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klemen-tine · 1 month

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Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 3

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking, Partner Abuse

Part 1

Part 2

@problematicreblogger and @wpdarlingpan Since you guys wanted to be tagged lol

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Y/N sat in the bathtub in the guest room. It’s been three days since they arrived, saw the photos, and the creepy trophy room. Three days since their conversation with Dick, finding out that they had all been on their terrace and taking photos of them. Stalking them.

They wrapped their arms tighter around their legs, resting their chin on sharp knees and staring at the porcelain tiles and gold facet. Three days of walking on egg shells, somehow managing to evade most attempts in hanging out with the siblings and Bruce, and only really seeing them at meals. Y/N hasn’t built up the nerve to ask about the trophy room, but Y/N knows that everyone in the house knows that Y/N knows of the two rooms. They know of the photos, the ones taken without their permission or knowledge, and the clothes that have redefined their modeling career.

Sighing, Y/N stared at their pruning hands and the now cool water. The bubbles dissolved a long time ago and the essential oils had become diluted enough that the scents no longer permeated the air.

Finally dressed in a robe, lotion and oil on their skin and face and teeth washed, Y/N exited the bathroom and screamed at the sight of Jason on their bed. In the midst of their panic they threw the brush at the larger man, who caught it skillfully.

“Wha-what is wrong with you? No-wait, why are you in my room?” Y/N walked around the large bed to where all their clothes are kept. Their eyes not leaving Jason’s imposing figure that was currently resting on their bed.

“I knocked.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “I didn’t ask if you knocked, why are you in my room?” Jason shrugged, “Just felt like I haven’t talked to you in a bit.” Jason and Y/N’s relationship was like that of dragons in the old ages. Full of history and non-existent.

Jason was already dead by the time Y/N had entered the Manor. A small body buried in the Wayne gravesite. In hindsight, Y/N’s timing had been awful. Moving in when Tim basically forced Batman to take him in as a Robin, Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship had worsened, Jason was dead for about a year, and Alfred had still been grieving. Truly a terrible time to join a family. Y/N could taste the tension when they had first moved in, and they understood immediately that they were just another unneeded burden.

A 13-year-old Y/N cried in their bathroom, mourning their mother who had loved the fame more than them, the friends that loved Y/N for Y/N, and the life on the West Coast that they were now expected to continue on the East Coast.

The unfairness of it all.

“What do you want to talk about?” Y/N asked, rummaging through the drawers and finding a nice shirt and some nice jeans.

“Hmm, oh you know, the casual how are you doing? How’s the model-life? Any fun stories you have? What have you been doing lately?” Y/N started changing in the bathroom, keeping the door cracked so they could hear the questions.

When Y/N reemerged, now fully dressed and the robe hanging on the back of the door, they smiled at Jason, “I’m doing good, kind of tired but that's to be expected because of the ‘model-life.’ The fun stories I have are more of traveling around the world and seeing different cultures and eating good food.

“As of late, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.” Jason’s brow raised, “You travel though.” Y/N nodded, “Yeah, some models travel with their pets and I think that's what I plan to do. They’re easier to travel with than a dog, and I don’t think a dog would like my condo.” Jason nodded, “You could always leave it here. The little spawn would take care of it.”

“I can’t do that to the family. It’s my pet and should be my responsibility.” Jason hummed, “Is it because you don’t want to visit?” The air stilled and blue eyes met E/C. Jason didn’t look bothered, if anything he seemed relaxed about the whole thing, “It’s fine if that's the reason. I hate being here too.”

Jason came back as a dead person Y/N knew not to talk about. From the stairways, they would watch Jason storm out after a bad argument with Bruce. Unable to completely understand what exactly was going on, but from the hushed conversations they knew it was something they didn’t want to know about.

“I don’t hate being here, I just don’t have reason to visit other than Alfred.” Jason continued to stare at them, “Not even for ‘family.’”

“Jason, when have you ever looked at me and saw a sibling?” Jason didn’t banter with Y/N, never showed interest or any inclination that Y/N even existed. Y/N is pretty sure that to Jason, Y/N is just a stranger living in the manor.

Y/N wonders if they will see Jason’s temper. Will it appear like the monster hidden in the closet, waiting for the right time to lash out at anything? Y/N has heard the screaming matches, the threats, the holes in the walls from Jason. For someone who has killed people, Y/N wonders if they should really be mucking around with Jason.

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that had other priorities. Once upon a time, Jason was the youngest and loved by Bruce, but then younger Robins came. Jason died, and while never replaced, Robin was.

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that Y/N is not a part of.

They are not siblings. Not cousins, relatives, they are not even friends. Barely acquaintances if Y/N is honest. Which is fine. Y/N has gotten over the hurt and feelings of loneliness.

It is just Y/N against the world, with Alfred partially in their corner. Not fully. Never fully because Alfred will always be in the Wayne family’s corner, and Y/N is not a Wayne.

Jason sighed, “Mmm, I guess that night when you took a beating from that one dude for not getting in the car.” Y/N paused in brushing their hair, mind reeling and slowly turning their head to look at Jason who was instead picking at his nails. Y/N opened their mouth, but Jason beat them to it, “You went out partying, like almost every high schooler does, and your boyfriend was drunk.”

“Just get in the car, Y/N!”

“No! You’re drunk and you said you’d stay sober!”

“I am sober, now get in the fucking car!”

“Fuck off!” A 15-year-old Y/N stormed off, turning their back to Marcus Dueller, the then jock of the school. A rough hand grabbed their shoulder and a fist met their face, “You don’t talk to me like that.”

“...Marcus wasn’t my boyfriend.” Jason didn’t show any signs of hearing Y/N, “You took a pretty bad beating, I’ll admit it. I was going to step in once he started choking you, but you took that brick to his head pretty hard.”

Blood splattered across Y/N’s face as Marcus collapsed. The hands around their neck loosening and Y/N took deeply needed gasps of air. Their throat aching and lungs burning as they rolled over onto their hands and knees. Tears pricked their eyes as the pain and realization settled in.

“I called his friends. He was fine, just a concussion.” Marcus and Y/N never talked again, and Marcus’s friends took one look at the bruises on Y/N’s face and neck to understand what had happened.

They all stayed Marcus’s friends, because unlike Y/N, Marcus was loved by his family.

“Then, you walked your beaten ass towards the liquor store.”

“Oh my God! Y/N!” Stacey cried out in shock, and she gently cupped bruised cheeks and watched split lips grow into a smile.

“Can I have that bottom shelf vodka please?”

“Bitch, you need a second shelf from the bottom vodka.” They sat outside of the store, Stacey’s partner taking over the counter as she watched Y/N take swig after swig from the bottle. Her concerned eyes tracing over each and every bruise and cut, down to the clothes they were wearing and scrapes in their knees and hands.

“How many does this make?”

“Seven. Whoever said seven was a lucky number is a liar.”

“Oh Y/N, why do you keep doing this?” Y/N gave Stacey the most beautiful they could muster. Not minding the ache in their cheeks or the burning of alcohol on split lips.

Looking back at it, perhaps Y/N was on a downward spiral. Trying to find love in other people that weren’t the people at home. From ages 13 to 15, Y/N had dated over 9 people. Not one of them made it past two months, and none of them were healthy.

Once Y/N got into modeling, all their attention went into it. Dating and friends were on a standstill as their career and education became a priority. Maybe that was another thing Y/N inherited from Bruce, a known serial dater. Although, Y/N knows for sure that their taste in partners was definitely inherited from their mother.

Some of Y/N’s earliest memories are of M/N getting berated and smacked around by men bigger than her. When they would leave, Y/N would emerge with bandaids and tears on their face. M/N would smile at them, blood from her nose painting her lips red and she would cup soft cheeks and whisper in their ears-

“Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Y/N glared at Jason, who was meeting that glare head on. Now that they are older, Y/N has learned to hate that phrase. They have watched numerous models be in kind and gentle hands and still be beautiful. Still have a loving and healthy relationship with themselves and the other.

Now that they are older, Y/N knows how untrue those words are. Yet, who said those words had to only be applied to romantic partners?

“Now here you are, in your glass castle imitating diamonds.” Y/N’s nose scrunched, “Always the poet, reading the classics.” Jason shrugged, "Someone has to be literate in this messed up family. Sure as hell ain’t Bruce.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “So what? That still does not explain anything. More importantly, why now then?” Why was it now that they decided to make a move if they had supposedly been caring for a while now.

Jason smirked, "Because finally, Bruce sees it too.” Y/N narrowed their eyes and watched with pursed lips as the bigger and stronger man got up from the bed, and walked over to them, “I’d wear comfortable shoes, Y/N. You’re going out with Bruce and the little spawn today.”

“Wait, what do you mean Bruce finally sees it too? What is there to see?” Jason smiled at him, and it looked more of a monster preening at it’s prey. Callused hands reached up and traced the small, almost invisible scar on Y/N’s upper lip.

“Make sure you smile, the vultures will be there too.”

++++

“I do think green will look best on you.” Y/N smiled at Damian, “Green looks good everybody, Damian. You just need the right shade.” Between them was an emerald green silk shirt, the price displayed like a bounty and Y/N wanted to walk out of the store once they saw it. Yes, they made a lot of money, but Y/N also knows what it means to be frugal.

Damian raised an eyebrow and continued to judge the piece as if it had insulted the family. Y/N set the shirt down and continued to peruse the aisles. Their eyes looking at all the clothing and trying to predict what will be in style. What could they use to match or create their own trend? It is still winter, meaning layers will still be necessary but how to make a stylish outfit when there needs to be layers.

“Do you see anything you want, Y/N?” They jumped a bit, and whirled around to see Bruce smiling at them. Those blue eyes, intense like winter rivers, roamed over what Y/N was looking at and he raised a well groomed eyebrow, “Do you want that one?”

“N-no, no thank you. I’m just looking.” Bruce hummed, and wrapped a large arm around Y/N’s bony shoulders and brought them close. He pressed his lips against his temple, an unusual act of affection towards his kids but everyone will chalk it up to Y/N being a model and still young. Bruce whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Just let me know what you want, and I will get it for you.”

‘If I want to be left alone?’ Y/N didn’t voice it, but they didn’t have too. Bruce’s grin was sharp, “Within reason, Y/N.” A chill ran down Y/N’s spine and they swallowed down the bile threatening to come up.

“I have money, Bruce. I can buy my own stuff.” Bruce picked up a shirt, “Let me spoil you. It is what parents do.”

“You already paid off my condo, that is good enough.” Bruce continued to smile, “That was for the birthdays and holidays I missed while you were with us. I still have to make up for the time when you were with your mother.” Y/N wanted to scream, “How about you donate that then?”

Bruce smiled, “I already do. Let me spoil you.” He kissed Y/N’s temple once more before walking away, eyeing everything the way designers did when critiquing their pieces. Y/N had a feeling that if they didn’t get something from here, the store would be paying the price. Grabbing a sheer halter top and pair of black high waisted pants, Y/N let Damian throw the green top on the small pile and made their way to the check out. The cashier smiled nervously as the Wayne family stood in front of her.

True to Bruce’s promise, he paid for the three articles of clothes, the pair of shoes, the jewelry, the accessories, the–

“I think that is enough.There are a lot of bags, and while I appreciate it, I really don’t need anymore stuff.” Y/N placated Bruce and Damian, already picturing the amount of trips it will be to take everything back home. The man seemed satisfied though, smiling and shrugging his shoulders, “If you insist. How about some lunch now?”

Y/N wanted to decline. They wanted to go back to the manor and get away from everybody. The feeling of walking on eggshells and constantly being watched had their skin crawling and the need to take another bath. Bruce wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and brought them close, and Damian took up their other side.

