#just grappling onto each other for dear life the entire time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nona-piccolo · 3 years

Text

A Savior

Pairing(s): Reader x Beelzebub

Pronouns: she/her/hers

Warnings: attempted assault, some harsh language

The underworld, or what they liked to call the ‘Devildom’ was rarely silent. It seemed to be one of the busiest places you’ve ever had the opportunity to live in; the constant rush of demons walking by, sometimes in pairs and sometimes alone, the lights from demon-owned stores and restaurants, the loud talking of conversations. Not only did it feel natural, but it felt welcoming. It felt comfortable.

It was a whole different story at night however.

The demons that would walk by had their hoods up, they had their hands stuffed into their pockets that filled your mind with mystery on what they could be clutching in their hands. And the conversations between them were more hushed. Almost nonexistent. The normally bright and lit city was now dimmed; it seemed almost… alarming.

It was quiet now, and that was something you found unsettling.

You should have felt safe.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you felt alone and shaky. You had never seen the Devildom this way. The chill of the night time breeze making you feel completely naked, despite the layers of clothes you wore over your RAD uniform. Silently you thanked Asmodeus for boisterously wrapping you in a light pink scarf this morning. He insisted that its color would match your rosy cheeks. Unsurprisingly, Asmo’s perfume was still gripped to the scarf like a stain. Its light and warm fabric did wonders to keep you from completely panicking as you clutched to it for dear life.

The shadows of the large buildings cast imaginary images in your mind. They seemed to claw at the night sky, so that when you looked up, you could barely see the faint light of the stars. Each street lamp seemed dimmer and dimmer the further you walked, grappling you down a path of darkness.

Suddenly, the scurrying of a small creature jumped from the shadows and onto the street, where it ran ballistically in circles before jolting down the road that you were the only one occupying. You had let out an audible screech at the intrusion of silence, feeling your heart race a pounding rate.

“Goddamnit…” you muttered in a hushed tone, watching the little creature squeak back into the darkness. That thing almost gave you a heart attack. You couldn’t see a thing. You couldn’t hear a thing. Were you even going the right way? You thought the path home was simple and easy enough- you had the Devildom roads engraved into your memory from the months you’ve spent here. It was like looking at the back of your hand. So why were you hesitating now?

You walked around the corner, the tippy top of the RAD building was now officially out of your point of view. Maybe by some luck from God, you’d run into Solomon, who decided that this night would be one of the nights he was staying late from school to research more in the library too. Or maybe Simeon would appear from a late night stroll and wisk you back to the House of Lamentation. Maybe if you turned back now Diavolo would still be at the RAD building working on some wretched paperwork he always liked to complain about. Maybe out of the kindness of his heart, he’d walk you home. He’d make sure you’d be safe.

You lightly scoffed. Why the hell would the literal Prince of the Devildom take out the time of his night to help walk some human home?

No, you could do this. One step at a time, each step getting you closer to the building that you had got to call home, filled with the comfort of each brother. A small smile pulled on your face as you recalled the faces of the seven demons. Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Belphie… and Beel. The thought of them gave you a slight moment to breathe normally again.

Had you been breathing so heavily this entire time?

No, you told yourself, it’ll be okay. You wanted them to know that you could handle yourself out here. That they didn’t have to constantly baby you. That the Devildom wasn’t as bad as it was portrayed in stories and books. Despite the warnings that Lucifer had given you about other demons when you first arrived here, spending time with such wonderful demons such as the brothers, may have brought your guard down. It may have accidentally caused you to see all demons in a good light.

And that naivety allowed for your mind to wander far enough as to not have heard the several footsteps that dragged close behind you.

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

Mammon tapped a finger against the armchair, shifting his sitting position again for the fiftieth time in the last twenty minutes. He must have looked like a madman to the normal person, his head swivelling to the door and to then the hallway and then behind him again and again. He was waiting for something to happen; or to put it more frankly he was waiting for you. Any minute now you would bound through the front door with a big grin on your face, and then Mammon’s ass would be saved from getting into trouble. Lucifer wouldn’t find out that he let you walk home alone and then proceed to hang him from his feet off of the banister for the poor choices he’s made.

Or… that was what he kept telling himself.

Instantly, a shadow of shame fell across the white-haired demon’s face. He couldn’t believe he was more worried about getting into trouble than making sure your life wasn’t in danger. Was he really this selfish? This greedy?

During breakfast time he had pulled you off to the side, begging for you to take his place in searching for the required books on the next project he had due. Mammon had always hated scoping through a barrage of books at the library. It was nauseating and boring; and he had no interest in finding the correct book titles and carding through said books just for a measly literature project.

No. Instead what interested him was the underground gambling ring that he had heard of. The rumors danced through the school for weeks now, and with the many connections Mammon had made over the years, he knew this was a chance for him to make potential easy bank. So the plan was simple; he would get you to do the after school research for him, while he ditched his last classes of school in exchange for going gambling. The difficult part wasn’t the ditching- since Mammon was practically a pro at that- but the fact that he needed to actually persuade you in agreeing to his stupid idea. But even now, you continued to surprise him. Despite knowing how excruciatingly long it could take, and besides the fact that it wasn’t your burden to carry, you still accepted.

Mammon felt like crying.

Despite the hundreds of calls Mammon sent to your phone, you didn’t pick up once.

It’s been hours now and he still hasn’t heard from you.

Lucifer was going to murder him.

Lucifer was going to find out that he made you walk alone at night and he was going to rip his head off of his body and stake it right on the-

“Mammon?”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEK!!” Mammon screamed, throwing his body against the chair with so much force he almost knocked the entire thing over. He didn’t even realize Asmo had made his way into the main room so silently. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING I SWEAR!”

Asmodeus raised an eyebrow, his hands sassily thrown on his hips as he stared at Mammon with familiar disinterest. His younger brother was wearing his pink night robe, another reminder to Mammon that it was already so late. “Like I’d believe that, but this isn’t about you. I’m looking for Y/N~ Have you seen her?”

The question was an innocent one, but almost automatically Mammon felt his stomach bubble with poison. He suddenly felt sick and queasy, steadying himself on the arms of the chair. “No….” The muscles in Mammon’s shoulders involuntarily flinched. Mammon should have said more, but it was like his body was rejecting it. Like if he didn’t admit out loud that Y/N hasn’t come home yet, it wouldn’t be a reality.

Now, Asmodeus wasn’t dull. It was his pride and ability to understand feelings and communication that allowed him to read the room like an Olympic, and yet in this instance it wouldn’t take a philosopher to recognize something was very wrong. “Mammon, weren’t you with her?” He questioned lightly, eyebrows twitching in annoyance. “I haven’t seen my darling all day, which is already weird since she was supposed to come to my room tonight and help me apply a new face mask. It’s almost 12:30!!” he huffed, inching closer and closer to Mammon’s face as the latter continuously attempted to sink further back into the seat. Hopefully the chair would swallow Mammon whole and save him from this living nightmare.

Mammon shrugged his shoulders as a wordless I don’t know, which only seemed to agitate Asmo more. Quickly he realized that Asmodeus needed to hear actual words.

“Oh boy… is it hot in here? Because I’m sweating buckets ehehe..” Mammon laughed humorlessly, reaching up to fan the collar of his shirt in order to get air flowing over his sweat ridden neck.

“No, I thouft if wash ashually prettie chillie thoday.”

This time, it wasn’t Asmo’s high pitched and whiny voice to respond.

It was a deep and slow rumbling voice, and way more unclear due to the fact that it seemed like said demon had his mouth full of food. A preoccupied Beelzebub was standing over Asmodeus, his giant shadow casted over the lust demon. His arms were full with a variety of different foods he no doubt snatched from the kitchen on the way back to his room for a midnight snack. He cradled the food in his arms like they were his children, ready for him to gobble up as soon as he probably got back to his room. Actually, Mammon was shocked that there was any food left for Beel to even take back to his room, let alone the fact that the ginger demon was standing here in the main hall trying to butt into their business. Usually Beel was uninterested in idle chat that the rest of his brothers were involved in. Banter and arguments were of no interest to Beelzebub.

And yet for some reason, Beel found interest in the conversation that Mammon and Asmo were having.

“I actually haven’t seen Y/N at all today either. She’s not in her room” Beel muttered, slowly taking another giant bite from a rather large sandwich. His eyes were trained down on the floor, clearly bothered by the conclusion that left his lips.

There it was. That was the reason Beelzebub inserted himself into the conversation.

Because of Y/N.

Mammon felt another train of guilt ram into his chest, and he clutched the area above his heart as if it could stop it from bursting. He knew how much Y/N means to Beel. He knew from the many late night talks Mammon and Beel had; how the ginger would once confess to Mammon that he may have liked her more than normal. That he was confused on why her smiles made him feel lightheaded, and that her laughter made her almost ten times prettier than she already was. Mammon had simply brushed Beel off as a lunatic at that time. Beel was a demon, and Y/N was a human. Beel was simply delusional.

But Mammon had watched the two interact from that moment on. All the baking Y/N had done for Beel, when they were the first two to fall asleep leaning on each other after movie night, how Beel made sure to split his food portions with her, how they both pulled away like lightning shocked them when their hands accidentally touch, how he purposefully requested foods that he knew were her favorites. He realized it wasn’t just a fleeting thing that Beelzebub felt. His closed up and simple-minded younger brother truly and deeply admired Y/N.

Mammon felt like an awful older brother in that moment.

“See?!” Asmodeus gestured to Beel with open arms. “Even Beel hasn’t seen her. What is going on?”

Mammon couldn’t even lift his head to look into the eyes of his worried little brothers. The hurt on their faces would cause him to burst. Mammon concluded he had to be one the unluckiest demon in the world.

Before he could answer, someone yet again spoke up. Another familiar face; and one that Mammon had been dreading.

“I thought I’d find you all here. What is all the ruckus about?”

Nope. He spoke too soon. He was the unluckiest demon in the world.

Mammon swallowed his saliva thickly, his throat clogging up almost instantly, making his whole body freeze as if all his blood was turned into ice. He wasn’t the only one; Asmo and Beel had both tensed up at the mere sound of the voice.

Lucifer stood there, his arms crossed against his chest. He was probably waiting for the situation to be explained. He was probably waiting to hear how Mammon had screwed something up this time. How Mammon had managed to cause them trouble yet again. ‘Mammon this’ and ‘Mammon that’. The guilt was written all over his face. They might as well handcuff him and throw him in a prison cell to rot.

Maybe that’s what he deserves.

Unlike the other two, Mammon raised his head slowly to get a look at Lucifer. There were dark undereye circles formed under his striking red eyes, and it was clear Lucifer needed some sleep from the tireless work he probably had today. His eyes looked different.

They looked exhausted. They looked dead. Perhaps they were.

“Lucifer! We haven’t seen Y/N all day, so we were just asking Mammon where she was! I mean, she’s not in her room, she’s not picking up her phone, she’s not anywhere!” Asmodeus hurriedly explained, brushing out a stray piece of hair that had fallen in front of his perfect face.

Beel nodded in agreement, turning towards Lucifer to give him his full attention.

But even with all their eyes now trained on Lucifer, the demon of pride gave none of them his attention; only Mammon. His eyes were narrowed down and zoned in on the cowering man. All color had left Mammon’s face as he tried to stop himself from shaking at the potential news he needed to share to the rest of his brothers- and for the punishment that would be coming as a result.

“Well? Where is she Mammon?” Lucifer demanded, tapping a finger. “Didn’t she walk home with you today?”

The white-haired demon may not be the brightest tool in the shed; but he knew when to admit guilt. He knew that with every second wasted, Y/N was still out there on the streets of literal hell walking home alone. He couldn’t worry about the punishment he may face because of his stupid mistake; her safety should have come first.

He forced himself to speak. His throat made a strange noise when he swallowed.

“I-I… I don’t know,” he said softly. His shoulders were tensed up and his head was dropped forward. As if he was ashamed. “I didn’t walk home with her today… She stayed late doing research at the academy while I went home.”

Lucifer’s eye twitched involuntarily, and his nails suddenly dug into his own arms harshly. “You WHAT?” he yelled, his expression differing from Asmodeus and Beelzebub’s expression.

Asmo’s eyes widened tenfold, and his mouth hung agape. “She’s walking home alone?! Around Devildom all willy nilly?!” he screeched, panic rushing through his veins at an alarming speed. While Asmo’s panicked expression was just as frightening to Mammon, Lucifer’s anger was far worse. He could see all kinds of emotions in Lucifer's face. The wrinkle of anger across his forehead, the fear, wrath, and disappointment portrayed in his eyes.

“Let me get this straight Mammon, she is still out there at 12:30 am in the middle of the Devildom because you decided that you weren’t going to make sure she’s fine, even though that was the job assigned to you. She could be killed! We haven’t got a hold of her yet, and you are just sitting here WAITING?” Lucifer’s voice was sharp and cold, hitting the nail on every point. Even through his cracked exterior, Mammon could tell Lucifer was panicking.

“When was the last time anyone saw her??” Lucifer demanded, quickly zeroing in on Asmodeus. He probably didn’t want to look at Mammon’s guilt-ridden face anymore. And Mammon couldn’t blame him.

Asmodeus’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t look at me! I haven’t seen her for hours Lucifer!” his light eyes filled to the brim with tears, and his voice on the verge of shaking.

“Lucifer,” Mammon began, his bottom lip trembling. He felt sick. “I- I know I should’ve gone to you straight away but I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop talking Mammon. We will discuss this later,” Lucifer spat, still not looking him in the eye. “Asmodeus, go find Leviathan and tell him to try and track down where Y/N’s phone may be. Wake up Satan and Belphegor. They will be the search party.”

Almost immediately Asmodeus rushed out of the room, leaving Lucifer to deal with the other two.

“Beel, I need you to stay here in case she comes back. If she does we-” Lucifer paused his command, scanning the room at an alarming speed. “Beel?”

The room was empty; all that was left was the remains of leftover food disregarded on the floor of the main hall. They hadn’t seen him leave.

All they heard was the front door slam shut.

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

Beel was always more of the quiet type.

His brothers were brash and uncooperative; Mammon would get into trouble, and then Lucifer would begrudgingly step in to fix it, and then Satan or Asmo would poke fun at him, causing him to bite back, all the while Leviathan and Belphegor locked themselves up in their rooms doing their own activities. It’s all in a day of the life. And he really loved them for it.

Despite growing up in an environment with loud and dysfunctional people, it wasn’t a necessity to try and gain attention to himself. In fact, he couldn’t care less. He was content with sitting there watching everyone else interact. Usually the only things on his mind were exercising, spending time with his family, and food.

Ah yes, food.

Both a curse and a blessing.

As the avatar of gluttony, Beelzebub was given an eternal and everlasting greed for food. Like a continuous blackhole, his body disintegrated food as soon as it entered his stomach, leaving him to wish there was more. His stomach could never be satisfied or quenched, nor can his hunger ever be fulfilled.

In its very essence; gluttony.

As much as his stomach has caused problems in the past- like Beel eating the entirety of the kitchen in one sitting, leaving none for his brothers- it also allowed Beel to pass the time and do something. It was like a comfort being able to chew on the foods he found delicious. Especially back when he didn’t have Belphegor to talk to. When he didn’t have Belphegor to spend time with.

He remembers laying in bed at night, staring blankly at his twin’s side of the room, wondering how he was doing or where he was. He hoped Belphegor was happy, he hoped he was safe, but most of all he hoped Belphegor missed him as much as he did. When he was gone, it felt like there were two black holes in Beel’s body; one in his stomach, and one in his heart.

And it really hurt.

The late hours of the nights was what Beelzebub dreaded the most. He knew every night his dreams would sweep him into more pain and anguish- he would dream about Belphegor or Lilith again with a faux sense of happiness, and he couldn’t bear it.

Those were the times he was thankful for his hunger. His stomach would rumble loudly in the dead of night, forcing Beelzebub to snap out of his dreams and get up to the kitchen to half-heartedly try and pursue being full.

Yet now that Belphegor was back home, he no longer felt happy to get up out of bed at night to sneak into the kitchen for another meal. It didn’t make him feel happy anymore, it just continued to bother him. Yet it was practically impossible to ignore it.

Thankfully, Beelzebub had something else to help soothe that ache.

You.

Even if his hunger could never be satisfied, being around you could at least make it bearable. He found himself being reluctant in getting up to go to the kitchen when you had accidentally fallen asleep on his arm. And perhaps that little bit of reluctance was what he needed to get his mind off of food.

Through the multiple months, almost a year and a half now, you had become increasingly important to him. At first he recognised how sweet of a person you were. A part of him was worried you’d be swallowed by the burdens and terror his brothers would put you through, and while there were definitely some ups and downs, they all adored you and your more motherly tendencies. It was something they were all lacking in their lives.

Unbeknownst to him though, his connections with you went further than just enjoying each other’s presence. Perhaps you two weren’t all that different; besides the obvious species you were both categorized into. You would openly laugh at his jokes, cook and bake food for him, never once judged him or gobbling down hordes of food in one sitting, you got along insanely well with Belphegor, you were artistic, kind, and intelligent in your own ways. There was a nagging curiosity that told him he should be spending more time with you. And with that curiosity, he found a plane of comfort and safety around you.

