#version from this half of shiver's family

[uzurimisery]

chapter 1: the setting. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Watching TBOSAS rekindled my love of this series and Tom Blyth makes young Snow sexy.

wc: 4,422

waring: smut, misogyny, dubcon, toxic relationships, snow is insane, not beta read

AO3 version here | Series Master

“You’re to take Y/N to the gala and after that the two of you will begin a show of courting for the Capitol to watch.”

Coriolanus Snow found you to be a thorn in his side. An unknown variable. You were wellbred stock, perfect for carrying on a bloodline, but somehow you were as disgraced as those from the Districts. Even before the war had started and ended Coriolanus found you insufferable. Too aggressive, undisciplined, and unpredictable. He liked reading people, at this point he’d say he could read others better than they could read themselves. But you were a blank slate. Wellbred, well read, and well insufferable. The only reason he even pretended to care about you was who your mother was. 

Dr. Volumnia Gaul was more of a creator than a mother. Mothers cared and nurtured their children with love and compassion, two emotions Gaul was incapable of. Funny considering she was once an obstetrician. It was there that she had been introduced to your father, another prominent Capitol resident, and had you. She liked you, surely, often willing to give you more grace than others for their mistakes, but love would be going too far. Perhaps her being your mother is why Coriolanus liked you even less, you had all of her traits he disliked the most. 

The Snow family had always been led by men, a tradition passed down from father to son, an unbroken chain of masculine dominance. But the Gauls were different. They were led by women, strong, capable women who defied the traditional power dynamics. And you were no exception.

You were determined to prove yourself, to carve your own path, to become a leader just like your mother. You fought Coriolanus head-on, challenging his every suggestion, even when you knew your opposition was futile. You were a master of manipulation, using coercion, leadership, and cunning to bend others to your will. Even Coriolanus, the shrewd and calculating Snow, found himself falling prey to your machinations at times.

You had convinced two of the most desirable women in the Capitol, Persephone Price and Iphigenia Moss, that he was in love with them both. For a tense month and a half, they waged a bitter war for his affections, making his life a living hell right after he had returned from District 12. It was as if you simply enjoyed watching the chaos you created, relishing in the discomfort you inflicted upon him.

Coriolanus couldn't deny his grudging admiration for your skill. You were a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind of ambition and cunning.You were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve, a challenge he couldn't quite overcome. And that unsettled him.

"Dr. Gaul," he began, his voice laced with scepticism, "I hardly think that I am the most suitable companion for your daughter, even if just for show.”

A sharp, echoing cackle escaped Volumnia's lips, sending a shiver down Coriolanus's spine. 

"Oh, Coriolanus," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "my dear star pupil, you underestimate your own abilities. You are the very person I need to keep that girl in line. Plus she makes you look like a more viable successor."

His jaw tensed. 

“I hardly think that if you couldn’t control her I could.” 

“Control is a fickle thing Mr. Snow,” Volumnia did not even turn to face him as she stared down into a microscope. She turned a dial to clarify the view before then adding liquid, some sort of acid from the smell, and stirring the plate with a glass rod before continuing. 

"Y/N is merely playing at having control. She is an actor, a performer, and you, my dear Coriolanus, will be her stage."

“And what is my role in this performance?” 

"You will be the charming escort, the perfect foil to her rebellious spirit," she explained. "Your ability to manage her shows that the Gaul name carries on in your relationship with her, breeding the best gamemaker there could ever be."

His fingers itched to throw the beaker of acid onto Gaul. The very thought of touching you made his skin crawl. He could still feel the lingering sensation of your skin against his, a clammy, unnatural warmth that sent shivers down his spine from the last time the two of you had touched even briefly. Truly his interactions with you had been limited before the 10th games, you were two years his junior, it was only after he came back from 12 that he had even spoken to you. Now you worked side by side with each other on the games under your mother, and his every interaction with you made him violent.