“You’re acting more as a bodyguard than a father it seems.” Bruce smiled, “We’re having a nice family outing. I’d hate it if one of your ‘followers’ interrupted." Y/N furrowed their brow, but they could not stop their body from tensing, “Someone is following us?”

“Unfortunately.” The photos they saw in their old room re-emerged and a feeling of dread seized their muscles, making them lean further into Bruce. Yes, they were once all Robins, but not once in those photos taken from their terrace was there ever a reflection of the Bat.

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll make sure they won’t take any of you.”

“How… how do you know its not you they want a photo of?” Bruce smiled, guiding them into a fancy restaurant, Damian requesting a table away from the windows, "Because they all know not to follow me.” There was something akin to a warning in Bruce’s voice that had Y/N biting their lips and following the wait staff quietly.

Y/N watched as Damian and Bruce conversed casually, well, as casually as Damian can be. The topics went from school, a family named the Kents, and future prospects. Damian was still unsure about what exactly it is he wanted to do, and it most likely didn’t help that Tim was the one who was going to take over Wayne Enterprises.

Y/N continued to eat and sip their tea, not wanting to add to anything as their mind wandered. After talking to Jason, it proved to Y/N that they were somewhat always being watched. Jason bringing up that one specific memory may have made Y/N’s heart rate spike, but it did prove that Jason was there. The photos, all of them that were taken without Y/N’s consent, show that everyone had at some point gained interest.

However, why did they never act on it? Why wait until now to do something?

‘Bruce finally sees it too.’ Y/N’s jaw clenched, what does Bruce have to do with any of this? Could they not interact without Bruce’s permission? Alfred would never allow that.

Would he?

“What do you think, Y/N?” The question jolted Y/N out of their thoughts and back into reality. Looking around the table to two expectant gazes, they gave an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I was thinking about something, what was the question?”

Damian scrunched his nose, “What is there to think about when you have blood-related family members in front of you?” Y/N blinked in shock, and then remembered how much blood meant to Damian. They shrugged, “I have a busy schedule coming up.”

Bruce stabbed the piece of steak with the silver fork, “You do, don’t you.” He stared at his child, one who he has left to their own devices and now is estranged from the family. Always keeping them at arms length, and never looking back to see if they are behind them. Not because Y/N trusts them to be, but because Y/N was used to them not being there.

Y/N, for how proud Bruce is of them for standing on their own, is still naive. Still innocent. They didn’t notice the paparazzi lurking around, or maybe they got so used to them they learned to block them out. None of it sat right with Bruce. Those should have been things he taught Y/N. Things to prepare Y/N for a world that was bathed in camera flashes and gossip. How to look out for themselves. How to defend themselves, and what to do in case there is a stalker. Those should have been at least a fraction of what Bruce taught them.

Yet, he never did any of that. Looking at Y/N sitting across from him, sitting tall and with a closed-off expression, had Bruce frowning. Y/N was still polite, smiled when they needed to and engaged in conversation, but there was still a wall between them. Almost like glass. Bruce is able to see everything and hear almost everything, but his ability to interact with his child is limited. All interactions stopped by the wall of glass put up by Y/N themselves.

It's a good thing that Batman breaks glass windows on a daily basis.

“You have some shoots in New York, will you be visiting afterwards?” Bruce watched Y/N’s eyes widen and lips pursed. He could see the breaking point, cracks spreading throughout the glass as Y/N’s mind tried to wrap around the question.

“How–”

“Is it odd for a parent to know their child’s schedule?” Y/N blinked, and processed the information. A tight smile formed on their lips, “How long have you known my schedule?” Bruce took a bite of the steak and Damian continued to eat his plate of some fancy pasta.

“Now Y/N-”

“How long have you known my schedule?” Damian glanced up, irritated at their father being cut off, but the look on Bruce’s face had him settling down. The man was smiling, non-threateningly but all Y/N could see was the Bruce that had stood before them in the changing room after Gabanna’s runway show. The same eyes, full of intentions that had Y/N shivering and the money, power, and background to act on those intentions.

“Like I have said, Y/N. I am making up for the lost time and neglect you have faced within our home.”

“And I have said, Bruce, there is nothing to make up. That still does not answer my question about you knowing my schedule.” The cracks were spreading, chipping away and becoming weaker.

“What parent doesn’t know-”

“Don’t repeat that sentence. Bruce, you know what I am asking and you keep avoiding it. Who told you my schedule?” An emotion other than faux politeness finally filtered into Y/N’s voice, making the question sound firm and unlikely to bend or be swept away with Bruce’s elusivity. He smiled, “Oh Y/N, did Maya not tell you? GLM Agency has been under new agency since last year. Wayne Industries is now the parent of GLM Agency.”

Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, their pretty face twisting as the words registered with them. Everything crashed on Y/N, like glass shattering and bathing them in their shards. The guest room that is identical to their bedroom at home, the clothes that are from their closet, the two rooms full of their photos and mannequins wearing their iconic looks, that fucking Batman-inspired piece of clothing.

“Y/N.” They’re walking away from the table, head lost in thought and body moving on autopilot. The need to get away from everyone was overpowering the logical part of their mind, and Y/N is walking towards the front door of the restaurant. Pushing the glass doors open, and being bombarded by flashes from cameras.

“Y/N, what do you have to say about your mother?” A 13-year-old Y/N was guided out of the condo by police officers. Eyes rimmed red from crying and their only source of comfort was the blanket they managed to snag before being escorted out.

“Were you aware of your mother’s drug-use?”

“Are you on drugs?” A 17-year-old Y/N walked past the paparazzi, keeping their eyes forward even though they wanted to snarl at that person.

“Y/N! Look over here!”

“Look!”

“Over here!”

A large hand gripped their arm guided Y/N through the crowd and towards the parking lot where the car was. The large body blocking the photos and shielding them from the flashing of cameras that had thrown Y/N back in time. Once inside the safety of the metal box on wheels, Y/N became aware of their rapid breathing and the feeling of their heart pounding. Irregular beats and sweat began to form on their skin as they struggled to take a breath. Just one breath.

The hand that had guided them to the car grabbed their wrist and placed it on a large and firm chest, emphasizing the deep breaths that Y/N needed and wanted to take. Rough fingers gently traced their cheek, up to their ear, and then to their hair. Gently bringing Y/N back to the present.

“Shh shh, it’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. You’re safe.” E/C eyes drifted around the car, and closed once they saw the person’s reflection.

“Father, those vermin have been cleared. All of them will be getting in trouble.”

“Thank you, Damian.” Y/N rested their head against the glass and fought down the need to jump out of the car. Bruce eyed Y/N, and what made it worse was there was an apologetic look on his face.

“Y/N, I… I am sorry. I thought Maya had told you.”

“Seems like your manager isn’t doing their job if you didn’t know. You should get a new one.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Y/N mumbled, feeling a headache forming and they wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers and die. They could feel Damian’s pointed look through the seat, “Maya is a great manager. She will not be replaced.” Damian sneered, “She didn’t even inform you of the change in ownership.”

“Because it does not concern me. As long as I am able to get booked and get to my destinations, it does not matter who is in charge.” Y/N paused, “Although, now it looks like nepotism.”

Bruce huffed at his child’s overdramaticness, "It's not nepotism. I had no say in what shows you did or who booked them.”

“But you had a say in what clothes I wore.” Ice filled the car and Bruce gave Y/N a long look.

“Just that one piece, and I asked her to do it. She didn’t have to do it.” Y/N laughed, long and hollow as they turned their head to Bruce, “Of course she had to do it. Bruce Wayne is asking for a commission piece, who would turn it down without risking their reputation?” The man sighed, “Y/N, I submitted a commission piece. That is the only thing I had a hand in throughout your modeling career.”

“Others won’t believe that.”

“Who cares what others think.” Y/N whipped their head around to Damian, “I do. I do a lot actually. I care a lot about what my fellow models say and think about me.” The boy rolled his eyes, “Why? Their opinions don’t matter.”

“And your’s do?”

“We are family!”

“By blood, yeah! That’s as far as it goes.” Damian looked ready to snarl out more remarks, but the abrupt parking of the car had both of them pausing. They were already at the manor, and Y/N wondered just how fast was Bruce driving to get them here so quickly.

Y/N was quick to jump out of the car, “I will grab those bags later. Please don’t make Alfred take them.” Bruce followed, “Y/N.”

“No! No, ‘Y/N’ or anything. I want to be left alone.” Y/N pushed open the manor’s front door, and they wonder how many times they have snuck in and out of these doors before. Was it really even sneaking out if someone knew?

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.” There was something in Bruce’s voice that stoked the right ember within Y/N’s chest. Whipping around, they glared at the two Waynes, “For fuck’s sake, I just want to be left alone! I was fine with how things were. None of this-this- whatever the hell this is!

I was fine on my own. I was fine without you guys. I would have been fine if you stayed away!” Bruce didn’t even look bothered that Y/N was yelling, in fact the asshole looked relieved. He gave a patient smile with fake concern in those blue eyes, “The thing is though Y/N, you never should have done it on your own.”

Y/N rolled their eyes, “Where the hell did all of this even come from?! This… this sudden need to be part of my life? You’re not even being subtle about it!” They were drawing a crowd, but Y/N couldn’t even bring themselves to care.

“I keep telling you, it does. Not. Bother. Me that you all were inattentive. It doesn’t make me mad, it doesn’t make me upset, it doesn’t stir anything within me knowing you were not there. Yet here you are trying to make it up and all that nonsense, but when I tell you that it's fine you don’t listen!

“It genuinely seems that you are not doing this for me, but to ease your guilt.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, and it appeared they were in their own little showdown. Bruce’s gaze, not showing a hint of anger or irritation at his child while Y/N seethed. For once, Y/N looked liked the wild one in the family. Their teeth bared and eyes full of unadulterated rage, they glared at Bruce with the face of a raging angel.

They hated how Bruce’s lips pulled into a smile, and the feeling of gloating eyes falling on their body from all their siblings. Like they all knew something Y/N didn’t.

“Bruce finally sees it too.”

Y/N pocketed that thought, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. Nothing intelligent was ever said when angry–

“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?”

– Fuck it. Intense E/C eyes landed back on Bruce, “If you bought GLM Agency a year ago, why now?” Bruce continued to stare into Y/N’s eyes, “Because it seemed like you needed a break from Gotham. So, I figured a year away would be good.”

Y/N narrowed their gaze, “Then why didn’t you call?”

“Because it looked like you needed a break.” Y/N chuckled, “I needed a break, or you needed time to get those rooms set up?” Bruce raised a brow, but Y/N continued on, “It's one thing to have photos from some photoshoots but not photos taken without my consent. Or the clothes I’ve worn on mannequins with almost the exact same physique as me.”

“They are exact.” Y/N tore their gaze away from Bruce to stare at Tim, the thin and exhausted looking teen standing above them on the stairway. Chapped lips opened, “We used the measurements within the modeling database and created mannequins that have your exact measurements.”

Y/N gaped at him for a quick second before rolling their eyes, “Wow. That’s not helping your guys’ case at all.” Dick approached them, going for a placating gesture and an easy smile, “Now Y/N, I think you might be overreacting–”

“I think I am underreacting to all of this. I find out that you all have been taking secret photos of me, which someone them are from my ‘stalker’ and I don’t really believe that but whatever, you have access to my bank account, you bought the modeling agency I work for, commissioned a Batman-inspired piece, and that you have been keeping some of runway pieces on models that are exactly my measurements!

How else am I supposed to be reacting?! And I still don’t have my phone back!” Y/N snapped at Dick, and then began to rub their temples when the headache got worse. An Aspirin, they need an Aspirin. Now, preferably but Y/N has the strangest sense that even if they did take it, the headache would not go away.