It was so instant. It really caught him off guard.

But now you had made it into the top of his list on people he wanted to keep safe; someone very close to his heart.

And apparently you were out there somewhere on your way home. Yet no one could reach you.

Beelzebub didn’t have the heart to tell Mammon or Lucifer that he had also tried to call your phone several times today. Except, he only came to the surface-level conclusion that you must have been too busy to answer his calls. He had no clue you were alone out here.

If he was Lucifer, there would be multiple scenarios flinging through his mind on where you could be or what could have happened to you. As a natural pessimist, Lucifer might have imagined you already dead in a nearby alleyway by some delinquent demon who was out for human blood. Lucifer could be imagining the grimy hands of multiple demons taking you away- somewhere the brothers would have no way of finding you. Maybe part of Lucifer’s panic came from the fact that this would violate Diavolo’s direct order to keep you safe.

But Beelzebub was not Lucifer. Beel did not have a clear head, or a strategic way of thinking through problems.

No, he was all action and instinct, which is probably why he was still running around the Devildom like a lost cause. Half of Beel’s conscience told him it would be worth the risk to wreck multiple buildings until he somehow would run into you. But he needed to stop the itch of destruction that threatened to climb out of him. Lucifer would only be more angry.

In the back of Beel’s mind he made a reminder to apologize to Lucifer for barging out of the house in the way that he did. But he couldn’t waste any more time when you still weren’t home. Especially since Beelzebub was the most adept physically and capably to track and find you.

Sniff, sniff.

Beelzebub paused in the middle of a random city square, sniffing the air like a bloodhound dog. On a normal day this should be easy for him, but the drizzling rain made it more difficult to pinpoint your scent. A familiar scent of dough and bread made its way into his nostrils. The bakery is about two miles north, and the cafe that we went to a few days ago is a few feet away. Oh God, he couldn’t smell people though, were you already taken?? Who would take you? Who would hurt you? Beel could feel the blood pounding in his heart, and he forced himself not to panic.

Beelzebub took another deep breath, sniffing the air rather loudly, trying to pinpoint exact locations. He could smell sweets, a diner filled with dishes of steak and chicken, and some booze.

His stomach grumbled loudly, mixing with the noises of distant thunder. He couldn’t get angry. He needed to calm down.

Sniff, sniff.

He perked up, head shooting towards a pathway swallowed by complete darkness. That smelled like Asmodeus’s perfume...

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

Raindrops flecked at your face, dotting the surface of your eyes.

Of course tonight of all nights, the Devildom would decide to sprinkle a little bit of rain just to make your night a little better.

Everlasting darkness was a permanent feature that came along with the Devildom, and although it took some getting used to, you really didn’t seem to mind it anymore. The sunshine was a wonderful thing; and something that you yearned and missed from back in the human world. But it was something you could live without.

In your opinion, rain was something you could live without too.

You huffed, swiping the light rain from your eyelashes with the palm of your hand in order to try and see the road ahead of you. You were already so tired as it is. The need for your warm and cozy bed where you can fall asleep and get ready for tomorrow was what kept you moving forward. How long did it fucking take to get home??

Tsk, tsk.

A nagging feeling in your guts caused you to look over your shoulder, staring desperately into the shadows lined across buildings and alleyways. After a minute of silence, you turned back around to continue your way to the House of Lamentation. It was probably nothing anyways… you’ve been hearing sounds this entire time and never once had you run into another demon.

Another glance at your dead phone told you that you needed to hurry back.

You cursed yourself for forgetting to charge your phone before heading to bed last night. That’s what some late night gaming with Leviathan will do to you… And yet you could only blame yourself for being unable to reach 5 cm to plug your phone into the charger before knocking out.

Somewhere in the distance, lightning forked across the sky, followed by thunder loud enough to make your ears ring.

Another glance over your shoulder told you that no one was following you.

You kept on walking, looking up into the street name that you were passing onto now. A small grin on your face as you recognized the dark and washed out street sign. Ha! You were going in the right direction.

For a moment you could hear the hushed whispers of people… and something else.

Breathing.

You had no time to react. Like the lightning above, you felt yourself getting yanked into the alleyway you were just about to pass. You let out a shriek, your heart practically jumping out of your throat as you were thrown against a nearby wall of the alleyway. From the miracle of some vision you had left through the darkness, you were able to make out three figures that occupied the space in front of you, blocking your means of escape. Their heads were decorated with individually different horns, and you knew instantly that they were demons.

Fuck.

You weren’t sure you could even survive a fight with one of these guys, let alone three of them.

The buildings that sandwiched you and the three demons acted like a barrier, shielding you and them from the rest of the world.

“See? I told ya she was a human!”

One of the demons had whispered to the other ones, particularly the middle one, who had his eyes trained on you. He must have been the one to pull you into the alleyway, away from prying eyes.

“Yeah dipshit, we already knew…”

Sweat trickled down the back of your neck and your hands suddenly felt slick, despite how chilly it was outside.

The demon in the middle ignored the banter between the other two, instead choosing to lean in a little closer to you. “Hey little lady, what are you doing out here all alone?” he had a sickeningly sweet tone to his voice, seemingly studying your face. You had no clue if he could even see you clearly from the dark. His constant movements closer to your face made you feel nauseous as you attempted to move back as far as you could with a damn wall behind you.

Your mouth felt too dry for speaking. What did they want? Money? Directions?

You almost laughed at the ridiculous humor of demons needing directions from a human in their own town. Would they really take out the time of their day to yank you off the street for directions?

“I… I-I um was just.. On my way home..” you had attempted to speak with confidence, but it seemed your body had other ideas in showing that. Your voice cracked multiple times, and judging by their waiting faces, you weren’t even sure they heard you.

“On your way home?? Do humans even live here?” the one in the back snickered, trying to lean on the one in the middle to also try and get a better look at you as well. All three of them seemed captivated by the fact that you were a human girl. As if they’d never seen one before. It made you feel small and sick to your stomach. Even though they were simply asking questions right now, people don’t normally pull you into an alleyway just to talk. So what the hell did they want??

“Treta shut the fuck up,” the one in the middle hissed again, elbowing his partner to get him off of his shoulder. You could hear the demon huff as if he had been struck in the stomach.

You swallowed, hearing the blood from your heart pump in your ears. “W-Well uh it’s nice to meet you all, but I should really be getting on my way… My friends are waiting for me,” you mustered up the courage to speak, your eyes nervously flitting back and forth between them.

The demons didn’t seem to want to back off though, as much as you wanted to sprint out of there. “Do ya want us to walk you home sweetheart?” the middle demon spoke up once again. He seemed to be the one most in control regarding their little group.

He also had a pungent smell in his breath, one that you couldn’t put a finger on… It could have been cigarettes.

“Um no.. I’m really sorry… I think I’ll be okay though,” you gave them a shaky smile, praying that it’ll be enough to convince them to leave you alone. You must have been naive to think it was though, because they made no sudden movements to give you some space.

“I don’t think it’ll be okay at all. I want to spend more time with you,” he replied, making you want to yell in frustration. Why couldn’t they take a hint??

You opened your mouth to protest, but the demon had beat you to it. “Not to worry, we can make this conversation quick. Or maybe we can head back to our place,” he gripped your upper arm, leaving you to try and jolt out of his much stronger grip. The other two acted like this was normal, practically standing around you in a ring formation. You were trapped. This situation was already uncomfortable as it is, but you felt more restricted with this stranger gripping your arm in a vice-like hold.

“E-Excuse me!” you spoke up, trying to keep a clear head, your other hand reaching over to attempt to pull the demon’s hand off of you. The attempts were futile however, and you were left there looking pathetic in trying to move something that won’t budge. “I’m trying not to be rude right now, b-but I’m very uncomfortable. I seriously don’t have time for this, please just leave me alone…”

The guy in the middle inched closer to your face, your noses practically touching as you stared up at him. Your eyebrows creased in fear and frustration. As much as you wished he could understand how frightened you were right now, his morals still appeared to be low in the dirt as he simply narrowed his eyes at you. “Why are bitches so sensitive? We’re not asking you to fuck us, we’re just trying to talk with you.”

One of the other demons off to the side decided to butt in aggressively. “What the fuck is the problem? We’re just standing here, shit.”

You really didn’t know what to say in response. You tried to give yourself space, you tried being nice to them, you tried telling them to leave you alone. From the sounds of your breathing, you could tell you were inhaling and exhaling heavily. No matter how much you moved your arm, you couldn’t get it out of his grip. And based on the fact that they were demons, there was no way you could possibly overpower one physically. You couldn’t even move enough to try and grab the pepper spray you kept in your coat pocket.

Something inside you shrank at the sight of them.

They just looked so… hostile.

“You know, you’re really cute for a human. And this is a cute skirt,” the other one chuckled, running his fingers up and down your leg dangerously close to your thigh. Your jaw tensed up, and you cringed physically, too afraid to breathe or move. Any gestures you made weren’t taken well, and as soon as you tried to swat his hand off of your leg, his hand just clamped onto your upper leg tighter forcing your skirt up higher than it should be.

Okay now was a good time to panic. Your heart rate hasn’t managed to slow down at all yet, giving you time to think that you might die from a heart attack before these demons would be able to get you. As dark as it is, you could still see the road on your right, lit up by a dim streetlamp. Maybe if you pushed with your full body force, you could make a run for it. Or maybe… if you screamed loud enough someone out there would hear you.

“P-Please stop,” you croaked out, anchoring your face away from the two on the left to try and desperately look for an exit.

Again, your statement fell on deaf ears. You couldn’t tell who did it, but one of them suddenly tore off the scarf Asmodeus had given to you this morning. It’s beautiful pink color was thrown against the dirty floor of the alleyway. “Just relax,” he drawled. “You’re wearing too much right now, let’s remove some layers.”

“Stop it!! I told you I-” you squirmed even more now, not caring if his grip was tight enough to bruise your arm. You just wanted their grimy hands to stop touching you. A hand slammed down on your mouth, keeping any noise from escaping your lips; the force of it knocking your head back against the brick of the building.

“Shhhhh! Keep quiet or we’ll fucking kill you.”

You couldn’t believe this. The one time you had to walk alone, and this happens. You knew you should have waited for someone to pick you up. You knew you should have turned back to find Diavolo or something. You knew you should have asked someone to stay after school with you; someone like Beelzebub who would never say no to helping you when you needed it. Maybe if he were here with you, you could be enjoying your walk home this late at night.

Hot tears bubbled up in your eyes, and you could feel the contrast of the cold night air against the warm tears sliding down your face. You almost couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Now let’s-” the demon in the middle was cut off as a giant hand reached from the shadows to wrap it’s digits around the demon’s throat.

All four of you had flinched, not realizing that someone else had been in the alley with you this entire time. And now that you could see it, you felt blind for not having noticed the giant man standing behind the demons. He was kind of difficult to not notice.

Whoever he was, he was huge, towering over you and the three delinquent demons despite the fact that he looked to be hunched over.

He wasn’t just huge, he looked solid and muscular, and probably all of you realized that there would be no chance wrestling away from this guy.

The middle demon made a gurgling noise, most likely due to the fact that his entire body was being hoisted off of the ground by just his neck. All the air compressed in your chest was lifted like a curse as the demon chose to let go of your arm to instead trade its place to claw at the hand wrapped around his neck. He was desperate for air, scratching at the stranger’s hand.

He didn’t budge.

Whoever the hell this was, his grip on the middle demon was tight. So tight that you could see the veins and muscles popping out of the struggling demon’s neck.

The demon’s face was turning red.

He was scrambling to breathe.

His chest looked like it was palpitating.

For some reason you still couldn’t move, watching with wide eyes as the life began draining from the demon’s face.

“Hey!! What the fuck?!”

You think it may have been the demon on your left, but he had finally snapped out of whatever daze he may have been in, dashing forward to try and aim a well pivoted punch towards the unknown savior.

Like a reflex, the shadow dropped the choking demon, who was left hacking and coughing on the cold pavement. He was greedily swallowing the air now. And in return, the shadow gripped the fist of the demon who threw the punch. In an instant, he caught the punch midair, proceeding to crush the demon’s fist as if it was plastic.

The demon let out a strangled cry, and you could hear the bones in his hands breaking with a sickening crunch. You covered your mouth to prevent yourself from gasping, gnawing on your tongue as you watched the two demons struggle with their new injuries.

Perhaps the third demon was the smartest, as he made no sudden moves to try and attack the much larger figure.

“Leave.”

You blinked suddenly, eyebrows shooting up as you instantly recognized the voice.

Without another word, the uninjured demon rushed down to pick up his friend. He leaned over to pull his buddy up to his feet, making a run out of the alleyway with the third demon on their tails as if their lives depended on it.

Now… you were left standing here alone with the man who had saved you.

Apparently it was still raining… Apparently you had stopped noticing.

Quickly you wiped the tears from your face with the fronts of your palms.

He was breathing heavily- probably just as heavily as you were- as you both stared at each other in silence for a moment. By the ragged breaths he was taking, it seemed like he had run all the way out here.

And when he stepped closer, close enough that you could see his face, you felt your pulse quicken.

That familiar tuft of red hair, the familiar voice, those familiar purple eyes you were so used to seeing.

“Beel!!” you exclaimed, pushing yourself off of the wall to throw yourself on the demon. Words could not even begin to describe how happy you were to see him again, how glad that he had stepped in when he did. The thought alone that he came out here to look for you made you want to cry.

Unlike the expression he had just a few moments ago, Beel’s face instantly relaxed as he had opened his arms enough to encase your body. You honestly didn’t care that he had to crouch a little more to reach your height. Instead, you chose to bury your head in his neck for some sense of comfort.

Even with all the rain and the heavy winds beginning to pick up, Beelzebub was still a radiator of warmth as you clung onto him, body shaking with little sobs.

And he let you.

Despite you being the one to grapple onto Beel for dear life, his reciprocated grip was just as tight around you, making you wonder in the back of your mind that he might have missed you just as much as you had missed him.

There was a moment or two of complete silence, and once you felt like you got all of your sadness out of your system, you pulled away just enough to look him in the eye. “How did you find me here?!”

Beelzebub sheepishly shrugged, giving you another one of his little smiles to aid in your body calming down.

The worst was over now… You were going to be fine.

“I sort of just… followed a scent,” he finally replied shortly, pulling away to let you go pick up the pink scarf that was sitting on the ground. Its fabric was wet and dirty, the rain allowing for the med and grime to stick to the once beautifully clean scarf.

You grumbled to yourself, saddened by the fact that the scarf Asmodeus had so graciously given you to keep warm was all ruined.

Those jerks.

But even then… you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. Instead, you glanced over at Beel who was preoccupied on a phone call with someone who appeared to be yelling at him.

“Y-Yes, I found her…. We’re on our way home right now…”

Beelzebub’s shoulders were tensed up and a look of guilt crossed his face in a pout as he was getting yelled at over the phone. He looked like a completely different person now; his serious exterior was replaced with a cowaring expression as he was scolded. You assumed the man over the phone was Lucifer…

There was still a light-hearted part of you that wanted to laugh at the sight of someone as frightening and strong as Beelzebub being reprimanded- but your exhaustion prevented it. Honestly, all you could think about was curling up in bed and going to sleep.

And perhaps you wouldn’t have been able to if Beel hadn’t found you.

You paused for a moment, studying the redhead with a light smile. A tugging feeling was replaced in your chest, as you had the sudden urge to do something a little bold. Making your way over to him, you stood up on your tiptoes to give him a light kiss on the cheek. It snapped him out of his conversation with Lucifer, causing him to look down at you with wide, confused eyes.

“Thank you by the way,” you mumbled, nervously picking at your fingernails, hoping the gesture could prove how thankful you were.

You watched him swallow thickly before putting on a smile and speaking to you once again. “You’re welcome… now, I think we should go home.”

And you couldn’t agree more.

#obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me #obeyme #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub x mc #lucifer #mammon #asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus

215 notes · View notes

ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back.

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire.

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound.

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay.

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override.

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried.

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him.

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts writing #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bestfriend!au #jungkook angst #bts series #jungkook bestfriendstolovers!au #jungkook series #constant craving #rubycoast

469 notes · View notes

chubbyreaderchan · 4 years

Text

Forgive | Bruce Wayne x Reader

a/n: honestly this is kind of my own timeline. It vaguely has anything to do with any known plots other. Bruce and his wife end up in the future and meet old man Bruce.

tagging: @sam-draws

The future.

It wasn't the first time that Bruce Wayne was thrust forward in time. However, it was the first for one Mrs. (Y/n) Wayne. The city was very different, yet at the same time it still felt like home as they traveled across building tops to make it towards Wayne Mansion. Of course, Bruce suspected Chronos and needed to head towards the Batcave to not only figure out where he is but to go back to the time they belonged in.

However, his number one priority before that is to get (Y/n) somewhere safe. Which again, was in the Batcave. He knew his future self would be able to take care of her.