The idea of having you draped over his arm all night filled him with a sense of nausea. He could almost picture you under him, your body contorting in agony as you choked by his doing. He envisioned himself standing over one of the ridiculous chaises in your family estate, your father's extravagant purchase. He would slowly tighten his grip around your throat, watching as your eyes bulged in terror and your face contorted in pain.

The thought of your hands desperately clawing at his arms, your tears streaming down your face, sent a strange jolt of excitement through him. 

He pictured himself using one of the delicate scarves you always wore to strangle you, the soft fabric contrasting with the harshness of your screams. He would watch as your eyes rolled back in your head, your life fading away with a final, gasping breath.

Hate was a strong word, but it was the only word that adequately described his feelings for you. A venomous mixture of loathing, fascination, and a twisted desire that he couldn't quite explain. Lucy Gray he had wanted to control, but you wanted to break.

“As you wish Dr. Gaul.”

_

When your mother had told you that you were to be escorted by Coriolanus to the gala and then “pretend” to court him, you were pissed. You saw through his carefully constructed façade of charm and sophistication, recognizing him for the manipulative user he truly was. In his eyes, people were nothing more than expendable pawns, their lives mere tokens in his ruthless game.

While you couldn't deny that you shared a similar disregard for human life, having been raised in an environment where expendability was a given, there was a fundamental difference between your perspectives. You saw value in keeping people alive, recognizing their potential as tools in your own elaborate schemes. Death was not an option for you; it was a blunt instrument, a crude solution to a complex problem. People were willing to go to the extremes for their loved ones, and extremes meant profit.

There was no choice to be had in the matter of being his date, mother dearest had given you a look that said all. If you dared to defy her wishes, she would unleash a torrent of consequences, transforming your life into a living hell until she deemed your lesson learned. While you possessed a certain degree of freedom, there were lines even you dared not cross, and this was one of them. 

But Coriolanus made you feel things that you thought you were incapable of, a deep burning rage that whispered at the end of it all one of you would be consumed. You could almost envision the moment when your fury would reach its crescendo, when your teeth would sink into his flesh, consuming him in the flames of your intensity.

As if life couldn't be any more cruel to you, Coriolanus had insisted that you were costumed by his cousin Tigris. Now Tigris was agreeable company, a beacon of kindness and warmth, possessed an innate ability to perceive the good in others. While you found her naivety and idealism somewhat exasperating, you couldn't deny her inherent goodness and her remarkable skill as a seamstress.

Yet, the thought of enduring the tedious process of changing into multiple outfits, each designed to enhance Tigris's artistic vision, threatened to push you to the brink of insanity, a state your mother had succumbed to years ago. The prospect of reliving her descent into madness sent a chill down your spine.

Tigris's fingers trailed along the soft fabric of the gown, carefully adjusting its folds to accentuate the curves of your body. "You know, you've got a really nice figure," she remarked, her voice laced with admiration.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Why thank you, Tigris. If you asked your cousin, he'd tell you I had a body made for the Districts."

Tigris's brow furrowed in confusion. "What does that even mean?"

"Oh, it's just one of his many ways of insulting me," you explained with a shrug. "He's surprisingly bad at it, considering how much he tries."

As Tigris continued her work, meticulously crafting the gown to perfection, you found yourself enjoying her company more than you had anticipated. Her easygoing nature and engaging conversation provided a welcome distraction from the simmering tension that always seemed to accompany Coriolanus's presence.

For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to relax, to partially let down the guard you had carefully constructed over the years. You savoured the simple pleasure of Tigris's companionship, cherishing the rare moments of genuine connection in a world that often felt cold and impersonal. Even if it was inside the Snow family penthouse.

The black velvet gown hugged your curves like a second skin. Tigris' skilled hands moved with practised ease, adjusting the intricate details of the dress, ensuring that it would perfectly complement your form.

"I think I'll add a corset effect to this," Tigris mused. "Corio has some cufflinks that were his father’s that would go well with that."

