through withdrawals.”

⁀➷ safety:

“i’d like to think we’re pretty guarded these days, but i can never be too sure, yanno? honestly, in an ideal world i could just keep em’ in the house forever to make sure nothing can even come close to harming them. hm? is my face that scary?”

⁀➷ the future:

“oi, c’mere for a sec? i want your opinion. the band on this ring is nice, but the diamond cut on here is much more suited to their taste. ahaha, pick up yer jaw! ‘m not proposing anytime soon. just weighin’ out my options for now. i got too many things goin’ on to give em’ the real life they deserve, but one day i’ll be able to make em’ mine forever.”

༄ shion kaida:

⁀➷ about their lover: 

“hmm? sorry to disappoint, but i’m not really doing stuff like that anymore. my angel might kill me if they catch wind of this, so you can go find someone else to please you, right?”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

“i can’t blame you for wanting to come back - everyone always does. they were the first time i was the one to go back, though. so cold hearted towards me, i couldn’t help but want to see them crack. ah, but i wouldn’t advise you to try the same with them. i’m not a fan of sharing.”

⁀➷ bad habits:

“it’s hard not to fall into old ways, if i’m being honest. they’re understanding enough, given the… unique circumstances of my situation, but have enough of a backbone to put me in my place. 

though, just between us, i do it on purpose sometimes. seeing their angry face gets me all sorts of riled up. i’m falling in love at quite the unhealthy pace, fufu.”

⁀➷ the future:

“stability isn’t exactly my thing - i’m sure you’re not surprised. the two of us haven’t talked about that sort of thing yet, so i’m avoiding it as long as i can. i’d hate to see their disappointment when i tell them marriage isn’t in the cards for me.

… is what i’d like to believe, but they’re so cute i just might find myself caving into their charms. maybe they’re the manipulator between us after all.”

༄ ryu natsume:

⁀➷ about their lover:

“yaho~! have you seen my alien commander? last i saw they were UP IN SPAAAACCCCEEEE - oh! there they are! WAHAHA, ATTACK TIME!”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

"hm hm hmmmm - aha! that cloud looks like my rice ball! one time they shot me with a HUUUGGGEEE love beam and GAH! i was their slave for the next ten million years! ryu-kun doesn’t mind though - we can rule the whole world together.”

⁀➷ haunting thoughts:

“ryu-kun doesn’t want to be around anyone right now. they’re the only one who can make the monsters go away - but i don’t want them to see me the way i am. i like them so much… it really hurts.”

⁀➷ the future:

“d’you think they’d get mad if i wear a cat suit to our wedding? of course we’re getting married! everyone in japan is invited! we’ll have lots of cheese and takoyaki, shiki-kun will be the maid of honor, and we’ll be carried down the aisle with pigeons!”

༄ toma hikage:

⁀➷ about their lover:

“hey, hey! which selfie is cuter? i like their hair in this one, oh - their smile is so bright here! but they’re irresistible when they’re annoyed at me! and then this is one where they’re sleeping, but this one’s filter is pretty, and this one -”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

“long before visty was even a thing, they were always by my side. honestly, i doubt i would’ve become an idol without their encouragement. even with that horrible old face of mine, they always talked about how beautiful i was. haaa, i miss them so much! i need to call them right now!”

⁀➷ overbearing fans:

“maybe saying i’m everyone’s idol was a bad idea, haha. they get kinda jealous sometimes when we’re approached too often, but if i’m being real with you, it’s so hot! the way they call me theirs and grip my hand… totally heart pounding!”

⁀➷ the future:

“i hate to think about the day when visty isn’t a group anymore, but the idea of living a normal life with them is kinda nice, you know? waking up late, going grocery shopping, picking up the kids from school, family vacations. not anytime soon, obvs, but i can’t imagine ever wanting it with anyone else.”

#paradox live x reader #paralive x reader #paralive imagines #kanata yatonokami x reader #iori suiseki x reader #ryu natsume x reader #shion kaida x reader #toma hikage x reader #fluff #headcanons #paralive #paralive scenarios

[moonlight-prose]

BLOOD ALONG THE MOON

➛ 03. WICKED NIGHTS

a/n: honestly i didn't expect to take a year to ever post about this fic again. if i'm being honest i figured this would become an abandoned series. solely cause the inspo for this character completely left my head. but i couldn't let go of our reporter and their love story with this bat. so while the updates may take time, i'm ready to keep going with this. enjoy.

summary: halloween was always been your least favorite night of the year, but circumstances make it so much worse.

word count: 8.2k+

pairing: bruce wayne x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, fluff, awkward beginnings, a small bit of romance, murder, death, crime scenes, grief, gratuitous prose about the darkness of gotham.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Halloween. Your least favorite night of the year.

The city streets were crowded with people; a sight not unusual to the dark pit that Gotham transformed into. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. Even getting to work was a struggle due to the overcrowded platform of the subway and the scarcity of cabs. If you had your way you’d wish everyone would suddenly vanish—giving you a chance to find some reprieve before the onslaught of darkness that plagued this night every year. Although you were foolish enough to hold out hope. Foolish enough to believe that things would be different; that nothing wicked would befall this night.

