#maybe he realized there's so much about him he needs to know and understand

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone. 

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care. 

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?” 

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.” 

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.” 

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now? 

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel. 

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.” 

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest. 

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it. 

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven. 

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense. 

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high. 

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk,  and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.” 

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?” 

 “I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth. 

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left. 

That was easy. Wow. 

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would.  But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not. 

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows. 

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable. 

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded. 

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home. 

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control. 

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip. 

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest. 

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt. 

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.  

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

 If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect. 

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls. 

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear. 

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you. 

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure. 

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell. 

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat. 

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm. 

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit! 

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions. 

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all. 

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way.  His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features. 

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically. 

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless. 

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious. 

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

 When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly. 

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing. 

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that. 

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing. 

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #smut

[barcaatthemoon]

stood up || barcelona x teen!reader ||

you get stood up on your first date, and alexia enlists some help to make you feel better.

there was something special in the air as you got ready for your date. you hadn't told anybody, but it was your very first date. between your teammates and your parents pushing you to focus on school or football, your chances for dating had been slim. at least they had been before you were asked out by the very cute captain of the basketball team, matthias.

matthias was everything that you had been told to look out for in a guy. not only did he look like the literal prince charming, but he was also very sweet. the two of you had run into each other at your school's gym a couple of times, and he had always held the door open for you and carried your bag to your car for you.

everything was going to be perfect tonight, and you just knew it. you were giddy as you rode your bike over to the restuarant. for a brief moment, you felt panic when you didn't see him before realizing that you were early.

it was hours later when you realized that matthias wasn't coming. you tried your hardest not to make a scene as you gathered your things and made your way out of the restaurant. you thought that you were home free whenever you heard a voice call out your name from across the parking lot.

"(y/n)!" alexia shouted. you slowly turned around to see her running towards you excitedly. it could have easily just been an accident running into her, but she was the one who you had texted the location of your date to. "oh, you look so pretty nena. how was your date?"

"i-it was good," you tried to lie. alexia's eyes narrowed for a moment, but she dropped it.

"where is the boy? um, matthew, was it? i would like to meet him," alexia said. that was it, your entire facade came crashing down as you erupted into a fit of tears. alexia held you tightly in her arms, catching just enough to know exactly what to do.

"shh, come on, you shouldn't let that stupid boy ruin your night. did you get anything to eat in there?" you shook your head. "well then, i'll have frido pick up some of that pizza that you like so much and we can have ourselves a slumber party. i know it's hard to believe, but mapi knows a thing or two about being stood up."

"i would have thought she did the standing up," you muttered as alexia led you towards her car.

…

"the party has arrived!" mapi and lucy shouted as they entered alexia's apartment. the woman had never been so fortunate to have a penthouse before befriending the two defenders. she didn't understand their constant need to be rambunctous. frido had arrived about 5 minutes earlier, and with some coaxing, managed to convince you to eat a bit.

"you are so lucky that i love you enough to let these idiots stay," alexia said as she nudged your side. you smiled and wrapped your arms around her in a tight hug. the moment was sweet, and broken up as soon as mapi jumped onto the couch with the two of you. "get off of me, you're too heavy!"

"must be all that muscle," mapi said as she flexed. alexia tried pushing mapi off of her lap, but the woman was a bit too quick. she scrambled fully into your lap and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "you look very beautiful. this boy, matthias, he is the stupidest one in all of spain, maybe even europe. i'd beat him up, but his kind of stupid might rub off."

"thank you for the offer mapi," you laughed. she clapped her hands and cheered as you smiled. it definitely still stung a bit, but you found it very difficult to be upset with your teammates surrounding you.

several more of your teammates flooded into alexia's apartment, filling up the living room completely. if it was any other night, you would have thought it was a party. in a way, it sort of was a party thrown just to cheer you up after your date had stood you up. a party that alexia "no parties during the season" putellas had thrown for you in the middle of the season.

"hey kid, how are you feeling?" alexia asked as things started to die down a bit more. most of the team was laying around anywhere that they could, a handful of the girls having already gone to alexia's guest rooms to sleep.

"better, a lot better. thank you for doing this," you told her. alexia smiled as she reached her hand up for you to take. you did so, knowing that if you didn't, you'd be sharing the couch with bruna, pina, and cata. it wouldn't have been too bad if you didn't already know that pina kicked in her sleep, bruna clung to the closest person she could find like a koala, and cata was horridly restless.

"i am sorry that you got stood up tonight," alexia said as she walked you towards her room. you had slept over before, but this was the first time that you didn't have to bribe alexia to let you watch a movie as you tried to fall asleep. you could hear the opening song of one of your favorite romantic comedies playing on the tv as you entered the room.

"come on." frido patted the spot in the middle of the bed for you to lay down. you excitedly ran over and got comfortable in the spot offered to you. alexia moved a bit slower, but once she was close enough, offered her hand for you to hold as you curled up beside frido. you barely made it 10 minutes into the movie before you were practically dead to the world.

"it's easy to forget how little she is sometimes," alexia said quietly as she glanced down at you. "she looked so hurt earlier, i didn't know what to do."

"you did the right thing, ale. look at her, she had a great night all things considered. this could happen again, and if it does, she'll know to lean on us for support. she wants to be so much like you that it hurts her," frido said. alexia knew that the swedish woman had a point. everybody could see the little things that you tried picking up from alexia since you had joined barcelona. it was flattering, but alexia thought that you'd be better off if you were just yourself in the long run.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #teen reader #platonic fic #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona x reader #barcelona imagine

[nicksbestie]

can you do one where chris cares for reader while she’s sick? thank you!

Under The Weather - C. Sturniolo

Summary : You get sick often, but Chris always runs the risk of catching it to be close to you. <3

Warnings : mentions of being sick, fever, sore throat

Word Count : 691

Pairing : Chris Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : N/A!

You hated being sick.

You couldn’t get anything done, you were exhausted, and you were bored most of the time because of the fact that you couldn’t get up for long periods of time to do anything even somewhat entertaining. A lot of your time being sick was spent watching dumb television shows, a shit ton of YouTube, and a lot of sleeping. So when you woke up one morning with a fever, you wanted to just curl up and sleep for the rest of the week. You’d had enough fevers in your life to know when you had one, and by the way you curled into Chris’ side, desperate for the extra warmth, it confirmed it in your mind. 

It wasn’t until Chris woke up that you even checked your temperature, and it was because he insisted on it. He wasn’t worried about catching anything from you, but he wanted to make sure that you didn’t need any urgent medical care. If you had to go that would be a whole new fight, because you hated going to the doctors, but luckily, your fever wasn’t high enough for that. He let you stay curled up in bed as he went downstairs to get you some medicine and something to drink, knowing that you would not be excited to be up and moving around anytime soon. 

When he got back, he closed the door and made sure that the blinds were closed as well, soft, dim, lighting filling the room, so it didn’t cause you a headache on top of the uncomfortableness you were already going through. If anybody asked you, you would say that he is easily the best boyfriend in the entire world. Sure, maybe it was not far above the line of the bare minimum, but you still appreciated it so much more than he would ever understand. He laid down next to you, gently taking your phone from your hand and replacing it with the medicine and juice, taking stupid selfies on your camera while you were distracted. The silly behavior made you laugh, distracting you from your fever for a split second. 

You had a sore throat as well, so the medicine and cold juice going down helped ease that pain for a couple seconds, and you could feel it coating your throat, so you hoped that it would take a lot of the pain away for a couple of hours once it, combined with the painkiller, finally kicked in. You didn’t stay up for very long, cuddling back up into Chris’ arms, and watching what he was watching on his phone with him until you finally dozed off again, a nap desperately being needed so that you didn’t feel as badly. 

You slept for another couple of hours, waking up still in your boyfriend’s arms, and you didn’t move for a while. He knew you were awake but he didn’t want to disturb you, so he didn’t move either, except to press a kiss to the top of your head and brush some of the curls off of your forehead. Your skin was still warm underneath his touch, so he took your temperature again, moving as little as possible so that you stayed comfortable and as happy as possible in your current state. It had gone down a degree, now a low grade fever, and he could tell that you both were really hoping it was just a twenty-four hour bug and it would go away soon. 

Chris got up when you both realized you were hungry, getting some food for the both of you to eat in bed, and he finished off your food when you decided you had eaten enough and wanted to lay back down. You ended up watching some terrible show and scrolling through social media for a little while, before you fell asleep for the second nap of the day. One of the last thoughts in your head as you fell asleep was about how even if it was truly just a twenty four hour bug, Chris would be there to help you feel better even after it was over.

taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo

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#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo age regression #matt sturniolo age regression #nick sturniolo age regression #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x y/n #chris sturniolo headcanon #christopher sturniolo x y/n #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris #fanfic #boyfriend chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x y/n

[goingmerryfics]

Law x mute S/O?

(Also love your fics <3)

Mute/Selectively Mute S/O w/ Law

Content: Gender neutral reader & SFW, Corazon mentions so spoilers for Law's backstory

Notes* I started writing for this, thought I was done, then came back to add more things because I remembered that Law used to know someone who was selectively mute…

Law

The minute he met you, he would want to know if your condition was something medical related. Whether selectively mute or not, he'd immediately be interested in finding out if there was a medical or psychological reason for you to be unable to speak

He may come off as insensitive because of this, but he doesn't mean to, and he would quickly apologize if you indicated that he'd insulted you

Speaking of insensitive, Shachi and Penguin try endlessly to ‘trick’ you into speaking

Even if you try to explain that you physically can't speak, they think it's a challenge

Bepo wouldn't mind, he'll chat away and appreciate that you're a good listener

Either way, Law knows sign language and he communicates with you that way if you are able to understand it. Being a doctor, he tries to have all his bases covered if there's ever an emergency with someone that can't talk

Otherwise he always keeps a notepad and pen on him if you need to talk to him

He may be a grump, but he's patient and understanding. He finds ways for you to communicate that work the best for you, especially for missions where he can't keep an eye on you

Best believe that if there was a way to cure you, he'd make that a top priority. If it was medical, he's got that down

But if it's related to anxiety or PTSD or stress, he'd take care to be more cautious around you to try and help you open up a little easier. He's not on you all the time in full therapy mode, it's actually the opposite. He gives you the space you need to choose to speak when you're ready.

He's at peace with knowing that he will/may never hear you talk, but in his opinion, your voice doesn't matter as much as the rest of you does

If you do have the ability to speak though, you would eventually find him working away in his office as usual

You smooth your hands over his shoulders and lean down to kiss his cheek, and he sighs out his tension and smiles a bit

“Are you trying to convince me to take a break?” He shifts so he can get a good look at you and kiss your cheek

You whisper that you miss him and even though his eyes widen, he doesn't want to spook you by making it a big deal that you spoke.