"I am but your humble dress-up doll," you teased, playing along with her lighthearted banter.

Tigris's smile widened, her laughter echoing through the opulent dressing room. "Well then, I'll have to show off my best work for such a famous doll," she declared, her voice filled with playful affection.

The light hearted mood continued for some time, eventually a servant came in to offer you tea. That ended up being your only respite as Tigris then wanted you to try on more gowns for different events. Apparently you had sparked something in her to create various things.

Perched atop a pedestal, clad only in your underwear and an arm across your bare chest, conversation flowed with Tigris, her nimble fingers expertly hemming the length of a shimmering silver gown. Your topics ranged from the latest academy and university gossip to Ma Plinth's overprotective tendencies towards Coriolanus, eventually settling on your father's renowned interior design skills. His contributions to the Capitol's architectural landscape were a source of pride for both of you.

You two had been so lost in conversation you hadn’t heard Coriolanus enter the apartment and calling out for Tigris until he was in the doorframe of the dressing parlour.

“Tigris I need you to fix this stitch on my blazer, it came undone while I was walking over here- oh.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Coriolanus's face, momentarily disrupting his composed demeanour. He seemed momentarily taken aback by the sight of you.

Tigris quickly rose, her hands reaching to cover your exposed form, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Corio!” she stammered, “If you can just leave it on the chair I’ll get to it shortly.” 

Coriolanus regained his composure. "No need to rush, Tigris," he spoke smoothly, his voice devoid of any hint of the turmoil that he felt "I just need this done by Tuesday."

He turned his attention to you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I should hope that's not what you’re intending to wear to the gala, I think your mother would throw you in the arena herself.”

Without another word, he turned and exited the dressing room, leaving you and Tigris to exchange looks.

___

Coriolanus couldn't shake the image of your back from his mind. The smooth, flawless skin, untouched by blemish or imperfection, is a testament to the care your mother had taken in your upbringing and no doubt the many concoctions she made to keep you that way. The memory of your curves lingered in his thoughts.

He had always held the opinion that your body was more suited to the Districts, a form meant for bearing child after child to provide the Captiol with more luxury. But seeing you laid bare made him reconsider your appeal. 

His usual taste in women ran towards the petite, almost painfully thin, figures that could afford to forgo nourishment for the sake of fashion. They were delicate creatures, easily controlled, incapable of challenging his authority. But there was something about you, something that stirred a different kind of desire within him.

Thoughts of you under him shifted, taking on a carnal nature. The dim light in the room seemed to flicker with the intensity of the images playing in Coriolanus's mind. 

You under him, tears streaming down your face, but no longer was he choking you. You cried out in pleasure begging him to never stop. Your cheeks flushed, eyes glossy, mouth open as you gasped. Neck covered in hit bite marks and hickies that trailed down your chest, heaving with exertion. His hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he thrust again and again, your nails digging into his forearms drawing blood.

You cried so sweetly for him, came undone so well for him. That cunning mind of yours consumed by thoughts of him. He might never figure out how to predict your actions but he could figure out your needs, your desires, what makes you tick. Pull your tongue out between his fingers and spit in your mouth. To turn you on your front and hike your hips up against his own, hands pinned behind your back. 

“Corio, what's wrong?”

Coriolanus's mind jolted back to the present, the vivid images from his fantasies dissolving like wisps of smoke. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim light of the room once more. Your gentle voice, using his nickname, had pierced through the haze of his thoughts, pulling him back from the precipice of his desires.

"Nothing, I was considering something for the next games," he replied, his voice slightly strained. "I do apologise, Mr. Creed. Innovation is something that weighs on me heavily.”

Mr. Creed chuckled, bassy and thumping. “ No worries my boy, your date was keeping me ample company.” 

He watched as the older man's gaze lingered on your figure, a predatory glint in his eyes as it bore into your chest for a second too long.