If only you’d known.

Work was filled with people milling about, some in costumes, some not. You wore your usual black coat—a pair of boots accompanying your look. If someone were to ask you’d claim you were dressed as you were every other day of the year—as a reporter working yourself to the bone. It would be sure to get a laugh from a person or two in this office.

It always did in the end.

Only this time…you weren’t laughing.

The interview you had with Bruce Wayne yesterday continued to bounce around in your mind; the thought of how to write it, still missing. You didn’t want to sound like every other magazine that sprouted nothing but gossip. There’s a reason why you chose to work at the Gotham Gazette. So you could get into the nitty and gritty of the story—no matter how dark it got in the end. To you this was either a story people would talk about forever, or it would remain a forgotten piece that would later wind up in people’s trash cans come morning the next day.

“Day.” Henry leaned against the doorway of his office. A pencil behind his ear, his glasses propped on the end of his nose, and a cup of crappy coffee in his hand. “I need to talk to you.”

You hoped you would have at least five minutes of time to breathe before you were called into what you liked to claim was the equivalent of the principal’s office. But it seemed that Henry Goldfinch decided to pick on you this week more than anyone else.

The interview notes you’d jotted down during the night were crammed into your small black notebook—nearly burning a hole in your pocket. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d ask you about them; intent on seeing a full story by tomorrow night.

“Look Henry I did the best I could with the guy, but he barely even spoke—” You were cut off at the look on his face. “Am I in trouble?”

“I just got a call from Mr. Pennyworth.”

Shit, you were so fired.

“If he wants to retract any statements then I’ll work with what I've got, but you were the one who gave me this story and I think I can do a damn good job on it.”

“Would you let me talk?” Your jaw snapped shut, cutting off the remainder of your ramble; or what you’d like to call reasons why he shouldn’t fire you. “Don’t unpack your things.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently you caught Mr. Wayne’s eye,” he said, settling down in his seat. “That call was Mr. Pennyworth giving me notice that Bruce Wayne is heading down to The Gotham Gazette today.”

“What?” you exclaimed, nearly falling into the chair behind you. “What the fuck for?”

“He wants to take you to lunch, kid.”

You fell into the chair, staring wide eyed at Henry who regarded you with a smirk.

Bruce Wayne wanted to take you to lunch. He was coming to your work in order to…pick you up.

Any way you tried to string it together, the news still remained hard to comprehend. Still you caught on to Henry’s words from before. You’d caught Bruce Wayne’s eye and now you were going to have to deal with the consequences of that. This would be the first time in years since he’d left Wayne Tower to do something as mundane as go to lunch. Let alone with someone like you.

“What do I do?” you croaked, trying not to panic as the reporter in you attempted to take over. Was this only a social call? Or did he want to do a follow up interview?

Henry leaned forward, the damned smirk still on his face. “You go to lunch with him. Maybe he likes you.”

“Likes me,” you scoffed. “I’d no sooner learn the identity of The Batman before Bruce Wayne admitted to liking me.”

You wanted answers like any sane person would, but the idea that Bruce Wayne possibly liked you left words unavailable to you. That was the farthest thing from the truth, except coming up with some other alternative left you with nothing yet again. What the fuck were you being called to lunch for? You hoped it was just him personally asking you to rip up the notes you took from yesterday while he watched.

“They’ll be here soon. I’d get your ass moving.”

“Right.” You stood slowly, a feeling of unease spreading through you with every step towards the door. “Did—um—Mr. Pennyworth…did he sound upset?”

Henry scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit if you pissed people off Day.”

You felt the switch flip in your mind. A reminder of who you truly were on the inside coming back like lightning cracking across your body, and you stood taller in your place. You didn’t care. You never had.

“I don’t.”

“Atta girl.” He tipped his cup slightly your way, watching as you walked back out into the office—the straight set of your spine once again returning.

You didn’t come to Gotham to make friends. You came here to work, to build a career that would outlast you if you were determined enough. Pissing off Bruce Wayne had never been on your list, but you figured it was bound to happen eventually. It was either now or later in life. Thankfully everyone had their hands full worrying about The Batman and the election—so you pissing off the Prince of Gotham would go unnoticed.

Grabbing your bag, you did a quick sweep of your desk to make sure that everything was accounted for before you left. You weren’t sure how long this lunch would take, but you didn’t intend to come back later.

The elevator doors opened once again with a loud creak, thankfully revealing it to be empty. Your heart thrummed in your chest a mile a minute, the tension still in your shoulders as you walked towards what might be the end of your career. While you knew the possibility of this simply being a social call was high, you couldn’t ignore what might very well happen. The ding of your stop brought you out of your daze enough to get out and head towards the front doors.

Glancing up towards the sky you saw the gloominess still remained—a reminder of where you were, what this city was reduced to. While you may have called it pollution of the environment, others would call it weather. After all there was always a difference in opinion when the opinion came a bit too close to the actual truth.