"The city is amazing..." She said softly, holding onto Bruce's Batman clad side. They stood atop of a large building, Bruce trying to make a decision on what would be the safest way to get his wife home. "Technology is amazing." A barely there smile danced on Bruce's face. "It is." He said softly. His eyes glanced at her beautiful face before he gripped her close, shooting his grapple across the city.

He loved the way she held tighter around his waste as they traveled through with very little pauses. It wasn't long until they were at an entrance to the Batcave.

Bruce leaned forward, scanned his eye and it immediately opened one of the doors. Inside sat the cars and several motorbikes only one of which was familiar to (Y/n) however.

It was the one that (Y/n) rode in the first time Bruce had saved her. "Stay here." Bruce said gently, moving to a second set of doors. "I have to go...talk to myself." She smiled and nodded. "Okay." She leaned up against him and pressed a soft kiss against his. "Be safe."

Bruce smiled softly at her again before turning to scan his hand to enter the second set of doors. He left through them and it closed silently. (Y/n) could help but wonder where her children where during this. Where they okay? She wondered around the different vehicles, glancing at each one before finally deciding to sit in the one she knew. Her hand touched the side, finger print scanned. It unlocked with a barely noticeable click. She slid in, getting relatively comfortable.

She watched the clock on the dash, it slowly seemed to pass. A bit of worry began to naw at her stomach. Where was he? Is he okay? It seemed like it had been a while. Then the garage slowly began to open. A strange looking car drove, thin yet muscular figure appeared from the car. He wore a Batman suit but it was definitely not what Bruce would wear. Was he one of hers? Then he noticed her sitting in the car. His white eyes narrowed at her and he swung the door open.

"Who are you?! How did you get in here?!" He half shouted. He grabbed her firmly by the arm pulling her out. "Where you really going to steal from Batman?" He stated slightly confused. His eyes wondered her face, she looked familiar but he didn't know why he knew her face.

"No I'm not-"

He tugged her along and put his hand on the scanner. "You're coming with me." His grip was strong but it didn't hurt as he pulled her through the very familiar entry way of the Batcave. He tugged her along to the control room first, perhaps Bruce knew who she was? She wasn't resisting him. "Look, sweetie" she spoke so gently to him. "I'm guessing you don't know me but-" before she could explain they came upon Bruce. No, two Bruces deep in conversation which instantly stopped when the much older Bruce looked up to see (Y/n). His beautiful eyes widened.

"(Y/n)?!" He was in shock. "Terry... Let her go." He demanded darkly, causing the confused Terry to let go. "The (Y/n)?" He asked looking at her again. That's why he knew her. Bruce had many pictures of her hung up around the manner, but pictures were hardly the same. Especially since he doesn't spend a lot of time looking at them. Bruce would sometimes talk about her, but only after a glass of whiskey or two.

"You aged well, Bruce." She said softly, approaching him. Her Bruce looked at her a little sadly. He already knew that she was long dead in this time from their last encounter with the future. It was one of the few things he cared about. The older Bruce looked genuinely shocked. "That's the other thing. While I work..." Her current Bruce spoke. "I need to leave her here for her safety." "Of course" there was no hesitation in the older Bruce's voice. "Thank you." Bruce, her Bruce, leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. "You're coming with me." He said to Terry. Then they were off.

She watched as the left through the doors once again to figure out where Chronos was and what exactly he was up to. The room was silent as older Bruce walked over to sit down in his usual chair to look at his screens. He couldn't look at her. It was so damn hard. She was so beautiful and he missed her so damn much. He wanted to kiss her so badly but he didn't know if that would be appropriate. He was an old man. She was still so young.

Without warning, she sat down next to him and took his hand gently. She leaned against his shoulder like she had so many times before this. Bruce stiffened, despite his body automatically wanting to hold her close. She frowned slightly, he was still her husband in this time... wasn’t he? Slowly, she pulled back, looking down at her hands. “Sorry... habit.”

“No... it’s alright.” Bruce assured, smiling at her and she smiled back. “I hope I still look at good as you do,” She said suddenly, looking over his still very handsome face. Then his eyes flashed for a moment of sadness. “You are always beautiful.” Bruce said vaguely. “If you would like... you can hold on to me again.” The Batcave was suddenly cold without her on his arm. He missed her every damn day. He felt so much guilt about her death too. She died because she loved him.

(Y/n) smiled again so sweetly, scooting closer and wrapping her arms around his once again and leaning against him. He leaned forward slightly putting on a video feed from Terry’s suit. “So... is he one of our boys?” She asked with a small smile, looking up at him then glanced worriedly as she watched her version of Bruce. The older Bruce gently squeezed her hand in his. “I’ll be okay.” He assured. “I know,” was her response but she held his hands so tightly. The feeling of her skin against his sparked a hint of youth in his soul. Her death was one of those items that truly rotted him from the inside. Maybe he could just enjoy her presence even if it was just for a short period. He almost hoped that it would take his past self a while to figure this out. Everything about her was so comforting. She was the brightest light in his very dark world.

“He never met you.” He answered the earlier question. “Oh...” She frowned. “So did we--?” “No... I...” Bruce turned in his chair to look her in the eyes. “You aren’t alive anymore... you died... years ago.” “Oh Bruce.” She said softly, moving forward to hug him to her. He was surprised but it was nice to feel her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feeling he had missed for so many years. It was nice to be enveloped in her arms, her favorite perfume brought many good memories of her to the older Bruce. “Have you been alone this whole time?” Bruce nodded. “You couldn’t be beat.” She pulled from the hug half way, a sad smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Bruce...” She reached her hand, pressing it against his cheek slightly. Her thumb brushed part of a long scar that ran down his cheek. She wondered if she would be there what he got it.

“No, (Y/n)... I’m sorry. I’m the reason you died.”

“Oh, Bruce... I don’t think--”

He placed a hand over hers upon his cheek. “No, I didn’t make it in time...” His blue eyes held so much pain in them, yet still held love for the woman before him. Nothing changed over the years when it came to her. “Bruce... " “(Y/n)...” He pulled her hand off of his face, holding it gently. He still wore their wedding ring, this caused a small smile to appear on her face when she noticed. He followed her eyes. “Even in death I’ll always be loyal to you.” he smiled, a few wrinkles deepened at the corners of his mouth. A soft sigh came from her lips.

“Bruce... I forgive you.” She looked him over again. “It’s okay.” “It’s not okay... You were tortured because I wasn’t careful enough.”

“Bruce... feeling sorry about my death doesn’t help anyone.” “I know.” he responded.

“Can... you tell me who did it?”

“I don’t think that would be safe.” he admitted. “I wouldn’t want you to worry. You should be able to live without knowing something like that, like everyone else.” Bruce was now regretting telling her why she wasn’t around anymore. “I know...” She responded.

Then he glanced at the computer screen where a fight had broken out. A soft gasp of nervousness escaped her, grabbing the older Bruce’s hand once again. It would never become easy to watch her husband fight like this. It was also quite strange to hold his hand while watching him risk his life. Then a grunt is heard and the feed cuts. He had to be okay, right? She looked to the older version of her dear husband. He doesn’t seem entirely concerned. A firm stoic look stayed on his face, not many would find it comforting but (Y/n) did. She leaned against him again. “Come on, let’s go have some coffee. They are just fine. It was just a kick.”

He was fantastic at thinking first and worrying last. It was always a trait that she admired. “Okay” She agreed. She was curious how much the home had changed over the years. Especially since she was gone. Bruce slowly stood up with his cane, however, (Y/n) instantly was at his side to help him.

“I don’t need help” He almost snapped but was able to control his tone, especially when he felt her at his side again. He ignored his need for pride, wrapping an arm around her waste. The movement was so smooth, so comfortable. He remembered doing it so many times and it was as natural as ever, no matter how many years it had been. His fingers tightened firmly as he walked up the steps with her. It was familiar yet different as they wondered up to the main part. There were obvious scars and broken pieces. It had gone through some things, that was for sure. Once in the kitchen, without hesitation she went to work to make the coffee.

“You don’t change much, hm?” A teasing smile was on her lips as she noticed that the placement of everything was the same. “You know me well” he simply responded. The statement was true in many ways, even down to his exact perfect cup of coffee. How did she and Alfred do it? She placed it down then sat in her spot. A spot that had been empty for too long, Bruce thought to himself.

“Do we have grandchildren?” She asked suddenly, sipping her own perfect cup of coffee. “I don’t want to spoil anything for you.” Bruce said simply, then looked over as a large black dog walked into the kitchen. “Oh! Hello!” She hopped out of the seat and approached the dog slowly. “His name is Ace.” “Nice to meet you Ace” She spoke gently. He allowed her to pet the dog, causing another smile to appear on his face. It had been too long since he smiled this much.

She was his happiness. Always has been.

“I love you so much.” Old man Bruce said suddenly, causing her to look up at him with a smile. “I love you too Bruce.”

“I’m an old man now.”

“And I told you that you aged very well.” He smiled again at her as she approached him again. Part of her wanted to kiss him but she was worried if that would be wrong from her Bruce’s perspective. She bit her lip looking him over once. How much trouble could she be in if she did? Then his watch alerted him. “They are back.” Bruce said moving to get up once more. She moved to help him but he was up without struggle. His arm was back around her protectively. It was like he didn’t want to let her go. Back down into the batcave they went and there her Bruce was looking as confident as ever in his cape and cowl.

“We can go home soon.” Bruce, her Bruce spoke looking her in the eyes. “It wasn’t Chronos but I have found the device that was used thanks to persuading a... ‘friend’ of his” He referred to Terry.

“I just want to discuss something with myself.” Bruce nodded to his older self, walking off.

“So you’re one of my sons?” She said to Terry who just looked surprised when she called him her son.

Bruce had finished his discussion. A small smile was on both of their lips as they returned. “We’re ready to go home, (Y/n).” He held up a small device and moved to hold on to her. “Wait!” She said quickly. In a moment she moved forward and wrapped her arms around the future Bruce. She pressed her lips to his in a loving kiss, causing both Bruces to widen their eyes in shock. But only for a second, the older Bruce’s hands landed on her hips.

He missed those soft lips against her own. They always seemed to take his breath away. She pulled away from him, her hand still rested on his chest. “Bruce... just remember I will always love you.”

“I know.”

She trotted off to wrap her arms around her Bruce tightly and in a flash of green they were gone.

“So that way the famous, (Y/n)?”

“Yep.”

“She’s special, hm?”

“Very.”

Moments later, a voice familiar called to him. To both of them. They looked at one another in a slight confusion but older Bruce had a knowing look. “You... let him--?”

“Yep.”

(Y/n) much older walked down the steps and smiled at her husband. “Do you two want to come up for a break?”

Bruce saved her after all.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman reader insert #batmom x batdad #batman beyond #i have no idea #i hope this is good #i might rewrite it #idk

349 notes · View notes

yandere-ac · 4 years

Note

What if the other villagers teamed up and broke into Raymond's house to take back the villager?

“You did wonderful today my dear. Simply amazing! I wish your voice where the only one I heard.” Raymond told you as you uncomfortably shifted in his grip. Raymond and you were currently lying in bed, him completely engulfing you in his grasp all while you laid there. Defenceless to do anything. He was praising you for today’s little show, you had sung Bubblegum K.K for him all while dancing around in the maid dress he gave you.

Well, it was less a dance and more of you trembling while trying to move around, bouncing up and down and doing a few spins all while Raymond observed in glee. Its been two years since you were first kidnapped, since then he’s gotten progressively more and more clingy with you. Nowadays it would seem like you didn’t get a second to yourself. And he sure hadn’t cut down on the affection either. He loved to touch you, from holding your paw to picking you up at random times out of nowhere. It was very easy for him since you were so much smaller than him. He was determined to make sure you knew that in every possible way, you were his. He made you wear clothing that he’d either bought or made himself, like you were just his little doll to dress up in whatever way he wanted. Usually the dresses he bought for you were pretty standard but you had found that the more dresses he made for you, the more progressively revealing they got. The skirt part of the dress In particular got shorter and shorter, as if Raymond was really starting to enjoy himself. By now you were pretty used to his possessive nature, so much that you weren’t that scared around him anymore. His looming presence made you uncomfortable and tense, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. You could be in the same room as him without hyperventilating. Because at the end of the day, Raymond was very predictable. He would ask you to do stuff for his enjoyment, if you refused, he would continue nagging you before making it perfectly clear that his word was final. And so, you would do his request, he would be overjoyed and compliment you afterwards. Ultimately, you didn’t have a choice. So you had learned to just get it over with, because you had no power in this situation.

“I’m thinking tomorrow I’ll go to the plaza to get some new songs for you to sing. While I do love the way you sing Bubblegum K.K. I’m curious as to how your lovely singing voice would sound with other songs. Im sure you can handle yourself while I’m gone.” So he was going away tomorrow. That’s always nice. Whenever he left to buy something was the only time that you were actually alone. You would usually spend that time crying and screaming, just letting all your pent up emotions out. You had learned the hard way to never under any circumstance let Raymond see you cry. Because he would always try to make you feel better, which would always result in you crying harder. You wanted so desperately to get away from him but at the same time, all hope of that ever happening had left you. You just wished that the desire would leave as well. Maybe then you could finally get used to this hell. But one thing that always held you back was your curiosity. You need to know what was happening outside. It’s gnawed at you like a dog to a bone. And it was driving you insane. “Tell me....how are they?” As soon as the question formed, the air became tense and heavy. You could feel Raymond’s grip on your waist get slightly stronger. “Why do you care?” His voice was cold, almost lacking of any discernible emotion, and it sent shivers down your spine. “I just...I miss them. And I’m worried for them. It’s been plaguing my mind for these past few weeks. Please just tell me, just once, then I’ll be quiet I promise.” You pleaded to him, hoping that maybe he’ll provide you with some sort of comfort. He let out a deep sigh, his hot breath brushing against your neck as he did so. “Well if you must know. They’re still just as crazy. Never shuts up about you. One of them have gone missing, Mr Nook says he moved out but I don’t believe that for one second. From the fact that his house is still up to the fact that Timmy and Tommy has inexplicably stopped selling ropes. You can probably fill in the blanks by yourself.” Was he insinuating that...no...no he can’t be! He has to be joking! “....w-who?” Your voice was shaky and barely audible. “Marvin I think his name was? Pesky little rat. Never did like him that much, he moved in without my permission and would refuse to leave. Never would have thought that I only needed to remove you out of the equation in order to make him leave.” Marvin. Hearing that name in this instance was like being stabbed through the heart. The grey mouse was your closest friend on the island, to hear that he would...that he. You almost let out a tear but desperately tried to keep it in. In the end you only let out a heavy breath that filtered through your teeth. Almost sounding like you were in actual pain. For whatever reason, Raymond either didn’t hear it or decided to ignore it.

“As for everyone else, nothing major has happened. That boy Damien has been pestering me a lot lately. He’s been making theories about where you might have gone. None have been correct thankfully. I think our priority should be to get away from this island as soon as possible. I don’t want to even think about what they would do if they found you here. Trust me, if you think I’m bad then you’ve only seen the top of the iceberg.” For once, you actually somewhat agreed with Raymond. While the idea of being completely alone with him on an island didn’t exactly sound comforting, the thought of eleven people being like Raymond was even less comforting. Especially since they’ve been without you for so long, even if they were your friends, and even if you missed them, you were scared of them. Because you didn’t miss what they had become today, not in the slightest. You had missed singing together with Tilly, you had missed giving blathers fossils, watching as his eyes lit up while explaining them to you, you missed visiting Damien and Bonnabelle, talking about life and such. You had missed going to talk with Tom about what to do whenever you felt stressed or sad, with him giving you advice while comforting you. You didn’t miss being tugged on each arm like a little doll. You didn’t miss your friends hurting each other to get to you, you didn’t miss being trapped with some of them for days on end. You just wanted things to go back to the way it used to be. But that would never happen. Your fate was sealed and you couldn’t change it. No matter what happened, you were doomed to be Raymond’s little love bunny.

Or so you thought.

Hours later you found that you still couldn’t fall asleep. Sleep deprivation had been a huge problem for you since you weren’t sleeping in the most comfortable position. If you ever did manage to catch some sleep you would often be woken up by nightmares. This particular night, the thought of Marvin was the one that kept you up. You didn’t want to believe that such a sweet and upbeat mouse would ever do something like that. It seemed so out of reach. You wished you never would have asked Raymond what was going on. You wished that you would have just kept your mouth shut, because none of the things he told you made you feel any better. In fact, they only contributed to this horrible cloud of despair that was forming over your head. Dripping sad and depressing thoughts on you that leaked inside your brain. As the night continued, you let the tears flow. Flow like the endless waves of hopelessness that was building inside you. But then. Something really unexpected happened.

CRASH!