“Whatever, just… I’m going home tomorrow and whatever was bought today just… just ship it. Since you know my address and all that apparently.” Y/N began walking up the stairs, ignoring the panicked looks some of their ‘siblings’ were giving them and the dark look on Bruce’s face.

Dick, ever the peacemaker, reached out, “Wait, you can’t go back yet! You still have a few more weeks before your next shoot. Just stay for a few more days.”

“Add kidnapping and being held against my will to that list too.” Y/N continued walking, feeling exhausted and wanting to sleep. They missed the nod Bruce gave Tim and Damian, and they missed the dark and knowing looks on Jason’s and Dick’s face. The walk back to the room was long, and more exhausting than usual. The events of today caught up to them and Y/N wanted nothing more than to cry, scream, and then go to sleep.

Because why not.

“Y/N, you are making a mistake.” Dick followed after their younger sibling, who only sped up to get away from them. The man grabbed Y/N’s forearm, “Y/N, listen! You don’t want to do this.”

“What is ‘this’ you are talking about Dick? I am literally just going home. It is not a big deal.” Y/N tried to pull their arm away from Dick, but to no avail.

“It's how you are doing it Y/N. All we want is to spend time with you and make up for the lost time!” Y/N wanted to scream at Dick, but held it in and instead gritted out, “Why didn’t you do it normally then? Like… texting or calling.” Dick pouted, those blue eyes looking sad and his lower lip jutting out like a toddler, “We missed you, and we just wanted to see you.”

Y/N’s face was scrunched, their mouth open in disgust, “How can you say that with that look on your face as if you all weren��t the ones who ignored me?” Dick looked heartbroken and some part of Y/N felt bad about that. They remembered the room with the photos and the other side of Dick that they saw only a few days ago. Their body seized in terror, but Y/N tried to keep their expression neutral.

“Look, Dick, once again I am not mad about how my time here was spent. I’m genuinely not. But you guys keep throwing it back in my face and saying such contradicting things, of course I’m going to get upset about it.” They are trying to be civil. Trying so desperately to be civil and it feels like it is not working. Old wounds and painful memories continued to be dragged out of the crevices of their minds like it was some type of zoo attraction.

A 16-year-old Y/N stared at the shattered mirror, tears racing down their face as they stared at their broken reflection. All they could see were the imperfections everyone continued to call out. Comparing them to their mother, to other models, to society’s twisted views of beauty that Y/N is trying to be.

If their mother was alive, would she know what to say? Would she gaze at them with those soft eyes and long lashes, smiling beautifully and whispering, “Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Continuing to remind Y/N that modeling was not a gentle job. It wasn’t a job for those with paper skin or glass bones. Those easily hurt by the meanest of comments, nastiest looks, and the horrendous words never made it in this industry.

Would this have been easier if they had the support of Bruce and his kids?

Labored breaths and broken sobs filled room-turned-practice room as the mirrors caught the sight of a teenager breaking down. Crumbling and shattering under the pressure, pricking their fingers as they cleaned up the broken mirror and picking up their shattered image.

It will be those same mirrors that watched those broken shards form their glass castle, posing as diamonds to deter others from trying to break in.

Y/N continued to walk down the long hallway, ignoring Dick’s calls and locking the door behind them. It was only 2pm, and Y/N had plans to sleep the rest of the day. They had no bags to pack, and nothing here they felt like taking. All they needed to do is sleep the day away, which will be easy, wake up tomorrow, call a cab and skedaddle out of here.

“Thats all we have to do, Y/N.” They closed their eyes for what only felt like a few minutes, until jostling and whispers of their name had them groggily opening their eyes. A yawn escaping them and their eyes struggled to open.

“Why are you in my room?” Tim gave a small huff, “Its dinner time.” Y/N buried their face in their pillow, groaning out a ‘not hungry.’ The young man hummed, “I think you should come down for this one, Y/N. You might get the answers you want.”

“Not interested.” Tim leaned down, his breath tickling Y/N’s ear, “You’re glass castle is shattering, Y/N. Don’t you want help fixing it?” Y/N wanted to swing. They wanted to do something to get their point across that they wanted almost nothing to do with this crazy family anymore.

They opted to glare, and Tim gave a soft smile, “C’mon, lets go eat. Besides, Alfred said that the cab won’t be coming for you if you don’t eat dinner.”

“Alfie!” Y/N groaned into the pillow, and they had stopo themselves from throwing up their arms and legs in a fit. Leave it to Alfred to do something so diabolical. Groaning one more time, Y/N sat up and mentally braced themselves for this shitshow of a dinner.

E/C eyes looked at the door they know they locked, and chose that whatever little bickerment that will start was not worth it at this point in time. Throwing their legs over the bed, they followed Tim out of the room and towards the dining room.

Everyone was there, and waiting for Y/N to appear. Once again, they were made to sit between Bruce and Damian, which they did so with little complaint.

“Now, Y/N, it looks like everyone has some explaining to do.” Y/N gave Bruce the driest most unimpressed face they could muster, to which the man took with a smile, “So, what questions do you want answered?”

‘They’re really doing this.’ Y/N could feel another headache forming, but decided to take the brightly colored bait. Looking at Jason, who was meeting their gaze with his green eyes waiting for this question, Y/N asked, “What did you mean when you said ‘Bruce sees it too.’” The man smirked, meeting Bruce’s eyes and back to Y/N, “Exactly that. The old man finally sees what you are to this messed up family.”

Y/N narrowed their gaze, taking a bite of the pasta, and chewing slowly. Dick decided to chime in, “Y/N, you have been loved by us for a while. Something you probably pieced together, but Bruce took a while to see it because… well because you’re not us.”

“Not like, you’re not Robin, but more like you’re not…”

“You’re fragile.” Everyone’s head turned to Damian, and Y/N had half the idea to be upset about that. They raised an eyebrow, but before they could say anything Damian continued, “You are not meant for this life we lead. Vigilantism never suited you, and that is something I picked up on when I first came here.”

When Damian had first met Y/N, it was like seeing a rare flower that had to be protected at all costs. Y/N was something that at the slightest gesture, could be hurt. When people come across something ethereal like that, the need to protect it can be divided into two different directions.

Hovering or distancing.

Bruce chose to distance himself, whether he knew it or not, and Damian had followed suit. He watched as his older sibling hovered from a distance, watching the rare flower bloom before it was finally the right time to engage with it.

“Y/N, it isn’t so much that I didn’t want to interact with you, it is that I didn’t know how.” Bruce looked into his child’s eyes, “How could I interact with someone who needed gentle hands, when there is not a gentle bone in my body.” Bruce’s hands have broken more bones than the human body has. He has scars on his skin and calluses on the palm of his hands.

“It took me a while to figure out why, but once I did, your absence became suffocating.” Everyone had been gasping for air, doing everything in their power for the slightest piece of oxygen. It was the fear of Y/N being harmed that kept them collared and chained to the photos, every interview, every runway show.

However, Bruce knows that every now and then, children should be able to spread their wings and fall. Y/N ended up flying, soaring above them and never looking back down. Bruce, and the family, decided to give Y/N a year. Just one on their own. This gave them all plenty of time to improve the glass terrarium that they wanted Y/N to be placed back in. This time they will be protected and paid attention too.

“When everyone stated that I can finally see the impact you have on this family, it means I have to come to terms with the fact that I no longer want to be hands off with your life and career.” Y/N’s brow furrowed, not liking the term ‘hands off.’

“You have done great on your own. A fabulous job. Clawing your way up and making a name for yourself, I am so proud of you. Everyone is extremely proud of you.

However, there is no need for you to struggle anymore. You’ve proven yourself, now let us take care of the rest.” Y/N felt shivers go down their spine as they stared at their family in fear. They took in each expression, and when they made eye contact with Jason, the other had a daring look in his eyes. Begging for Y/N to do something, similar to how predators hope for their prey to fight back to make the kill all the more interesting.

“But… But I don’t need your help, Bruce. I can do this on my own.” Bruce’s smile was that of honey, luring in unsuspecting insects and trapping them in its viscous fluid. If Y/N were younger, they may have fallen for it. They may have allowed themselves to coat their fingers in sugary words and sweet gestures, just so they could feel the love from a father.

“I know. We know, but you don’t need to anymore.”

“Now wait a minute-no. No no no no. You can’t just do that, explain yourself, and expect me to just roll with it.” Y/N set their napkin down, and tried to stand from the table, “I don’t need your help, although thank you for wanting to I guess. I am fine with it just being me and Maya.”

“About that…” Dick grimaced, handing Y/N his phone and pulled up was an article.

Y/N’s eyes widened and the world around them went cold. THey looked back up, “You’re lying.” Dick shook his head, fake empathy across his face as Y/N continued to read the article.

“No. NO this is a joke and a terrible one. Maya would never–”

“They were found in her apartment, Y/N.” The headlines, eerily similar to ones from five year ago, flashed across the small phone screen.

Manager of Model Y/N L/N Suspected of Drug Usage

Y/N wanted to cry. Horrible flashbacks resurfacing and tears pricking their eyes. They turned to Bruce who was still sitting and eating his pasta.

“Bruce, please. I know Maya, she would never do this.” The man said nothing. Y/N bit their lip, “Bruce… Bruce please. If its because of what I said then take that out on me. Please leave Maya out of it.

“Please Bruce! I know Maya. She’d never do that, and–and Bruce please.” Y/N was whimpering now, tears streaming down their face as the thought of losing their manager, the last person they had, nearly had them collapsing to their knees.

“Lets make a deal, Y/N.” Bruce wiped the corner of his lips, and grabbed Y/N’s thin wrist.

“You come home more often, during breaks and whatnot. I won’t have a lot of control over your modeling schedule, but make sure you include time each week for family. The only exception is when you are out of the country.” Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, but nodded along.

“In return, Maya gets out of trouble. Nothing will change other than the weekly meeting with family.” Y/N can’t breathe. They cannot breathe and there were eyes all on them. Gulping down on whatever air they can get a hold of, Y/N sobbed out, “Why are you going to such lengths?”

Bruce stood, and even though Y/N is tall, no one compares to Bruce’s towering figure. He smiled down at the model, and cupped a wet cheek with a calloused hand. Ice blue eyes stared into watery E/C eyes, and that smile turned too sharp to not be hidden blade, “I told you. It is too make up for lost time. Plus, as those photos suggest, you need protection. What better protection could you have that is not only part of the family, but also vigilantes?

“While it is true that diamonds are never made without pressure, diamond-encrusted jewlery require gentle hands and patience.” Bruce kissed Y/N’s temple, and the model flinched away. Ice blue met their eyes once more, “Now pick, Y/N. Either way, you will still be meeting us once a week, but you can have someone you know at your side or someone under my command.”

+++++

“And cut! Good job everyone!” The flashes from the camera stopped and the stage lighting turned off, no longer blinding everyone within the room. Y/N stood up from the red couch, a smile still on their lips as they thanked the photographers.

“Y/N, as always, perfect shots!”

“Good job Y/N!”

“Thank you for doing this, Y/N!” They continued to smile and acknowledge everyone that passed by, Maya right behind as they walked back to the changing room. Sitting on the couch was Jason’s large form and Tim’s lithe one. Both of them looking up as Y/N entered, ignoring Maya’s flinch.

“You have a birthday gala you need to catch. Come on, change out of that and lets go.” Leave it to Jason to get the message across. Y/N nodded, taking to the changing room where they know their clothes are already waiting for them. They could hear Tim interrogating Maya in the politist way. Clipped words and empty praises.

“Y/N they came out of nowhere! They stormed in and went straight to a vent where these-these drugs were! I’ve never even seen those there before! Let alone know that there was a vent!” Maya cried into Y/N’s shoulder as Dick and Damian watched on.