It's easier to pull him out of his chair that day and drag him to bed so he can rest his eyes

Spoilers below

Even though you'd spoken once, that doesn't mean you'll do it again and he understands that- but as time goes on, creeping memories begin to surface and haunt him

You weren't that similar to Cora, but the muteness was starting to remind him of the man he'd lost long ago, and slowly he starts to feel like maybe this was a sign that he was cursed and might lose you, too

All of the sudden, his plans against Doflamingo don't involve you anymore

He's stuffed himself in his office more, researching your condition and trying to come up with some sort of cure or treatment

He's so worried about losing you that he doesn't realize he's losing time with you

He's started to avoid you, finding it hard to stay around you when he's this anxious about your fate

Eventually you get him to open up about it and he does so teary eyed, but after a long conversation he agrees to relax a little and you assure him that you're not going anywhere

#one piece #harleywritesop #hwop #trafalgar law #law one piece #op law #harleyasks #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar op #trafalgar one piece #one piece spoilers #one piece x reader

[treasureofmammon]

💛 Our future together 💛

🔎Summary: You've been studying non-stop for the last few days since finals are coming. Your boyfriend, Mammon, doesn't like it but changes his mind when you reveal why you need to study hard.

👥️Characters: Mammon x gn!reader.

⚠️Warnings: None, just fluff (But if you catch any, let me know). Established relationship with the raven boy.

📝 Note: We are back with our usual Mammon lover content, after some petty revenge for dinner for all the brothers. MC here is a nerd (and so am I).

✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️

Finals are coming, and you've been studying non-stop for the past days, only coming out of your room to eat, go to school, and give a small peck to your boyfriend once in a while. However, this arrangement is not desirable for him. Mammon constantly sneaks out of Lucifer's grip to knock on your door. As usual, you can't say no to him, so you end up letting him in.

You sit at your desk, reading, marking your textbook, making small annotations, and overall, trying to understand the subjects at hand. Meanwhile, Mammon lays in your bed, playing with a plushie he gave you on one of your first dates, tossing it up and catching it in both his hands, just to toss it up again; however, he quickly gets bored and decides that what he needs it's your attention.

—Treasure?—.

You answer with a —Hm?—, not parting away from your books.

—All ya do is study and study. It's so f*ckin' borin'!— Mammon states. Immediately, he stands up and hugs you from behind, setting his chin on the top of your head, his arms resting in your shoulders. Although you blush a little, studying is more important, so you continue with your task. Mammon kisses your head, and with a low and tender tone of voice, he suggests —Hey, why doncha stop studyin' so we can hang out?—.

You sigh, closing your eyes briefly, and start explaining: —Mammon... If I don't study hard, then I won't get good grades. If I don't get good grades, then I probably won't get a good job. And if I don't get a good job then, how am I going to provide for you?—.

Mammon jumps back immediately, —Wh-What?—. His reaction catches you by surprise, so you finally look back at him, trying to understand his behavior. He continues, —Y-Ya think about our future, together?! How far have you thought on us?—.

You are amazed by how much this surprises Mammon. A small silence spreads between you two, and you realize that Mammon is meaning his question, expecting a coherent and honest answer, so seriously, you answer: —All the time. I want to make a family with you. Since you have your own spending problems, I should be the one in charge of the financial stuff so our children can live well enough—.

—Children? With me?—, he says without even thinking, astonished.

—Yeah, two; maybe three—, you admit, —... and we can have a nice house next to a lake...—.

—A lake?—.

—Yes. Close to a hippodrome so you can watch whenever you want. But not gambling too much!—.

—So I can gamble?, really?—.

You nod, —... yeah, with moderation, though. Oh! And we could ask Barbatos to create a door close to the house, so we can visit the Devildom when we want to—.

—So I can visit my family whenever I want?—.

—Of course! And so they can visit us too—.

—What 'bout Goldie?—.

You sigh, —You can have a card, a debit one, though...—.

—What 'bout my car and my crows?—.

—We definitely would have a cool garage so you can work on your car... Oh! And your crows can come too, I'd love to have them around. But I want to have lots of pets too—.

—Pets? Like cats and dogs?—.

—Yes! I want a golden retriever called Butter. And a cat called Jiji, like the black cat on that human anime movie we watched with Levi... Oh! And once out of school, you can focus on modeling without worrying about money. So..., you know? Studying is important for me, for us—.

Another silence fills the room again. You observe Mammon's handsome face with tenderness and love. His surprised facial expression shifts slowly, and you realize tears are coming down his cheeks. You stand up and move quickly to him, —Sweety, are you okay? Are you... crying?—. You can't help but smile at Mammon's cute display of happiness. Meanwhile, Mammon lets you take him in your arms, rubbing his eyes and sweeping his cheeks clean, —I'm- I'm not cryin'!—, he says before sniffing.

✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️💖💛✨️

[Notes: The character(s) depicted here belong to the mobile game "Obey me: shall we date" and are owned by Solmare Corporation. The text here was made by me: Treasure of Mammon, meaning these are fan-made. | GN!Reader | English is not my first language, so there might be orthographic and syntax errors. I urge you all to interact kindly with this post].

📌 Masterlist

#Treasure of Mammon writing #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #obey me mammon #mammon obey me #mammon avatar of greed #mammon #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #mammon x gender neutral reader #obey me mc #obey me mammon x mc #obey me gender neutral mc #gender neutral reader #obey me fluff #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me writing #mammon om #om mc #om mammon #mammon om! #om! mammon #om! mc #the great mammon #obey me mammon fluff #mammon fluff

[greylynnsorrell]

The Trip

Cole could tell the drugs were already starting to kick in as she looked up at her husband's dopey face above her. It was obvious that he was struggling to understand what she was saying as a tiny trail of drool ran down his chin. His eyes had a far off glossy look to them as he stared down at the package of diapers she had in her lap trying his best to figure out if this was really happening to him. it felt more like a dream than reality, or maybe more accurately....a nightmare.

His wife had dealt with his bad behavior for to many years and when his party lifestyle finally resulted in her wakinig up to mullltiple wet beds she finally had enough. After a long night of extensive research she came across a "Mommy Dom" blog that seemed to have all the answers she needed and before long her little man was getting put into proper protection every night before bed. Of course she had been forced to do it as like most little boys she found he couldn't be trusted to do it right. She didnt mind as she began to noticee the changes in his personality as well as a shift in the power dynamic of their relationship. It wasnt long before she was looking into more ways to further her control over him until the young man found he was spending all his time properly padded and under his wife's thumb. But this wasn't enough for Cole after awhile as she craved more and more power over her overgrown man child.

It all came to a head one evening when Gray began throwwing a full on tantrum after being told he would be going to bed early from now on, screaming that it wasnt fair that she got to stay up as late as she wanted whille he was forced to lay down by 8 oclock. As she watched him stomp his foot with teaars running down his red cheeks it dawned on her that her big bad hubby was nothing more than a giant cranky toddler. And thats exactly how she decided to treat him from now...

Whne the supplies finally arrived the following week she was giddy with excitement to try everything out and made sure to get him good and drunk that evening. From the moment he got home from work she encouraged him to down drink after drink, lightly spiking each one with a special cocktail of drugs that would enssure success. By the time 8 oclock had arrived she could tell he was beyond fucked up and decided it was finally time to act. She announced that it time for him to get ready for bed and did her best not to smile as he took the bait immediately once again making a fuss about the new rule, working himself up into another whiney pathetic fit, sounding evenn more immature given the state his mind was in. He didnt even realize he was playing his part of the plan so well and now it was it time for his wife to play her part..

'Gray Lynn Sorrell, you do not speak to me that way! Come here right now Mister!" And with a smack to the face and a firm hand grasp on his chin directing his gaze down into his wife's fiery gaze he was at her mercy. Instead of fighting her like a man he broke down into a sobbing mess, obediently following her across the room where she instructed him to stand still or else. She could hear him sniffling as she tied his hands behind his back, an evil grin sspreading across her face knowing that the mirror she had purposely placed him in front of would only reenforce how she wanted him to see himself now. The whole whille she scolded him for being such a naughty boy and that she had had it.

"Look at you, your nothing but a giant crying baby. And Mommy has just the thing for you...." And with final sentence the already crumblilng walls of adulthood in his mind began to collapse, the drugs now able to take him on the strangest trip of his life. She knew the giant package of Huggies she had purchased, which perfectly resembbled the ones from his youth would only hightened his psychotropic experience and start to chip at away at whatever grasp he still had on his sanity.

"These are much more appropriate for a little boy like you honey, don'tya think?"

#ab dl art #ab dl lifestyle #mdlb relationship #ab dl diaper #mdlbcommunity #mdlbmommy #mdlbkink #abdlcouple #abdlbabyboy #abdlmommy

[conundrumsofphilosophy]

hi!! how do you think each merc would react if they got stuck on an elevator? maybe reader could be there too and started panicking, how would they deal with it? ^^

ANON I LOVE THIS. this is such a fun prompt im obsessed. sorry this took literally months . college is hard

scout

- he's immediately mad. kicking the wall and repeatedly pushing buttons

- ends up pacing and freaking anyone else in the elevator out

- when he starts yelling for help it's over

- if you start panicking it'll just make him panic because he doesn't know what to do to help you, he just gets louder

soldier

- slamming on the doors with his entire body weight. does NOT realize the doors will open to an elevator shaft and not a safe floor

- SCREAMING for help. he's not panicked really just very impatient. it's very un-american to get trapped in an elevator.

- if he's in there too long he'll wear himself out and sit on the floor and pout for a while. sad sad puppy dog man

- if you're freaking out he'll just yell in your face which will not help but he is yelling reassuring things. he just has zero volume control.

pyro

- definitely just saying what the hell over and over again. not yelling just muttering to themself and being mostly unintelligible

- kicks the door a little bit but doesn't get overly violent

- mostly just dismayed at the situation. will sit down and fiddle with whatever they have on them, tinker with whatever weapons anyone has. patient

- will sit there in silence with you and help you breathe deep if you're panicking. mutters kind things which you can't understand but he's trying

engineer

- pops open the panel immediately and starts fiddling with wires and trying to fix it himself. not at all worried that he might break it worse

- throws stuff if he can't get it working again. very much with the dangits and dammits and dagnabbits

- starts yelling for help but gets bored of it pretty quick and just huffs and puffs

- if you're freaked out he'll calm himself down though. he'd hate to be part of the reason you're freaking out

demo

- he doesn't even notice at first. he's just drinking and smiling.

- once he realizes it's been a loooong time in the elevator. he'll sort of just poke at some buttons, kick at the door a little bit. surprisingly nonchalant about it

- if he's drunk enough he'll start to prepare to blow the door open you gotta make him not do that. because it would most certainly not help

- if you're freaking out he'll stare at you for a while before he even says anything because he doesn't know what would help. he isn't helpful at all

heavy

- so normal about. he is chilling. if someone else has an idea that requires brute force he will contribute but won't initiate it himself he's perfectly content to just wait it out

- i like to think he brings a little paperback with him all the time and he will just sit down and read

- might even fall asleep. his snoring would make anyone else in the elevator want to die though

- probably the best person to have with you if you're freaking out he can provide anything you need. need to be grounded? bone crushing hug. need reassuring words? might be a little broken in english but he's got em.

medic

- gone into hysterics i think. especially if there are more than three people in the elevator he needs out right now

- snaps at anyone that tries to get him to help with anything he's like. sitting in the corner rocking back and forth

- he's literally completely 100% normal the second you get out it's like nothing happened

- he's not helping you if you're freaking out unless staring at you menacingly is helping

sniper

- doesn't care literally whatsoever he's used to being in enclosed spaces for hours at a time

- you better believe he's pissing in jars if he has them.