The loud sound of a window breaking shook you out of your thoughts as you jolted. It also woke Raymond up, making him drag his entire body up while looking around the room rather hastily. The sound came from a window right in front of your bed. Scattered across the ground was shards of broken glass and attached to the apron of the window was...a grapple hook? It took a mere seconds for Raymond to bolt out of bed and rush at the window with the speed of a bullet. But he was not quick enough as the moment he got the the window and pulled the hook off, a big paw grabbed the edge of the windows frame. Before any of you could react, the person hanging onto the window threw them self in, shattering any part of the window that wasn’t destroyed by the grappling hook. As they threw them selfs inside, they knocked Raymond to the ground with them. Raymond let out a piercing scream as a piece of glass got stuck in his shoulder. While all of this happen, you sat in the bed, looking horrified at the sight before you. You knew who that was, you could recognise him anywhere. The figure, a black wolf, that was pinning Raymond’s body down to the ground, was Damien. His eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy. He opened his big mouth and tried to chomp down on the human underneath him. But Raymond managed to hold him back while grasping at the wolf’s face, making sure not to put his fingers anywhere near the sharp teeth that were currently snapping at him. You could see Raymond’s grip getting weaker and weaker and Damien getting closer and closer. Throwing yourself out of bed, you ran towards the wolf and tried to pull him off. “NO! DAMIEN! DON’T! PLEASE JUST- LET GO!” Once you placed your arms around his chest he finally seemed to slow down. Only to throw you off of him and instead scratch Raymond across the face. After that he started to repeatedly kick his shaking body, each kick forcing out a yelp or chocked sob out of Raymond. You once again tried to pull Damien off of him, but this time it was even less affective since you were still pretty dizzy from being thrown to the ground so roughly. You felt your mind start to skip, finding it hard to even stand up. One misstep while trying to regain your posture caused you to fall as your legs gave in. Luckily, a pair of strong arms caught you before you could reach the floor. As the world was becoming darker, the only thing you could hear was the persistent whimpers of Raymond as your sight got darker and darker. Just before you lost your tight grip on consciousness, you felt a hand stroke your face. And then you heard the voice of a vary familiar character.

“Shh Shh, no need to worry my dear. We’ve got you. Now let’s get you home yes, yes?”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The air was completely silent except for the very distinct sound of a clock ticking. It was the sound that eased you back into reality as you tried to open your eyes. As the first glimpse of light filled your eyes, you let out a small grunt and closed them again. But I’m doing that, you made your waking presence known to the person laying in bed next to you. Once you heard a deep chuckle, your eyes that previously felt heavy shot open. You turned around to see the familiar black furred face of a wolf. It was Damien. You couldn’t register what you were seeing, so for a few seconds you two just laid there, staring at each other. Until one of you broke the silence. “Good morning, my dear bunny rabbit.” He gave you a comforting smile as he leaned in and licked your cheek. Now this wasn’t uncommon for him to do, it’s how he showed affection, but in this context, this action made you shrink together into a tense ball. “Hm? Oh come on now. That’s not how you greet your old pal, now is it? Where’s that smile (N/N)~” (N/N), you hadn’t heard anyone call you that for two years. And yet, when you heard it, it did nothing to calm your nerves or reassure you. “W....where am I?” You asked, voice shaky, almost sounding minuscule when compared to Damiens. ”You’re in my and Bons house of course.” His and Bons house. It only just occurred to you that this was indeed their house. But if so, where was Bonnabelle? As if to answer your question you felt something shifting by your back. You turned your head over to look at the disturbance to find the small pink bunny named Bonnabelle looking at you with a smile. The much smaller bunny jumped up and climbed on top of you. “Hello ms/mr/mx Y/N!” The bunny beamed at you, but you didn’t respond. You hadn’t known how to respond. Why were you here? How were you here?! Where was-

Your eyes went wide as thoughts of last night reappeared in your mind. The sound of the humans whines as Damien kicked him repeatedly. The feeling of collapsing into someone’s arms. And the whole world going dark. All of that had led up to this. And that only made this predicament scarier. “Is something the matter bunny rabbit? You seem particularly jumpy.” The wolf told you while rising up from his lying position. You didn’t get a chance to answer as he pulled you out of the bed and into his arms, cradling your body close to him. “We shall go announce your awakening to the others. I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. Come on now little bunny, keep up.” He turned to Bonnabelle who was already out of bed and bouncing up and down excitedly. Needless to say, she had no trouble with keeping up.

Damien carries you all the way to resident services, much to your dismay. You had tried to struggle, but unfortunately Damien was much stronger than you. Once the three of you entered, Tom and Isabelle both ran up to you, asking countless questions all while touching you in various ways. You weren’t able to answer. Isabelle ran over to the intercom where she announced that you where finally awake and that everyone should come to the resident services at their earliest possible convenience. And sure enough, villagers started to drop in, all of them rushing up to you, bombarding you with questions. Never once did Damien let go of you, he kept holding you close to his body, almost seeming hostile towards his fellow villagers. As the last person dropped in, all of them gathered around to discuss what they should do. They were all in unanimous agreement that they couldn’t keep fighting over you and that they had to find a compromise. It was then Blathers that suggested that everyone should get one entire day with you where they could do whatever they wanted without anyone else intervening. And while some seemed a little iffy about only being able to have you for a day and having to wait eleven more days to be with you again, most of them reluctantly agreed to the rule. Everyone but you. But you didn’t actually get any say in this. In fact, when you objected to this idea some had started to snicker at this, as if the thought of you having any say in this matter was so humorous.

That was five days ago. You where sitting on the floor of Raja the Cats house. He was still wearing the same scarf and coat that he had two years ago. The feline was showing you his flower collection that he started a couple months before you got abducted. Needless to say, his collection had grown quiet a lot. He was flipping through the pages of compressed flowers that where all kept in a big book, kept safely by a leather case that was currently laying on the floor. Raja was eagerly pointing at each one, like a child showing their mother a drawing they made. “And this! This is the white rose that you gave me! I still remembered that! Remember? Remember? I told you that I was starting a flower collection and you asked me if you could help and I said sure and you gave me this flower! Do you remember Y/N? I remember! I loved it! I was so happy that you would help me! I simply had to put it in immediately!” The cat continued with his blabbering, having to interrupt himself in the middle of his sentences just to take another breath. Your eyes trailed off to the pages of the book that was resting in his lap. There, filling an entire page was your white rose. It had seemed like Raja had drawn a formal frame around it, writing “Y/N’s rose” in calligraphy underneath the frame. On the page next to it was a bunch of small flowers. Underneath them stood the name of the flower and who had picked it. While most of them said Raja, there was one name that made a knot form in your stomach. There, in black ink, stood the name Raymond. It was a black rose, just as dried up and shrivelled as your white one. But seeing his rose, the one that HE specifically gave Raja, being dead. It brought a stinging feeling to your eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, you still cared for Raymond. Just like the way you cared for your friends here on the island. Because no matter how possessive Raymond was, no matter how much he scared you, no matter how much you wanted to get away from him. He was your friend. And you didn’t want him to die. But thinking back to that night, the night of your so called “rescue”. The sounds of his weak voice, his whimpers as Damien kicked him repeatedly. You had no reason to believe that he wasn’t six feet under at this very moment. But you doubted that any of them would have enough respect for him to bury him. You were sure that you’d be able to smell the rotten stench of his carcass if you walked close to his mansion. The thought made you sob, interrupting Raja’s ramblings.

“Is something wrong? What’s the matter?” He asked you, looking at you with his big orange eyes while pushing up his round glasses slightly. “I....I’m....” you were trying to answer the cat but no cohesive sentences would form in your head. Unfortunately for you, you would never get to answer him. As the loud sound of a high pitched shriek could be heard from outside. You both turned your heads towards the door and you ran out to see where the scream came from. Raja followed you, still holding his book, shouting at you to stop but you where already at the door before he could do anything. With one swift swoop you pulled the door open and ran out. And the sight before you struck you with pure unfiltered terror. Outside, scattered around the ground laid several dead bodies, from Blathers, to Isabelle, to Bonnabelle to even the dodo brothers. They laid there, cold and unmoving. And right in the centre of your vision were the two people you dreaded the most. It was Damien the wolf and Raymond the island rep. Raymond had him pinned to the ground, knife a mere inches above his chest. Damien had an iron grip on Raymond’s arms, trying to block the slowly approaching knife. But Raymond wasn’t giving up, he put his full weight on the knife, almost leaning on it while simultaneously pressing it down. As Raja looked at this, he let out a shocked gasp while dropping his book. “Damien! No!” He cried out. But what he didn’t realise was that he caused a distraction, making Damien look over at you two and giving Raymond the opportunity to drive the knife straight into Damiens stomach. As the knife penetrated his skin and lodged deep within his body, Damiens mouth opened as his eyes went wide. He tried to scream, to cry out. But all that came out was the hacky sounds of barely audible gasps. He coughed up blood which went straight into Raymond’s face, but Raymond didn’t even flinch as the blood splattered across his face, he just watched, eyes intense and breath heavy. Raymond kept the knife in place, leaning closer to Damien in order to watch the life leave his eyes. And as Damien began to slip away, Raymond started to twist the knife, making the wolf let out one last whine of pain. There was a few seconds of silence, you had been frozen the entire time. No matter how much your mind was screaming at you to run your body refused, too shocked to move after seeing the gruesome scene. The silence broke when the soft sound of Raja falling to his knees filled the air. Only then where you able to turn your head and look at him. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as violently as a waterfall. What happened next shook you out of your paralysed state. Raja let out a loud scream, a pained and sorrowful one that shook you to your core. But that scream also broke Raymond out of his momentary daze as he quickly and rather violently whipped his head towards you two. He quickly rushed at you. You tried to run but Raja grabbed ahold of your leg, looking at you in desperation. “DON’T LEAVE ME-“ he was cut off as Raymond tackled him to the ground, releasing your leg and giving you the opportunity to run. And ran you did, you ran as fast as you possibly could. You ran and ran until you could feel your legs start to give up. Your chest was hurting, your legs were hurting, everything was hurting. But you couldn’t stop, you had to get out of here, you had to get away from him. He snapped, he finally snapped. And you weren’t going to be on the receiving end of whatever blind rage he was going to inflict.

You were hiding, cowering in fear inside of the museum. You were in the shark department, hoping that the darkness would serve as camouflage until you figured out what to do. You knew you couldn’t hide away forever, this island wasn’t all that big, you had to figure out a plan of some sort. There had to be a boat or ship or anything that could take you away from here. Maybe you could get Pascal to help you? You would swim if you had to! You just needed to get away from here as fast as possible! If you stayed here, you would surely die!

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

Oh god. The haunting sounds of footsteps were echoing throughout the exhibit, each step making you more tense. You brought your knees close to your chest, hugging them as you buried your head in fear. You could hear him getting closer, and closer, and closer and-....they stopped. The sounds stopped, filling the air with dreadful silence. Silence which was interrupted one you felt someone grab you by the collar and roughly pulling you up to your feet before throwing you back to the ground. Raymond had found you and had thrown you to at the stairs nearby. You let out a loud cry of agony as pain filled your lower back, spreading throughout your entire body. Raymond approaches you slowly, knife in his hand and hunger in his eyes. Soon he was towering over your helpless body that you were sure he would make into a corpse. “R-Raym-m-mond! P-please! D-DONT! I-I didn’t mean to- I thought you were dead! I-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence as Raymond drove the knife downwards.

SHINK!

You closed your eyes, awaiting the pain. But there was none. As you opened your eyes you saw Raymond, a couple of inches away. He was breathing heavily, hot breaths brushing against your lips, and only now did you see how unwell he really looked. His hair that he was so adamant about keeping neat was scruffy and disheveled. He had a black eye and tons of scratches on his body. It had seemed like Damien really messed him up back at his mansion. He had bags under his eyes, and he smelled...strangely. You couldn’t quite place it put it was far from the usual aroma that he had. He was sweating, eyelids giving off a slight twitch every so often. He had driven the knife right into the hard stone floor, making the tip of the knife pop right off and making a few scratches to the flooring. He had missed, on purpose. By now your heart was beating so fast, you could barely form any words, only small sounds. And Raymond did nothing to ease your nerves once he started to laugh. A laugh which started out as quiet and breathy but soon turned loud and deranged. You quickly started to struggle, flailing around while trying to get away from him. But Raymond grabbed ahold of your throat, pressing you down into the ground, not hard enough to choke you but hard enough to leave an impact. As your feeble attempts died down, so did his laugh. All he was doing now was looking at you with a deluded smile. “...hah...haha...ha....did you...think you could get away from me...that easily?” He told you. You were crying and hyperventilating at this point, unable to answer him in any valuable way. He brought the knife closer to your face, stroking your cheek with the blade while chuckling. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” This statement made your heart leap out of your chest. “WHAT?! NO! PLEASE DONT! PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU! I DIDN’T WANT ANY IF THIS I PROMISE! I SWEAR! PLEASE DONT KILL ME!” Raymond let out yet another chuckle. “Your begging is so cute my dear. I love you Y/N. I love you I love you I love you! You just don’t know how to appreciate it yet...but you’ll learn...yeah...you’ll learn...after all. We’ve got all the time in the world right now don’t we? It seems that private island dream isn’t so far away now huh? I’ll have to check this place to make sure no one else is left, but after that. Oho my dear! We can make this place our own!” He was rambling, all while being dangerously close to you and playing with his knife. He stopped mid sentence, eyes becoming blank and unfocused, as if he was thinking.

“....however...you did disobey me...and well, I just can’t let that go unpunished do i?” Your eyes grew wide as he told you this. Raymond leaned down, smashing his lips onto yours rather violently as he let out deep breaths. He was holding you down, making sure you couldn’t move while he kissed you. Some blood that was on his face dropped off and landed right on yours, Raymond looked down at you, noticing the drop of blood that had splattered on your cheek. He leaned down and licked it off of you. “Now then. We’ll worry about that later. Poor thing, you look exhausted. I bet these freaks really took a toll on you hm? Let’s get you to bed, I’ll figure out a proper punishment tomorrow. For now, just relax. But know my dear...” he let out yet another chuckle. Staring deep into your eyes. “If you ever...EVER! Run away from me again...” he leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I won’t miss....” three words. The words was all it took for more tears to come flowing out of your eyes. Tears which Raymond also licked off your face. He picked your shaking body up and walked away, presumably going back to your house. But your stomach twisted when you realised that. Because you knew to get to Raymond’s house, you had to go past Raja’s house. So you closed your eyes all while he carried you. You didn’t want to see them. You never wanted to see them like that again. But even as you closed your eyes, you could smell them. You could smell their already decaying corpses. The smell made you gag. And that was enough for Raymond to bring you closer to him. “Such a waste. They dug their own grave when they took what was mine...” his voice was low and unfeeling. The way he spoke, it made you anxious. He really did only see you as a toy. “Would you look at that, it’s the rose I gave him...look Y/N. Look.” You kept your eyes closed, letting out a small whine. But Raymond wasn’t having it. “LOOK!” Your eyes shot open as he yelled at you. A yelp escaped your throat as you saw the scene before you. Raja was laying dead on the ground. There was blood seeping out of him and it had covered the base of his flower collection. It would seem when he dropped the book it opened on the page of you and Raymond’s roses.

“Huh...ironic. You know, in some cultures, a living black rose is supposed to represent the beginning of new things and major changes. But a shrivelled and dead one represents death.” Raymond used his foot to close the book before looking at Raja. “Tsk. Such a foolish individual. I’m sure you’re happy to be rid of him.” Looking at the dead cat, something sunk in. You felt hopeless, you were now officially stuck with him. Forever and always. Until either one of you died. Only them would you be free from this hell. You wished you could just disappear. But he wouldn’t let you. He would be sure you stayed with him at all times. You remembered what he had told you years ago when he found you on that deserted island.

“You should move to my island! I promise you, you’ll be treated well! We’re all really kind and you would love it there! I see the pain in your eyes Y/N. You’ve been treated badly. But I assure you! On my island you’ll be treated like royalty!”

Like royalty. More like a gem. A gem that had to be locked away at all times.

All this time. You’d never thought that Raymond would go this far. You thought that he peaked at abducting you. But no. This was so much worse. He had reached the point of no return. What was he going to do with you now? Now that there truly was no one there to stop him? And what punishment was he planning? Was he gonna hurt you? Was he gonna make you clean up your friends dead bodies? What truly was his limits? Because as it turned out.

Raymond wasn’t as predictable as you first thought

////////////

Y’all want some O C S ? Thanks for the request, this was really fun to write. Sorry that it took so long lol. It’s been a while since I last posted ac. Don’t worry, I haven’t completely forgotten about it. I think the next one is gonna be Danganronpa. And it’s gonna be ANGSTYYYY! But yeah 🔊Raymond simps come get y’all juice🔊

#yandere #yandere animal crossing #yandere acnh #animal crossing x reader #ac x reader #yandere raymond #yandere raymond acnh #raymond x reader #tw yandere #tw abduction #tw abuse #tw kidnapping #tw assault #tw murder #tw gore #tw obsessive behaviour #animal crossing oc

173 notes · View notes

lizzieraindrops · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Destiny (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny) Characters: Saint-14 (Destiny), Osiris (Destiny) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, First Kiss, Self-Destructive Tendencies, Caretaking, Trauma, Comfort, Trauma Recovery, Loss, slow-developing relationship, not in the fic but like in universe, Sometimes New Trauma Reignites Old Trauma!! Summary:

Sometimes you need to be with the only person you'd feel safe to break down around, even if you never have. In the immediate wake of Sagira's death, Osiris comes to find Saint in the City. POV Saint-14.

wrote this because i made a fic-writing pact with @hencegoodfortune

i have never destined a knee in my life but i am care about sad bird boys

read here or on AO3

Saint had never thought the sight of Osiris would strike dread into his heart. But there was something completely wrong with the sharp-soft-fluid outline of his gleaming helm, his cowl’s feathery tresses and the flowing robes. His posture remained as impeccable as always as he strode through the echoing Tower hangar. Yet something troubled the lines of him. It was as if each exposed surface were on the verge of collapsing inward on a vacuum, and the only thing preventing it was the sheer force of his considerable will. Saint had never seen him like this. A cold feeling ran through his body as if injected directly into the ducts of his circulatory ichor.