Emerging from the changing room in jeans and a crew neck, Y/N sighed, “Alright, shall we get going?” Jason stood up and Tim shook Maya’s sweaty hand. Y/N gave his manager a nod, signalling for her to take the rest of the day off. Jason’s large hand rested on the small of Y/N’s back, and Tim led the way to the new car that Bruce bought.

The ride was only two hours, filled with light conversation and catching up. Once at the mansion, Y/N greeted Alfred with a hug. Not as tight as they normally are, but it felt wrong entering the mansion without hugging Alfred. Bruce entered the foyer and grinned, hugging Y/N and kissing their temple.

“Your clothes are in your room, and there is another present on behalf of Damian and Jason.” Y/N nodded, “Thanks, Bruce.” The man smiled, “Come and eat dinner when you are done. We’ll have enough time before the Gala to at least eat something.” Y/N began walking away, each step up the stairs feeling like there was lead on their feet stopping them from going any further.

Once in the room, the locked the door and on the bed was a box and black and gold clothing. The black looking like it was made out of silk, and the gold was sequin. Y/N carefully walked towards the box, and when they lifted the lid, a white kitten mewed at them. Their fur still looking young and their eyes bluer than Bruce’s. They mewed and mewed, and Y/N could feel tears streaming down their face.

In neat cursive and tied around the bow of the box, was a small note, ‘We’ll watch her when you decide to leave the country.’

Y/N bit their lip, and felt as if their world was falling a part once more. Broken glass surrounding them and no matter where they stepped, their feet will end up bleeding. Now forced to rely on their family to carry them out of the mess they made, and now… now there was a lifeform that this family can and most likely will use against them.

Thin fingers gently picked up the cat and gave it a wobbly smile, as she mewed at Y/N. A red collar already around her neck, tied in a perfect bow.

“Y/N, the makeup artists are here. Are you ready?” Wiping their tears, Y/N set the kitten down and took in the black and gold piece once more.

“Not yet, but they can come in. I’ll get dressed afterwards.”

“Alright.” The door opened, despite Y/N locking it, and it was Dick smiling as he let in the two artists who were now scrambling to get set up. Blue eyes traveled from the cat, to the clothes, and back to Y/N. He grinned and stalked closer to his younger sibling that was now being corralled into sitting in front of the makeup artist.

He picked up the kitten and passed her for Y/N to hold, whispering in their ears, “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

______________________________________________________________

Honestly... I really like this series. I think I'm going to do other stories but in the other characters POV now.

#batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #batfam #batman x reader #bruce wayne #platonic batman #platonic batfam #yandere imagines #gender neautral reader #batman x gn reader #Yandere batman #batfam x male reader #Batfamily x female reader #Batfamily x gender neutral reader

458 notes · View notes

buccini555 · 9 months

Text

— 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡ They ended up finding out you have an eating disorder when you ended up in the hospital

♡H e a d c a n o n s ! ୨୧ x r e a d e r !

♡ Request from a very special person! (It's a sensitive subject, so please be careful, okay?)

♡ 𝑭𝒕. Sanzu Haruchiyo, Inui Seishu, Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Izana Kurokawa, Kakucho Hitto, Yuzuha Shiba and Akane Inui ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ⑅₎ ⊹

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It would be painful and worrying for Haruchiyo to see you in a hospital, once he found out the reason for such hospitalization, he would spend hours studying your disorder to find out how to help you, besides, he wouldn't force you to eat or anything like that, but he would encourage you to eat properly

When Sanzu went to visit you at the hospital, he was quite quiet, but as soon as he saw you, he gave a small smile, relieved that you were still by his side.

"I promise I'll take better care of you."

He said holding your hand, looking at you in the kindest way possible.

"You are important to me, I will be by your side no matter what happens, soon everything will be fine and you will come home!"

He took a small stuffed bunny out of the pocket of the coat he was wearing and placed it in your hand, making you smile.

"I love seeing that pretty happy face!" Sanzu spoke as soon as he noticed that you were starting to feel better with his presence.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐮⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

He would be extremely scared and worried at the same time, Inui already suspected your disorder, for that reason, he always encouraged you to eat properly and also tried to improve the way you saw yourself

As soon as he learned that you were hospitalized, he had a feeling that the reason for such hospitalization was caused by your restricted eating.

"We'll get through this together, I promise I'll take better care of you, it's going to be okay, got it, my sweetie?"

He said, smiling with teary eyes, Seishu was afraid of losing you.

"... And I also hope that you believe me when I say that you are perfect, none of the compliments that exist in this world would describe how perfect you are to me."

Placing a small kiss on your cheek, he held you close and was stroking your hair in silence, trying to make you as comfortable as possible and letting you know that you weren't alone in that moment and no matter how hard it was, Inui would be by your side until that everything gets better.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Rindou didn't quite understand what you were going through, so he often ended up arguing with you about your diet, but as soon as he found out about your disorder, everything changed in his view

He quickly went to the hospital where you were hospitalized, as soon as he saw you, the blonde smiled relieved that you were okay.

"I-I'm so sorry..."

Rindou said with his voice trembling, you asked him the reason for such an apology, and in the midst of trying to hide the tears he explained.

"... I had no idea how you felt. I'll take better care of you! I'll do my best to make you feel better."

You had never seen Rindou open up like that, so you could see how worried he was, he spent a few minutes in total silence just watching you and stroking your face, Rindou would certainly take care of you with all the love and patience in the world.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Ran had already noticed your disorder, even without having spoken directly about it, he always asked you to eat well

As soon as he got the news that you were in the hospital, he didn't hesitate and immediately went to visit you, he already knew the reason, so he tried to be as careful as possible at that moment.

"Don't ever scare me like that again my sunshine, I will always be here to take care of you and show you how amazing you are." Ran said a few words, before arriving at the hospital, he bought you flowers and handed them to you to at least bring some joy to that empty hospital room and also show some affection on his part, he didn't know how to act, but he was sure who would do their best to help you overcome your disorder.

Ran remained beside you in the room in silence, just giving you light caresses and comforting you as best he could.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Izana always paid a lot of attention to you, he often noticed that your food was very limited, for that reason, he always convinced you to eat

When he found out you were in the hospital for your eating disorder, Izana realized the seriousness of the matter and immediately went to visit.

"... My princess/prince, I'm so worried about you! It's going to be okay, I'm going to make everything okay."

He hugged you, later gently holding your face and giving you a small kiss, Izana committed to helping you overcome your disorder, even though he wasn't sure how it would be to deal with such a fact, he would remain by your side, ensuring that you to feed yourself, but always being patient and respecting your limits.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Kakucho had no idea what you were going through, he only realized how serious it was when you went to the hospital

As soon as he received the news, Kakucho dropped absolutely everything he was doing and went to visit you, when he learned the reason for such a trip to the hospital, he felt guilty for having let things get to this.

"... My love? Well I'm so sorry this happened, I'll take better care of you, I'll help you eat better and I'll also be here for anything you need."

Kakucho sat next to you, giving you a small kiss on the cheek and together handing you a small stuffed kitten he had bought, he didn't know much about eating disorders, but he was totally willing to learn about it to help you deal with it.

"I'm here... I'll always be here!"

He said, hugging you, he promised himself that that situation would never happen, as he would make you eat properly and healthily with all the love and patience possible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐘𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Yuzuha argued with you many times over your limited diet, her concern increased even more when she found out that you were in the hospital

She went to visit you, already knowing the reason for your stay to the hospital, Yuzuha was extremely anxious to see you, as soon as she saw you, she gave you a strong hug and thanked you for being well.

"I'll take better care of you, you'll get better soon, got it, my life?"

She said, still thinking of ways to help you with your disorder, Yuzuha didn't want to be strict or make you feel uncomfortable, so she thought of ways to help you in the kindest and most loving way possible, where you felt safe.

She was silent for a while, just stroking your face and keeping her company.

"... You're perfect for me." Said Yuzuha.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐢⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Akane already suspected about her disorder, for that reason, she was always careful with your food

When she found out that you were in the hospital, Akane immediately went to visit you, taking you some flowers and a get well card, she was sad to see you that way, for that reason, she committed herself to helping you overcome your disorder.

"We're going to stick together and we're going to take care of each other, my sweetheart!"

Akane always tried to stay calm to calm you down, she hugged you, making you feel better.

Akane spent some time researching and studying how she could best help you, she would stay by your side, caring and looking out for your well-being.

479 notes · View notes

cabotwife · 3 months

Note

i need a comfort fic and I never see any of this topic🥹

if you could please write a Olivia/daughter reader or Olivia/reader!!! Preferably Olivia catching on to them restricting/failing into an Rd and comforts them about it!!!

City of Angels

Olivia Benson x Foster Daughter!Teen!Reader

warnings: ooc liv? kinda mention of an eating disorder, not proofread

word count: 1788

a/n: this is actually so bad i wanna rip my hair out.

living an easy life wasn't something you were entirely familiar with. for the last two years your life had been a chaotic whirlwind, being shuffled from one home to another.

the idea of an easy life becomes complicated when your existence has been laced with a constant stream of pain and the need to run from everything good. it's challenging to imagine such a life when your reality has always been like this.

even before you found yourself lost among the countless faceless children within the foster system, all you had known was a life filled with fear and adversity.

but now, you have your Olivia.

your Olivia who tells you she loves you, but who’re you to believe her? how could she possibly love a child that’s not hers?

this is the question that haunts your thoughts during your countless long, sleepless nights. the painful realization that you're just a charity case to the brunette detective, a lost delinquent she's taken under her wing to "fix" is something you can't shake. she’s never said it outright, but you can see it. it's there, hiding in the depths of her eyes.

—

you've been living with Olivia for almost half a year now. during this time, you and her had been growing closer, your defensive walls have started to crumble, allowing the other woman to step into your world and take you into her arms.

everything seemed to be going well, or at least that's what you thought. but one day, everything took a turn when Olivia brought home Noah.

Noah, an undeniably adorable little boy.

the moment he was brought into the apartment, you could sense a shift in the atmosphere. at first, you managed to adapt to the change. but then, you found yourself being pushed to the side, overlooked for Noah.

the moment you found yourself sidelined, your defensive walls shot back up, leaving Olivia and now Noah on the outside.

and once again, you were alone.

the love you can see in Olivia’s eyes when she looks at the little toddler is a kind of love you've never experienced for yourself. it's a stark reminder of the unfair differences between your experiences and his.

it didn't even take a month for Olivia to officially adopt Noah.

things took a turn for the worse rather quickly.

it began with you avoiding shared meals with the two brunettes. you started eating later or earlier, making sure to finish before Olivia got home. but recently, you found yourself skipping meals altogether.

Olivia had noticed you pulling away from her, but she chose not to do anything in fear of worsening the situation. despite your growing distance, she continued to reach out, hoping to assure you that you're welcome in her life. but your actions have been making it increasingly difficult for her.