A sleek black car sat directly outside of the doors, a man in a black coat was hunched beneath an umbrella leaning against its side. You recognized him the second he raised his head, his blue eyes practically singeing your skin. Henry really wasn’t kidding when he said Bruce Wayne himself was coming to pick you up from the Gazette. People stopped and stared at the spectacle that was this man. By all means he was considered a hermit from the rumors that spread through Gotham like poison, and yet there he was, meeting with an unknown woman—a reporter nonetheless.

“You don’t seem like the lunch date type of man,” you said, standing far enough under the awning of the building where you didn’t get wet from the rain, but still felt it splatter against your coat.

His lips twitched, eyes skimming your figure before flicking up back to your face. You wanted to ignore the flutter in your chest from that simple gesture, but your body wouldn’t let you. It seemed that whoever Bruce Wayne was…he had an affect on you—a hold that refused to be severed.

“It wasn’t my idea.”

Scoffing, you turned to glare at a man who stood only a few feet away, clearly eavesdropping in on the conversation.

“So you aren’t here to have lunch with me. You’re simply here by the orders of Mr. Pennyworth,” you retorted.

“Alfred,” he said, finally standing to his full height for the first time since you met him. He was taller than you actually anticipated. “He thought it would be a good idea.”

“He thought going on a date with a reporter was a good idea?”

He shrugged slightly, the tension in his shoulders made the movement awkward. “Would you call this a date Miss…”

“Day.”

“Day,” he repeated quietly, his lips forming around the word as if it was already familiar to him. “Interesting name.”

“Nick-name,” you replied.

He nodded slowly, his gaze so intense you found you had to keep looking away. “Your real name isn’t printed on any of your bylines.”

You smiled albeit rather ruefully as you stepped close enough to be underneath his umbrella with him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to earn my real name Mr. Wayne.”

Again you watched—entranced—as his lips twitched slightly. Almost like he wanted to smile, but forgot how exactly to do it. He’d been in pain so long, suffering the grief of losing those he loved most for nearly his entire life, and not once had he learned what the true meaning of happiness was. For some unknown reason, you wanted to be the first one to show him.

“Okay,” he murmured, turning towards the passenger seat door and opening it for you. “And it’s Bruce.”

The words were accompanied with an outstretched hand to help you into the car, his hold simultaneously gentle yet firm as you sat. Your eyes met his briefly, something flickering to life between your gaze, before the door shut entirely and you were left in silence for a few brief seconds. It gave you enough time to catch what little breath you had in your chest—the interaction far too electric for someone like you.

Get some fucking sense.

You weren’t the type of person Bruce Wayne would fall for. One day he would find someone as wealthy as him, someone who knew his life due to shared experience. You hated those fucking words with a burning passion. Shared experience with people never went over well in your line of work. For a reporter, shared experience meant you had nothing original to say. It meant that you were the same as everyone else around you and to you that was damnation itself.

“Where would you like to eat?”

The question was barely loud enough for you to hear over the traffic and rain, but his soft tone caught you in its hold until you were solely focused on him. Once again that unfamiliar spark of energy crackled in the air. You were afraid that if this continued, you’d walk out of this lunch date with a newfound crush on Gotham’s Prince. That thought alone was enough for you to tear your gaze away—settling in the seat and staring through the front window.

“You invited me, Mr. Wayne. Why don’t you pick?”

He fell silent, hands shifting from his lap to the steering wheel and back again. “I don’t know many places to eat around Gotham anymore.”

Of course Bruce Wayne of all people would eat at home day in and day out. Thus was the luxury of having a personal chef in the Wayne Tower. Although you couldn’t stop the small grin from forming at how funny you found all of this.

Going to lunch with this man. It should have been absurd—almost laughable—but there you were. About to tell him to drive into the heart of the city just to take you to your favorite diner. Reporters would murder you just to stand in your spot. To spend mere moments with him. Yet it seemed that all you had to do was exist.

Rather than dwell on the moment any longer, you told him where to take you and it seemed that he knew the city a lot better than you expected. Pulling out of the spot with ease, he swiftly swung the car around in a rather illegal u-turn before making a quick right turn. You had to hand it to him…he knew how to handle a car. Part of you wanted to call it sexy, but you killed that echo in your head before it could manifest into something else.

Feelings were dangerous in your line of work—having seen the pain several reporters went through when they fell into bed with lethal people. You wouldn’t wind up like them. All you could allow in your life was friendship, nothing more. A friendship with Bruce Wayne wouldn’t hurt you. Not when he refrained from speaking to anyone, let alone the worst of the worst that roamed Gotham.

He turned another corner, the rain getting worse the further you traveled into the city. Driving in this weather would have stopped you from going, but it didn’t seem to phase him. He took it in stride, focusing intently on the road with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting between you. It would be so easy to pick it up, to run your fingers over the lines in his palm. And for a moment you indulged. You imagined what being with him would actually feel like.

Would he treat you the same way? Or would you suddenly become special. You couldn’t picture him treating anyone in a loving manner, let alone you and that’s where the fantasy died.

“That’s it,” you said, pointing to the flickering sign out front that only read DEM as opposed to its usual bright DEMETER’S TABLE name.

“Is it closed?”