 Disgust churned within him, a visceral reaction to the blatant display of lechery. Mr. Creed's age only served to amplify the repulsiveness of his behaviour, a man old enough to be your father, yet still driven by the primal urges of a rutting animal.

Coriolanus saw through the façade of civility, the veneer of sophistication that Mr. Creed carefully maintained. Behind the polished exterior lurked a man incapable of masking his basest desires, his eyes a window into a mind consumed by lust.

He drew you in closer, feeling the heat of your skin spread against the material of his suit.

“And what company she is.” he placed a kiss on your temple with a chuckle all whistle maintaining eye contact with Mr. Creed. A man's warning not to vye for what was his. “I often say she should host the games instead of designing them.” 

“Oh hush! You couldn’t possibly manage without me.”

“Well I’d have your mother.” 

You giggled at that, showing that you had one too many fruity cocktails infused with a laughing agent earlier in the night, the light catching in your eyes. He could tell you were loose, more pliable then he had ever seen you. Part of him wondered if it was just all part of the act to you, playing as well behaved for him.  The Capitol’s untouchable wild child made compliant in his arms. 

Despite the lingering doubt, Coriolanus couldn't deny the allure of your presence. Your laughter, once a source of frustration, now held a captivating charm, and your relaxed attitude was a welcome change from your usual sharp wit and guarded demeanour.

“And with that Mr. Creed, I do think that Y/N and myself should go find Dr. Gaul.” 

“Of course Mr. Snow, I look forward to your next presentation.’ 

Coriolanus pulled you away from the overly perfumed man and out of the garden where you had been. The president’s mansion always had half the party outside in the expansive greenery and the rest on the first floor of the building. He guided you out of the garden, the expansive greenery and lively chatter fading into a distant hum. He led you into a secluded sitting room, its dimly lit interior a stark contrast to the vibrant party outside.

Coriolanus was a man who prized possession, a collector of valuable objects and people alike. He had never been one to share, a feature made even worse after his time in District 12, and the sight of Mr. Creed eyeing his 'toy' had ignited a possessive fire within him.

You were his, he told himself, all the Capitol knew after the revelation of your made up love affair during the 15th games. But, you had made it abundantly clear that you were not his. The ownership did not extend into your life outside of performing in your role for the people of the Capitol and to appease your mother.

It was easy to keep the lines from being blurred normally but since that day in the dressing parlour something snapped within him. 

Plopping down on the chaise you sighed heavily. “What crawled up your ass Corio?” To strung out every syllable of his nickname, teasing him. 

A sharp exhale and her turned to face you. Watching you reapply your pristine red lipstick. 

“Creed is nothing more than a pig, a bloated, self-serving creature who values nothing but his own wealth and power," he growled, his voice laced with venom. 

You raised an eyebrow. 

“Tell me something I don't know. One of their Avvoxes is like that because Festus saw his father with the girl, and his mother went bat shit.”

“How do you know this?”

You closed your compact with a snap and tucked it back into your clutch alongside your lipstick. "Festus told me," you confessed, a sly grin playing on your lips. "He squeals easily.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“Tell me Snow, when did you start to care if some old pervert undressed me mentally.” 

“Since your mother made the entire country think we’re in love.”

“But we aren't.”

“No we aren’t,” there was no love between you two “but that means you’re mine as far as he’s concerned. I don’t enjoy anyone coveting what's mine, even if this relationship is just for show.”

“Ah! Of course, there he is, the egotistical and controlling Coriolanus we all know. For a second I thought you might actually hold a shred of care for me.” 

You leaned back in the chair, your dress slipping slightly down on your chest furthering the curve of your breast. 

He had to admit to himself he was no more animal than Mr. Creed when the slightest slip made his thoughts race. His mind went back to his earlier thoughts now inspired by the room you were in. Bent over the chaise with your lipstick smeared, a litany of stains on his face and collar. He’d hike the skirt of your dress up and pull your top down, leaving your breasts free for him to grab at as he took you from behind, your underwear hanging off just an ankle. Festus or his father would walk in the scene and pale as Coriolanus displayed his ownership of you. 