- will help with the Escape Plan if he deems it smart enough

- if you're freaking out he'll just sit there but he thinks it's helping

spy

- soooooo frustrated there are much better things he'd rather be doing than being trapped with You People

- filling the elevator with cigarette smoke much to the chagrin of everyone in it. he does not care whatsoever

- gets bored quickly and will sit and flip his knife endlessly while still chainsmoking

- if you're freaking out he'll probably just say something he thinks is kind but just makes you feel worse

#doe's drabbles (request) #doe's drabbles (headcanons) #tf2 #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 soldier #tf2 headcanons #tf2 mercs #anon

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Trans Celegorm

Celegorm was born female. Strong-daughter hasty-riser, whose hair looks just like her grandmother. 

Celegorm at ten knowing she is different somehow from the other girls. It’s not just the privileges of rank, or her discomfort with the expectations of a princess of the Noldor. Something about the role in society that Celegorm is supposed to take up just sits wrong, as much as she tries to ignore it.

Celegorm’s period starts at 12 and she hates it, hates her body, hates knowing she’ll never grow as tall and as broad as her father or Maedhros. Her body is built for giving new life, so Celegorm learns how to take life instead. She asks to join Orome’s hunt and is told she’s too young. She does everything she can to practice the skills anyway.

Celegorm is accepted to join the hunt at 15, when she manages to sneak up on Tilion. Running with the maiar who view her as weak because she’s an incarnate who didn’t build her muscles from the atoms up to be the best at snapping a deer’s neck, not because she’s a girl. Celegorm not knowing why this feels better, but at least she can fight and track when her head gets too full of circling thoughts. Celegorm can sneak up on anything, and learns quickly enough how to avoid leaving a blood trail of her own whether it’s from a scrape on her arm or from her cunt.

Celegorm trying to feel good in her body, and succeeding in the moments when she’s clothed, or when she’s not being judged. But now her tits have grown and she hates them, hates how they get in the way of her bow unless she binds them down, how when she goes home Maedhros says it’s improper to wrestle with her (and maybe he’s just stuffy and formal now, but also Celegorm is a very hands on fighter.) Celegorm hates how everyone expects her to wear clothes that are wrong, tailored to emphasize the chest not the shoulders, flowing and getting in the way. Sure, everyone has to wear robes at court, but then Father can come home and just wear an apron and trousers in the forge while Celegorm can’t.

Celegorm at 17 realizing she wants to be a man.

Celegorm at 17 thinking no one will take her seriously, she’s not even of age, and has always been weird anyway. Everyone will say it’s just about not fitting in to normal society.

Celegorm realizing that even her parents don’t truly understand her – no, him. Not in this at least. Sure, Feanor bakes according to his mother’s recipe, and Nerdanel wrestles huge blocks of marble into place. But Feanor is a man and Nerdanel is a woman.

Celegorm figuring screw it, they can’t stop him.

Celegorm is skilled with a knife by now. If he cuts the lumps off his chest, no one will be able to tell he’s a girl from a distance. And if someone is close enough to see between his legs, they’re close enough for Celegorm to punch.

Celegorm will run away to the forest for a couple years and come back outside Alqualonde. Just another elf who had to take a break from cities to live in nature, it’s not that rare. Another wild man of the hills.

Nerdanel first realizes that Celegorm is trans when she opens her daughter’s room to find Celegorm about to conduct amateur surgery. Celegorm has put thought and preparation into this; he has a sharp knife and boiling water to clean it, and a pile of boiled rags (the remains of his bedsheet), and a chair set up in front of the mirror. The chair is draped in another sheet, and there’s a towel on the floor. Celegorm has a thoughtful look and is drawing on his breasts with charcoal, trying to plan the cuts. He needs to save some of the skin, can’t ruin his own hide, and he needs to avoid arteries though he’s never butchered anything with an elven shape…

Nerdanel panics and yells. After establishing that it’s not a suicide attempt (“If I wanted to die, I’d just go provoke a bear, Mom, it would be far less hassle!”), she’s still rather concerned. And Nerdanel knows that if she takes Celegorm’s knife, Celegorm will just find or make another. So even though this topic really out to be considered for longer in her opinion, Nerdanel doesn’t say that.

“Would you please get dressed and we can find a practiced surgeon in the city? You deserve the best care possible in changing your body.” Nerdanel compares it to how Celegorm had a personal trainer when building muscle as a child, to make sure he didn’t sprain anything. And does Celegorm really want to risk severing an artery, or cutting a tendon?

Celegorm agrees. Gender reassignment surgery isn’t actually a common thing in Tirion – most people who transition go for a years-long hormonal thing, or let the Valar build them a whole new body and move their spirit into it. But Celegorm knows this body, and he isn’t going to wait.

Specifically, by the time they go home they’ve talked to four different surgeons and found one with availability in the next week, assuming no one gets in an archery accident in the meantime.

Celegorm goes in. He gets his tits cut off. He sees no reason to get a cock – he’s already learned how to piss without getting it on his boots.

Celegorm eventually tries sex. He laughs at everyone who says you need a cock to be dominant. All you need is to be able to pin your partner to the bed and use them as a dildo.

Canon still happens. Celegorm still kidnaps Luthien and threatens her in an attempt to marry her. He’s not super invested in having kids, and if Luthien wants them he’s sure Melian can do some magic to make sure the babies share his blood. 

(Amras is also a transman. With experience, Nerdanel and Feanor notice early enough to get him puberty blockers.)

#my fic #my writing #silmarillion #silm #celegorm #hasty riser #trans Tolkien

[softcrow]

finding a family

p.1/?, hurt/comfort. call of duty agere. cg!price regressor!ghost

cw: ghost doesn't know he's regressing, vauge allusions to past abuse

ghost isn't sure how long he'd been curled in the corner of his room.

he remembered getting off transport and into debrief with price. he doesn't know what he said or how he found himself back in his room but he's here now.

its quiet which helps soothe his ragged mind but it's too dark. ghost hadn't turned in the light when he came in, the sun was still out he remembers that much, but now that an unknown amount of time has passed the room is near pitch black and everything feels like its farther away then it should be.

he wants to turn on his lamp but the desk across the room is so far and all he can think of is what might be hiding in the shadows. ghost knows how people can hide in low light, he's done it himself countless times and despite how hard he tries to burry them, memories of having it used against him linger in his mind

making everything worse is his gear, once he realized he was still in it he'd tried to get it off but his hands won't work properly which ended with him so tangled up and frustrated he stopped before the tears he felt bubbling up could fall

unfortunately now its digging into simon's body and the restriction makes old memories crawl up through the fog clouding his mind, causing his hands to shake and threatening to send his heart racing.

at some point he'd started quietly rocking back and forth as he sat. he's not sure why but it makes him feel a bit better, simon's still scared and uncomfortable but its a little less unbearable as he quietly rocks back and forth.

the motion tickles a memory, one he can't quite grasp but one that gives him the impression of a soft voice and feeling of safety and content. he needs that right now and so he keeps rocking, grasping the fleeting edges of that memory in hopes it will keep his past from overwhelming him

there's a noise but simon can't bring himself to look up. everything is so much right now and he thinks maybe if he stays quiet enough whatever it is will leave him alone. alone is the safest, people can't hurt him when no one is there

the air shifts and he's aware of someone in front of him and panic surges through him for a moment before he catches the familiar smell of cigars and gun oil and registers its price.

it takes some time for him to understand that price is speaking, everything sounds so far away and distorted, like he's sunk to the bottom of a pool. after a moment simon realizes that price is asking if he can touch simon.

simon could cry, he wants that so badly but whenever he tries saying the words he can't get his mouth to move. thankfully price seems to see the frustration growing on his face and he lets out a gentle hum to get simon's attention.

"words are hard right now aren't they?" simon pauses rocking just enough that his nod to price will be clear.

price gently holds out a hand, palm up "lad if you're okay with touch right now, could you grab my hand? you don't have to say anything else or stop moving"

simon moves even before price has finished speaking, clumsily launching himself into the man's arms, just about knocking them both to the floor in the processes. price thankfully is able to catch them both and his arms come around simon as he shifts them onto the bed with simon tucked into his arms and across his lap.

"oh lad..." price sighs as he carefully rocks simon. there's something in his voice simon can't place but he's so tired and he feels so safe for the first time he can remember so he ingores it to burrow farther into price's arms and then lets himself drift.

#cod agere #fandom agere #noncom agere #agere fanfic #🐦‍⬛ crow crows #simon ghost riley #captain john price #call of duty #finding a family 🐦‍⬛

[dusty-cobweb]

Julian realizes that Garak is still hurting weeks after the incident with the wire. He intends to help.

tw // mention of suicide, animal death (not explicit)

Garak lied. He knew how to mold his face, suppress the suspicious lilt of his voice and stim of his hands. Yes, Garak was a very good liar.

However, today, merely a few weeks after the wire incident, his facade trembled. It wasn’t obvious, not at first. But Julian knew Garak, or at least knew how he acted.

He would smile coyly, maybe move the replicated flowers from the center of the table, press his hands together politely while Julian got his meal. Afterwards, they would exchange barbed words, meant not to hurt but to puncture holes in the other’s argument. It was fun, for the most part. One they equally enjoyed.

Now, Garak still smiled, but his lips pressed flatter than usual, painting a thin line against dull scales.

“Doctor? I do hope I’m not boring you?” Garak’s voice fluttered in, almost amused at his lack of attention.

“No! No, not at all Garak. It’s just…” Julian tried to find the words, tried to place what was so wrong with the picture in front of him.

“Just..?” Garak questioned.

“Your scales— they’re not shiny like they usually are.” Julian ended up saying, cursing himself as he did. Garak seemed just as surprised as himself, his brow ridge shooting a bit higher than usual.

“You know how work goes. Lots of commissions make for not much time for scale treatment, you understand,” He says, “Now about the Mirabal sisters; I can see what you were trying to say with the story, but in Cardassia a leader such as Chujillo”— his accent slithered out—“would never have taken power in the first place. Our peer-reviewed system prevents this.”

At any other time, Julian would’ve jumped at the opportunity to dissect what peer-reviewed meant (he suspects that’s why Garak said it), but right now all he could think about was finding out why Garak was so evasive.

“Garak,” He needled in what others have said is his “doctor’s voice”. “Do not try to avoid the subject, not with me.”

For a moment, Garak’s eyes darkened. Not in anger, but something more soulful; a bone deep exhaustion that settled heavily on armored shoulders. It was like all the life had left his body, leaving only the aftermaths of the wire in its place. And then— just as quickly as it came— it left, leaving only Garak’s saccharine sweet smile.

“My dear, there is no need to worry.” He said simply. No further explanation, no more platitudes, no lies. The worry in Julian’s heart turned desperate.

He was losing Garak.

Julian sat quietly with that thought. Garak sipped his tea. Finally, “I had a cat when I was younger.”

Garak looked at him over his tea.

“And here I thought I knew everything about you, my dear doctor.” Garak smiled lightly. Smiled as if Julian wasn’t plunging down a rabbit hole of what-ifs.