You laughed, barely a puff of air, but you knew he heard it. Opening the door you ignored the downpour that threatened to soak you down to your very soul, and patiently waited until he got out himself. The expression on his face caught you slightly off guard as you watched him get out. You would have figured it was nothing—having seen him wear a grim expression all throughout your interview with him—but this looked different.

“I know it’s not the best place, but the food is—”

“I could have opened the door for you.”

That killed the worry filling your chest in an instant. He wasn’t upset that you brought him to what looked like the shittiest diner in all of Gotham. In fact, he could care less about that. He wanted to open the door for you…like a gentleman.

You nearly laughed in his face, but the rain was starting to seep into your shoes, causing your whole body to shiver and he fared no better. It caused his hair to stick to his face, the coat doing absolutely nothing to keep him dry.

The sign from the diner cast a luminescent glow across his face, highlighting his high cheekbones. You found yourself wanting to brush your lips across them. Though it was daytime and the sun remained stuck behind the clouds somewhere, you still felt as if night encased you in its cold embrace. Yet standing there with him in the rain, keeping his stare, you felt warmth flicker in your chest. As if he had placed a piece of the sun in your heart.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” you said softly, turning away before you grew too attached to this odd man.

The bell above the door rang throughout the building, alerting her of your presence. Your friend Dem stood behind the counter, her graying black hair wrapped up in a loose bun—a pen going directly through it to hold it in place. She looked up at the sound, a broad smile pulling at her wrinkled cheeks and bringing to light the soft lines around her eyes. When you first moved to Gotham she was the person who practically took you under her wing.

“Day! You are soaked hun. You shouldn’t be out in this weather.” She walked around the counter, immediately handing you a hot steaming cup of coffee. “Especially not since you just got over pneumonia. What are you trying to do, kill your…”

She trailed off, her eyes growing wide as the bell rang again and Bruce entered behind you, looking worse than you did. You knew the shock she was feeling, having gone through it about thirty minutes ago yourself, and did your best to drag her back to the present.

“Got a free table?” you joked, knowing the diner was practically empty.

That seemed to do it. The smile—though hesitant this time around—was back as she gestured to the second booth by the door. “I’ll be right with you sweetie.”

“Thanks Dem.”

You slid into the old brown booth, feeling your clothes stick to the fake leather. “Here.” You pushed the mug of coffee his way. “It’ll help with the cold.”

“I’m okay.” He reached up to push it back, but you held it in its place.

“I’m not asking Wayne.” Smiling, you leaned back. “Besides…can’t have one of the most important people in Gotham getting sick on my watch. I’d definitely be fired for that.”

Without another word, he lifted the mug to his lips, placing them directly where yours were mere moments ago. The spark flared to life again, cracking like a familiar bolt of lightning through your body and burning you to the core. Looking away, you clasped your hands together in an effort to seal in any heat that might try to escape your body. You weren’t sure if you liked the feelings that were causing your body to go haywire. For all you knew, you could have been imagining this entire thing.

You wouldn’t put it past your mind to play tricks on you as you sat across from him.

“Why this place?” Once again, his question caught you off guard.

“What?”

He set the mug down, pushing it your way. “Why this diner?”

His blue eyes were fixed on your face, as if attempting to see past the shield you wore day in and day out. When a person suffered enough pain to last an entire lifetime, they tended to become closed off. You were that person and from what you could see…so was he. The temptation to ask him how he survived through the pain, how he managed to come out of it at the end somewhat of a person, was on the tip of your tongue.

But you figured it was better to stay silent—keep it to yourself until the right moment came up.

“It was the first place I came to when I first moved to Gotham. I used to live a block away from here.” Sipping on the coffee, you tried to busy yourself to avoid his piercing gaze. “Though, I had to move because my apartment got broken into while I was sleeping.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? No…something else.

Clearing your throat, you continued in the hopes of appeasing your now racing heart. “Anyways. Dem took me in, she took care of me and it felt nice. So I stayed.”

Before he could reply, Dem arrived with two plates in her hands. You smelled the burger before she even placed it on the table—your stomach clenching with hunger. Her specialty that you first ordered when you came here. It made your heart warm seeing her place it in front of Bruce, her smile kind and welcoming. No matter who he was, Dem always saw the good in people. Saw what they needed and willingly gave it to them without question.

She was a mother to the strangers that wandered into her diner.

“More coffee?” she asked, staring at the single mug that sat empty in the center of the table.

You noticed she didn’t ask if you’d like a second cup, her body language telling you enough. She thought this was a date. You weren’t sure if you should correct her or not.

“Please,” Bruce said, interrupting your thoughts. He handed her the mug, never asking for an extra one, but seemingly happy to share with you.

Once again your heart fluttered and this time…you let it.

“Dem’s burgers are possibly the best thing to be created.”

His lips pulled up in a small barely there grin. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should,” you replied, smiling around a bite of your fry. “As a reporter all I have is my word.”

You didn’t catch the way he looked at you, his eyes shining with something that hadn’t been there in a very long time. Instead you focused on gazing out the window at the rain. The way it transformed the city into something dangerous. Yet even through the darkness you could see it. The small hints of the light seeping through the clouds and shining down on an otherwise grim place.