“Osiris,” he whispered, even though they were not yet within earshot. Saint trotted out on restless feet from the shadow of the Gray Pigeon to meet him. They drew together at the end of the long sun-emblazoned rug that sprawled before his ship. Saint could not help but begin to reach for Osiris, but he stopped when he saw the man’s unresponsive stiffness.

“Hello, Saint,” he said shortly. He crossed his arms. Only a stripe of his upper face showed between his helm and his mask. The lines around his eyes had gone flat and the ones between his brows had deepened.

“What is wrong?”

“Take your pick. This time? The Hive.”

“No. What is wrong?”

Osiris just gave him a pained look. “We should speak inside.”

Saint nodded acquiescence. He turned his feet back onto the path of the rug, slightly crooked: a rumpled casualty of Guardians playing soccer in the hangar. After only a moment’s hesitation, he offered his arm to Osiris, looking at him in askance.

Osiris blinked, surprised. Then it was Saint’s turn to be surprised when Osiris tucked one hand into the bend of his elbow and placed the other hand atop it, gently squeezing and encircling his armored forearm. They fell in step together and walked all the way back to the ship that way. If Saint hadn’t been so worried, the rare tenderness would have left him radiating contentment.

Saint took them to the Gray Pigeon’s close yet comfortable living quarters. It was just a simple serviceable room with a few little tables and a bunk, and probably more cushioned seats than the space warranted. Saint took a seat in one of them and removed his helmet so he could take a proper look at Osiris, who was doing the same. His skin looked weathered, as always, but darker than usual below the eyes. They both sat their helms down on the table between them, trying not to knock over the abandoned teacups there.

Osiris’ lip quirked at the sight of their tea-stained insides. “Ikora has been here, I see.”

“Indeed,” Saint chuckled. “A woman of fine taste. She believes the tea grown in the City these days tastes different than it did a few centuries ago. Less… what was it? Astringent? Smoother now, she said, more mellow. She wanted the opinion of someone who has not been drinking it throughout the entire transition as she has.”

“Of course she did.”

“Yes.” Saint eyed the way Osiris’ hands molded themselves to the armrest of the chair and went still. Likewise, his feet remained flat on the floor. His usual energetic presence, like an overflowing cup, was now subdued, stilled as if frozen. Saint waited for him to melt and kept talking.

“You would think I am the perfect test subject. I had not tasted tea for many, many years since I left the City. And I certainly had tea with Ikora many times before that, when your studies distracted you from visitors. She and I had many fine conversations. After my return, I ought to be perfectly poised in time to tell the difference.

“Ah, but I think my answers disappoint her. I do not know, because for me, everything has become new again. Not only the tea and the cookies - there are the new faces of all the new Lights and of the Traveler itself, and the City has grown, of course. But even that which remains the same still feels different now, yes? New eyes,” he said, watching Osiris’ softly closed ones.

“It is sometimes hard to tell the changes in others from the changes in myself. So yes, Ikora’s tea remains a mystery. I shall be surprised if she does not recruit you for her research, as well. If you stay in the City for more than a few hours, that is.”

“Hmm.” Osiris’ rigid demeanor had softened, but he had crossed his arms, head bowed. His eyes were still closed.

“I did not even know you were in the City,” Saint said, softer. “I believed you to be still roaming the Shore for answers. Geppetto has heard nothing from Sagira, not even a hail when you arrived.”

Osiris flinched.

The cold that had flooded Saint earlier crystallized into pure ice.

“Osiris. Is she -“

“Like I said. The Hive,” Osiris said shortly, unmoving.

“Oh, my dear,” Saint breathed. He stood up only to kneel before Osiris in his chair, reaching for his hand. Osiris let him take it. Even in its glowing gauntlet, his hand was so small. No wonder it was so tense yet listless, without that brilliant presence shining beside him like a second sun to his own fiery brightness.

The initial rush of grief made the pistons in Saint’s chest hurt, aching from his core to his broad plated shoulders to the twisted cables of his neck. But he set it aside for now: Osiris needed him.

But Osiris had other ideas. He withdrew his hand from Saint’s caress.

“The Hive are going to pay.”

“Undoubtedly they will. That does not mean you cannot take the time to grieve.”

“I do not have time for this. Time is critical. Xivu Arath is fast approaching, and growing more powerful each day. The intelligence I have gleaned regarding her methods and movements is invaluable, and I must -“

“You do not need to do this alone, Osiris.” Saint rose to his feet.

Looking wounded, Osiris stood as well. “I am well aware that I cannot, now, Saint. But I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything necessary to avenge Sagira. To that end, I’ve enlisted the Young Wolf’s assistance.”

“Yet you are still acting as you always do. As if you must do everything yourself.”

“I cannot simply stand by! Without her, there is even more I must do, all that she would normally do for me.” Osiris broke his fierce stare and cast his eyes downward. “It is the very least I can do when I am the reason she is gone.”

If Saint could have cried, he would have then. How strange it was, to be separated by fourteen lives and untold centuries from the last tear he could possibly have shed, and yet still long for a release he could not even remember.

“Osiris,” he said, voice low. He slipped off the shining metal of one of his gauntlets, so that he could lift Osiris’ face with the most delicate touch of two brushed-alloy fingers on his dear, scruffy chin. “It is not your fault.”

Osiris’ eyes followed his fingers, traced his face. “It is,” he said hoarsely. “She even told me not to pursue the Celebrant on the Moon alone. I was rash.”

“Be that as it may, I know you would never willingly harm her. You have already told me this was the doing of the Hive.”

“Saint, please don’t…”

“Then why did you come to me?” Saint set his other gauntlet aside and cupped Osiris’ face in his bare hands. “Surely you knew I would not let you be cruel to yourself.”

Glistening golden-brown eyes rested between gleaming silver fingers. “I needed to know you were still here.”

“I am here. Because of you.”

Osiris looked away and laid his hands on Saint’s wrists, pulling himself free.

“You would not have been lost in the first place had I not betrayed you, as well. I will not make the same mistake a third time. I will learn to take responsibility for my actions, and do what it takes to contain the fallout.”

“You are not taking responsibility, you are punishing yourself.”

“Two birds, one stone,” Osiris sighed. He drew away from Saint while he was stricken into stillness by the statement’s casual cruelty. The negative space between them wrenched at the pins of Saint’s every joint like it was a magnetic field, and he made of nothing but so much iron filings.

Saint fell an unsteady step forward, but Osiris was already picking up his helm and angling himself toward the door. Saint did not need to simulate the future to know that if Osiris left in a state like this, he would likely not return.

“Osiris. Just - stop.”

Osiris stopped. The feathers of his cowl floated idly, suspended and directionless in the close air of the small room.

“Do not do this. If you will not hear your own pain, hear mine. Do not do to me what I did to you.”

Beneath the morbid weight of his resignation, Osiris went rigid. He turned to look at Saint, really look at him. Yes, he’d faced Saint before, many times, with exasperation in his brows or fondness around his eyes. Saint had been thinking about how he’s seen more and more of the latter lately.

But this gaze was something piercing and haunted. In it, Saint could hear the echoes of a keening that had never fallen on his ears, could see the marks left by an invisible memory wrapped around the man before him like grappling vines of poison ivy. He watched Saint, wordless and wounded.

“If you continue like this, you will hurt yourself, not to mention those who care for you. Sagira would not have wanted -“ Saint broke off, looking down at his fist. Its faint tremor faded as he sank deep into himself as if into the Void, calling stillness into his shaking.

“I am afraid, Osiris. For you and for myself. I do not want to lose you. I do not think I can bear that. I have seen the way you still look at me. Like...”

“Like?”

“Like you are... like I am still lost to you. I have seen how that loss haunts you, even though you have flown in the face of everything to undo it and succeeded. Even when you are finally here, your mind slips away like you cannot bear to be here. Are you still searching?”

“Of course not.” Osiris’ eyes did not meet his.

“Then what is it?”

Silence. “You died, Saint.”

“I am sorry.”

Osiris blinked, looked at him again. “You are apologizing for dying?” he said, skeptical.

“For causing you such hurt that it did this to you. Even in the best of all timelines that brought us both here: I hurt you.”

“Saint,” he said, reaching out for his hands and seeming unaware that he did so. Saint held them oh so gently, afraid they’d fly away.

“You cannot - Saint, you died,” he repeated. “This isn’t your fault. I’m the one who should be -“

“Oh, it is always about you, is it,” Saint chuckled.

Osiris scoffed. He made as if to pull his hands away. But when Saint made no move to stop him, he stopped himself.

“Truly, my dearest. If our places had been reversed, I have no doubt that the endless loss would come to outweigh the pain of the long but finite fall, in the end.” Saint closed his eyes. “Please, do not reverse our places. Losing each other once was enough. I have no brilliant schemes, no Sundial to bring you back, nothing but the strength of my arms and of my heart. And we have already proven that those are not enough.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It is true. I died before I could find you.”

Saint’s fingers were seized in a sudden vise grip. “Don’t. Do not speak that way. You are enough. You have always been so much more than enough. To me, you are - you are.”

“You know I feel the same.” They were standing so close, it was simplicity itself to bow his forehead to touch Osiris’.

“I know.”

“Then why? Why cannot you allow yourself to rest, here with me, even now? Especially now? Let me care for you.”

Silence stretched between them.

“I don’t know how,” came the whisper, barely loud enough to carry the short distance. “You should not bother with me.”

“Oh, my dove,” Saint sighed, and pulled Osiris to his chest and wrapped his arms around him. There, in Saint’s arms, Osiris finally crumpled against him like an empty spinfoil can as the absence inside him yawned wide, swallowing any resistance left in him. “Hush. I will always bother with you. I am here.”

Since arriving in this strange, strange future, touch, like everything else for Saint, had been different. Titan to his roots, bracing claps on the back and casual embraces had always been his native language of both camaraderie and comfort. With the long familiarity between him and Osiris, it had been easy enough to believe that an arm slung around the warlock’s shoulders or their hands long clasped in victory were merely an extension of the same. Though Osiris had often complained in mock protest, he had rarely refused the contact. Neither of them had admitted that it meant more until it was too late.

Now, though, in this City brighter than either of them remembered, every moment of this second chance was overwhelming. It was one thing to spend endless years isolated, touch-starved and battle-weary only to arrive in the new Tower, where homemade pastries were handed to him by scores of soft-handed civilians and eager-eyed Kinderguardians crowding close enough to brush shoulders with a legend. Though at first it jolted him like sparking Arc, each casual touch brought him a little more back to life.

It had been something else entirely to find the person he spent centuries searching for finally standing before him, close enough to touch. The idea of contact was a little too much for both of them, at first. They’d had to start sparingly: a palm on a shoulder, none too rough; knees or elbows brushing together when they could be avoided, but weren’t. It wasn’t the same as before they were separated by so much space and time and suffering, and they both knew it. The shape of Osiris was so familiar to him, but the illumination of that mutual knowledge made the lean old frame as new to Saint as those endless lost years did, if in another wholly different way. Together, such perspectives made a simple caress pierce him like a shout of devotion. They made a hand on a hand, on a heart, a home.

Although Saint was learning how to let the immensity of such small closenesses become mundane, he was near engulfed by the reality of Osiris, now yielding the entire weight of his body to Saint’s protective embrace while he shook and shuddered and clung like a desperate and heartbroken thing. It was so much, but the only thing Saint could do was hold him, hold his shattering self close and dear.

Saint had never seen him break like this. When the pressure of the lives laid at his feet as Vanguard Commander had become too much, he had always been more given to bouts of brooding and intensive study for sleepless days on end. But through all of that, Osiris had always had Sagira, who knew when to jolt him out of his melancholy with a sharp word, to soothe his weariness with a wash of Light, or to nag him into a semblance of eating and resting. No more. Though Saint could not weep, Osiris’ tears traced a shining abstract filigree upon his silvered breastplate. He ran soothing fingers along his spine with touch-aching hands, needing to offer any comfort he possibly could. Saint held him and waited for the storm of grief to subside.

Saint ended up seated on the rug on the floor, leaning against the side of one of the chairs with Osiris draped across his lap and curled against his chest.

“I do not know…” Osiris murmured. His head was tucked under Saint’s chin, one arm upraised to blindly trace the deep-violet ridge of Saint’s plated cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“What do you not know?” Saint asked just as softly.

“How to do this. Without her. Without the Light.”

“Mmmm,” Saint mused. He adjusted his grip around Osiris’ waist, making sure he was secure. The weight of him was comforting. “You will grieve. And you will learn. You are the strongest person I know. And that has nothing to do with your Light, your prowess in battle, or even your Ghost, may her Light be a bright and blessed memory. It has everything to do with just you. Just the strength of your heart, your determination, your tenacity. You, my dear.”

Osiris scoffed half-heartedly. “She was always the better of the two of us.”

Saint chuckled deep in his voicebox, his jawlights flickering gold. “She would agree. But of all the people in all of history she could have chosen to raise, she chose you for a reason. If you cannot trust my judgement, perhaps you can trust hers.”

Osiris uncurled and sat up to look at him, face to face. “Well, you can hardly claim not to be biased in my favor.”

Saint barked a laugh. “Take the compliment, you terrible man.”

“Hm, I suppose I am terrible. But you like it.”

“I absolutely do not.”

“Hmm,” Osiris said again. He brushed a light kiss against Saint’s sharp lips, making his purple optics go bright with surprise. What a sheer paradoxical kind of beauty, that this unfamiliar and unprecedented form of touch between them should feel the most natural of all.

Osiris studied his face, tracing every detail, his eyes soft yet alert like the morning sun. “Thank you, my love,” he said.

Saint hugged him, hard. “Welcome home, my bird.”

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #o14 #saint 14 #osiris #destiny saint 14 #destiny osiris #long post #lizzie's adventures in writing #local lesbian takes a detour from her usual territory of traumatized ladies to bring you: SAD BIRD BOYS #fear not we will be returning to our regularly scheduled programme soon!#i have never in my life destined a knee #i'm just a little lore gremlin #nO i don't play destiny yES i am gay for eris morn #but we'll get to that later #destinewt

72 notes · View notes

little-writings · 3 years

Note

MC adopts a puppy and Yoosung is jealous of the puppy

It’s been way too long since I’ve shown Yoosung any love, so I’d love to write this for you! Anyhow, I hope you have an amazing day and enjoy!

———————————————————————————————————–

You’d stumbled upon the puppy on your way from work.

You nearly swerved off the road at the sight of a tawny, long-haired pup stranded in the middle of the street. You’d jumped out without a second thought and for all the honking horns and yelling drivers that’d stuck their heads out of their windows, you didn’t regret it.

The puppy was a spaniel mix, long, droopy ears and fur full of curls with paws a little too big for his body. He was a mess, and dirt mottled his coat where the ribs just barely protruded against your fingers.

And yet despite all he’d so clearly been through, his eyes were still so full of warmth. It’s tail – consisting only of a short nub – even began to wag at the sight of you. He had been through so much and clearly had so much more love to give in spite of it all.

You’d snuck him back in your car and brought him home, all the while the little puppy attempting to scamper across the front seats before settling in your lap. When you’d brought him inside he’d stumbled across the wooden flooring, gawking about like it was the grandest sight he’d ever seen.

This wide-eyed, excited gaze quickly vanished when you gave him a bath. Like most puppies, he wasn’t a fan, whining and making unsuccessful attempts to climb out. He was only happy once again when you lifted him up, dripping with water and curls already beginning to twirl once again.

Yoosung had come home when you’d wrapped up the puppy in a towel. He’d nearly passed by you in the bathroom when he’d jerked back at the sight of the small dog cradled in your arms. He adjusted his glasses confusedly, peering so forward he ended up tripping over the bath mats. He slid forward against the wooden floor, funnily over, ending up just overlooking the pup.

“Oh!” His eyes lit up. He tapped against the puppy’s snout playfully, laughing at one of his oversized paws attempting to return the gesture. “And who’s this?”

“I hope you don’t mind! I-I just found him and couldn’t leave him there in the street…”

“That’s how you found him? The poor thing!” Yoosung gasped. “How could anyone just toss you away~?”

A part of your heart always melted at the sight of Yoosung fawning over animals. Most days during work he’d send you pictures of all the pets being brought in – from cats, dogs, rabbits, and even birds. Each and every time Yoosung would barely be able to text in how overwhelmed he was by how each and every animal was insurmountably adorable. You often wondered how he managed to get through all his appointments.