“She was the cuddliest thing— a calico, meaning she had all these multicolored spots on her fur. Gosh, she was beautiful. And wherever I went, she followed. Always my little shadow. If I sat down, she jumped onto my lap. If I showered, she would wait in the sink. Every night, she would find a way to sleep on me, even if I turned over.” Julian smiled sadly at the thought— it had been so long since he thought of Mu’izza.

“While that’s quite touching doctor, I don’t know how that’s related to totalitarian dictatorships of Latin America.” Garak once again took up his teacup.

“One day, she just got up and left. Jumped out of an open window, maybe. I don’t know.”

Garak frowned, “I’m sorry my dear, that must’ve been heartbreaking,” After a few moments of considering pause, “If she was fed well, taken care of—loved— then why did she leave you so suddenly?”

“Because cats hide when they go off to die, Garak. They don’t want to be vulnerable in front of others.”

Julian looked at Garak, really looked at him. And Garak saw his desperation, his pleading for him to understand. And of course Garak understood; the doctor was hardly ever subtle with his metaphors.

“Ah,” Garak said simply, tea cup placed gently back into its plate.

“Sometimes I think if Mu’izza stayed and let me take care of her, that maybe I could’ve saved her.” Julian’s voice got softer at the end, cushioned by a long standing sadness.

“Or maybe you couldn’t have. Maybe you would have just prolonged her suffering by helping her. Doesn’t she deserve to die when she wants?” Garak retorted. He was angry, he realized suddenly. He was so angry. Garak wanted to snarl, to bear his teeth and swipe their meals off the table, watch his delicate tea cup shatter. He wanted to throttle the doctor, make it so he could never breach his psych again.

Through his newfound fury, Garak heard the doctor’s voice flutter in again, “You’re right. Maybe she would’ve been miserable. But we’re peddling hypotheticals again. The fact of the matter is my little Mu’izza was still vulnerable when she died. It didn’t matter where she went to die, she always would’ve been powerless. At least with me, I could’ve had her in my lap, could’ve shielded her from the cold, could’ve—“ Julian’s voice wobbles, just slightly. It’s enough for him to pause, take a deep breath, and look away. Garak notices the barely there shimmer of tears in his eyes.

Oh, my dear Julian, Garak realizes. The anger at the doctor ebbs, turning into an aching love that moves him to wrap his hands around the doctors’. Julian looks back at Garak, surprised. For a moment all he does is look at their enjoined hands and Garak worries he miscalculated. Then, slowly, Julian squeezes.

“I just… I just wish I could’ve said goodbye. That’s what I really want.” Julian whispers, just for Garak to hear.

“I see that now, my dear. I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories.” Garak returns the squeeze.

“Are you sorry enough to not make more bad memories?” Julian asks. His voice was like a molten sword dipped in oil, fiery words hidden beneath a tempered tone.

“You cannot ask that of me, my dear. Please do not ask that of me.” Garak pleads. Julian frowns, worrying his lip between his teeth. Finally, he nods.

“Then, I only ask that you let me say goodbye. Will you allow me that?”

“Of course, my dear doctor.”

Julian squeezes his hand and makes to let go, but Garak holds on. Perhaps it’s selfish of him to cling to the doctor. But now that he’s felt the warmth of his hand and the breadth of his care, Garak can’t imagine letting him go now.

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yeah this is bad but idc. no beta, no thoughts, just pure procrastination from finals.

good night everyone ! sweet dreams to me (i will be playing solitaire until 3:30 AM)

#garashir #julian bashir x elim garak #julian bashir #elim garak #fanfic #writing

[artists-ally]

Hello sweetheart 😘 I really really adore your writing so much ! So, I dare to send in an idea as well 🥰 maybe you're dating Harvey but he barely had time for you lately, so one time he wants to surprise you with dinner at his apartment and you enjoy your time together. Then you both end your evening with lovely passionate smut and lots of cuddles afterwards. In the morning he wakes up before you and takes time in admiring you, realizing how happy he is to have you ? Hope that's not too cheesy ❤️ thank you so much in advance!

{Warm} Reader x Harvey Specter

This has been sitting in my inbox for god knows how long. I thank you for your patience my dear. I love this idea so much, and this song Warm by SG Lewis is just perfect. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. P.S. nothing is EVER too cheesy for me to write <3

Word Count: 3,998

Warnings: Just some good ole fluff and smut, some very soft dom!Harvey.