—

in the midst of a typical day at work, Olivia sifts through the details of her most recent case, surrounded by the familiar hum of activity in the precinct. the sudden ring of her phone disrupts the rhythmic tapping of her fingers on the keyboard.

answering the phone in a questioning voice, she says, “hello?” the unknown number on the screen does nothing to prepare her for the conversation ahead.

a professional, yet strained voice responds from the other end, “hi, is this Olivia Benson?” the question hangs in the air, causing Olivia to furrow her eyebrows in confusion. she straightens up in her chair, her police instincts kick in.

the change in her demeanor catches the attention of Fin, who is now visibly alert. “yes, it is. who’s asking?” Olivia responds, her tone guarded yet curious.

the voice on the other side of the line calmly explains, “you’re listed as y/n l/n’s emergency contact. i’m calling to inform you that she is currently with us at Mercy General Hospital.” the words are delivered with an air of professional detachment.

the brunette springs up from her desk, grabbing her jacket hurriedly. her mind is a whirlwind of questions. “what? why? what happened?” in her panic, she barely notices Fin rising from his desk, his eyes locked with hers in shared concern.

briefly pulling the phone away from her mouth, she manages to choke out to Fin, “y/n’s in the hospital, i have to go.”

the severity of the situation is evident in her voice, “i’ll drive,” the older detective quickly offers, swiftly grabbing his keys and ushering Olivia out of the precinct, the hum of activity fades as they rush out to his car.

by the end of the call, Olivia is left with a sinking feeling of dread. despite the explanations given, she can't fully comprehend what is happening. her mind is filled with concern for her little girl.

before she knows it, Fin's car screeches to a halt in front of Mercy General Hospital and without a moment’s hesitation, Olivia jumps out, her heart pounding as she practically sprints through the entrance. once the brunette reaches the front desk she slaps her hands down on the counter, “y/n l/n, what room is she in?” she demands, her voice strained with urgency.

the desk attendant looks up, her gaze questioning as she scrolls through the records on her computer. “I’m sorry, who’re you?” she inquires, her head tilted slightly in confusion.

taking a moment to collect herself, Olivia responds, “oh, Olivia Benson. i’m her foster mother, her emergency contact." she leans over the desk, trying to catch a glimpse of the room number on the screen.

the woman hums in response, scrolling for a few more seconds before finally speaking, “y/n l/n is in room 281.” she looks up, meeting Olivia’s desperate gaze.

mumbling a quick ‘thank you’, Olivia speeds off towards the room, her heart pounding in her chest. when she finally reaches the room, she is met with the sight of you, lying in the hospital bed with an IV drip in your arm and a small, untouched cup of red jello on the bedside table.

“y/n.” Olivia manages to breathe out, making her way over to the bed. her voice is soft and filled with concern, “what happened? are you okay, baby?” she gently takes your hand in hers, her touch as soft as her voice.

you simply hum in response and pull your hand away from hers, settling it back in your lap. “yeah, ‘m fine.”

Olivia’s eyebrows furrow as she looks down at you, her maternal instincts kick in. “you are not fine. you’re in the hospital. now, are you going to tell me what happened or do i have to go ask a doctor because i can’t trust my own daughter?”

for the first time, your eyes snap to Olivia, finally meeting hers. “i’m not your daughter, Olivia,” you retort, rolling your eyes.

the sharpness of your words takes Olivia by surprise. her frown deepens and her eyes soften. “what’re you talking about, y/n/n? of course you’re my daughter.” her voice is gentle, filled with warmth as she squats down beside the bed to be at eye level with you. “what’s been going on, sweet girl? you haven’t been yourself.” she takes your hand again, her thumb soothingly rubbing the back of your hand.

you just mumble in response, avoiding Olivia's gaze and instead focusing on the wall, which has suddenly become very interesting. “nothin’..”

sighing, Olivia stares at you for a moment before standing back up. she leans down and presses a tender kiss to your hairline before heading towards the door. “i’ll be back. i’m going to go find your doctor since you won’t tell me anything.”

as she reaches the door, your voice stops her in her tracks. “wait, Olivia,” your voice is louder than you intended. you look up at Olivia, your eyes teary and pleading. “i’ll tell you, please, i’m sorry.”

the older woman turns around, her arms crossed as she waits for you to speak. “okay. i’m listening.”

"you know, i've just been... i don't know how to say it..." you mumble, searching for the right words, the right way to phrase what happened.

Olivia sits on the edge of the hospital bed, by your knees. her gaze, full of concern and empathy, watches you as you struggle to articulate your thoughts.

"i've been struggling with eating recently.." you admit in a whisper, your words barely audible in the sterile silence of the hospital room. heat rushes to your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and shame. "i passed out while i was with Luka. he brought me here after i woke up.. i'm sorry, Liv, i know how expensive it is and i know you’re mad-"

"oh, my sweet girl," Olivia interrupts, her voice filled with love. she surges forward, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. when she pulls away, her hands cup your cheeks, her words a soothing balm. "my sweet, sweet girl... no, i’m not mad. I'm just happy you're okay," she whispers, her eyes locked onto yours.

and in that moment, you see it — the same love you've always seen in her eyes when she looks at Noah. but now, it's directed at you.

a silence descends on the two of you, heavy but not uncomfortable. Olivia leans forward to hug you again, and you find yourself lost in your thoughts.

after a few minutes of quiet reflection, you break the silence. "hey, Liv?" you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"yes, y/n/n?" she replies after a moment, pulling away to look into your eyes.

"why... um, why did you adopt Noah and not me? are you going to send me back?" you ask, the words tumbling out in a rush, a slight rasp in your voice revealing your fear and uncertainty.

Olivia's eyes widen in surprise before they soften. "oh, honey... i'm not sending you back. you're my daughter, you understand? it's just... it's a little more complicated when your biological mother is still alive," she explains gently. "i've been trying so hard, you have to believe me. it's just that these things... they take time."

you stare at her, tears welling in your eyes. after a moment, you lean forward, hugging her gently and burying your face against her shoulder as you try to hold back the tears. "i'm sorry, Liv."

"you have nothing to apologize for, okay? we're going to get you the help you need. we're going to sort everything out, and we'll be a family," she promises, her voice soft and reassuring. she kisses your hair as she wraps her arms around you in a comforting embrace. "how does that sound?"

"good... sounds good," you whisper back, a sense of peace settling over you.

#olivia benson #olivia benson x reader #law and order special victims unit

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 7 months

Text

Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold

(Joel Miller x dispensary! reader)

Chapter 3: Blue Dream

Chapter 1 here || Chapter 2 here || Main masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU (no outbreak) Word count: 4.7K Rating: 18+ MDNI, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut), swearing, discussions of drug use, discussions of disordered eating, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it.

A/N: It's here y'all! Peepaw got high, and now he has the munchies. For food, as well as for the reader 🌚. This chapter was so fun to write, I loved fleshing out their progressing relationship. PEEPAW gets teased endlessly for being old (I couldn't resist), and he gains a smoking buddy 🥹. As always, thank you to my main hype woman, my ride or RIDE, @iamasaddie for beta'ing. Your excitement and support means the world to me!

Please comment and reblog if you liked it and want to see more of this series! I'm so in awe and appreciative of all the lovely comments and support I've received so far, you guys keep this story going!

❤️ 🌹 - N

In the midst of smoking with Joel, you had forgotten how long it had been since you last ate. The rumbles coming from his stomach reminded you pretty quickly though. You hum and chew the inside of your cheek as you think of possible food options to satisfy the munchies.

Although pretty much anything tastes better when you’re high, thanks to the way that THC heightens your senses, especially taste, you want to get something he will like. You’re not sure why you care so much but you want him to enjoy it, as part of his first smoking experience.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you start to scroll through UberEats to see what’s in the area.

“Feel like eating anything in particular?”

Joel purses his lips together and hums. “Not really, I ain’t picky.”

You’re inclined to believe him but you still wanna mess with him, just a little bit.

“Ouh, there’s this really good vegan place in town that has good reviews and lot’s of options!” You look at him sideways and raise your eyebrows.

“Uh,” He grimaces slightly before he can school his expression, “sure that sounds-”

“I’m just fucking with you Joel” You lean in to shove him again as giggles start bubbling up from your chest. “I’d never eat that shit either, I love real food and meat too much to give it up”

“Thank fucking God,” he breathes out and runs a hand over his face. “I can’t stand it, everything is vegan this, vegan that. What happened to normal real food?”

You snort in response, still scrolling. And then something catches your eye.

“Oh shit! Apparently there’s a food truck festival happening at Bellwoods Park, just a couple minutes from here. There’s lots of different vendors, and it’s probably a lot cheaper than ordering take out. We’ll have to walk over but it’s not too far”

“Yeah, I’m up for that.” He perks up a bit and smiles at you.

No less than 20 minutes later you and Joel arrive at the food truck festival. You’re immediately surprised by how cozy and ambient it is. There’s numerous picnic benches in the middle of the grassy area and a few carnival games on the far end of the field for the kids. Twinkle lights are strung like a canopy over the entirety of the park, casting a molten amber glow over the festivities, complementing the warm hues of paper bunting strung from vendor truck to truck. People flock to the vendor trucks flanking the outside of the park perimeter. The smell of various fried foods and grills being fired up has your mouth watering and stomach growling again.

“Huh.” Joel whistled lowly, taking in the surroundings. “Been here for almost 20 years and I didn’t know this existed.”

“It looks like a seasonal thing that the city puts on every year, maybe there’s just more hype around it this year.” You surmise, following his gaze and looking around. “That or you just live under a rock.” A smirk sprawls across your face as you look back at him.

He huffs out an exhale. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that.”

“Well, now’s your chance to explore,” gesturing to the lineup of trucks. The various vendors sell everything from shaved ice to burritos, to Korean bbq and Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. The options are endless. You’re about to suggest something to him when one truck in particular catches your eyes.

“Oh my god, Smashburgers!” You make a beeline for the food truck, not even waiting to see if Joel follows you. The smell of charbroiled meat and greasy french fries fill your nostrils, creating another twinge of hunger in your stomach. It’s been ages since you had a good burger, and Rick’s Smashburgers was the best in town, you weren’t about to pass it up now. Sensing Joel’s broad presence approach your right side before you can turn around, you nod your head towards the menu plastered on the chalkboard against the side of the truck.

“Ricks has the best burgers in town by far. Trust me.”

“Smashburgers? How are they any different from regular hamburgers?”

“They’re just better in general” you answer him as if it was obvious. He raises an eyebrow at you. “The patties are basically flattened or smashed and it makes them crispier and just better overall. Trust me.” Giving him your most pleading look, he sighs and looks at the menu, and then at the plates of burgers lined up at the window to be given to customers.

“They do look pretty damn good. Only-” he shifts his jaw and hesitates, “my doctor told me to stay away from red meat, and eat more veggies,” he grumbles defeatedly, staring at the menu like he wanted to burn a hole in it.

You frown for a split second but it slowly morphs into a smile. Joel Miller is cute when he is grumpy. And for whatever reason, it actually warms your heart that he’s trying to be compliant with his doctor's orders. Still, you nod.

“Okay, well, we could always get something else. Althoughhhh” you pause for dramatic effect, “technically the burgers are thinner than regular burgers so there is less meat, and there’s lettuce and tomatoes on the burger.” You look sideways at him but he’s already shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Who woulda thought I’d experience more peer pressure for eatin’ a burger than smokin’ weed. Jesus, I’m losin’ it.” The smile turns into a grin and there’s a glimmer in his eyes.

“Sure darlin’, a smashburger sounds good.”

—---------------------------------------------------------

If anyone had told Joel that in his lifetime he would eventually find himself at a festival surrounded by throngs of people, after smoking weed for the first time, with a woman he had just met, he would have told them to fuck right off.

All because of his back pain. His godforsaken back pain.

Admittedly, he had no idea what to expect when you said you would come over to show him how to smoke, but he definitely said a silent prayer when you offered, seeming to understand that the whole situation was embarrassing for him. You were so nice and personable. Just like you had been the day before when he came into the dispensary like a lost puppy.

The irrational part of him wanted to believe that you were just pitying him. Pitying a helpless middle aged man who’s geriatric aches and pains were running him into the ground. But your patience with him and calm reassurance about his concerns dismantled that theory. That, and the fact that you offered to come over after you got off work, during your free time. It didn’t seem like you were getting commission from going above and beyond with your customer service skills at the dispensary. What business would you have hanging out with a man who was at least two decades older than you?

Joel wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind to your beauty. Despite the playful banter you shared with him, and your wandering gaze that he caught dipping down to his lips and his body, he knew that he wouldn’t have a shot in hell with you. Regardless, he was buzzing with nervous energy when you knocked on his door.