“I was thinking we could keep him, at least until we come up with any other plan?” You tapped your feet against the tile floor in anticipation. “Please?”

Yoosung didn’t stand a chance.

Soon enough, the stray you’d taken in was given the name ‘Cinnamon’. And quickly, you and Cinnamon became inseparable. He followed you wherever you went, little legs awkwardly chasing after you and trying to climb into your lap at every opportunity.

In fact, every time you were with Yoosung, Cinnamon found a way to sneak himself between the two of you.

The first time was during that very first evening. You were sitting together on the sofa, a movie playing that you two inevitably chattered all throughout. Even if you’d try to pay attention during films, Yoosung would always whisper questions into your ear, causing you two to spiral into snickering and utterly off track.

The two of you were distracted once again, Yoosung remembering a joke he’d heard earlier in the day and suddenly eager to tell you. He leaned against you on your two cushions of the sofa that caused you both to only sink further – Yoosung practically laying on top of you by the end of it. The more he tried to tell you the joke in that hushed, giggly voice the more it made you laugh.

When Cinnamon noticed, well he wanted to know what was so amusing. He began pawing at the side of the couch anxiously, tail wagging and even his far-too-long ears perking up.

Of course, you sat up – causing Yoosung to too, rise. You lifted up Cinnamon and he covered you in kisses, and admittedly, took the whole of your attention. By the end of the movie, he’d fallen asleep in your lap where one could hear the faintest snoring.

Yoosung had compromised by resting his head against your shoulder, occasionally pressing kisses to your neck. Every time you could see frustration bubbling up inside of him, Cinnamon yawned or stretched his paws just so against Yoosung’s leg and your husband settled back down.

The next time was simply minutes later that night when the two of you made your way to bed, Cinnamon still cradled in your arms. Yoosung’s hand hung gingerly at the end of your shirt, keeping you close. It was a habit he gained after losing you so often in crowds, and in his sleepiest moments.

You’d both collapsed against the bed the second you were able. Sheets were loosely pulled back only to ‘plop’ on top but you could’ve cared less as long as long as your head still hit the pillow.

Cinnamon started in your arms, but that was until he started to climb. You couldn’t stop laughing as this tiny puppy began trying to climb over your neck and shoulders. How could anyone?

Well, Yoosung didn’t find it quite as funny. However, this might’ve been for the simple fact that when CInnamon did manage to make it over your shoulders, he landed on Yoosung, trying to pull you close.

Yoosung snorted as paws and hair were suddenly smothering his face. It was pure luck that Yoosung managed to grapple the puppy in his hands before jerking back in alarm. You twisted around to see Yoosung pressing his nose to Cinnamon’s, cheeks puffing out and nose wrinkled.

“You are so lucky you’re cute.”

Cinnamon barked in response, and Yoosung couldn’t hide the smile it brought.

“Let me cuddle MC…!” Yoosung groaned, squeezing one of Cinnamon’s pads. “You got them this evening!”

You heard a fussy growl.

“This is not up for negotiation!”

Yoosung planted Cinnamon at the foot of the bed, but the puppy would wrestle with Yoosung’s feet beneath the sheets all night in outrage.

In the morning, Cinnamon had squeezed himself between the two of you, and once again declared himself the victor of the fight.

This situation carried on again and again for the following days. Yoosung, constantly battling between his obvious love for you and the utter adorableness of the puppy, and Cinnamon, who was blissfully unaware.

It’d occurred when You and Yoosung were cooking dinner. He’d been making an effort to teach you, and soon it’d become a weekly tradition to try something new. Tonight was Japchae, and while Yoosung managed the beef you were handling the noodle simmering in the boiling pot.

Yoosung, knowing the recipe well enough to do it with his eyes closed, often found himself distracted. This distraction was sneaking kisses. Each time you nearly spilled the pot in surprise, but you supposed you didn’t entirely mind the affection.

With so much going on above him, Cinnamon, naturally, became curious. He tapped at your pant leg until you took notice. You lifted him up, holding Cinnamon close to your chest and allowing him to look over the whole kitchen counter. His eyes widened like dinner plates at the smells, especially that of the beef marinade. Soon enough, his jaw was hanging in delight and his tail was wagging rapidly.

“What’s he doing?” Yoosung asked, now slicing carrots into short, thin strips. “What if he sheds onto the noodles?”

You hid part of your face behind Cinnamon, tipping the pup from side to side playfully. “That’s why he’s staying close to me!”

Yoosung huffed. “He’s going to ruin the dish! He’ll slobber in the water!”

“No, he won’t! Cinnamon is very well-behaved!” You raised your voice to be higher, mimicking what you thought Cinnamon’s voice would’ve been. Perhaps you were lucky Cinnamon had no idea that was what you were doing, because you felt rather silly. “‘Yes I am, Mr. Yoosung! I’ll be good’!”

“Yeah, you will! You’ll be good at taking up all of their attention!” He tapped Cinnamon’s snout, frowning.

At that moment it clicked, and you grinned. You took a few steps closer to Yoosung, pushing forward Cinnamon’s leg to smush against Yoosung’s cheek.

“‘Are you jealous of me, Mr. Yoosung~?”

Your husband’s cheeks began to burn a bright red. “I-I am not jealous of a dog!”

You lowered Cinnamon back to your chest, doing your absolute best to swallow your laughter. “Oh my gosh, you’re jealous of the dog.”

“I am not!” Yoosung’s voice got higher and higher with embarrassment.

“Did you think I would leave you for Cinnamon? He’d become the sole focus of my life and leave my dear husband in the dust?”

Yoosung made a humiliating groan. “It sounds so silly when you say it like that!”

You snickered and set Cinnamon on the ground before kissing Yoosung, the man leaning so forward into you, you both almost tumbled over the counter. When you parted, your foreheads still pressed against one another and flecks of his golden curls brushing against your cheeks.

“It might’ve been a little silly.”

You were actually broken apart by Cinnamon, winding between your legs and barking, eager to be brought back up. It was a request that couldn’t be denied, and Yoosung hoisted him up, the puppy licking his fingers and yipping excitedly.

Yoosung could never resist an animal for long. And at that moment, Cinnamon went from a guest to a part of your family.

86 notes · View notes

anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

Midnight Kisses - Dick Grayson x Reader

Words: 1.3k

Requested? Yes! From the lovely @subtleappreciation and @geekandnerdworld

“Hiiii! May I request a 6 with Dick please?” and “Hey. How are you doing during this major historic moment (which nobody asked for)? Could you please write a fic with Dick from the prompts 1, 6, 12 and 29. Thanks.” (1. pick me, choose me, love me 6. you can’t kiss me all day 12. alcohol does not solve all you proble- 29. dumbass are you drunk??? )

LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I LOVE THESE my boi Dick needs some love ;))) Thank you for the wonderful requests and I am doing alright in these wild times thank you for asking. I hope you don’t mind that I combined your requests : ) I hope you enjoy!

A Friday night meant board games and spooning, it was all you looked forward to during the week, texting your boyfriend how much you missed him and couldn’t wait to hangout during your weekends together. That was the way your life had been working, Dick was busy saving lives at night and working during the day and you were working during the day and studying at night - but both of you always cleared your Friday nights and most weekends for each other. It was a small tradition but it was reliable and showed that every week there was room in your life for Dick, and room in his for you.

Sending a quick text then heading over to his apartment. On the way over you got a call from one of Dick’s younger brother, Tim.

“Heyyyyy Y/N so, Dick got in a teensy tiny little fight with Bruce because long story short Damian tried to stab someone and they both wanted to reprimand him differently and it was a whole thing and Dick looked pretty upset when he stormed out so just a warning I know it’s your Friday night date thing”

“How did Damian get a swor- nevermind I know how. Alright, thank you for the warning Timmy I’ll be sure to be extra nice, tell Bruce he’s wrong I don’t even have to know the argument and tell Damian he and I get to have a talk”

“Will do, you’re a lifesaver Y/N!”

And the call ended as you started the walk up three stories of stairs to get to Dick’s apartment. Cursing yourself for falling for a Batboy who enters rooms using grappling hooks to dive through windows and not doors like regular humans you groaned up the stairs, not even stopping to knock you threw open the door. “Honey I’m homeeeee” you called with a giggle, scanning the kitchen and living room for your lovely boyfriend.

You heard a groan coming from his bedroom and the first sight you saw was Dick lying on his bed his lips sealed around a bottle of wine, the bottle was glugging as he swallowed drink after drink, his eyes half closed, nostrils flaring as he took deep breaths between chugs. “Oh Dick what are you doing?” you rushed to his side, pulling the bottle out of his mouth with a ‘pop!’ the red liquid spilling on him before you could turn the bottle right side up.

“Nowo Eiiim Nooot!” Dick’s slur was terrible, as much as he could pretend, he was a lightweight and you assumed the bottle of wine was not his first drink that night. Shaking his shoulder you chastisted him “Dick you dumbass are you drunk?” he smiled lazily, pulling you into his embrace. Placing sloppy kisses along your jaw he hummed as you ruffled his hair. “Rough day, more kisses” he mumbled, leaning into you as you lightly ran your fingers through his hair. “Baby talk to me, Tim called and told me a little” you whispered through his never ending kisses.

“Today is stupid. First off Dami tried to turn a kid into a skewer then Bruce thinks he should ground him! Like obviously there has to be a punishment because Damian but also we need to talk to him and explain why that’s not okay and give him alternative ways to use his anger!” Dick was exasperated, waving his hands in the air. You loved the way he looked after Damian, and after being with Dick for so long you loved Damian too, you’d been adopted into a weird half family and gained three lifelong brothers and the love of your life.

“You’re right Dick, and you’re allowed to be frustrated, but drinking can’t solve all your proble-” Dick stopped you with a long, passionate, kiss. Pulling away you shook your head at him. “You can’t just kiss me all day you drunk” Dick smirked. “Hmm I can and I will!” with one hand he pulled the covers over both of you and pulled you down under them with him. Laying down enveloped in sheets that smelled like Dick snuggled between your boyfriend’s (massive) arms was perfect. You were cupping his face in your hands, eyes boring into each others. “You’re really pretty” Dick whispered, his face just inches from yours. “Very kind of your love bird” you smiled into another kiss.

“Do you love me?” He caught you off guard, “Dickie of course I do! With my whole heart” you kissed his nose, but he still looked slightly upset. “That’s not what Wally said, he said you were using me for this gorgeous body!” Dick gestured to the grease stained shirt and loose sweatpants. “Yeah baby, real gorgeous” you winked. “You love me! No one else” he stated, opening one closed eye to check that you agreed. “You’ve gotta convince me, prove to me that you’re the best boyfriend ever!” you teased, bringing his lips onto yours again.

“Mhm okay, okay! I’ve got it” Dick squealed, springing up out of the bed. Running into his closet you sat up, giggling as he threw clothes backwards like a dramatic movie star. He came out in a black blazer that was very clearly inside out, and he stumbled towards the bed, taking both your hands in his. “My lovely Y/N, you’re the love of my life, so I beg you!” he cleared his throat, pretending to wipe away fake tears, “pick me, choose me, love me” then he gave you the cutest puppy dog eyes ever. “You win! Dear world I choose Richard Grayson as my one and only lover!” he cheered and dove back into bed with you.

“Why are you so goofy when you’re drunk” you teased Dick. With your favorite teasing grin he pulled the bottle of wine off of the side table shaking it mischievously “I drank, you drink, we drunk!” he pushed the bottle towards you making a hilarious face. “D do you really want me to be drinking with you?” he gave you a fake glare. “You drink or I do!” he said cheerfully as you took the bottle from him. “I could drink this, or we could do something else?” with two fingers you traced from his chest up to his cheek, pulling him in for a deep kiss. “Yes, this is what we should be doing!” you laughed, placing the bottle back down, taking a quick swig for courage.

“You know you’re my favorite person right angel?” Dick was drinking in the look of you in his arms. “I love you too Dickie” were the last words you said before he pulled the sheets over your head, completely focussing on you in every way for the rest of the night.

The morning after, you woke up wrapped up Dick’s arms while he snored louder than you thought was humanly possible. He was clutching you tightly to his chest, keeping you completely stuck to his side as he snored in your ear. Starting with a poke, it turned into more of a shove, and developed into a sort of cooing Dick awake. With a deep groan he squeezed you so tight you forgot what the ability to breath was before realizing you, his hands holding his head which you assumed would be pounding after last night’s endeavors.

Grabbing him some water and advil he was sitting up in bed, opening up his arms to cuddle you while he nursed a pounding head. The morning was slow, but serene and comfortable. You and Dick woke up slowly, after a shower and maybe a little throwing up, Dick was back to normal. “I’m gonna go talk to Damian now, wanna come?” Dick had gotten dressed and looked stressed. “Listen to you parent your baby brother and-or son? Absolutely.” you teased Dick, grabbing your purse.

“Have I ever told you you’re my favorite person in the entire world?” Dick quipped as he grabbed his keys.

“Uh yea, do you not remember anything from last night?” You teased.

“To be honest I really don’t”

#dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batboys #batfam #richard grayson #richard grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #tim drake

324 notes · View notes

nabrizoya · 4 years

Text

This was the original reply/draft to prompt sent by @zvko way back in may (ily bro). this draft didn’t seem to suit well for the prompt, i thought. now though, i’ll let you decide. partly-edited. or just plain unedited lol.

54: One reaching for the others hand to comfort them, to provide support. A thumb brushing lightly against skin. + Jesse and Lucie.

Lucie was aware of the Tower bell chiming at midnight as she stared steadfastly at the barren windowsill. She preened her ears to hear the ghost of his laughter, all to no avail. The night looked unfazed by the atrocities her mind imposed on her. She sighed, restless and wide awake in her bed, and continued to stare at the ceiling.

She missed him. She craned her neck to the windowsill yet again and closed her eyes, thinking about the nights they had spent awake, talking and laughing until dawn drew them apart. She remembered the games of chess they played, the way he gestured for the pieces for her to move and would win. She reminisced the nights they had spent outside, in the rain and fog and snow, venturing on midnight voyages. And her stealthy pursuits for books on necromancy right under his nose and getting away with her plans? Successful.

She missed him. Terribly.

It had only been a few weeks that they had been apart. Jesse was back to life, still sick and weak and mentally worse than he was before. She didn’t have to see him to know how his nightmares plagued him- they haunted her too. They were fantastical in their graphics, elaborate and daunting. She could project her torment into her writings, her own sense of twisted terror and trepidation. She wondered what Poe’s thoughts would be if he ever read her works; would he be just as fascinated, terrorized and amazed as she was when she read his works?

Lucie couldn’t bear it any longer. She pushed the duvet off her and sat up. The windows were empty of his presence and the clouds behind them carried their gossips, barely sparing a glance at her as she changed into her gear. She fastened a rope and a grappling hook around her waist and drew the cloak around her. Then marched noiselessly into the night towards Gideon Lightwood’s house.

Once she reached the premises, she observed the windows were barely lit and darkness spilled through most of them. Lucie wondered which of them led to Jesse’s room. She was conscious of the panic that began to bubble within her. Jesse wasn’t a ghost anymore; he was human and breathing. She could not risk being found, especially not after what had happened to Eugenia and how Daisy had handled hers. She wasn’t panicking at getting caught; she couldn’t fathom what excuse she could provide for her unannounced arrival.

Jesse was sent to Basilias for three weeks following the utter destruction that Belial had ensued. Lucie had heard, er, eavesdropped on her parents and collected that Jesse Blackthorn was back in London only that evening and that Gideon had proposed to take him under his care for the while.

And there she was, under the window from which the barest of candlelight was spilling through, hoping it was Jesse’s room. She threw the hook and fixed it around the metal that held the pipelines in place and climbed. And to her utter horror, in the littlest of light, she could see the figures of two people entwined in a rather intimate embrace, their faces barely visible.

Lucie was never the best to reciprocate shock; her hands let go of the rope of their own accord, and she gasped as she fell backwards. She held onto the rope as quickly as she let go, but chafed her palms throughout her futile attempt at a safe landing. She tumbled to the ground with a thump and bit down her lip to prevent the scream that was beginning to erupt.

She whimpered as she sat up and looked at her hands, scratched and slightly bloodied. She tried to fish for her stele but could hear the sound of window panes opening. Lucie struggled to free the hook and it came off in an instant, much to her surprise. She covered herself just as Thomas’ voice floated with confusion in the air. “’Think that was a burglar?”

“No,” the other voice said. “I should think not.” Lucie smiled despite the raging pain in her limbs. She could see Alastair help Thomas secure the window and disappear behind them. The iratze was quick to draw; the pain vanished as swiftly as it had come, her hands looking as good as they ever were. She looked at the windows in desperation, her momentary sense of joy now gone. Where was Jesse Blackthorn?

She critically examined the windows. Jesse liked keeping his windows open; his room in Chiswick -when she had spied for necromantic books, a perfectly reasonable adventure- had revealed as much. There used to be plants around the sill and the room usually overlooked a scenic sight ‘ten times worth the painter’s imagination’, as Jesse had once claimed. She trudged through the backyard towards the other end of the house and looked for the one set of windows that would set her heart in a frenzy.