Tagging: @rosedpetal @blacktreacle22

Summary: After a particularly brutal month in the office, you've noticed some changes. Harvey is just... not present. Rather than demanding his attention, you just simply float by, knowing eventually he'll return his negligence. And boy does he ever.

~~~~~

“Yn, you really just need to grow a set and tell Harvey he’s being a jackass,” Donna scolds through the phone.

I roll my eyes, “Donna, I told you before. I don’t mind. He’s focused on winning this case, and it quite literally is the life and death of this firm. So, while I appreciate your ‘words of affirmation’, I didn’t ask for them.”

“I know, I just hate to see you so neglected.”

“Oh please,” I pff, flipping my head to move a chunk of hair out of my eye. “Neglected is probably the last thing I am. I can entertain myself. I actually haven’t minded the space. Every once and a while it’s good to go back to the basics. I’ve finally learned how to take care of the plants, I can make a mean lasagna too. I’ve even gotten back into reading. For fun.”

“Sheesh, clearly something is wrong if you’ve been reading voluntarily.”

I snickered. “I don’t know, I saw a book recommendation on instagram and fell in love. Childhood penpals turned strangers, turned back to penpals and she found out he’s the world's biggest rock star and he’s been writing songs about her the entire time.”

“Sounds exactly like the fairytale mushy-gushy shit you love. How you found Harvey to fill those shoes I’ll never understand.”

“He’s just… I don’t know, exactly what I need? My life is perpetually disorganized and he’s too organized. We balance each other out. It just works, and I love our life. I love our dynamic, and I love him. Since he’s so busy, and I have the energy and mental space to, I don’t mind picking up the slack. Again, things will balance themselves back.”

Donna sighed, and I knew that flat line was on her lips. “I know, you’re always so insightful. Optimistic bitch.” I cackled a laugh. “But in all seriousness, Harvey needs you. You’re right, he is too organized. He needs you to unwind him. I know how he is, and he needs a kick in the ass every once in a while. So, if by the end of the week, he doesn’t come around a little, just push him. He’ll fold. Especially for you, and that ass of yours.”

A smile bloomed onto my face, the door of our apartment building coming into view. “Thanks Donna, I’ll let you know how tonight goes. Maybe I’ll stop by the office in the morning and bring the crew some coffee, a few bagels as well.”

“This is why you will always remain my favorite. Now go eat that Chinese food, you sexy son of a bitch.”

“How did you know I had Chinese food?” 

“Because I’m Donna.” Then the line went dead.

Psycho. My psycho, but still a psycho. 

I did indeed have a takeout bag hooked in my elbow filled with Chinese food. Sesame chicken and wonton soup for me, beef and broccoli with pork lo-mein for Harvey. I got a small order of pork fried rice and some scallion pancakes to share. I was about ten seconds away from crouching in an alley and eating myself into a coma. 

The city streets were just beginning to fill up with Friday night festivities. Those heading to lavish dinners or exotic clubs, dressed to the nines with pristine hair and outfits. I looked down at my beat up orthopedic sneakers that kept the never ending foot pain of being a museum tour guide at bay. Here I was, surrounded by the most eccentric and busy place on earth, with absolutely nothing to do.

And that felt amazing. 

I scurried up the steps to the apartment building, greeting our doorsman with a smile and a wave. He gave me one back, pulling open the big glass doors. The mild April chill vanished and the comfortable, still air caressed my cheeks. The elevator door chimed open, chimed closed, and ascended to the top. 

21… 22… 23… the floors climbed and climbed. What was I going to watch? The new season of Bridgerton was out, I could watch that. No, the next season can’t possibly be as good as Charlottes. Maybe a movie? Didn’t that second Dunne one come out? I’m not sure I understand the first one enough to comprehend the second. 

The ding sounds, and I step off, juggling my keys as I rattle off more ideas in my head. 

There's always The Big Bang Theory, maybe Two Broke Girls? Nah, I’ve seen those a thousand times. Maybe I should watch something new. No, nothing sounds interesting. I could try to read, but I don’t wanna risk spilling anything on my book. Once in third grade, I was eating a bowl of cereal in the morning, and I spilled the entire thing on my book. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie was never the same again. 

When the door opened, I toed off my sneakers, kicking them in the corner. I threw the keys in the bowl and hummed a song aimlessly. In the kitchen, I pried a plate out of the cabinet and began to spoon food onto my plate. I won’t tell Harvey, but I stole some of his lo-mein. 

“Yn,” a voice spoke. 

I spun so hard I knocked my hip into the kitchen island corner, a scream bubbling out. “Jesus fucking christ Harvey! You could warn me next time, fucking hell.” 

My heart thrashed in my chest, my eyes going a little wonky from adrenaline. I swallowed, bending at the waist to catch my breath.

“Sorry, my love,” he smiled, coming to raise me from my hunched over position. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“A simple text would’ve been lovely,” I sighed, rising to my full height. “What the hell are you doing…”

All words died on my tongue as I looked around. The table was decorated with a white cloth, candles skewed about. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, beside it a card with two small boxes. There was champagne chilling in a metal bucket of ice, a box of chocolate covered strawberries and cherries next to it. 

“Harvey, what’s all this for? Our anniversary isn’t for two months.”

He grinned, that smirk going right to my chest. “No, it’s not.”

“Then what's all… this?” I waved my hand around, noticing a few balloons blown up and taped to the archway. I somehow completely missed the rose petals lining the floor. 

“It’s because I love you,” Harvey grabbed my hips, pressing our fronts together. “You’ve been… dealing with me for weeks now. My absence, my constant mood swings and lashing out. And I know what you’re gonna say-”

“That I know you’ve been stressed and need some time to focus on the case?”

Harvey tilted his head, a flat expression on his lips. “Yes. That.” 

“It’s not a big deal, Harvey. I know how important work is to you, and I know that you’ve really needed to focus so the firm doesn’t crumble and-”

“But I need you to know that you are a thousand times more important than work,” he says, placing his palms on my cheeks. He kisses me softly, stealing the air from my lungs. “Then the firm,” another kiss.  “And anything that has to do with that hellscape. I love you, Yn. And I don’t know what I would do without your constant flexibility with my chaotic life. So this is a very small token of my appreciation. The first part, at least.”

I hummed against his lips, letting my arms lay across his shoulders. I kiss him deeply. “The first part?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, hands falling down my back, a less than PG-13 flex of his hands on my ass. “First, I want you to open those little boxes. Then, we’re gonna eat and have some dessert.”

“I feel like there's more to this list,” I smile, making my way back to the counter to get our food. One second to the next, Harvey gripped my arm and pulled me back into his chest. I could feel his desire pressing into me. “Looks like I’m right.”

“You’re always right,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear. He kissed the side of my neck, leaving a little bite below my ear. “Go sit, I’ll get the food.”

A new thrill fueled my body, propelling my steps to the dining room. I sat, playing with the end of the table cloth as Harvey brough everything over. The champagne, the card, the boxes and the food. Before he made his way to his seat, his palm cupped my neck and he tilted my head back. His deep, lust filled eyes locked with mine before he kissed me again. 

“Open whichever you’d like, darling,” he sat opposite me, tucking the napkin across his lap. 

“Just because I did what anyone would for their love doesn’t mean you need to shower me with gifts, Harvey,” I said, giving him a pointed look. 

“And if I bought them just because I wanted to?” 

Point taken. I read the card, a picture of a polar bear wearing sunglasses on a beach with a coconut in its hand plastered on the front. 

Classy. It made me giggle nonetheless.

To my Yn,

Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. Thank you for being here, even when I wasn’t. I’m sorry for my absence, I promise I’ll be more conscious of my time spent at the office. I love you, more than I ever thought I’d ever be able to love anything. You are everything I’ve always wanted, and everything I never knew I’d need. After this last month, I didn’t understand just how badly I craved you. Your smile, your laugh, your warmth. The taste of you in the morning, and those adorable snores at night. No matter how many times I do it, I’ll never get tired of kissing you. Never tire of taking your breath away. I’ll never get sick of you being the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing before I sleep. 

You are forever entwined in my soul, Yn. And I wouldn’t dare to imagine it otherwise. 

I love you. <3 Harvey

I looked up at him, tears lining my eyes. He just winked at me, fork scraping his plate as he shoved a mouthful in. 

“Fuck you for that,” I sniffled, brushing away the tears as I blinked. “That was so uncalled for, you didn’t need to do that to me. That’s so unfair.”

He smiled, “I know you love that shit. And before you ask, Donna didn’t come near me when I was writing that. It all came from up here.”

I laughed as he touched the side of his head. “Good to know all those years at Harvard Law taught you something other than corporate jargon.”

“Open the boxes, little devil,” he sipped his champagne, nudging the boxes towards me. 

Both were a dark blue velvet, unlabeled. They were closed with a silver ribbon. The first one I grabbed was about the size of a book, and something rattled inside. I undid the bow, lifting the lid. Inside was a Kindle. I gasped, pulling it out and looking it over. 

“Harvey,” I grinned, mouth falling open. “You did not.”

“But I did,” he smiled brightly. “Unlimited.”

I could jump his bones from across the table. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Well, after you find out I got you a case, a Pop Socket, and one of those stands with the remote clicker so you don’t even have to hold it, you might love me a little more.” I squealed, pushing out of my chair as I crashed into him. We nearly tipped backwards. Harvey laughed, rubbing my sides as I latched onto him. “I knew you’d appreciate this. I know we haven’t been together much, but I remembered you showed me a video of some girl who had one.” “You remembered that?” A new set of tears choked my voice. 

“Of course I did. And I also remember you telling me that if I bought you another set of earrings you’d use them to pierce my ears, so that option went out the window.”

I swatted his chest, Harvey’s smile easy as he eased me off of him. “This is perfect, thank you so much.”

“Of course, my dear. Now open the next one.”

What could be better than a Kindle Unlimited? With a stand AND a remote to turn the pages for me. Harvey has no idea what he’s done, I’ll literally never get out of bed again. 

Practically ripping the box in half, I take off the lid and peer inside. 

I blink a few times, looking from him to the box. “My passport?”

“Yup.”

“I feel like there is something I’m not getting here.”

“There is.”

“Are you gonna tell me or make me guess?”

“I’m not that mean,” he rolled his eyes. 

“I mean you have been ignoring me for the past month,” I feigned being upset, letting out a little yelp when he threw a piece of broccoli at me. “You're literally four years old.”

“We’re going to China.”

Everything stopped moving. I dropped the box, my small, navy blue passport skittering across the floor. My ears buzzed, my fingers buzzed. “I- What?”

Harvey grinned. Fuck, I missed that grin. “We’re going to China. We won the case last night, and I am desperate for some time with you. You’ve always wanted to go, so why not now? I have everything set up. We’re gonna stay in the mountains, we’re gonna go hiking and see some shows. I also know you’ve wanted to-”

“We’re going to China?” I had to make sure I heard him right? I’ve been learning the language for years now, engrossed with their rich culture and history. The cuisine, the art, the music… everything. Had I been in a different timeline, I would’ve moved there. 

“Yes, my love. We’re going to China. Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” My eyes nearly fell out of my skull. “I can’t take two weeks off of-”

“Yn,” he cut me off, knowing I was going to spiral into a never ending list of reasons of 'why this and why that'. “It’s all been taken care of. All you have to do is pack a bag and get you cute ass in my car on Sunday morning. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“But-But Harvey… what the FUCK? WE’RE GOING TO CHINA? Oh my god, I have to call Donna.”

“Can you call Donna tomorrow? I have other things I’d like to do before you go blabbering to her about how amazing and awesome I am for planning this.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Donna planned this, didn’t she?"

“She did find the panda place. And the art festival. But everything else was my doing. You can applaud now.” Cocky, arrogant son of a bitch. My cocky, arrogant son of a bitch, but one nonetheless.

I looked at him, dumbfounded. He did all this for me, just because he had a crazy workload. I feel like it should be the opposite, me pampering him, congratulating him on his huge win. Not him fueling my book obsession and planning my dream trip. 

But it was yet another reason I loved him more and more every day. He just did these things, without prompting. Without need. He felt like he was neglecting me, leading to… all of this. 

We ate our dinner, chatting about anything other than the case. I asked about it, twice, and he completely side-stepped my attempt. I wanted to know, but if he didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t push. I told him the plot of this terrible Mafia romance book I finished earlier in the week, and he listened to every grating, awful point I made about it. All with a dopey smile on his face. 

Harvey cleared the plates, setting them in the sink. He brought more champagne, the strawberries and the cherries. In a calm silence, we devoured them, eyes raking over each other. I risked a look below the table, seeing just exactly where he wanted the next phase of the night to go. 

“You looking at it makes it worse, you know,” Harvey leaned back in his chair, my legs propped in his lap. He stroked his hand up and down, fingers dipping into one of the holes in my jeans. 

“Good,” I smiled, a sinful intent in my eyes. 

He looked from my smile to my eyes and back down. With a curse, he threw my legs off his lap and pulled my chair close to his. Harvey enveloped his mouth with mine, the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with the sour berry and tarte champagne. Every flavor on his tongue became my own. 

I was in his lap the next second, legs folded against his thighs. Harvey kept me firmly planted. Steady. He wouldn’t dare let me fall. I got lost in him, suddenly aware just how long it had been since I truly had him. Truly tasted him. Truly craved him.

He stood, taking me with him. The familiar route to our bedroom whirled by. I landed on the bed with a soft bounce, tugging on the collar of his shirt until he laid on top of me.

“So demanding,” he whispered on my lips. I wrapped my legs around his hips to emphasize my need. “Fuck… I love it when you get like this.”

“You made me this way, Harvey,” I pleaded, eyes catching him. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you what you deserve,” Harvey sighs. It’s not heavy, but it’s noticeable. “Let me take care of you, Yn.”

“I just need you to-”

“I know, my love. Let me worship you. Treat you how you deserve. You’ve been so patient with me, now let me return the favor.”

Well, I’d be stupid to deny him.

Delicately, he kissed down my torso, lifting my shirt over my head and throwing it for tomorrow's problem. He removed my socks, then my jeans. From ankle to knee, he kissed and bit my skin, making me squirm against the sheets.

Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, the tips of my fingers and toes pulsing with anticipation. With the last remaining pieces of my clothes gone, he spread my legs, kneeling to the ground. 

The sight of Harvey Specter on his knees between my thighs was… empowering. Not that he hasn’t tasted me with his tongue, I’ve just… always been on top. Never so… exposed.

A heady sigh left my lips, body going lax with the first pass of his tongue on me. I clenched my legs against his ears, muffling my whines. He pushed them against the mattress, eyes pinning me as he sank his teeth into the muscle of my thigh. 

“You know better than to hide those pretty moans from me, my love.” Yes, I do know better. “Scream my fucking name if you want.”

I just might. 

He made quick work of me, practiced movements easily sending me up and up and up. He’d slow back down, torture me with more bruising marks on my thighs while I writhed and begged for him to let me release. I arched up off the bed when he added his fingers.

I was so close, a month's worth of pent up desire threatening me all at once. My mind and body were on fire. I couldn’t hold off any longer. I chase that high, circling my hips against his face. His hands, firmly planted on my inner thighs, I shook, that month long ache finally subsiding before roaring back to life. 

When I thought he’d stop, he kept going. Around and around and around his tongue went. Teasing and sending an endless supply of pleasure through my body. 

“H-Harvey,” I gasped, my body up in flames over his never ending devotion.

“I’ll stop when I want to. Fuck Yn, you taste so sweet. Almost as sweet as hearing you beg for me to let you cum. Can you take one more?”

Again, I nodded, content to let him spend however long he wanted at my aching core. My second release came much sooner than the first. He didn’t bother teasing me, knowing it would ruin all his hard work if he stopped. With a few more sweeping passes, he licked me clean, sitting back on his heels to look at me. He wiped my cum off on the back of his hand, giving me a wicked grin.

“You are so fucking beautiful, all laid out for me to do as I please,” Harvey said, beginning to strip. 

“Please Harvey, have me. Any way that you like.”

He chuckled, kneeling over me. “I will, but like I said, I want tonight to be all about you.”

“Well I want you to fuck me.” I am not very good at being subtle. 

“How can I deny you when you ask so nicely,” he purred, closing our lips together, I parted my legs for him, desperate for the friction of his body on mine. His chest, his stomach, his hands lacing with mine. I needed all of him all over me. 

It didn’t take long for him to slip inside me, every inch of him stretching me in the most desirable way. I hummed as he stilled, his need clear in the way his arms shook to keep still. 

“Move, please please move,” I begged, threading my hand in his hair. With a reluctant drop of his head, he rolled his hips into mine, our bodies finally meeting in full. 

“I was trying to be gentle,” he reasoned. 

“Fuck gentle, I need you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know my love, I know.”

With each thrust into me, a new sensation bubbled inside me. My toes curled, my back bowed, my eyes fluttered shut. He quickened his pace, heavy breaths falling from his lips into mine. His air was mine. Every muttered curse and moan and praise went straight through me. He needed me as much as I needed him.

~~~~~

With my mind not fully awake, I lazily fling myself off my stomach and onto my back. My arm knocked into something hard, and I squinted against the morning sun. Oh, Harvey.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, crashing back down against the pillow. 

He chuckled, kissing the hand that accidentally hit him in the face. “It’s okay.”

“Are you going into the office?” I asked, still keeping my eyes closed. Man this bed is so comfy…

“No?” He said, a question in his tone. “Why would I?”

“Why else are you up so early?”

“I was just looking at you, my love. It’s been a while since I’ve just… looked at the love of my life. Taken the time to appreciate just how fucking stunning you are.”

My heart melted, a lovesick feeling welling up in my chest. I turned over, facing the handsome lawyer and grinned ear to ear. “I’m sure I look fabulous after last night.”

“You’ve never looked hotter. Lips swollen from mine, hair a mess from my hands… your body covered in my-”

“Okay,” I snatched his lips between my fingers, silencing his next words. “I did just wake up, at least let me shower before you destroy me again.”