Surprisingly, the actual smoking wasn’t as bad as he anticipated. Marijuana smoke tasted somewhat better than cigarette smoke. Weird, but better. The tang of the herb settled on his taste buds more easily than nicotine did during that one time he tried it all those years ago.

It was actually enjoyable if he was being honest with himself. Although, he’s not sure if that’s because of your added presence or the weed actually doing its job. The monotony of inhaling and pulling from the joint, holding his breath for a few seconds and then exhaling slowly became muscle memory. The THC settled into his bloodstream as he felt the mellow warm buzz permeate his body and seep into his bones. The once aching flare of pain that was his constant companion no longer reared its ugly head, as he stretched beside you on the couch. He genuinely couldn't believe it.

He anticipated he would cough up a lung at one point or another, which he did. And he anticipated the back pain would be subdued, which it was. You also warned him of dry eyes and cotton mouth once the marijuana took effect in his system. Nevertheless, he’s caught off guard when his mouth goes bone dry and his eyes glaze over as he watches you do that trick.

The french inhale.

Seemingly mesmerized by the way the smoke pours out of your lips like viscous liquid, and the way you inhale it through your nose again, he all but loses it when you show him how to do the smoke rings. The way your plush lips pout, forming an O shape as you push the smoke out of your mouth, your cheeks slightly hollowed. You’re so close beside him that he can faintly smell the tropical notes of your shampoo and see the glassiness in your doe eyes when you smile at him.

It’s the cruelest form of torture, he surmises. You're the sweetest siren, making the simplest gesture look sexy as hell.

Caveman brain bouncing off the walls as he flexes his thighs, his left hand remains in his lap over his crotch while he curls his right hand into a fist. The sting of his nails digging into his palms keeps him tethered to reality, while he tries to ignore how tight the crotch of his pants are.

But fuck, it’s a challenge when you keep looking at him like that, with a Cheshire cat grin plastered across your face.

His lust is interrupted soon enough when he feels his stomach let out the loudest rumble. And to his surprise your smile only gets wider in response.

It’s almost the same smile he’s witnessing in this moment, as he watches you take another big bite out of your burger and moan, almost pornographically.

You both get burgers and decide to split some french fries for good measure. Nevermind the fact that you asserted, "a good burger isn't complete without a side of fries."

Trusting your judgment, Joel orders the same as you; a smashburger with crispy onions, lettuce, tomato, cheese and their special house BBQ sauce. Only no pickles for him, and extra bacon, cause why the fuck not?

Technically he’s following the doctor's orders. He’s already smoked the weed. The low cholesterol diet can start tomorrow.

The burger is delicious. Like ridiculously delicious.

“Damn” He says in between the first couple bites, “this is fucking good. Best burger I’ve had in a while actually.” Humming in agreement, you pop a couple fries in your mouth.

“I know right? I told you. Better than regular burgers.”

They’re messy as hell but it’s worth it the minute the flavor of charred meat hits his tongue, the crispiness of the onions, coupled with the special sauce creating a mouthwatering combo.

You finish your burger at an alarming pace. Popping the last bite into your mouth, you grab a handful more of fries, dunking them into some ketchup.

Christ, he thought he was hungry. You must have been starving considering it had been well over 5 hours since your lunch break. Before you can shove the fries in your mouth, you pause and raise your eyebrows at his ogling.

“What?”

“Nothing.” When you look at him expectantly he shakes his head. That small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just surprised you have a big appetite, s’all.”

Somewhat bemused by his words, you tilt your head.

“Most women I know, they just eat salads and healthy crap. Always watching their weight and being picky with their food.” He smirks, nodding his chin towards your plate. “It’s just nice to see a woman who can actually throw down.”

Shaking your head, you snort. “Please, life is too fucking short to deprive yourself and worry about the shit you eat. I’d rather die with a full belly of food that I enjoy than eat like a rabbit.”

At that he lets out a loud guffaw. Not only do you have a decent appetite but you also got quite the potty mouth on you. He shouldn’t find that so attractive but he does.

“Also,” you flippantly wave a fry around in your hand, gesturing to the near empty tray of food sitting on the table between you two, “who wouldn’t want to eat when the food is this fucking good?”

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he rolls his shoulders back and reclines in his seat with a wink. “Can’t argue with that logic darlin’.”

Over the next hour or so, you get to know bits and pieces about each other while picking at the remainder of fries. Bouncing between topics, from food to work, to each other’s personal histories. Joel learns that your favorite food is pasta, grinning at you while you go off on a tangent about how pasta should be included as one of the main food groups. Doesn’t matter what kind of pasta, just pasta.

His favorite meal is anything home cooked and southern. Of course, nothing beats a good old sirloin steak with roasted potatoes. He’s a sucker for cornbread too. Sweet desserts are his weakness he reveals, but he never usually gets them for himself, only bringing home treats when he knows his daughter Sarah will be in town. When Sarah isn’t home he’s usually at the mercy of fast food joints due to his work hours, “hence the high cholesterol,” he grumbles.

That leads him to tell you about Sarah, how long he’s been in Austin, his job as a contractor. In return you tell him about going back to school and getting the dispensary job through Stef, just to have some money on the side.

“I needed to throw myself into something after my ex and I broke up.” You sigh defeatedly and cross your arms, elbows resting on the table as you look down. “Naturally, I figured going back to school and getting a job would be the solution, only now it feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

At that confession, Joel raises his eyebrows in disbelief. Guilt and shame wash over your features. It makes him frown, his eyebrows pinching together. Sadness isn’t a good look on you, and even though he’s known you for less than a day, he doesn’t like seeing that look cloud your face.

“Fuck him,” he quips, “his loss.”

Huffing out an exhale, you fiddle with a crumpled napkin on your side of the tray. Ripping up small bits of the crinkled paper and rolling them between your fingers. “You don’t know the whole story.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter, still sounds like he lost out.”

When you don’t look up at him, just continuing to rip up the napkin, biting the inside of your cheek, his voice softens.

“Sorry. It’s none of my business,” he backtracks, “you don’t have to tell me.”

At that you finally look up at him, “no, it’s okay Joel. Really. It’s been a while since we split.”

He nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.

“In the end we both wanted different things. He was ready to settle down, get married, buy a house, and start popping out kids. It took me a while to realize that that was far from what I wanted.” You stare off to the side, watching the kids at the far end of the field run throughout the maze of festival games.

“I guess you could say we split amicably, but we were together for a long time," you continue on. "When it was over he didn’t hesitate to tell me that I would never find someone like him, that I’ll never find someone who would love me as much as he did, and how he did so much for me, blah blah blah. That kinda bullshit” You chuckle hollowly, folding your arms across your chest.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again, silently cursing at the asshole who managed to convince you that you wouldn’t find someone better.

Wishful thinking claws at his chest as he swallows. He knows he probably wouldn’t be that much better for you either. You’re warm, caring, funny, gorgeous with a sharp wit that he finds painfully endearing. Who wouldn’t want you?

He swallows before he speaks up again. “It happens that sometimes people grow apart, realize they have different values and want different things. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. It hurts but better you figure it out now rather than later. I learned that the hard way,” he says with a regretful smile.

You shake your head, giving him an out before he says anything else. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Nah, it was a while ago. A long time ago. My ex and I, we had Sarah when we were real young.” He chuckles without any mirth. “Young and dumb. We had no idea what we were doing, but we both knew deep down it wouldn’t work. I was working ridiculous hours to make ends meet for us and she wasn't happy about that. We realized how different we truly were and figured it was for the best that we split.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” There’s concern in your eyes but you give him an empathetic smile. “But in the end, you got Sarah, right?”

Exhaling deeply, he nods and smiles softly. “Yeah. Thank God. She’s my whole life honestly. Gives me a reason to get up in the morning. She’s crazy smart, sometimes too smart for own good, but she has a heart of gold. Always wanting to help out others.”

He stares off into space, recalling his daughter's bright eyes, halo of curls, and her wide grin. God he missed her. It’s only as he’s telling you this does Joel realize that he doesn’t really have a life outside of Sarah. She’s not at the age anymore where she needs constant care, she’s independent and living away from home. The only people he really sees regularly are Tommy, when he deigns to drop by the house, or when they work jobs together, and the guys on his team. But outside of work? He doesn’t really do much of anything or see much of anyone. It dawns on him that he leads quite the obstinate life.

“You mentioned she’s away at college?” Your question pulling him out of his placating thoughts.

“Yeah, she started last semester. She comes home when she has breaks and during holidays. It’s quiet without her around.” He isn't aware of the somber look that washes over his face, but you quickly pick up on it.

“I’m sure she misses you just as much.” You look at him earnestly and give him a small smile.

He scoffs, “yeah right,” leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s living that freshman life. Classes, studying, partying,” he adds the last part hesitantly, with a bit of a bite. “She ain’t thinking about her old man too much.”

Clicking your tongue, you give him a reprimanding look. “You keep saying you're old Joel but that’s a fat lie.”

He goes to interrupt you but you hold your hand up in front him. “I saw your driver's license back at the dispensary Joel. You’re not old. Just because you’re over 40, doesn’t mean you’re a fucking fossil. C’mon.”

Seemingly accepting that he won’t be able to win this argument with you, he huffs and smirks, his arms still crossed over his chest.

“Whatever you say darlin’”

At that, you bite your lip and look down. The small terms of endearment fluster you. He likes seeing you flustered.

You pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time, and he feels himself deflate at the notion that you would have to go and that this night would come to a close. He hopes that you won’t tell him that you have to go. Already anticipating that disappointment he clears his throat and starts to stack the garbage on top of your tray.

“I’m pretty stuffed after the burger. Wanna walk around for a bit? See what else is around here.” You bite your lip, gauging his response.

Trying not to sound overly eager and excited, he smiles. “Yeah alright.”

No less than 30 minutes later, he finds himself strolling beside you around the perimeter of the festival lawn, a cup of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in his left hand, while you both take turns scooping spoonfuls.

The tips of his fingers prickle from holding the frigid paper cup as he hums around another spoonful. “Chocolate chip cookie dough is okay, but I still think maple pecan is better,” he grumbles.

You groan. “Ugh, I’m not getting into this again Joel,” glaring at him out of the corner of your eye as you lick the back of your spoon. “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt with the whole old man thing but maple pecan is an old man flavor. Sorry not sorry. You might as well suck on a Werther’s candy”

“Jesus,” he scoffs. “A Werther’s original? Why don’t I just put on some suspenders, get some bifocals, and sit in the park with the paper every morning.”

“Mmm, you never know. I think bifocals would really suit you,” Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek. Giggles bubbling up in your chest, while Joel shakes his head.

“I’m just saying, even plain vanilla would have been a better choice. A redeemable choice. Maple pecan is almost as bad as..” you wrinkle your nose while thinking of a comparison, “rum and raisin.”

Just as you go to scoop another spoonful out of the cup, Joel stretches his left arm up and back behind him, holding the cup out of your reach. You don’t bother to jump up to reach the cup as He shamelessly enjoys the sight of how he dwarfs over your tiny frame.

“Hey! Joel-”

He says your name in return solemnly, but the corners of his mouth curl upwards ever so slightly. “You take that back right now. That’s a classic.”

“It has raisins in it! You can’t be serious! Dried up grapes have no business being in ice cream man, it’s criminal.” You huff out a breath and look up at him in exasperation.

“Didn’t know you were so passionate about ice cream.” He has a shit eating grin on his face at this point. Completely enamored by how cute you are when you’re annoyed. He can’t help but tease you a bit more.

“You know I was havin’ a real good time tonight darlin’ but that’s my last straw.”

Rolling your eyes, you smirk. “Just like that huh? You’re stone cold Joel Miller. Alright then, but good luck finding another smoking buddy who can teach you really cool tricks”

At that, he relents. Dropping his arm back down to his side.

“Smoking buddy?”