Carole King played on the old speakers—a favorite of Dem’s you learned early on—and it created a soft symphony of warmth as it mixed with the rain. You wanted to stay there forever. In a place of comfort and love.

You’d even include Bruce in it too.

He bit into the burger, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the taste burst across his tongue. The sight caused your heart to lurch in your chest, warmth spreading up your neck and into your face. And you tried your best to shove it down. How ridiculous of you to find the sight hot, but there you were. Speechless, watching as he enjoyed one of your favorite meals.

Dem’s voice humming to the song snapped you out of your ogling; you looked to her to find something else to focus on. Except the small knowing smile she wore on her face and the wink she threw your way did nothing to help your situation. Rather than dwell on it, you began to eat. Content to remain silent until the both of you finished.

The singular cup of coffee was set down in between you two, dragging your gazes back to one another. You glanced at the mug, then back at him. As if that was the defining factor of whether or not this was a date. He chewed thoughtfully on a fry, his eyes still on you, while you mulled over whether or not you could magically turn the one mug into two.

It turned out to be an impossible feat, but one you found you didn’t mind.

“So tell me—” You pried your trench coat off, draping it over the back of the booth. He’d discarded his thirty minutes ago, his black button down now rolled to his elbows. “What’s Bruce Wayne been up to?”

His eyebrow quirked, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “This isn’t a second interview is it?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten enough for my article already. This is me asking.”

“Hm.” He leaned forward, hands clasped together and hair falling back into his eyes. “And who are you exactly?”

The smile you’d been fighting for an hour came through. “I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

The coffee mug had been refilled three times now, your energy coupled with the spark of attraction (you were still denying) between you brought life back into your body. While he didn’t disclose much about himself—saying bits and pieces here and there—you still found yourself engrossed in his words. You wanted to know more, to see the man behind the mask that was Bruce Wayne.

Maybe if you were lucky enough he’d show you his true self one day. For right now you were content to remain just as you were.

A reporter who shied away from any aspects of love, sitting with a man who was discovering what the meaning of joy was all over again.

“I can wait,” he murmured, his eyes no longer resembling the cloudy skies outside. You could see the lightness in them—the shining blue unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You glanced down at the mug, seeing something in it you hadn’t before. For whatever unknown reason Bruce Wayne—the man who had been reclusive his entire life—trusted you. Even though he didn’t say it outright he didn’t have to. You saw it well enough and something told you…he knew you could see it. He wanted you to see it.

Time was slowly ticking away, reminding you that you had a job to get back to, but you still remained. Sitting with your elbows pressed to the table—unconsciously trying to get as close to him as possible. Maybe if you never left the world would melt away. If you became a permanent part of this diner, the city that happily ate away at every resident would leave you be. You’d be forgotten in a place that thrived on the lost and forlorn.

“Why me?” you inquired after the beat of silence threatened to swallow you whole.

The soft lilting notes of Billie Holiday echoed in the empty diner. Dem was nowhere to be found and the only two remaining customers were you and Bruce. Still sharing that singular cup of cold coffee. It had created a ring on the table, your lipstick a slight stain on the white mug. The color smudged off from where Bruce had placed his lips. Sharing a hint of a kiss that would never be.

He leaned back in the booth, no longer stiff—the nature of a man who had hid from society for years now traded in for someone different. His body language was enough to make you stare. Transfixed on the way his shirt continued to hug his figure even though it had dried an hour ago.

“Why not you?”

You huffed. “Answering my question with another question. And here I thought I was the only reporter in the room.”

“I’ve had my fair share of interviews.”

“None that I’ve read.” You slid your plate to the side and clasped your hands together in the hopes of looking as intrigued as you felt. “Do tell Mr. Wayne.”

The tension was beginning to set in his shoulders again. A small overlay to the man that lingered beneath. As if he was bringing up a mask he constantly carried with him. He hid constantly day in and day out, but right now he didn’t sit before you the Prince of Gotham, but instead a man who was trying to relearn how to live. Whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not…Bruce Wayne was like you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

“Alfred keeps them from printing.” The admission alone was enough for you to change the subject, but he continued to talk—cracking open yet another small sliver to the impenetrable armor he wore. “People they don’t…they always look for something wrong.”

You nodded, digging your nail into your palm. “Flaws are sometimes easier to sell.”

The sad truth of being a journalist is more often than not people weren’t looking for the truth. At least not in Gotham. They wanted something to sell. A piece of the person that one would deem too vulnerable to be shown to the rest of the world. They wanted to satiate the greed that clawed its way to the front. Rarely was the truth their only reason for writing a story.

“You’re not interested in flaws.” His eyes grew softer, hand splaying on the table to trace a random shape as he watched you. Saw through the facade you wore. He dug right down to the depths of your persona and dragged it to the surface—a relenting and brutal act.

Yet you wanted it to happen all the same.

“I like the truth.” You distracted yourself with the shape of his finger, the length of it as it shifted. “It sounds better.”