“Only if I can quote on quote destroy you in the shower before I cook you breakfast and fuck you again on the counter.”

My eyes snapped open, meeting his blown out pupils. “You certainly have a vivid imagination for…” I looked over at the clock on the side of the bed. “... eight thirty-seven AM.”

“Wait till you find out I’ve been awake since six. With nothing to do but plot all the ways I could ruin you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, offering my lips as a peace offering. He quickly accepted, kissing me deeply. “Man, I missed this.”

“More than you could ever know.”

#harvey x reader #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter x you #harvey specter suits #harvey specter fanfiction #harvey specter #smut #writing #my writing

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: angst

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

terrible bad plan number 19284728 is brewing (and so is something else)

part thirty-five

❝ ARSONIST ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 7:00AM

ASTEN WAS… REALLY, REALLY, REALLY SICK. Just within four hours of arriving at the Manor, he’d thrown up three fever medicine attempts, gone up to a hundred-and-four temperature, and hadn’t been able to say a coherent sentence the entire time.

Bentley and Nico had taken up residence on a loveseat situated in the corner of the dim guest room, and Nico was curled up across it, dead asleep with his head on Bentley’s lap. Alfred kept checking his temperature frequently with a forehead scanning thermometer. The screen always turned green, which meant good. Asten’s always turned red.

Surprisingly enough, Jason had taken it upon himself to stay in the bedroom basically the whole time. Bentley wasn’t really sure why — maybe he cared about Asten because they were both from Crime Alley? He didn’t really know, and he wasn’t going to ask and ruin it. He liked having Jason around so much, even if it wasn’t for him. Dick and Bruce kept going in and out to fetch things they needed and to give Nico’s parents updates. (Asten’s uncle, Sam, didn’t seem to care much about updates. He never picked up Dick’s calls.)

It had taken a while for Nico to stop crying. Everything seemed to be taking more of a toll on him than Bentley realized. Especially distancing himself from his parents; that was the worst part. With the whole adoption surprise and now the superpowers, he wouldn’t even begin to let himself near them. And for a kid who had never really been away from them to start with, it was pretty hard. Sleeping was the most peaceful Bentley had seen him in a while, so he stayed dutifully still as to not disturb his slumber.

The guest room had been silent for a while, apart from Alfred checking Asten and Nico’s temperatures every now and then. Currently, he was out of the room, searching with Bruce for a medicine Asten might be able to stomach better, and Jason went with them to get more liquid for the drip, leaving Nico and Bentley the only two in the room.

It seemed like absolutely everything that could go wrong, was going wrong. And Bentley was always to blame.

“Remember Titus?”

Bentley flinched with a gasp when Nico spoke, very nearly whacking him in the face. He glanced down, and Nico was looking up at him, blue eyes glazed over a dull. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

Nico sat up with a small, forced snicker that didn’t really reach his eyes. He ran a hand through his fluffy blonde hair and sighed, rubbing his face. “Sorry. Apparently I’m so tired that sleeping is hard.”

“I’m sorry,” Bentley mumbled, glancing over at Asten. “And yeah. I remember Titus.”

Nico pulled his knees up on the maroon loveseat, rubbing at his eyes with his hands. “He ran… or, teleported away after Asten told him about his parents. Never showed back up. Didn’t this happen to him before he got superpowers? The sickness?”

“Uh…” Bentley glanced over at Nico, who was waiting expectantly for an answer to the question he already knew the answer to, and then back over at Asten’s limp form. Only his head was visible beneath the beige quilt. “I guess so…”

“It’s all there. Fever, throwing up, delirium, vertigo, fatigue, sweating, loss of consciousness. The only thing Dr. Keene talked about that we haven’t seen from him was burning pain,” Nico explained in a whisper, fiddling with his pajama pants. (Bentley’s sailboat pajamas, actually. They had him change after he admitted that Asten had indeed thrown up on him.) 

Bentley blinked a few times. “But Titus was sick as soon as he came out of the synchronizer. It’s been over two weeks since we were there.”

Nico shrugged, resting his head on his knees. “I dunno. It was just something I thought about.”

“Didn’t Titus’s sickness just go away after five days?” Bentley questioned, glancing over at him, and Nico replied with a simple nod. 

“It’s starting day six for Asten.”

Bentley turned back toward their sick friend. He watched in silence as Asten turned his head with a groan, making the cool washcloth Dick put there flop off onto the mattress.

With a soft exhale, Bentley stood, stretching and making his way to the edge of the bed. Asten still looked terrible — his face was fever flushed and he was sweating like no one Bentley had ever seen. That and the wet washcloth made his black and blue hair soggy and stick to his face. His lips were pale and Bentley didn’t think he’d seen his eyes open once since he’d arrived. It reminded him of when Tim was sick — scary.

With a pang of pity that moved through his veins, he dipped the washcloth in a bowl of cold water, squeezed it out, and put it back on Asten’s forehead.

An extremely dramatic groan was the first real reaction they got out of Asten all day. He didn’t say any words, but turned his head to the side to make the washcloth fall off again.

“I know it's cold,” Bentley started, grabbing the cloth and putting it back, keeping his hand over it so it wouldn’t move even if Asten did. “But it’s helping you.”

Asten turned his head from side to side trying to get it off, and Bentley apologetically held it there. Nico drifted up next to him with a quiet sigh.

“I wish he would be better already,” He muttered, huffing and crossing his arms. “He’s going to hate me.”

Bentley momentarily glanced at him, catching the calculating way he was looking at Asten. “Why would you say that?”

Nico shrugged, his dull blue eyes bouncing around the room. “On the third day, when his fever was really bad, I said we should probably call you or my parents or an ambulance or something, but he wouldn’t let me. He said he didn’t want any help. And now I brought him here.”

“You… did the right thing,” Bentley replied, looking back at Asten, who was still moving his head side to side. “The best thing for him.”

Nico nodded in silence. 

Asten groaned unintelligibly, and one of his hands came up from under the quilt and pushed weakly at Bentley’s wrist. 

“I know it’s cold,” The redhead repeated. Asten began to squirm slightly on the bed, his eyebrows pinching together in discomfort.

“G’off,” He halfway grumbled. Nico shifted by Bentley’s when an actual word came out of Asten’s mouth for the first time in a whole twenty-four hours.

“Not until your fever breaks,” Bentley replied, holding the cloth firmly in place. “I’m sorry.”

Asten didn’t like that.

“G’off!” He begged in his not-awake-but-not-unconscious limbo, and he pinched his face together in a way that Bentley knew all too well — that he was about to start crying. “Please… please…”

Bentley sighed lightly. “Okay. Just for a minute,” And then he lifted the cloth off of Asten’s forehead again. The older boy’s features softened, and he fell peaceful.

There was shuffling by his side, and before Bentley could turn to see what was happening, Nico scanned Asten’s forehead with their thermometer. Bentley counted to ten and then put the cloth back, to which Asten groaned dramatically again. Only a few seconds later, Nico moved Bentley’s hand and scanned Asten’s head again. And then again.

“What are you doing?” Bentley questioned, glancing over at him. Nico was staring at the glowing red thermometer screen like it had a picture of a unicorn on it, his blue eyes blown dinner-plate wide.

“He should be dead,” Was Nico’s muted mumble.

Bentley furrowed his brow and stepped closer to Nico, peering down at the thermometer.

The screen was bright red, displaying a large  hundred-and-eighteen-point-four.

Bentley blinked, and then rubbed his eyes. Bruce had talked about Tim’s hundred-and-four being bad…

“Do it again,” He ordered. Nico reached forward and repeated the process, swiping the thermometer across Asten’s forehead. A hundred-and-eighteen-point-seven.

“This thing has to be broken,” Nico suggested, lifting the thermometer up and scanning Bentley’s forehead with it. It came back green — ninety-eight-point-four. He reached over and did Asten’s again.

A hundred-and-nineteen-point-six.

“You better put that cloth back on him. This is insane. Impossible, really. He should literally be burning alive inside his own body. Like, vegetable territory,” Nico muttered, scanning his own forehead with the device. Ninety-eight-point-seven.

“He can hear you,” Bentley muttered, dipping the cloth in the water bowl again.

“He shouldn’t be hearing anything! He should be dead!”

Bentley said nothing, wringing out the cloth. Nico checked Asten’s temperature one last time. A hundred-and-twenty-point-one.

“It’s literally getting higher by the second!” 

Bentley pressed the cloth back on Asten’s forehead, to which he protested by screwing his face up and squirming around on the bed some more.

“The highest internal temperature a person has ever survived is a hundred-and-fifteen-point-seven!” Nico exclaimed, tossing the thermometer on the table and staring at Asten with a strange look on his face. Bentley glanced over at him without a word. “What? I looked it up when Asten started getting sick.”

Bentley said nothing, but continued to hold the cloth down on Asten’s forehead. He could feel the heat radiating from him through the cloth. If a hundred-and-four was bad, how was Asten still alive at a hundred-and-twenty?

Asten groaned dramatically again, pushing at Bentley’s wrist with more force now. He grumbled, “Get it off,” coherently, like he was actually starting to wake up.

“I know you don’t-“

“Get it off!”

“But you-“

“Get it off!” Asten’s eyes snapped open that time, but they weren’t green anymore. They were…

They were…

Glowing orange.

Bentley and Nico both jumped backwards, and the cloth slid from Bentley’s fingers and splatted on the floor next to his feet. Asten blinked a few times and looked around the room, a bit disoriented, his orange irises bouncing here and there. 

“Hey,” Bentley greeted nervously, sending a quick glance to Nico. Asten looked over at them, eyes flicking between the pair incredulously. “It’s okay, you’re at my place.”

Asten said nothing, but kept blinking like he wasn’t sure what was going on. Bentley bent down and picked up the washcloth from the floor, dipping it back in the water bowl and wringing it out. “And your fever is really really really high, so I need to put this back on you.”

Asten blinked, the glowing in his eyes unrelenting, the orange pulsing and moving like flames. “But I feel fine.”

“But you-“ Bentley started, but Nico elbowed him lightly. Their eyes met before Nico whispered: “He’s delirious. He was saying the same thing the other day, but he couldn’t even tell me his own name.”

Don’t argue with someone who is delirious, Bentley knew that much from helping with Tim. He nodded to himself and then glanced back over at Asten, who was now sitting up straight, looking around like he’d never seen and bedroom in his life. 

“That’s great. I’m glad you’re feeling better, but your fever is still really really high. The cool cloth is good for you,” He reasoned, wringing it out again and folding it in half to fit on his forehead.

“No it’s not,” Asten argued, shifting away from Bentley on the bed. “It hurts.”

“It’s just cold, buddy. Lay back down,” Bentley tried, holding the cloth up. Asten pushed himself farther away until he was on the far edge of the bed, glaring at the cloth like it had assaulted him. 

“No! Stop it! Get it away! It burns!”

“Shh, shh, stop yelling,” Bentley muttered, glancing at the door in a spurt of panic. If someone heard them, they were screwed. “It's okay, Asten. It’s just a little cool.”

“No it’s not, it burns!”

The washcloth in Bentley’s hand burst into flames with a loud whoosh when Asten said it burns. The redhead cried out in terror, dropping it on the floor with another strange splat.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Nico shouted, spinning around in a circle for reasons unbeknownst to Bentley. “Put it out! Put it out!”