You’d want to smoke with him again?

The term you coined has his mind melting into mush, and his stomach doing flips at the possibility of seeing you again.

“You’d wanna do this again? I mean- you'd want to smoke together?” He asks pensively, his amber eyes rounded as he looks down at you.

“Yeah,” you peek up at him through your lashes. “Why not? I’m always down to smoke. Plus I still gotta teach you how to roll your own joints, and maybe how to do some tricks as well.”

Winking at him you add on, “save you some money so that you don’t have to keep coming to the dispensary for your pre rolls.”

He presses his lips into a thin line before he can spit out the Pavlovian response on the tip of his tongue. Joel knows he would have come to the dispensary anyway to see you, regardless of if he was going to buy anymore weed. Hell, he would use any excuse he could to see you again. But he decides against telling you that.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, and licking his lips, his mouth opens slightly as his gaze dances across your face. From your eyes, down to your lips, and back up again. You’re so close. So close he could reach out, curl a finger into one of your belt loops, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush.

“I’d really like that darlin’”

You tilt your head and gaze up at him. “Good.” You glance briefly at your phone and frown. “I do have to go now though. I’m opening at the dispensary tomorrow so I should get some sleep. As should you,” you give him another playful shove, “old man.”

He grumbles in response.

You exchange numbers before heading your separate ways, sending him off with a warm smile. The same smile you greeted him with when he first stepped into the dispensary and nearly had a panic attack. “This was fun Joel. Text me next time you wanna smoke.”

Pausing for sec and squinting your eyes in mock concern, you ask him “Wait, you do know how to text right?”

You attempt to bite back a laugh with no success as he swats at you like a fly, and you jump backwards, dodging the swipe of his big hands. “Yes little miss, I know how to fuckin' text.” He makes a noise of disapproval and narrows his eyes at you. "Cheeky."

You’ve only known him for less than 24 hours and you already know how to push his buttons.

Though he's not really annoyed in the slightest. He allows it. What's more is that he actually likes it. Really likes it. The playful banter and flirting that you throw his way, he’s more than happy to return it.

Your chuckles die down. “Alright alright, just checking, relax.”

You send him a quick text with your name, and his phone pinging right away.

“I’ll see you around Joel.”

“See ya around darlin’” He drawls with a grin as he watches you turn to leave.

There’s a pep in Joel’s step as he walks back home. Contentment mixed with anxious excitement. The effects of the high have faded quite a bit, and his head clears as he continues down the sidewalk to his house. He’s pretty happy. Unreasonably happy for someone who just spent the evening with a woman he barely knows. But he felt like he got a deeper glimpse into who you are. What’s more surprising is that he wants to know more. He wants to know more about you. Wants to do more things with you.

Do more things to you.

But again, he keeps that to himself for fear of ruining whatever is slowly building between you two.

Trudging up the porch stairs, he glances at his watch.

10:02 p.m.

He considers texting you to see if you got home safe.

No. He didn’t need you thinking he was a desperate creep. As he crosses the threshold and closes the door behind him, he leans back against it, his head thudding against the wood.

Just then, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, the familiar ping sound resounding through the empty front hallway of his house.

[You]: “Hey! Just wanted to make sure you got in okay, seeing as it’s much past your bedtime 👴🏼”

Huffing out a chuckle, he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the flutter in his chest that you texted him first. His fingers fumble as he squints at the screen to type out a response.

[Joel]: “Could say the same for you. What happened to getting sleep because you work early tomorrow?”

He could leave it there and just see what you say. But the excitement from the evening as well as simmering current of lust running through his body has him feeling bold. He wants to push a little bit more.

[Joel]: “Naughty girl.” He bites his lip before hitting send.

The three little dots appear and reappear a handful of times as you start to type and then stop.

Shit. Was that too far? Did he just fuck up any chance he had at seeing you again because he has no self control? Probably. It was so hard to restrain any sort of control when you made it so easy to tease back. Your playfulness and doe eyes are a wicked force to be reckoned with, and it only made Joel want you more.

Waiting for you to text him back and tell him to fuck off, or politely shut it down, his mouth gapes open when you do finally respond.

[You]: “Never said I was a good girl 👀”

He exhales harshly. “Fucking hell.” His fingers tapping furiously as he sends the next message.

[Joel]: “That so? I don’t believe that. You’ll have to prove me wrong next time darlin.”

Your response comes lightning fast. Nothing else aside from a series of suggestive emoji's.

[You]: Goodnight Joel 😈 🍃 🔥 💨

Joel clenches his jaw and exhales deeply. He shoves his phone back in his coat pocket, and rubs his hand over his face.

What has he gotten himself into?

#weedpaw #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo

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roarsthunder · 2 months

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hello all~ i'm kaio and i'm another roleplayer on the hunt for partners for some 1x1s or similar threads on discord! some stuff about me: i'm 21+, in the est timezone, go by she/they pronouns and my triggers are disordered eating and self harm! i'm fine with any ship dynamic, be it f/m, f/f, m/m etc. love is love and chemistry is chemistry! one thing i'm not comfortable with though are huge age gaps, so i likely won't go beyond a 5 year difference for romantic pairings (depending on the muse ages). some general plots or verse types i really enjoy are: light mysticism or studio ghibli inspired plots (howl's moving castle and kiki's delivery service are massive favorites), werewolf pack/vampire coven plots, apocalyptic or fallout inspired plots, mafia power couple plots and road trips or traveling/vacation plots! below the cut are some of my favorite fcs to play as well as some more detailed plots i'd love to do! and if you think i'd be a good rp partner for you, just interact with this post, message me or add me on discord at kaiocherry!

favorite fcs: minnie, jihyo, eunha, bibi, ningning, jennie, tsuki, yeji, sohee, aisha, chaewon, lily, irene, sehun, hyunjin, wooyoung, shotaro, heeseung, song kang, taehyung, eric, zhang hao, woozi and yeonjun (there are honestly more, so if you're curious about a particular face, just ask)

plot one: muse a, a resourceful petty thief, has just been released after a four year prison sentence for the murder of their partner, which they did not commit. just before they were killed, muse a's partner revealed to them the location of a safety deposit box, containing evidence of corruption carried out by a wealthy businessman whose goons then committed the real murder before framing muse a. muse b unknowingly works for the corrupt businessman and is engaged to his heir with a wedding rapidly approaching. now, they are tasked with ensuring that muse a leaves town now that they're out of prison. muse a begs muse b to help clear their name of murder accusations and get to the safety deposit box, something muse b reluctantly agrees to even though they are in the midst of a wedding rush among other errands set upon them by their underhanded boss. muse a and muse b begin falling for each other, complicating things even further, while neither of them yet realize their ties to the same man. (inspired by the 1987 film 'who's that girl'. i can explain this better if need be! i tried to condense it as much as possible.)

plot two: muse a and muse b have been together for four long years, and just as they thought things were progressing to the next level, a huge fight ends their relationship. the only problem is that they're both on pretty tight budgets, so neither of them can afford to move out of the apartment they share together right now. an awkward bridge forms between them as the forced time together makes them start reminiscing about the good times and whether they really want to throw it all away.

#krp #discord 1x1s #1x1 roleplay #1x1 discord #smut 1x1 #1x1 rp #discord 1x1 #oc krp #oc roleplay

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storiesbyrhi · 2 years

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Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 2: Carrie

Eddie Munson x Chubby & Inexperienced!Reader 3358 words

Previous Chapters: 1 - Valium

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault; disordered eating and thoughts of food; unsupportive/highly critical parents; no beta; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Chapter Summary: The very first circle of Hell is Hawkins High, and while you have yet to find a Heaven, there’s safety in presence of Eddie.

Chapter 2: Carrie

Almost three weeks had passed and you’d not spoken to Eddie. When you saw him in the halls, you exchanged smiles, but he never said anything. There was a part of you that was disappointed. Mostly you tried to remind yourself it was better to keep your head down. Stay out of the limelight. It seemed the cruel mistress known as fate, however, had other ideas.

“Alright Seniors!” and the assembly had begun.

The Seniors of Hawkins High were dragged into the stadium and told to sit on the bleachers and listen to a presentation on the importance of applying for colleges and planning their futures.

“Now, let’s get some real life inspiration!” one of the teachers said, picking the valedictorian to stand up and tell the class what their five-year-plan was.

Eddie was sitting off to the side thinking about how he couldn’t wait to get home to restring his guitar. He spotted you in the back row, opposite side. You looked bored and sad, which was kind of your default vibe.

The teacher picked another high achiever, and Chrissy Cunningham after that. They all spoke easily, didn’t mind being put on the spot. “Two more,” the teacher said, choosing the next victim. Then she said your name, “You’ll finish us off.”

Eddie watched you sit up straight and immediately begin to panic. You stared straight ahead, and while it looked like you were listening to the kid out the front talk about their early acceptance letter, he knew you were on the cusp of losing your shit.

Before he could weigh up the pros and cons, he was standing and walking from the stadium. “Uh – Mr. Munson, where do you think you’re going?” one of the teachers called after him. Eddie clenched his jaw and just kept walking. He knew he’d pay for it later but he didn’t care. His plan was only a five-minute one but it was going to save you.

When the fire alarm screamed to life two minutes after Eddie left the assembly, everyone knew it was him. Standing around with the rest of the school out on the oval, you looked around for Eddie; he was already in his van on his way home though. You began to think of ways you could thank him.

…

You stood in the entrance of the cafeteria and watched Eddie walk across tables, stick his tongue out at Jason Carver, then push his freshmen friends around. They left the room, talking about finding a sub, and you had no idea what they meant. Eddie had sat back down, returned to a normal state of being.

Sticking to the walls of the cafeteria, you made your way around to Eddie, quickly sitting in the free seat next to him before you could lose your nerve.

He said your name, the surprise evident.

“Hi. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you started, holding the envelope in your hands so tightly that you were causing wrinkles in the paper. “For the other day and the other week.”

When you held out the small blue envelope, Eddie looked at it for a second before taking it. “What’s this?” he asked.

The rest of his table was dead silent, watching in awe as this totally unexpected scene played out in front of them. You tried to not look away from Eddie to his friends. Seeing their confused expressions would make you even more impossibly nervous.

“I, um… It’s a thank you gift.”

Eddie took out the piece of paper in the envelope and read the list of words. He glanced up at you, bemused.

“I know you do music. You’re in a band. And then I read that the game you play, the Dungeons and Dragons one, it’s kind of like… a play. So, I wrote this… for you. It’s just a list of words that people don’t use much anymore. Cool words. I thought they’d be interesting for lyrics or the game or whatever. I don’t know. It’s stupid,”

“It’s not,” Eddie interrupted, putting you out of your misery. “It’s… thoughtful.” He settled on that, didn’t want to gush and embarrass himself. The image of you sitting with a dictionary in one hand and a piece of paper destined for him in the other was burning into his brain.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling.

“It’s okay. I just-” you were going to say, for what was probably the millionth time, ‘I just wanted to say thank you,’ when you were interrupted.

“Well doesn’t this just make sense!” Hayley said. You hadn’t noticed her arrive. How had you missed that green and white cheerleader outfit? How had you fallen into the trap? “Freaks attract freaks. Didn’t take you long to find your place, huh?” she aimed at you, reaching out to push your shoulder.

You stood, moved to leave, when Haley turned to Eddie. “I bet you’re into it, right?”

“Hayley,” you begged. “Don’t,”

“Oh! You haven’t told him?” She was so fucking joyful in the pain she was inflicting. You felt ashamed that she was ever your friend.

“Please,” you said, a tear running down your cheek.

“Trust you, Munson, to have a dirty blood kink,” Haley started. Eddie stood, easily towering over the cheerleader. It made her stumble backward.

“Whatever you’ve got to say, I’m not interested in hearing,” he said to her too politely.