Lo and behold, there it was: two sets of them open as curtains balled close by one set of windows. She watched the cherry blossom sway its flowers to sleep, the wind mumbling a mellow lullaby to it. Her heart lurched; she was so close to him. She drew another rune of stealth at her throat and fastened the hook. She climbed up the rope nervously.

When she reached the window, she tapped at the pane and fixed her foot on the metal around the pipe. Jesse was next to the window in no time. It was a blurry few moments until he reeled back in shock and then come to his senses. Jesse guided her in gently, though Lucie knew better; the moment was gone before she knew, replaced by Jesse’s anger. With Jesse promptly reprimanding her for her impetuousness.

“You can’t possibly be here-” he thundered. But Lucie paid him no heed. She was smiling, her attention wholly captured by the beauty of him. He looked healthier than he was when he had left London. His face was less pale, though there were shadows under his eyes. He wasn’t as thin; there was flesh to him when she touched his shoulder in a daze. His words ceased when she held his scarred hand, in awe with the utter humanness of him. He didn’t look strong, not as strong in the sense of shadowhunters, but at least as strong as any human could be. He had been sick for his entire life, and then dead, but he was better in just three weeks and he would be better even more. Lucie was proud of him.

She stepped back, still lost and removed her hand from his. But he reached forward and held hers, tightening both his hands around hers and holding them close to his heart. “You could be ruined, Lucie. Why are you here?” he asked her softly.

She shook her head. “You look all right,” she said. “But I know you are not.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor just as he let her palm loose. Lucie only stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck comfortingly. She hugged him tight and heard his heart hammer, feeling the joy of his life tear at her heart. Jesse froze for a moment before he wrapped her in his embrace, burying his head in the nook of her shoulder. She stroked his hair, knowing the glint of sadness in his eyes very well. “I’ve missed you, Jesse,” she mumbled. “How are you?”

Jesse said nothing. They stayed in the embrace for Angel knows how long. Neither of them dreamed of pulling away. The breeze from his open windows swayed them in their song, whistling through the curtains and swooshing them out and away. The two of them were knit into one another, their embraces tight and safe and reassuring. As slow as the night, Lucie’s shoulder grew wet with Jesse’s tears, his shoulders shaking with the pent up agony and pain he bore voicelessly for so long. Lucie felt the overwhelming need to shut the windows and keep him close, cut him away and protect him from every thorn that would dare to come closer. His knees buckled away and he pulled her to the ground; Lucie didn’t mind the pain. She held him in silence, and when his sobs grew louder, she murmured gentle reassurances to him. She held him for hours, suddenly remembering the time Cordelia had held her for hours, preventing her from falling off the cliff. The urge to protect someone so fiercely could never be cultivated. It just came without a question and you protected them without a doubt. She patted his back, the young traces of his muscles reassuring her about his onward health. She cursed the universe for damning him for the sins of his parents.

At some point, she found herself murmuring a lullaby into his hair. Her eyes were thick with tears she hadn't shed when she’d heard that Jesse was gone without a goodbye. Four weeks, the first one having been taken away for questioning by the Clave and the rest at his stay in Alicante. She blubbered, her own sobs mixing with his as she thought of all the people she had lost, of the sacrifices Jesse had made and the pain he had endured. She cried of her mother’s and her brother’s agony when they were tortured by Belial. Of the people who had died and the chaos that each one of her friends had borne, of heartbreak and crumpled wishes. Jesse swayed her this time, letting her cry and complain on his shoulder.

The two of them were a mess. But they were there for each other.

When their sobs stopped, they still held one another. Lucie clutched at him for dear life and Jesse caressed her now unbound hair. “Don’t leave,” she mumbled as she pulled back, wiping the tears on his cheekbones. She sat up on her knees, pulling him closer, and pressed her lips to his burning forehead. Jesse tightened his arms around her waist and held her tight. “You are all right. And you will be all right,” she whispered and drew back, staring down into his eyes that were so open and vulnerable. Jesse reached for her hand in his and linked their fingers together, his fingers caressing the scars on her hand. Their gazes never left one another’s. They stared and stared until the moon shied away from the fierceness in their eyes. Their promise on the light with which they loved each other.

“I won’t,” Jesse promised. He kissed the back of her hand.

Yeah, um. Dunno why the world had to read this, but this was The (TM) first ever time I wrote after a really long time. Kinda like how this one turned out, the direction it took, though er, the writing...; thanks for reading, either way!

#meh #good idea or not?#idek lol #jesse blackthorn #lucie herondale #the last hours #tlh #mine*

57 notes · View notes

let-me-love-you-loki · 4 years

Text

Behind the Scenes

A/N: This is the 1000 Followers Celebration prize winner story for @merchfreak. I hope it’s everything you wanted!

I both loved and hated those moments when the Young Bucks and I were across the ring from each other. They were these wonderful snapshots of their energy and talent, of watching them feed on the crowd and work seamlessly with Adam and Kenny. But they were torture because I had to root against them. I had to pull dirty tricks and interfere and distract.

It came with the job of being Sammy Guevara’s valet and on-screen girlfriend.

Sammy and I… we went way back. We trained together. We worked the indies together. We even did a short stint in WWE developmental together. Sammy dipped out after a month or two. I stuck it out until I realized I didn’t quite have the look—meaning I wasn’t a tall busty blonde bombshell. No, there wasn’t much of a place in the cookie-cutter cog machine of the WWE for petite, brown haired, brown eyed Melody Park.

I went back to the indies for a while. Then, one day, Sammy called and said he’d shared some of my tapes with this new promotion he was working with. They wanted to offer me a contract. I signed without hesitation, spent a few months on AEW Dark, and finally debuted on Dynamite as part of the Inner Circle with Sammy. I’d rediscovered my love of wrestling and of wrestling with my best friend.

And, well, I’d also discovered something else. Someone else.

Nick freaking Jackson. The youngest Young Buck. Executive Vice President. SoCal dude. Dork. And just all-around amazing guy.

Too bad it was almost impossible to actually date. Even without having to keep up kayfabe, most of the fans were convinced that Sammy and I were together for real since we were real-life roommates.

We were in the run up to a huge event—a war games blood and guts match—between the Inner Circle and the Elite. The past few weeks had been packed with desperate singles and tag team matches—street fights, no DQ bouts, sneak attacks backstage and at ringside. I’d done my part to cause trouble for The Elite, and I was quite proud of my work. Particularly when it came to Nick.

As hard as he would try to ignore me, I was more than capable of getting his attention and keeping it. I was surprised at how simple it was really. Each week, every segment, I came out in my fashionably slashed and knotted Inner Circle tee—or some of Sammy’s merch, I was newly fond of the Le Sex Gods shirt—and my Daisy Dukes, curls bouncing and makeup perfectly highlighting my bright brown eyes.

Thank God for Penelope Ford. She’d given me a master class in seductive distraction.

Case in point… it was a tag match. The Elite versus Proud and Powerful and Sammy. My on-screen beau was in the ring, grappling with Matt Jackson. Kenny was laid out on the floor somewhere, and Nick was waiting in the face corner, leaning over the rope to reach for his brother. With Kenny out of the way and Matt being smacked around in the heel corner, dear sweet Baby Buck was ripe for the picking.

I strolled around the side of the ring, blowing a kiss into the camera as I walked by. I put a little bit of sashay into my hips as I stroked my fingers along the ring apron. Nick bounced up and down, wiggling his fingers for the tag. I stopped a foot or so away and appraised him with a long look from his boots all the way up to his hair. My shoulders bobbed in a shrug and I plastered an I could do worse expression on my face.

Keeping an eye on what was going on in the ring, I climbed up onto the apron and struck a pose—hands on my hips, weight on one leg, the other bent at the knee. I cleared my throat loud enough that the front row could hear.

Nick glanced up then back to the ring. Then… right back to me. His ice blue eyes swept over me, an angry yet appreciative expression taking over his face.

I licked my lips and looked him up and down. “Like what you see, Nick?” I asked, putting emphasis on his name.

His expression tipped into intrigued yet annoyed. “What are you doing, Mels? Get outta my corner!” He shooed me away with a flick of his wrist.

I smiled, pleased to have already drawn his attention from the match. My feet carried me toward him, and I reached out to stroke my fingertips up his forearm to his bicep. His gaze shifted from my hand on his arm to my face. He gasped a breath and licked his lips.

I chanced a quick glace at the match. Matt had broken away from Sammy and Santana and was crawling toward his brother. Sammy was clawing himself right behind, reaching for the elder Jackson’s ankle to drag him back. It would be a perfect, dramatic moment for a hot tag.

Too bad they aren’t getting one, I thought as I skimmed my hand up behind his neck and dragged him close, planting my lips against his. My fingers threaded into his hair, holding him in place. For a second, he was startled. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he slipped one hand against the back of my head and let the other settle on my hip. He kissed me back—chaste as it was—and my entire body tingled.

I opened my eyes just a little, just enough to see that Matt had made it to the corner but found that his partner was occupied. Sammy and Santana grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him back to our side. The moment they had Matt subdued, I planted my palms on Nick’s shoulders and pushed him away.

Before he could say anything, I hopped down from the apron and scurried back to the Inner Circle corner. Thankfully—and perfectly planned—Referee Bryce didn’t see a thing.

***

“Beautiful work out there, Mels,” Sammy said as he leaned against the wall backstage to catch his breath. “Nick looked like he was going to pass out.”

I gave an exaggerated curtsey and grinned. “It was absolutely my pleasure to distract Nicky Blue Eyes for you.”

My friend laughed and ran a hand over his sweaty hair. “If the cameras hadn’t been on, you’d have really stuck your tongue down his throat.”

My eyes rolled so far back into my head that I thought they’d get stuck. I felt the faint flutter of my heart in my chest. The memory of kissing Nick Jackson in front of thousands of people made a bolt of electricity run through my body. It was a delicious ache that settled behind my ribs and spread through my limbs. I shrugged and lifted a brow. “I’d do more than that.”

Sammy opened his mouth to reply, but something caught his eye over my shoulder. I followed the line of his gaze and saw Nick standing in the center of the hallway on the other side of the entrance tunnels, his arms crossed over his bare chest. His eyes were locked on me. His stance commanding and intimidating. There was a faint, mischievous smirk on his lips.

He held out his hand and crooked his index and middle fingers in a come here gesture. Then he turned his hand over, using those same fingers to indicate that I needed to come here to this exact spot right in front of me now. Heat licked the base of my spine.

“I think Nicky Blue Eyes is looking for you,” Sammy said, his voice low and teasing. “And he looks a little… frustrated.”

I punched him in the arm. “Shut up, Sammy.”

Nick quirked a brow, the mischief on his face turning a little darker. I moved toward him like he was a magnet dragging me closer. His blue eyes locked onto mine as I closed the space between us. He ran a hand back over his hair, lifting it from his neck and shoulders.

When I got within a few feet, I could see the sweat darkening his hairline and settling along the slope of his collarbones and the hollow of his throat. He worked at the gum between his teeth, drawing my attention to the curves and muscles of his jaw. My heart picked up with the heady scent of him—sweat and the smell that was incomparably him—as he stepped into my personal space. Heat radiated off him, seeping into my skin.

“What’s up, Nick?” I said slowly, doing my best to remember Penelope’s lessons. My voice dropped just a little and I tilted my head, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

He popped the gum between his front teeth, looking almost as if he were pursing his lips for a kiss. His brow shot up, blue eyes twinkling with mischief tinged with mirth. “Still playing coy, Melody?”

There was something dark in his voice that made a shiver run down my spine. I felt my lips curl up, and I looked up at him with what I was certain were dark doe eyes. “You don’t know what I’m playing, Jackson.”

Nick closed his eyes and leaned his head back. I watched him breathe deeply and took a little joy in knowing that I got to him. It was part of this back-and-forth that we had—never quite saying or doing exactly what we wanted to. The longer I looked, the more I realized that Sammy was right. Nick looked more frustrated than I’d ever seen him. It was a heady thing to know I was the cause.

After a moment, he looked down at me again. This time, I couldn’t ignore the heat that burned behind the sweet blue of his irises. Without a word, he took me by the wrist and pulled me down the hallway. I rushed to keep up with his longer stride. His grip was strong and firm, but not enough to hurt. My heart beat a rhythm behind my ribs, pulsing until I was sure it was going to burst through my chest.

Nick walked right by the EVP dressing room. Past hospitality, the medics, the costumers, Tony’s office. Far away from the general men and women’s locker rooms. After what felt like forever, he shoved the door of a room open and nearly dragged me in behind him. The door shut behind me with a deep finality.

It was dark. The weren’t any windows, so I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. But I could sense Nick nearby. I could still smell the scent of his skin and feel the heat of his body. The blackened silence seemed to heighten those senses. It made my body tingle from head to toe.

Time stretched out. It compressed into this single moment that seemed to pass in a flash. It was too long and yet not long enough. My breath quickened as I waited, standing somewhere in the darkened room, listening, and sensing around me for Nick.

I licked my lips, ready to say his name. But before I could, his hands slipped up my arms and cradled my neck in his fingertips. His thumbs pressed into the soft spot beneath my chin, forcing my face to tilt upward. I took a breath, drunk on him, and opened my eyes wide, trying to make out his shape in the darkness. My hands pushed into the space around me, searching… finally brushing against warm, smooth flesh. Flattening my palms, I felt the curve of his ribs.

“What are—” The full question didn’t make it out before his mouth was on mine. I let out a faint gasp of surprise as he tilted my head, taking control. His tongue swept along my lips. His thumbs pressed against my chin almost painfully.

Almost as soon as it began, it ended. Nick stepped away and cold air rushed into the space where his body had been. Goosebumps prickled along my skin. I took a step back, glad to come up against the wall. My knees felt like they were about to buckle beneath me.

“That was for that stunt you pulled out there,” he growled out from somewhere to my left. I heard the barely suppressed emotion in his words. My blood pounded in my ears.

I whimpered a little as I let the wall hold my weight. “Just doing my job,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

Within an instant, he was there, his body pressing me back against the wall. His knee slipped between mine as his fingers caught my wrists and pinned them next to my head. The cool cinderblock of the wall was a heady contradiction to the heat of his skin and muscle.

His nose brushed against my neck as he leaned in, putting his mouth close to my ear. “We both know you were doing more than that, Mels.” He dragged my hand from the wall and pressed my palm against the front of his pants. Reflexively, instinctively, my hand curved against the length of his hardening cock. He hissed. “See what you did?”

I felt my lips curve upward, boldness rising within my blood. “Not my fault you can’t control yourself, Jackson.” I rubbed my palm against his cock, my grin getting broader when he let out a low moan. “Not my fault that any girl in some short shorts gets you going.”

Nick snarled and jerked my hand back up, pinning it once again against the wall. His mouth traveled up my throat, leaving warm open-mouthed kisses along my flesh. “Hmm, that’s where you’re wrong,” he growled into my ear. His knee wedged my legs wider until his thigh pressed against my core. I bit down on my lip to hold back the whimper that built in my chest. “The only girl in short shorts that gets me going is you. I can’t control myself because of you, Mels.”

I struggled for a moment, trying to get my hands free. Nick’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was enough to keep me under his control. He pressed his cheek against mine and chuckled darkly. The heat of his body made me feel like I was burning up from the inside out. I licked my lips, gasping a breath that overwhelmed me with the scent of him. I thrashed again and my hips rocked hard, sending a shower of sparks through my center. It wouldn’t surprise me if there was a wet spot on his gear when he moved.

I moaned despite myself.

“There we go,” Nick purred against my throat. He draped one of my arms around his neck and used the free hand to slide up beneath my shirt. His fingertips ghosted over my ribs and tugged on the laces that held the front of my gear top together. “Can you make that sound for me again?”

His teeth nipped at my shoulder as he threw my other arm around his neck. With both hands free, he dug his fingers into the slashes in my shirt and ripped the fabric until it hung from my shoulders in tatters. He dipped his head, swirling his tongue around my nipple as his hands traveled lower, working the button of my shorts free. The moment they slid down my thighs, Nick’s hand pushed between my legs. His fingers sought out and found my clit, circling and teasing it until I moaned and rocked my hips against his touch.

Like a maestro, he played my body perfectly. I teetered on the edge of oblivion, so close to release. Nick pulled away just before my orgasm burst through me. I whimpered in frustration, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He took a step back, and I wished I could see him.

“Get those off,” he ordered. I kicked my shorts and underwear away, struggling for a moment to get them over my shoes. I toed off the sneakers and stood barefoot in front of him, clad only in my open gear top and the shredded remains of my Inner Circle shirt. There was a rattle, the sound of a buckle being undone.

“Turn around,” Nick said firmly.

Almost as soon as I’d complied, Nick’s hands skimmed down my back and settled on my hips. He tugged me back toward him, and I knew what he wanted. I pressed my palms against the wall and pushed myself back. I heard his sigh as he curved his body over mine. His lips pressed against the back of my neck as he guided his cock into position.

To his surprise, I didn’t give him the chance to push forward. Instead, I pushed myself back onto his cock. I groaned low in my chest as he bottomed out, stretching me until I could hardly keep the whimpers at bay.