Bentley, in a blind panic, grabbed the water bowl from the nightstand and dumped it all over the cloth (and the floor.) The fire went out with a low sizzle.

No one spoke for a solid five seconds. Bentley looked at Nico, who glanced at him with his blue eyes blown wide, a terrified but awestruck look on his face. Then he looked back at Asten, whose eyes were slowly turning from orange back to green.

Had he just…

Set that on fire?

With his mind?

With a grimace of discomfort, Asten laid back down in the bed, satisfied that the cloth would no longer be attacking him. 

“Asten, do you-“

Before Bentley could finish speaking, Asten’s eyes rolled backwards into his head, and he fell unresponsive again.

“Oh my God! He is a metahuman,” Nico mumbled, glancing around the room warily. “We… we should clean this up before your family gets back. Like, now.”

“If they didn’t already hear you screaming,” Bentley muttered, grabbing the singed and blackened cloth out off of the floor. He sent a quick glance to Asten, who was unmoving.

Nico hurried over to the bathroom and opened the sink cabinets. “I thought it was crazy that I had superpowers. And now he does too?!”

Bentley said nothing, but instead, grabbed the empty water bowl and carried it into the bathroom to refill. He tossed the old rag in the trash and covered it with some toilet paper.

“You know, if he has fire based powers, maybe the cold really does hurt,” Nico suggested, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and heading back into the bedroom to mop up the floor as Bentley filled the bowl in the sink. 

“Maybe,” Bentley replied. Everything comes with a downside, doesn’t it? Everything good?

Bentley brought the full bowl back into the room and put it on the nightstand. Nico handed him a new washcloth, and he dipped it in the water just in time for the bedroom door to swing open.

Jason was wearing a blue hoodie and gray sweatpants now, his hair slightly messy with the white part hanging down toward his eyes. He was carrying a few fluid bags in his hands for Asten’s IV. He paused abruptly after he closed the door, glancing between the three children (one unconscious and two rooted to their spots.) for a few seconds with his greenish-blue eyes narrowed. “What’re you up to?”

Bentley blinked, and with a cringe and a quick glance to a terrified Nico, replied: “Nothing, he just… woke up for a second. He… said a real word, too. A few.”

Jason, after a moment of silence and a few way too detective-ish glances, nodded in approval, making his way to the drip stand and unscrewing the old bag from the IV tubes. “That’s good. Will you hand me the thermometer?”

With a grimace, Bentley grabbed it from the bedside table and handed it over.

He and Nico watched in quiet terror as Jason finished changing out the IV bag and scanned Asten’s forehead with the thermometer. The screen turned red, and he looked at it inquisitively, then set it down on the bed with a sigh. “Looks like the fever might be going down, too.”

Bentley blinked once. Twice. Glanced over at Nico, who looked completely bamboozled but was trying not to. There was no way… what?

“What was the temperature?” Bentley questioned, dipping the washcloth back in the water bowl as a way to look like he wasn’t excruciatingly confused.

“A hundred-and-three-point-nine,” Jason replied. Bentley nodded slightly and wringed out the cloth, folding it and placing it gently on Asten’s forehead. He scrunched his face up, but didn’t wake.

And now the question was: had his temperature actually gone down that far that fast, or was Jason lying so he didn’t freak them out?

“Hey, Bentley,”

Bentley and Nico glanced over at the door that was sitting only slightly ajar, and Bentley shifted awkwardly at the voice that had come through it. Damian hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, why would he be calling for him now?

“Yeah?” He questioned.

He waited for Damian to open the door, but he never did. Jason didn’t say anything about it — probably because the assassin actually wanting to talk to somebody was a sign that he was finished hibernating.

“I’ll be right back,” Bentley said to Nico, who nodded.

Bentley moved from Asten’s bedside to the door and swung it open, glancing out into the hallway. It was completely empty, but Damian’s bedroom door was cracked open. No one else’s was.

“Damian?”

“Bentley,”

His voice was echoing from down the stairs, the foyer. Bentley gently swung the guest room door closed behind him and made for the stairs, thumping down them softly. He couldn’t see anybody at the bottom.

“Damian?”

“Bentley,”

When he reached the bottom of the stairs and could see the entire foyer, there was no one in it. The pale sunrise was illuminating outside the windows, making the whole house glow dimly, but there was no Damian anywhere.

“Bentley,”

The redhead turned on a dime, glancing down the hallway that led to the library and den. That’s where the voice was coming from.

His heartbeat was picking up. Why was his heartbeat picking up? Why was he sort of freaked out? “Damian? Are… you okay?”

“In the den,”

Bentley hesitantly made his way down the hall. He checked each room on the way — the office, the library — and they all came up empty, just like the family had left them. When he finally turned into the den, Damian was standing in the middle of the room in a green hoodie and black pants, looking completely and utterly normal. The room was normal, too — messy from movie marathons with an ever-burning fireplace that gave the whole thing a warm glow. Not a pillow was out of place, everything was just how it was the last time Bentley saw it.

He sighed in relief at the sight of Damian, stepping inside and glancing around. His fear quieted, replaced by something like, maybe, happiness? Shock that Damian was actually talking to him? “What is it?”

Damian looked down at his own socked feet for a few moments, fiddling with his hands inside his hoodie pocket. He looked alright. Good, even. “I just wanted to make sure you are aware… that… I do apologize for my previous behavior towards you.”

Bentley blinked, his eyes wandering around the den awkwardly. Right; Damian didn’t like apologizing in front of people, just like when they were in the car. “Uh… it's…”

“I… have to get used to how words affect you. You are different from my brothers. Richard and Drake and Todd — they can threaten one another and say the most crude things all day and still be friends at dinner. I… am still not sure how to effectively communicate with you,” Damian admitted, glancing down at the carpeted floor. “I am sorry for all those things I said. I did not mean them.”

Bentley breathed in and out, blinking. Damian wasn’t really one to go changing his mind, so maybe he actually hadn’t meant it in the first place? But it had sounded so sincere…

Bentley inhaled, muttering softly: “Do you really think everything would be better if I was gone?”

“No,” Damian sighed, shaking his head. Bentley glanced down at his own socks. Why did he feel like he was about to cry?

He heard Damian shift. “I think everything would be better if you were dead.”

Bentley glanced back up at him, and he had a strange, twisted smirk on his face that looked forced, mangled, even. So grotesque that it reminded him momentarily of the joker. Damian’s eyes weren’t blue — they were amber. 

Bentley inhaled sharply. “You’re not Damian.”

He took a few steps back. The fake Damian cackled strangely, and in a blink, it wasn’t Damian anymore — it was The Secret Keeper, standing in the den, in the Manor, right in front of him. Her crooked stitched smile was bleeding, and the tips of her platinum hair were stained crimson. Bentley shouted in fear and stumbled backwards, fell over his own two feet, and hit the floor of the den with a dull thud.

“I can make you see what I want you to see!” The Secret Keeper shouted in a somewhat manic manner, spinning around, her stringy hair whacking her in the face. The den around them melted away into a stretch of the white hallways from Dr. Keene’s lab, sterile and bright and terrifying. Davis was laying at the end of the hall, straight in front of Bentley, covered in something scarily crimson. 

His heart jumped. “Davis?!”

“I can make you hear what I want you to hear!”

“Bentley!” Someone screamed — a girl. Bentley turned around on the cold white tile and, at the opposite end of the hall from Davis, stood a small girl with long red hair. She was wearing pink overalls, holding a purple teddy bear. She was crying. “Bentley, help! He’s coming!”

“Vivienne?” He whispered. How did he know her name?

The Secret Keeper laughed, but he couldn’t see her. “I can reach into every future in every universe and show it to you. Your past, present, and future are mine!” 

Bentley’s father suddenly appeared behind the redhead girl, running at her and scooping her up from behind. Vivienne screamed, dropping the bear and kicking and flailing as he carried her away.

“No! No, father, I don’t want to go to the closet! No! Please! Bentley, help!”

Was Vivienne Bentley’s… sister?

The white hallways faded and melted into a white room of nothing. Bentley had been there before.

“I can make your family hear or see anything I want. Why else would they ignore Nico’s windstorm? The screaming? Because they didn’t hear it,” The Secret Keeper stepped out in front of Bentley from nowhere, smiling twistedly at him, her eyes wide and wild. “Their minds are mine to guide. I’m building the foundations of a future where we’re guaranteed to win. Your family won’t know what happened to you until it’s too late, and if you try to tell them?”

She smiled at him with serious, dead eyes. “I’ll kill you. And all of them. And everyone.”

Bentley breathed in a shaky breath. “Please-“

“I can see everything that’s going to happen tomorrow, the next day, the next day. And if I play my cards right, if I keep the Wayne’s in the dark, Batman and his whole team will be gone in a few short weeks. Days,” She spun around again like she was talking to herself, tugging at her hair like she was going kind of crazy. “I can see everything that’s coming and it’s all mine!”

Bentley’s heart was pounding out of his chest, and he breathed in shakily. “Charlie-“

“I’m not Charlie!” The Secret Keeper screamed, and suddenly, she had Bentley by the throat. She slammed him into a wall he couldn’t see, his toes barely brushing the ground. She was only inches from his face. “I’m not Charlie!”

Bentley gasped for air, tugging at her hand with both of his. Why was she so strong? “You… were.”

The Secret Keeper stared at him blankly for a solid ten seconds, silent, squeezing his throat. Her amber eyes went unblinking for so long they began to water. She was shaking. “Help me.”

Bentley tugged and scratched at her hand. “Let… go,” He gasped, struggling against her strength. “Pl…ease.”

“Help me,” She whispered, but it sounded like her voice was doubled. Bentley’s eyes began to blur from the lack of air. Someone popped out from behind The Secret Keeper — someone purple. Bentley saw that their hands were encased in metal capsules, chained to the ground by huge, thick chains. He blinked twice, and the image cleared. 

It was Charlie. The real Charlie, with blonde hair, with blue eyes, in the royal purple dress she wore the day she was turned into the Secret Keeper. She had a huge metal muzzle on her head that kept her mouth locked away like a dog. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face red from crying.

“Save me,”

In a literal flash of yellow lightning, Nico blipped into Bentley’s vision and slammed a metal fire poker into the Secret Keeper’s head like he was hitting a home run. The white room immediately turned back into the den, the voices faded, and Bentley hit the carpeted floor with a thump. 

He fell into a coughing fit, his hand floating up to his throat. He was shaking, he could feel it — and his heart was pounding out of his chest.

Nico dropped the blood-splattered fire poker with a clang. The Secret Keeper wasn’t there anymore. Had she vanished into thin air?

“Are you okay?” Nico questioned, grabbing Bentley’s arms and tugging him out of the floor. He was breathing really fast, too, and he touched various places on Bentley’s shoulders and head. “Did she hurt you? Is your throat okay? Where did she go? Did I kill her?!”

Bentley stayed silent, focusing on getting air in and out of his body. His throat was going to bruise — how would he hide that?

Nico pulled Bentley into him, hugging him tightly. “Where did she go?”

“I dunno,” Bentley mumbled.

Nico sighed. “That was so weird. Charlie, she…”

“You could see Charlie?” Bentley questioned, and he felt Nico nod.