For a split second you allowed your eyes to flicker up, to meet his in the dim lights of the diner, and you finally caught hold of that niggling emotion. The one that held you captive in your own right. You liked him. Despite only meeting him yesterday, you found yourself drawn in by his haunted eyes. The same ones that practically burned a hole in your skin, until he was forever a part of your form.

Bruce Wayne felt familiar to you.

Not in the way that a stranger finds a face in the crowd familiar. Not even in the way an old friend would feel seeing someone from their past once more.

He was familiar in the way two souls separated beyond time and space were familiar. You couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow you knew these eyes that traced the lines and curves of your face. Committing you to memory. You were two distant beings made up of different particles of the universe. Yet there in that diner you found one another—as if gravity had dragged your cells together all along.

Two halves of a celestial being finally forming to be one.

You almost wanted to laugh at the notion that Bruce Wayne and you had anything in common. Let alone that there was any physical attraction between you.

But there it was. The truth you’d been searching for all along.

You could almost laugh at how fucked it all was.

How horrifically beautiful.

Night was beginning to settle over the city, calling to the horrors that lingered in the shadows. Prompting them to finally emerge for the one night where fear ran rampant in the streets of Gotham. Being scared on Halloween wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but this year things felt different. You could practically taste the blood that would run through the grime filled streets come morning. The same one that you would later have to report on.

Bruce stood beside his car next to your apartment building. You had directed him here after another hour spent in Dem’s diner barely speaking yet saying more than you would have liked. For some reason he was able to unearth more about you than you had found out in the entirety of yesterday’s interview with him. If being a Wayne didn’t wind up working out for him, he’d make a killing out of being an investigative journalist.

You told him as much before you left.

“Got any plans for tonight?” you asked, already knowing the answer you’d receive.

He looked up to the slightly darkened sky, at the way that the clouds did nothing to allow even slivers of the sunset to break through. You had to hand it to the city. There was some irony in the way even nature plagued the city in darkness. As if its legacy was always meant to be this. An abyss that drowned everyone within.

A barely there quirk appeared on his lips. “I’ll be out of the city tonight.”

Convenient.

The thought crossed your mind of asking him to join you for a lonesome dinner and half a bottle of wine. But the line had been drawn in the sand long before you agreed to accompany him for lunch. An invisible border you couldn’t cross. He was a Wayne. A part of a world you could only reach through second hand stories and gruesome aftermaths.

If the lunch had been more than strangers sitting across from one another, you would have joked about your house being Capulet and his Montague. But something told you irony wasn’t his strong suit. Nor would it favor you being able to see him another time. That is…if he even wanted to see you. For all you could tell this was merely a social call placed on his shoulders by Alfred—the man you came to see as Bruce’s father figure.

“Well…”

“Would you—”

You smiled, feigning being professional for the sake of your giddiness. “You go first.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you be available in a few days?”

“Oh…” Rather than take it easy on him, you decided that the best course of action was to jab at his wall just a bit. Just to see if something would crumble even further. So with a smile you stepped closer, watching the rise and fall of his chest quicken just a bit more. “That doesn’t sound like Alfred speaking.”

A heavy breath left his lungs—washing warm across your skin. “It’s not.”

“So this is you asking?”

He nodded, probably irritated with the way you were clearly teasing him. But that’s the thing. He let you tease him. He gave in to your small ruse and let it play out until you felt like you were finished.

If you could get away with this, who knows what else you’d be able to get away with. Perhaps calling him a stupid nickname. Or even getting to know his favorite color.

Something told you it was brown.

“What’s your favorite color?”

His eyebrows rose, mouth parted slightly as if you’d thrown him for a bigger loop than anyone had before. And much to your own surprise…he answered. Honestly.

“Black.”

Ah…you were close.

“Tuesday. The rush of Halloween will be over and my paper should give me some free reign. I’ll be available then.”

Another solemn nod as if you just informed him that you were attending a funeral for a recently departed loved one. You learned to realize that his nods were simply a part of his personality. Eventually you would be able to decipher what each one meant, what they were attempting to say without using words. His voice seemed to be an afterthought—actions speaking louder than words could say.

“Tuesday it is,” he replied with a soft hesitant smile. You wanted to see it again, ask him to never frown again, but this was merely a fleeting moment in the grand expanse of things.

He stood there for a minute more as if leaving was the last thing he wanted. Then got into his car, turned the engine once, and drove down the street. And you watched him disappear into the already dark horizon. The day never existed to begin with, but the storm wouldn’t stop the chaos of the night. So you gave one last glance to the street before heading inside, ready to hole yourself in your locked apartment til sunrise the next day.

The shrill ringing of your cell phone startled you from your small nap on the couch. A throw blanket that was a mishmash of colors was thrown over your body, a half empty wine bottle on the coffee table and the book Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde face down beside it. Ever since finding it in the Wayne tower, you began to look through the old text. With the silly hope that you would find pieces of Bruce Wayne in the words.

“What?” you grumbled, rubbing a hand over your face to rouse yourself from the groggy state of sleep. Your brain was sluggish, body content to remain on the couch for many more hours, but Henry’s grim voice startled you awake.