“Hmm, that’s how it is,” Nick practically snarled against my neck. He slipped one arm around my hip, fingers searching and circling my clit. His hips snapped hard against me. The other arm cupped my breast, squeezing the flesh and rolling my nipple between his fingers. “Come on, Mels. I can feel it. You’re holding back.”

He pulled me up, flush against his chest, his voice snarling in my ear, demanding my climax. His fingers brushed my clit in just the right way, and I fell apart. I tumbled over the edge of my orgasm, nearly collapsing in his arms. Nick didn’t stop, his hips continuing to slam into me, prolonging my pleasure as he chased his own.

A moment later, his body tensed, and he growled against the side of my neck. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he laughed. It was a warm, sweet sound that flooded my body with a different kind of heat.

“God, I love you, Mels,” he said with a smile against my shoulder. “But please, for my sake, don’t do that again.”

Tag List

@merchfreak @mox-made-me-do-it @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @lilred91

#1000 follower celebration #one-shot winner #merchfreak #behind the scenes #nick jackson #young bucks #aew #aew fanfiction #nick jackson fanfiction #ofc #oc #melody park #nick x ofc #smut #best friend sammy guevara

71 notes · View notes

gothic-safari-clown · 3 years

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 21: The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Word count: 1522

Ooh, the chapter title is the same as the fic title

Elianna could not have been more proud of her mask. She had spent every second of her free time measuring and adjusting and sewing and sending Jonathan to the store to get what she needed: something he found tedious, she was sure.

Either way, she had gotten it finished with one day to spare, and she was positively giddy. Even Jonathan had seemed impressed, and from what she could tell by what he had said, Scarecrow was thrilled with her dedication to the fear project. When she had finished, Jonathan had surprised her with a fear gas sleeve rig like his, and she was aching for the chance to use both of her new toys.

It was getting dark out when Jonathan came into her office, looking annoyed.

"Rachel Dawes is on her way here," he monotoned, making her frown. She had yet to meet Dawes, but she had been causing trouble for them from the start.

"Why?"

"Apparently," he began with a sigh, removing the doorstopper to let it swing closed, "she disagrees with the fact that Falcone got moved here. She finds his mental break suspicious."

"She's really up on her white horse, huh?" Jonathan scoffed in response.

"Either way, she might back off if she thinks I have a second opinion on this case. Are you up for a little acting?"

"Absolutely. What's the plan for if she doesn't buy it?"

"You have your mask on you?" El nodded, fondly remembering Jonathan talking her through making the false bottom of her briefcase.

"We match now!"

"Yes, we do. Just make sure it closes all the way when you're done with it."

"Good, she'll be here in a little under an hour. And we're the only ones here besides the orderlies, so I just got Falcone's men downstairs to supervise. Hopefully, everything will be able to go smoothly tomorrow."

"I'm sure it will just focus on the task at hand."

El had been surprised when Jonathan told her that he had managed to pay off some of Falcone's thugs to be loyal to them, and more than a little suspicious. But after meeting them and working with them for a few days, she was actually very grateful that she and Jonathan had people to delegate to for the last few days of work.

.xXx.

Dawes ended up arriving much earlier than projected, which only served to irritate Jonathan further. The entire walk to Falcone's cell was spent with him practically fuming and El becoming more and more curious about just how annoying one person could actually be.

"Miss Dawes, this is most irregular," Jonathan spoke as they approached, not giving the woman a chance to get the first word in. El caught on to the energy and jumped in before the other woman could get a word out.

"I'm Doctor Montgomery, I've been consulting on this case, and I speak for both of us when I say that we have nothing further to add to the report we filed with the judge."

"I have some questions about your report."

"Such as?" Jonathan challenged while El arranged her face into what she hoped was something patient and expectant. God, she really is tiresome.

"Isn't it convenient for a fifty-two-year-old man who had no history of mental illness to suddenly have a complete psychotic breakdown just when he's about to be indicted?" She had a fair point, but El made sure to keep her face impassive.

"Well, as you can see for yourself, there's nothing convenient about his symptoms." Oh dear, he's getting pissed. The woman didn't have a response planned for that, so she turned her attention stubbornly back to the man behind the glass, who was muttering to himself.

"What's 'scarecrow?'" The brunette fired off. El took it upon herself to reply so that Jonathan wouldn't snap.

"Patients suffering from delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor," she explained, doing her best to keep her voice pleasant and collegial. "Usually one conforming to Jungian archetypes. In this case," she gestured to the glass, "a scarecrow."

"And he's drugged?" This question seemed to amuse Jonathan.

"Psychopharmacology is my primary field. I'm a strong advocate." The thought of Jonathan being an 'advocate' for anything nearly made El laugh. "Outside, he was a giant. In here, only the mind can grant you power." Dawes shifted her eyes between the pair through narrowed eyes.

"You two enjoy the reversal." Jonathan allowed himself a mildly amused smile if only for a second.

"Doctor Montgomery and I respect the mind's power over the body." El nodded in agreement.

"It's why we do what we do," she smiled, keeping up her friendly persona. She was hoping that if she did her part properly, maybe it would lessen the suspicion on Jonathan, but it didn't seem to work. In fact, Dawes sent a scowl in her direction.

"I do what I do to keep thugs like Falcone behind bars, not in therapy." With that, she breezed past them toward the elevator. Jonathan and El shared a look, knowing what had to happen next. She was still talking as they turned to catch up with her. "I want my own psychiatric consultant to have full access to Falcone, including bloodwork. Find out exactly what you two put him on." El rolled her eyes, thankful that the Dawes's back was still turned to her.

"First thing tomorrow then," Jonathan sighed as they flanked her at the elevator doors, knowing what had to come next.

"Tonight," she charged into the elevator ahead of them, and El suddenly understood very well why Jonathan and Scarecrow seemed to hate the brunette so much. She herself was struggling not to choke her out right there in the elevator. "I've already paged Doctor Lehmann at County General" as if they were supposed to know who that was. Maybe Jonathan did, but judging by his lack of reaction, probably not.

Jonathan inserting his key to take them to the basement didn't go unnoticed by the redhead, but Dawes didn't seem to catch it. "As you wish," he forced out through gritted teeth as the door closed behind them.

Dawes gave Elianna a questioning look when the doors opened to reveal the basement, to which El replied with a reassuring smile.

"This way, please," Jonathan directed, leading them into the hallway. "There's something I think you should see."

The one thing that El didn't understand was how they would get her through the secret panel in the closet. She was going over different scenarios in her head when Jonathan passed the door and instead approached a larger one at the end of the hallway where it turned and pushed the double doors open dramatically.

They all came forward to stand on a balcony overlooking the workroom that El had grown familiar with, one level above where the secret panel led out. She understood now why they took the other way: the stairs going from the level they were standing on to the next level down had been taken out.

The redhead watched the dawning horror on the attorney's face as she took in what was happening as Jonathan spoke again.

"This is where we make the medicine." No, not Jonathan. It was subtle, but once she heard it, it was unmistakable. That was Scarecrow mimicking Jonathan's voice. Dawes was too shocked to notice the slight change in cadence, and her gaze was affixed to an inmate pouring a drum of the toxin directly into a busted open water pipe.

Not just any inmate either. Zsasz. Feeling someone watching him, he looked up in curiosity; when he saw El standing there, he shuddered and quickly turned back to what he was doing, his breath coming in broken gasps as he remembered something he would rather not. Elianna grinned when she saw Rachel make the connection and snap her head to look at her. "You-!" she managed to gasp out.

"Me," El confirmed with a wink. A low chuckle drew their attention back to the bespectacled man beside them.

"Perhaps you should have some, Miss Dawes. Clear your head." The brunette woman bolted for the elevator, and the two leftover partners in crime shared a look. Scarecrow smiled at El, a full smile; something she had never seen from Jonathan. It was sort of nice to see, and she smiled back as Scarecrow produced his face fluidly from their briefcase.

Rachel had reached the elevator. Luckily for the scheming pair, it wouldn't budge without the basement key. All Rachel managed to see when the elevator doors opened again were two masks, one burlap and one that seemed to be lined on the outside with faux leather, fashioned into a long, sleek beak.

Then, a cloud of gas—fired at the same time that she gasped in fear—and she coughed as the gas entered her lungs. When she looked back up, the masks had been distorted and twisted, oozing from the holes and crawling with...god, something. It didn't matter because they each seized an arm and dragged her back out of the elevator before her thoughts dissolved completely.

#The Mind’s Power Over the Body #Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #batman begins #Nolanverse #Elianna Montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #multi chapter fic #slight au #Attraction To The Insane #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 21

5 notes · View notes

silverdecepticon93 · 4 years

Text

Riddler x Vigilante! Reader

Request: I loved your recent Edward Nygma ones! Would you be open to the idea of writing something with him from the Gotham TV show? And maybe with a reader who also works with Batsy but is also dating him? And he finds out reader is a superhero when they were "crime fighting", unmasks her or something, and fluffy end? Thank you in advance!!

A/N: I am very iffy about this entire story so you guys just let me know how I did.

Batman, Batman, BATMAN!

That’s all that occupied Edward’s mind as he broke the pencil in his hand in half. Not too long ago, he and Oswald both watched as a masked vigilante leaped from building to building, and had put a pause on their plans for villainy that night. If only Edward had known all the problems that masked vigilante would cause for him in the future, then he would’ve hunted down that ‘Batman’ to the ends of the earth just to save him the amount of frustration he was feeling right now. It didn’t help that you weren’t there to comfort him, your job as a reporter now preoccupying most of your time, but it’s not like Edward could simply tell you about his troubles.

Especially since this stupid new hero seemed to have been the person to thank for your sudden promotion, he was a mystery for other reporters to interview however you always seemed to get not only the best photos but some actual comments from the masked vigilante. This only added to Edward’s frustration, why out of all the reporters and journalists in Gotham did this...Batman choose to speak with you?

After all, Edward knew you were far more superior and special than those other Lois Lane wannabes, that’s why when he was the Riddler he’d often make sure his crimes were near you but not severe enough where you’d get hurt. Only he was allowed to have a soft spot for you, you were his girlfriend and his reporter, and he was going to have to make sure that this mysterious new Batman knew that.

But how? That was the question that vexed him, that evaded him. How on earth could he make something pay that might not even be real? Before he started to fully see red, his head perked up at the sound of the door opening, and your angelic voice singing out a cheerful and bright “Edders!~”

The Batman could wait, for now, there were more important things occupying Edward’s mind as he stood from his spot and gleefully made his way to the living room.

“You’re back!” He mused as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you from the ground and spinning you around the room.

You laughed loudly and became slightly dizzy when he set you back on the ground, in a pleasant way. Then you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek, making him softly chuckle as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I missed you.” He murmured.

“I missed you, too.” You responded back, stealing a kiss from his lips with a playful smile.

The two of you stood there for a while, even if it felt like forever. Where he had both his hands cupping your face and keeping his forehead pressed to yours while you had two hands on his shoulders as you let out a content hum.

“How was your day, Dear?” You asked him as you finally stepped back to put your work bag away in the shared bedroom you two had.

“Stressful,” He frowned as he followed you like a lost puppy to the room. You turned back to face him with a sympathetic look on your face, “Aw, wanna talk about it?”

“Desperately,” He sighed before falling backward onto the bed, “but I do believe you know the rules about me discussing my work.”

You rolled your eyes before laying next to him, laying on your side as you propped your head on one hand and used the other to draw random shapes on his chest, which made him exhale heavily in pleasure and cuddle closer over to you.

“Right, forgive me, my dear Edward,” You snickered softly as you enjoyed the way he started to snake one hand around your waist and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck.

Days like this were nice, days where you two could just lay down with one another and relax, the feeling of having you near him was therapeutic, but of course, these moments never lasted long. Only because both of your jobs required your full attention and dedication, so when his phone began to ring, he groaned in annoyance while you sent him a smug smirk. He looked at who was calling before sitting up from the bed.

“I gotta take this, it’s for work.” He explained while you nodded at him with a smile that could make even the brightest sun jealous. You stretched out on the bed a bit more before becoming a bit more comfortable, “Hurry back, Edders.”

He nodded before standing up from his spot and walking out into the hallway, most likely to his office if you had to guess, as he hissed temperamentally to the phone he was talking to. You smiled before frowning and groaning in annoyance when your phone began to shortly ring afterwords. You obviously took it out but your eyes widened when you saw there was no number calling you. Instead a big yellow bat over a black surface was all your phone screen showed, your brows then furrowed into a look of determination as you leaped from the bed and quickly grabbed your work bag.

“Hey, (Y/n), I have to go-” You pecked his cheek as you ran past him, “I do too, love you!”

Before Edward could open his mouth to ask where you were going or to say anything, really, you had already dashed out the door.

“Huh,” He shrugged, “At least I don’t have to make up some lame excuse or something.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Heya, Bats!” You greeted, dressed in your vigilante attire as you used your grappling hook to descend to the ground and kick away a group of henchmen who were about to attack your partner.

The Dark Knight, a nickname you had come up with yourself, merely grabbed the collar of one of the henchmen before flinging him at a group of minions charging towards the both of you.

“You’re late.” He merely grunts as he dodges another blow. You merely rolled your eyes before you delivering a swift roundhouse kick to one minion who tried to attack you from surprise.

“Well, I’m sorry I have a life outside of being your partner,” You retorted when you were suddenly struck in the side of the head by something.

“(H/n)!” Batman shouted as he ran towards you.

You could feel yourself falling, almost as if in slow motion, and your vision becoming blurrier and blurrier the more you stumbled before you felt your head come into contact with the cold hard ground.

Funny that it was your first night out as a vigilante and already you got knocked out, huh?

When you woke up again, you groaned at the throbbing pain in your head and slowly tried to have your eyes readjust your surroundings. The first thing you noticed was that everything was upside down and that you couldn’t move your arms or your legs. You spun around slowly to face Batman, who also seemed to be in the same predicament you were in.

“You must feel comfortable like this, Bats.” You mused, a small smile on your face. He still kept up his poker face as he spun around slowly, “How can you even joke at a time like this?”

“He’s right!” Another voice chimed, one that you knew very well, but you really hoped you weren’t right and that you’re ears were failing you.

Both you and Batman were harshly spun around to face the Riddler, aka, your boyfriend, Edward Nygma.

“You really shouldn’t be joking at a time like this, my dear hero.” He mused as he walked around both you and your partner.

You were too speechless to speak, too paralyzed to hear whatever evil plot he had in store for you, and much too conflicted to think of your next move.

“Who knew it would be so easy to unmask the Batman?” The Riddler mused, “not only that but I get two for the price of one. Forgive me but I don’t think I got your name.”

He kneeled down in front of you, the charming smile he always gave you looked so ominous in the position you were in right now. Yet, it was also somewhat exciting to you as well.

“I’d think you should know me pretty well, Edders.” You smirked when you finally recovered from shock, making the villain's eyes go wide.

“How did you-....Wait,” He frowned as his gloved hands reached for your mask, he slowly peeled it off and was met with your smiling face.

“Aw, unmasked on my first night out. Guess I’m not a very good vigilante, huh?” You joked light-heartedly.

“(Y-Y/n)?” Eddie stammered, touching the side of your face to see if you were actually real, “This couldn’t be, I-I saw you leave...y-you kissed me on the cheek and- how-...when?”

You shrugged, as best as you could at least, before sending him your signature smile.

“Can’t tell you all the details but let’s just say I stuck my nose where I shouldn’t have and the big bad Batman saved me and asked me to be his partner.” You tried to summarize as best as you could.

Bruce wanted to very much argue that he hadn’t asked you to do anything, you just had Alfred make you a vigilante suit as well and then demanded to tag along with him. However, he decided to take advantage of...whatever it is you and The Riddler were having right now.

“What are you idiots waiting for? Untie them!” Edward barked, making his henchmen flinch and look at each other.

“But...uh... Boss? Didn’t you-” a simple glare was from Edward was all it took for the henchman to seize his babbling and quickly untied both you and your partner.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a vigilante?” He frowned, handing you back your mask. You raised an eyebrow at him as you placed your mask back on, “Says my supervillain boyfriend.”

“Not Supervillain ex-boyfriend?” Edward tilted his head in confusion.

You responded by jumping on him while wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. His eyes went wide until he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly and began to kiss back, making everyone in the room feel uncomfortable. Even the mysterious Batman.

“As long as I’m not your vigilante ex-girlfriend.” You panted when you broke the kiss. Edward only stared at you with adoring and dreamy eyes, “Never.”

“Uh...Boss, what do you want us to do with the Bat?” One henchman asked.

“Let him go, I have more important matters.” He hummed as he spun you around like he did earlier, making you laugh.

Even though things we’re gonna get a bit awkward considering where you two stood on the whole good vs. evil battle, something told you that it was something you two would overcome.

Together

#Edward Nygma x reader #Edward Nygma x you #Gotham x reader #Gotham x you #Bruce Wayne #Vigilante! Reader #Kinda a crack fic #i need requests #i only date heroes #The Riddler x you #I haven't watched gotham in such a long time #requested

94 notes · View notes