“After you came downstairs, everything turned white and I saw her. Like, really her, before the Synchronizer. She told me that the Secret Keeper was attacking you,”

Bentley sighed, his mind struggling to keep up with everything. “But… what?”

Nico pulled away with a sigh, running a hand through his fluffy hair. “I don’t know. All I know is that I saw her, not the Secret Keeper, and she warned me.”

A moment of silence passed where they just stood there. Was Charlie inside the Secret Keeper, like a passenger along for the ride? Doing everything against her will? Was she trying to get out?

“We have to tell your dad,” Nico finally muttered, shaking his head. “This is insane.”

“No,” Bentley ordered, shaking his head urgently. “We can’t- we can’t tell anybody.”

Nico cringed, furrowing his brows, turning to leave the room. “She’s just trying to scare you into silence. We have to tell them.”

“No!” Bentley grabbed his shoulder and tugged him backwards. “We can’t. She’ll hurt them.” 

“We can’t just keep letting this happen!” Nico exclaimed, locking eyes with him. “She’s harassing you.”

“I’m not going to risk their lives. I’ve seen her kill people with one look,” He replied, exhaling heavily. He drew his hand back and looked down at the floor. “This is all my fault. The least I can do is stop getting other people involved.”

Nico blinked a few times. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. Their life was fine before I got here,” Bentley muttered. He sighed and walked over to the couch, plopping down on it and running a hand through his hair. “I should just go back to my dad. This is what the whole war is about anyways.”

Nico said nothing, but made for the couch, sitting down beside Bentley. He could feel Nico’s eyes on him but he didn’t look up from his socks.

“I… I’ve seen… some memories. Of your father,” He said softly. “You can’t go back to that.”

Bentley sniffled. When had his eyes become so watery? “I’d rather go back to that than watch them suffer for me. I survived ten years of it.”

“You can’t do that. They love you here,”

Bentley groaned, dropping his head down into his hands. “This is a disaster. She was right. Everything would be better if I was just dead.”

The den fell eerily silent and still. After a long while of nothingness, Bentley glanced up at Nico, who was staring at him in a mixture of shock and despair, his ocean blue eyes gleaming with crystal clear tears. 

“Please don’t say that,” He whispered, almost inaudibly. A pang of guilt rang through Bentley at the sight of him, and he sighed.

Not a single thing that Bentley ever did went right, did it?

He cleared his throat softly. “Nico, I…”

“Stop. Talking. Just stop for a second,” Nico ordered, looking away and breathing deep, gathering his composure. He looked back at Bentley with glossy eyes. “The Secret Keeper is and has been tormenting you for weeks. Weeks she’s spent on you and the people around you. Ruining them to ruin you. And you’re letting her. You’re letting her ruin you.”

Bentley opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You know what I see when I look at that? When I see her trying to keep you in this constant state of terror and anxiety and loneliness?” Nico questioned, a hand floating up to land on Bentley’s shoulder. “She’s scared of you.”

Bentley blinked. “What? No she’s not. She can kill me.”

Nico squeezed his shoulder. “They said in the video diaries we saw in that morgue that the whole goal of this operation is to destroy Batman — Bruce. Your family. Damian, Robin. Dick, Nightwing-”

Bentley’s mouth fell open. “You- I- what?”

“Don’t worry, Asten doesn’t know, just me,” Nico continued with a shrug. “It’s not that hard to figure out. If you look at the number and ages of the main superheroes in Gotham, they all line up with this family. Not to mention that Dick Grayson goes between here and Bludhaven, and so does Nightwing. And the connection between your father and the Secret Keeper and Batman — it just makes sense. Not to mention you look really awkward whenever we mention superheroes at all.”

Bentley exhaled. So, he put the whole family in danger, got himself kidnapped, lied about a billion times, and now his best friend knows Bruce is Batman. “Bruce is going to die.”

“I won’t say anything. Promise. Anyway, here’s what I was getting at-“ Nico moved his hands around in the air. “They could do this entire evil diabolical plan without involving you at all. They could go straight for the throat and take out Bruce and the family for vengeance and revenge and blah blah blah and never spend a second on you, but they’re not. The Secret Keeper is going through hell to keep you on your knees. You know why?”

Bentley blinked.

“Because there’s something in you that can beat them, and they know it,” Nico said. “They’re expending all this energy toward keeping you down when they could be using it on Batman and his crew. You’re not the same kid that bowed at his father’s feet and they know it.”

Bentley looked down. “But-“

“The Secret Keeper can see the future, and the only one she’s completely hellbent on keeping quiet is you.”

Bentley said nothing.

“And maybe you don’t want to tell your family. That’s fine. But I still believe that you can get the upper hand if you take it. You said it yourself, this whole war is about you. So climb out of the hole she’s trying to bury you in and end it,”

Bentley breathed in and out, glancing around the room. He could hear something moving, above them, in the ceiling, like water in the pipes. He could feel it pumping like blood in his veins.

“I might not be the best at using superpowers yet, but I’ll do anything you need me to do. We’re a team, and Asten is part of it too, okay? You’re not alone,”

Bentley swallowed thickly and nodded to himself.

How many ten year olds could say they’d started and stopped a war?

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

#oc; bentley whittaker #oc; bentley #oc; asten evans #oc; asten #oc; nico #oc; nico rockefeller #oc; nico allen #ov; secret keeper #ov; the secret keeper #mb; a hundred ways to become a wayne #ov; charlie reins #oc; davis henderson #batboys #batfamily #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #tim drake #stephanie brown #duke thomas #damian wayne #nightwing #barbara gordon #oracle #red hood #orphan #red robin

[lisbonsteresa]

you ever just

#just makes me a little #she goes from essentially begging him to stay alive for the people who care about him (for her) #to having him prove in maybe the most unambiguous possible way that when it comes down to it she means more to him than his revenge #to him looking right at her and saying pretty much the exact opposite #the whiplash but also idk the words vs actions... #more than words he couldn't express his feelings with words so he did it another way #his actions have always shown his truth but she needs his words she needs to hear it from him she needs to know he understands it too #brings me back to s6 (what doesn't tbh) - all their missed opportunities all the times they were interrupted or couldn't find the words #how much weight is given to those words even though at this point it's clear to everyone around them and the audience and even to THEM #(even if they only just realize the full reality of it) how they feel about each other something about the showing and the telling of it #you can't imagine how good that feels to say out loud i needed to get to this and you deserve to hear it did you mean what you said #yes i meant what i said every word of it SAY IT AGAIN #and then little yellow house when it's again clearly such a big deal - to lisbon especially but to them both - for her to SAY it #idk i just love it i love a show that gives me endless opportunities to annoyingly and gleefully overanalyze #tm

[fourteenthz]

Always thinking abt how thesa/thancred know everything abt the other. How he is the one that can tell what she's feeling just by looking into her eyes.

And then how for the first time ever in amaurot he doesn't recognize what's happening inside her head. And how in ultima thule, when he sees it again, he learns something new about her that no one ever will. Lies down.

#he's the one that doesn't expect her to always be a hero always the one trying to pull the weight off of her because he knows her and knows #how hard it is for her. and he is the only one that does for the longest time. and then he feels entirely off the loop by the end of shb #bc they are so close to being something and he thinks that knowing her so genuinely is a point in his favor #only to realize that there's something so heavy abt her that he doesn't understand at all. he doesn't know that she doesn't either by then #so it just. weights him just as hard. for him to go patches like accepting that whatever. he still knows her so that will come to light #one day or another. and it does just when they are all back in ultima thule. just when he's councious again and he learns that. #not by her telling him but just genuinely watching her like he learnt most things from her. except this is different #so he just stands there. everybody else overwhelmed by everything else while he has to ruminates that new thing as well. #that 'they don't know' party meme but it's thancred watching scions celebrate and hug each other #while he slowly realizes that part of his girlfriend will never truly be known to him like it was for mf emet-selch and whoever that was #that a part of her is lost with them and maybe that's fine. bc other part of her is now hugging the twins and staring directly at him #and begging for him to come closer to her with her eyes. a part of her that didn't beg either of the other two to stay longer like she'd #been praying for him since she set foot in ultima thule. so that. that's nice. he isn't competing for anything ever #he has that part of hers to love and he is loved just as much by that part of her so yeah. it's nice I think. #...... I'm fine don't look at me. #i like how independent from each other they are and still despite that how damn in love they are. #something about the huge slow burn I have for them in my head helps me tackle that idea so much better. #like how they love for one another grew from just. how deeply theh trusted and respected each other over the years #so that will always be the base of their feelings..... sits down. they are just SO AKSJDJA BITES MY FISTS #sometimes I'm like 'i will thow away my wolship at any minute if canon suggests something entirely different' and other times im like #bitting wolcred hard. no one take it away from me pls they are my extremely respectful and healthy relationship. #dont touch them they are healing. pls. WAIT. #does this damn post means anything to anyone but me???? idek I just like the idea of thesa being so okay with emet and hythlo even #when deep down something in her isn't at all. (its me I'm not ok about them) but also she just. knows who she is at this point. #and she knows the ones behind her are the ones that she loves. its SO MUCH mirroring emet's 'the past we knew/loved' quote #SHE SEES THAG SO CLEARLY. and having that moment in ultima thule being the moment only 1 other person sees it as well. and it's mf thancred #in the end I just adore them and the whole 'you are you and its that you that I love' that they have. not who they were or what anyone else #see of them. nerds in love. disgusting. i need to make them kiss rn or I'll riot. why am I having those thoughts mid creative block DAMN IT #kelly says #wol posting

[mrs-kelly]

Still breaking down Charlie’s character in a way that justifies my worthiness of his love even tho the crux of our relationship is the realization that you can’t earn love, it’s just given

#yeah I only just realized this actually ahdjfl #like part of the reason I love Charlie so much is bc he understands that motivation in me #and I know we could help each other stand up to it and realize our innate worth #but I’m not gonna make any progress on that if I keep trying to prove to myself that Charlie would love me #he just does love me. I don’t need to prove it #and the more I try to prove it the more I cheapen everything he’s done for me which is the opposite of what I’m trying to do when I do it #maybe this is just a drunk thought and when I wake up tomorrow I’ll be like ‘hey what was that’ ahdjfl #but right now it makes sense to me. like #I’ve just gotta accept the fact he loves me. I gotta stop trying to come up with why #does it matter why? does it matter what about me he loves so much? #isn’t it enough that he does? #isn’t it enough that when he sees me his heart races? #isn’t it enough that I make him feel happy! #isn’t it enough that when he’s with me he feels like life is easier to get through! #that should be enough. that is enough #ren speaks #renlie

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

#hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #analysis #dissociation #look idk what to tell you all #I watched the episode and everything makes so much more sense #when you realize he's only intaking like 50-60% of the conversations #he's not bad at listening his brain is literally preventing him from getting everything #literally I've been there #the difference between him and me tho #is that he can't show it #he's the king of hell #he has to bluff his way through conversations #but yeah literally rewatch the episode with this in mind #and watch him reply to the things he DID catch #anyways #NEW BLORBO???? #who'd've thought I would go into Hazbin Hotel #and come out with freaking LUCIFER as my favorite character #I love him #he's so sad