“The Mayor’s dead.”

You sat up. “What the fuck do you mean the Mayor’s dead Henry?”

A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearing the middle of the night. The noise outside still persisted though. People always partied the worst on this night. Especially in this city.

“If this is a joke—”

“Shut up and listen will you.” Your mouth clamped shut, eyes falling to the book. “They found him in his home. And it’s gruesome. Whoever did it was a right fucked up person, but I can’t get there at this time. The streets are too packed.”

The breath caught in your throat, even as your eyes stung with exhaustion. “And I’m closer to the scene.”

“It’s a favor and it’s a big one Day.”

You sighed. “I’ll leave in ten. Who’s on the scene?”

“Gordon.”

Good. Gordon never gave you shit for being a reporter like the other detectives did. Many wanted your kind out of Gotham all together simply because of how good you were at getting your nose into places it shouldn’t be. With Gordon there at least you would have a chance to do some meaningful reporting—or at least help where you could in figuring this out.

Henry listed out a few details they told him, what was going to occur within the next few days. But all you could think about was Bruce. You’d miss your chance to see him Tuesday after all. Too stuck in the midst of a city wide crime scene that would take up more or less all of your time. Which left him on the outs. You scribbled down in your black notebook a note to call him and ask for a rain check.

At least then one good thing in your life wouldn’t disappear without a trace.

You grabbed your coat, shoved your arms in the sleeves, and locked up your apartment as the weight of the news rested heavy on your shoulders.

With the death of the Mayor came an investigation. One that would no doubt lead to more bloodshed in the streets and leave a city divided amongst itself. You had heard about shit like this happening in Gotham, but you were never around to see it yourself. Yet there you were. Right in the thick of it with no other option but to see the chaos through.

People filled the streets. Some drunk, some not. Which didn’t make getting to the scene easier. You fought through the crowds, managed to catch a train down there, and somehow came out unscathed. And above in the night sky…his sign hung like a full moon. It called out to the chaos of the night, and made a promise to those who liked the cover of darkness that they would only be safe for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, feeling the rain strike against your cheek. It stung as you crossed the street.

Police cars lined the sidewalk, sirens blaring and bright, and for a moment…there was light in Gotham. You could barely see in front of you, but at least they illuminated the pathway to the front entrance. Many of them were taping off the building, others standing around and gazing at the sky—probably asking themselves if he would show up.

“If it ain’t Miss Day!”

You felt the weight lighten as you reached the top of the building steps. “Officer Martinez. Funny seeing you here.”

“You come to talk to me tonight?”

The smile was involuntary on your lips as he let you head in with him, holding the door open for you. Martinez always had a soft spot for you when things like this befell the city. After all he was usually around when it came to Gordon and with a job like yours, you ran into cops a bit too often for your liking. But Martinez was the exception. He brought you coffee on long nights at crime scenes, cracked jokes at the worst times, and even drove you home if he was around.

“Of course,” you said with a grin, bumping his shoulder. “I’m here to write a piece about the greatest cop in the city.”

He scoffed. “Flattery will get you everywhere chica.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Another flight of steps revealed even more cops scattered around the place. You could see the flash of a camera in the distance, whispered voices filling the air as you entered. Several cops gave you nasty glances, scoffing to themselves at the fact that you were allowed to enter. A reporter. Someone beneath them. To them you were the vulture that came to pick apart the mess they were left to clean.

“All I know is what Gordon told me. And even that’s not much.”

“Where is Gordon?”

Martinez shrugged. “Went out to fetch someone. Figure another detective.”

One more step into the room and you felt it. The pressure in your chest, the pinch of pain in your side where you were still healing. As if crime in Gotham called to crime. A horrid likeness that permeated the air. When Henry said the scene was gruesome he wasn’t kidding. You were ready to bolt the second you could smell the blood—the sight nearly too much for your stomach to take.

“Fuck,” you murmured, eyes wide and body wracked with fear.

“It’s not easy to see.”

“He’s…oh fuck.”

You didn’t need words to know Martinez was concerned about you. His eyes told you enough. They lingered a bit too long, tried to see past your mask you quickly pulled up when it came to scenes such as this. If you were lucky you would make it out tonight without any nightmares.

You were rarely lucky.

Someone called his name, causing him to leave you alone in the room with a few other people. Yet all you could focus on was the Mayor. The message scrawled across his head screamed so loud you could practically hear the voice of the killer. It punched right through your chest, made you pay attention without any barriers. Without mercy.

“What the fuck?”

You turned when someone’s voice filtered through the air, disbelief clear in their tone. Perhaps they found something worse. Something that would make you want to unsee everything that happened tonight. But what came to your attention was not what you expected. Your heart dropped to your stomach, a flutter going through your body, as the sight of him filled your view once more.

For some reason he seemed bigger in the room. He towered over everyone here, eyes still striking against the dark color of his suit. For a moment you couldn’t breathe, nerves filling your body with each heavy thump of his boot against the hardwood floor. How he would react to seeing you again took over your mind. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe…he forgot about you.

Maybe to him you were just another lost soul in a sea of tragedy.