“But it’s about your new girlfriend-”

“Don’t give a fuck, killjoy. Move along.”

Haley opened her mouth to speak, but Eddie had sat back down, turned his back to her, and rendered her invisible. Eddie looked to you, a second away from asking you to sit next to him, when Haley took the few short steps she needed to be close enough to push you.

Landing on your ass in front of everyone, you rushed to push your skirt back down before anyone could see the shorts you wore under it.

“Our very own fat Carrie. You’re so disgusting.”

You crawled to your feet and were running from the cafeteria before Eddie could even get out of his seat.

…

There were only so many places a crying girl could hide on the grounds of Hawkins High. Eddie used his best logical deduction to find you. Not behind the woodwork shed; you had been seen there too recently. Not in the girls’ bathroom; you would want to be away from the study body. Across the field then; the small forest would give you sanctuary.

Eddie followed the sounds of sniffling until he found you curled up behind a tree, bag pulled close to your chest. He sat on the forest floor next to you, saying nothing at first but handing you his bandana.

“I can wash it,” he said when you looked at him.

Before any more body fluid could escape your eyes and nose, you used the bandana like Eddie wanted you to.

“I’m sorry. She’s a bitch,” he said. “Really doing a disserve to cheerleaders everywhere,”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, not all of them are like her. And you weren’t.”

It made you wonder how many conversations with cheerleaders Eddie Munson had. You didn’t ask. Just sat, sad and embarrassed.

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck she was talking about, but, um, some contextual clues kind of point-”

“Don’t. Please,” you said.

“I’m just saying… People get so hung up on the most boring shit, you know? Like why give a fuck about stuff out of your control? Like whatever weird shit your body is doing. Like one time I had the fucking flu or something and I’d been sick all day. I puked in my bed, probably had enough energy to like, deal with it, but I just rolled over and went back to sleep.”

Eddie Munson was easily the strangest person you had ever spoken to. He was sitting on a bed of dead leaves and dirt, trying to give you a version of the classic ‘it’s okay your body is changing' speech, while maintaining some level of cool.

“Okay?” you whispered out, shrugging your shoulders a little.

“I have definitely eaten my own boogers,” he told you, absolutely no expression on his face. It made you laugh. “Sometimes I bite at my nails, so I reckon I’ve probably swallowed some. I tried to pierce my nipple last year. Got infected, now I have this weird scar. Just looks like I have a freaky nipple. And I’m actually very self-conscious about it, so that one is a secret between us, 'kay?”

You nodded at him, slowly reaching out a hand with your pinky finger extended. Promised. You were smiling and it’s all he wanted.

“So, do you wanna tell me yours? I bet it’s not as bad as you think,” Eddie tried.

When tears started to swell up in your eyes again, he got scared he’d pushed it. But you started to speak. “There was a party last year. We were playing 7 Minutes in Heaven,”

“People still play that?” Eddie asked, clearly unimpressed.

You shrugged, continuing, “I didn’t… I never liked games like that but I couldn’t say anything. The others already teased me because…” The redness in your cheeks told Eddie everything he needed to know. “When it was my turn it was with Andy he… He said that we were almost Seniors and we should be playing the proper version of the game…”

Eddie regretted asking because watching you recount it was hard. He was already trying to fill in the blanks of the rest of the story, prepare himself for whatever fucked up shit happened next.

“He said I had to… Like, go down on him.” Your voice was shrinking with each sentence. “But I wouldn’t. I’d been feeling sick the whole day and we had this gross cherry wine stuff. I was so scared I would throw up on him… He still made me kiss him. And he said I had to… let him touch me.”

Eddie said your name, reached out but pulled his hand back, worried that being touched was the last thing you needed. You let your legs drop from where they had been pulled up to your chest, sandwiching your bag to it. Eddie shuffled forward and started to play with your shoelaces, a gesture that told you he was there, listening, and it was okay.

“I let him. But, um-” It was the same point in the story you hesitated at when you told the school counsellor, Ms. Kelley. “I didn’t know, um, my period had started. And… Andy freaked out. Ran out and told everyone. They all said I was gross. And I couldn’t be a cheerleader if I was gross like that. So, they just stopped being… my friends. And I mean, I don’t blame-”

“Wait, no, hold on.” Eddie was confused. He was looking at you with an intensity that made you feel shaky. “The fucked up part of that story was fucking Barf Bag trying to get with you when you said no. That’s not cool, you know that right?”

Eddie searched your face for even a hint that you understood. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew, of course. But the white hot shame of feeling disgusting overpowered anything else. And it wasn’t like Ms. Kelley had made a big deal out of what Andy had done.

“You say the word, I’ll go find him right now and-” Eddie almost spat.

“No! No. You can’t tell anyone anything!” you nearly screamed, jumping to a kneeling position and moving to hold Eddie by the shoulders. Your panic was palpable. “Please promise. Please, please,”

“Babe, I won’t tell anyone shit,” Eddie reassured you, nodding frantically and putting his hands on your arms. “I just- That’s fucked up. What he did.”

You sat back down, right next to Eddie. He put his arms around you, pulled you into him. His kindness made you cry, and once you started you couldn’t stop.

“I wanna go home,” you managed to get out.

“Yeah. Of course. I’ll take you home,” Eddie said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, then cringing. He should have asked, he thought.

When you had calmed down enough to suggest moving, Eddie helped you to your feet and kept a strong grip on your hand as he led you to his van. You said nothing on the drive home, other than small directions to your house.

Eddie fucked around with the tapes for a bit at a stop sign, finally handing over a shoe box filled with mixes for you to pick from. There was one with a hand-drawn label, some sort of mermaid-type creature sketched onto it. It read ‘sea shanties’ but was actually just heavy metal. You didn’t mind.

As you collected your bag from the van’s floor and undid your seat belt, Eddie scribbled his number down on a piece of paper. “We don’t have to talk. But, later, can you call me, just so I know you’re alright?” he asked, entirely genuine and dead serious.

You nodded and got out of the van, offered a small wave from your front door, and went inside.

…

After the incident in the cafeteria, you pretended to be sick for a whole week. Your parents, the type that would say ‘we want what’s best for you’ but mean ‘you better get straight As,’ were pressuring you to return. Just to add salt to the wound, one of them commented that maybe if you had better eating habits, like you had when you were a cheerleader, you’d not take a week to bounce back from a tummy bug.

It was that – that suffocating parental presence – that pushed you to return to school in the end. You got through Monday and Tuesday without talking to anyone at all. Under the radar in the classroom. Strategically timing bathroom visits to avoid your ex-friends. Hiding during breaks. It was going well until Wednesday lunchtime.

You were sitting behind the old water tanks at the far end of the staff parking lot. It was technically out of bounds but it was unsupervised. There was no grass or seating, so students never ventured out there. You sat on the sandy dirt with your back against one of the tanks.

The clinking sound of Eddie’s chains was your first indicator someone was coming. You held your breath until he appeared in front of you, blocking the sun and casting you in cool shadow.

“Hey. Can I sit?” he asked. When you nodded, he sat next to you, mirroring your position of back to the tank, but he stretched his legs out in front of him whereas you had yours crossed. “Haven’t seen you around in a bit,”

“I was sick,” you lied.

Eddie could tell, but he wasn’t going to say anything. “Did I get you in trouble? With your dad?” he asked.

The day Eddie had dropped you home, you never called him to check in. He was worried and had worked himself up into a manic state. Eventually, he walked to the trailer park’s pay phone and used a phone book to find your number.

Your father had picked up and yelled at Eddie. And that was just because he was a boy calling late. If he knew it was Eddie Munson, there was a fair chance you would have been in a lot more trouble.

“It’s fine. I said you were calling about school stuff,” you replied. Your father hadn’t believed you.

“That’s what I told him too but he seemed pissed,”

“It’s fine,” you lied again. There were a few beats of silence. “How did you know I was here?” you asked him, looking over.

Eddie smiled. “I saw you leavin’ the library. I, ah, guess I’ve been worried. About you. I wanted to come see if you were okay?”

In short, he followed you.

“I’m okay,” you reported in that trademark sad and bored tone that Eddie didn’t like. It was a sound of hopelessness, of resignation to fate.

“Okay. Yeah, um, that’s… good. Uh, I also wanted to just say that if you want, you can sit with us. We have the same lunch period, and this is, uh…” Eddie paused and looked around, kicking at that dirt. “I love what you’ve done with the place, but it’s a bit of a trek from everything.”

You laughed a little, which made Eddie feel good. Really good. When you didn’t reply, just gave him a small nod, he continued.

“I know we’re like, rock bottom of the pecking order, but we’re also not assholes, you know? And the guys, once they know someone, they look out for them,” he said.

You just nodded again. Eddie wondered if you understood what he was trying to offer. Protection. Safety. Maybe, if you let them in, friendship.

“And, added bonus here, because I’m Dungeon Master, I oversee the trading of all food. You want to trade pretzels for brownie. I can make it happen,” he bragged.

When you laughed, Eddie was sure you’d at least consider it.

“Do you do that a lot?” you asked, your voice finding itself after days of disuse.

“What? Make freshmen give me the homemade treaties their mommies make? Oh, yeah. All the time, babe.”

Three! He’d made you laugh three times. Feeling bold, Eddie pulled out a joint and lit it. “So, you mind if I just sit here with you? Can’t really be fucked walking all the way back to Mordor just yet,”

“You can stay,” you answered quickly. “And, um. Thank you. For asking,”

“Asking to stay?” Eddie was confused.

“Yeah. You’re good at that. At, like, I don’t know. Boundaries, I guess.”

Eddie shrugged. “Sounds like a fancy way of saying I’m not a total asshole,”

“You’re not. At all,”

“Well, I value your opinion, so thank you. You are also not an asshole,” Eddie said, adding a small bow to accentuate his point.

You smiled wide. “Thanks?”

The rest of lunch went by quickly with the aid of Eddie’s wild storytelling and the comfortable silence that sat between you. It was the most at ease you had been in a really long time. You would even go as far as to say it was the happiest you had been in a really long time.

Eddie walked you to your next class, smiling at you gently as he reminded you, “Tomorrow. Come sit with us, ‘kay?”

…

It wasn’t like you didn’t know where you were going. Yet, you stood awkwardly outside the doors of the cafeteria when the next day rolled around and it was time for lunch. There were a million panicked thoughts buzzing through your head.

It’s stupid to put yourself in the firing line. Being in the cafeteria put you closer to the cheerleaders and basketball team. What the fuck were you doing? Sitting with the same people regularly meant they would inevitably notice your eating habits. Stupid. Stupid. And all that food. Everywhere.

You were about to turn and bolt when Gareth, one of Eddie’s right hand men, stopped and greeted you. “Eddie said you might come sit with us,” he said casually. He frowned when you just stared at him. “Um… Are you coming?”

Slowly you nodded, then followed Gareth through the doors and to the table.

“Look who I found,” Gareth announced as he took his usual spot.

Before you had time to think about it, Eddie had motioned for his friends to move down a seat, making room for you next to him.

“Uh, hi,” you said to the table.

“Glad you made it,” Eddie greeted, sitting up straighter and angling himself towards you.

After the novelty of a new person at their table wore away, everyone engaged in their normal teenage conversations. Despite everything you had predicted, it was comfortable sitting there. Although you didn’t insert yourself into the conversation, you didn’t feel ignored. You ate your green grapes, every now and then swapping one for one of Eddie’s pretzels.

You returned on Friday, and every school day after that.

CHAPTER 3

End Note: I promise I'm going to heal all of us just a little bit with this fic. Trust me and the process, yeah?

Let me know your thoughts and feelings!

Fic Taglist: @ajeff855 @b-barnes04

Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader #Eddie Munson/Chubby!Reader

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