Someone he saved once and didn’t think twice about second.

He stopped midstep, gaze falling to your form, and for a split second…he stiffened entirely. Recognition flashed in his eyes before something darker took its place. You were reminded of the night he dragged you home, the night he held you as you cried about death. As you begged him to keep you alive.

You wondered if he was thinking about that too. If you stepped close enough maybe you could see it in his eyes. Fragments of a memory that still burned bright and alive in your mind—a bad movie you could never turn off. So there you sat in the theater. Forced to watch it replay.

Maybe if you asked he’d sit with you. Keep you company in the darkness.

“Daywalker.”

Gordon had a habit of using the formal version of your nickname. A call sign that seemed to jolt you from your own mind—eyes snapping from The Batman to the man standing beside him. He regarded you with a confused look. A question lingering on his tongue.

One you quickly overlapped with one of your own.

“What the hell happened Gordon?”

His eyes went soft. “Chaos.”

The pain in your side flared to life again. “And what’s he doing here?”

The thump of his boots echoed behind you as he circled the scene. No doubt taking notes about what happened, what was left behind for them to find. Gordon held up a green envelope, writing scratched into the paper as if it was left there in anger—the pen nearly breaking through. A formal address to the man who still remained behind you. A call out to The Batman himself.

Either this guy was insane…or he understood what The Bat would react to.

“So all this…was for him?”

Eyes burned into your skin when you said the words, another thump letting you know he still remained, still listening in the shadows of the room.

Gordon shrugged. “That’s what he’s here to find out.”

You nodded, stepping back to let Gordon do his job with the others as you surveyed the room yourself. Every once in a while your gaze fell back to him. How he stalked about with purpose, each step measured and calculated. He understood the tension in the room, how cops hated that he stood amongst them.

After all, he fell lower into their likeability category than you. To them you were the vulture, but he was the thief. He took their image—their reputations—and made it worse. He took their jobs right under their noses. Not because they couldn’t do it, but because with him it would come to a final end.

You caught bits and pieces of the conversations at hand, heard how the Mayor must have died, but your attention still remained with The Bat. How he stood wary with his back to the window. Every now and then you swore his gaze fell to you, but that might have been your imagination. Your mind hadn’t stopped racing since you stepped past the threshold; the crime scene doing nothing but wracking your body with fear and anxiety. Two things that were an enemy to a good reporter.

“Killer may have come through the skylight.”

You glanced up, eyes tracing the metal lines of the glass above and tried to imagine the scene playing out before you. How they’d get in, how they’d hide. In your head it matched up, but something felt off—as if the scene itself was too perfect. Too pristine for you to gather anything notable.

Gordon’s voice peaked your interest, drawing you closer. “What does a liar do when he’s dead?”

“There’s a cipher too.”

Something flickered in the back of your mind. You remembered Henry having a book of riddles on his desk. Some cheap Christmas gift someone in the office got him in the hopes of giving their boss a sense of humor. You had flipped through it once or twice while waiting for him to show up for a meeting. But you could recall the same riddle being printed with all the others—in a list of nearly three hundred, you remembered that one for its dark flair.

“Lies,” you murmured to yourself, attention forced to the outburst towards Gordon.

But it was the darker and much deeper voice behind you that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “He lies still.”

The answer to the riddle.

Yet even that didn’t tell you much. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going to give Gotham the easy way out. No, you could see the darkness lingering in the distance. The threat of something more on the way. And there wouldn’t a fucking thing anyone in this room could do about it. Except for him. His name was on the envelope, his sign in the sky and soon…Gotham would be turning to him for more than just an answer to a riddle.

“Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” the commissioner spat, turning away from the scene with enough anger to rival the killer. Grief plagued the air and while you should have stayed, asked for statements, all you wanted to do was go home.

So you bid Gordon goodnight with the promise to call him tomorrow for more than just this. Your stomach was in knots, bile filling the back of your throat, but you could barely move. His gaze still burned a hole in your back, watching as you left on semi-steady feet—the wound that lingered now a reminder that you were nearly this person. You were nearly another story in a newspaper.

Martinez came up beside you as you stepped out into the hall, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He must have grabbed it from down the street, because he held his own. The rain still pounded outside striking loudly against the window but it had become a drowned out echo. Simply background noise to a tragedy that kept you locked tight in its grasp. You could see the headline of tomorrow’s paper. The words bold and loud amidst the gray color—a color that matched the sky.

GOTHAM MOURNS.

“Want me to give you a ride home?” Martinez asked, eyes still plagued with concern. You wanted to wipe it from his face, place his carefree smile back where it belonged. Except no one would be smiling tonight.

You sucked in a cold breath, sensing the presence of The Bat as he followed Gordon out to the hallway.

“Yeah. A ride would be nice.”

Tomorrow was a new day, but the truth still remained, waiting to break free. Darkness ran through Gotham so deep it would take prying the streets up to see it, but something told you exactly that would happen. This was not the end of the blood that would turn this city red.

It was only the beginning.

#bruce wayne x f!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #the batman x f!reader #the batman x reader #the batman x you #battinson x reader #battinson x you #the batman #my writing