“Seriously Snow what’s wrong with you?” You’ve been distracted all night.” You shifted on the chair grabbing his arm and pulling him down to sit. “I won’t pretend to like you but you’re not yourself.” 

His gaze flickered down to your chest before meeting your eyes. 

Those eyes had always held the power to see through him, to strip away his carefully constructed exterior and expose the terrified child within, a child haunted by the horrors of the bombings. They roused something deep within him, something he couldn't quite comprehend. He was convinced it was hatred, an intense aversion to everything related to you. Yet, amidst the gaudy extravagance of this opulent sitting room, there was something more than hatred, a yearning, a need to possess you, not just in the pretence of a fabricated relationship, but for real.

“Nothing is wrong.”

"Bullshit," you retorted, your voice firm and unwavering. "You've been distant with me ever since that day in Tigris' dressing parlour. You refused to even acknowledge me the last time I saw you, couldn't even bring yourself to look at me."

He couldn't deny your accusation, for it was true. He had been avoiding you, intentionally keeping his distance, unable to face the tempest of emotions that your presence evoked within him.

"Have you considered that I find you repulsive and even looking at you gives me mental anguish?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm, a desperate attempt to deflect the attention away from his own turmoil.

"Okay, jackass," you sighed in exasperation. "I was actually trying to be nice to you here, even considering the possibility of being more amicable in the future, but clearly, that's an impossibility with you."

Standing up from your position, you straightened out your dress, your back turned to him. "I'm going to find my mother and then leave, and I don’t know how we will keep acting like we’re in love in public but we will." you declared, your voice seeming to echo in the room.

Before you could take a step away, Coriolanus' hand wrapped around your wrist. "You're hurting me," you exclaimed, struggling against his hold.

"What do you even want?" you demanded, spinning around to snatch his hand away, only to find yourself pulled down, landing directly into his lap.

You gasped in surprise, your body pressed against his, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through your senses. His eyes, those storm-filled pools, were inches from yours, their intensity almost hypnotic. There was something swirling in them that you had never seen him express before.

“God seriously, what is wrong with you? I don’t know why my mother insists on it being you! You are the most insufferable man I have ever met. Constantly talking down to me and trying to make me feel lesser. You need to sort yourself out.”

 Your voice raised, carrying into the hallway where he knew people were. He could hear their steps coming towards the door. 

He watched you, his expression unreadable, his fingers still tracing patterns on your waist. It felt so breakable under his touch, like he could squeeze it ever so tightly and it would shatter. Maybe that was what was wrong with him, his image was that of strength and yet you were so fragile. 

The reality was much harsher than that. He had never viewed you as a person before that day. You have been an obstacle or a pawn. Now he had to act as he loved you, craved you, desired you. Initially that was a hard ask, your very being was unpleasant to him, but since that day something had shifted in him. You were human now. And far too tempting. 

The handle of the door began to turn. The narrative needed to be made, actions taken, you both were here for a purpose tonight. 

His lips crashed into yours, more gnashing teeth than the delicate touch of a lover, a show of dominance and control. The frustration of this whole act and his loss of control bubbling to the surface and letting the anger out on you. You tried to pull away, speak to him maybe, but he pulled you back against him and with a hand on the side of your face pushed your jaw open letting him slip his tongue inside your mouth. It was wet and messy. His tongue running against the back of your top teeth before dancing with your own. The desire to consume you coming out on top.

“Oh my!”

He pulled away with a bite at your lip, hard enough to leave the both of you tasting blood.

A collection of Coriolanus' classmates from the Academy and a few notable members of high society, including both Festus and his father, stood at the now open french doors taking in the scene before them. 

Y/N Gaul draped across Coriolanus Snow’s lap engaged in a hot and steamy makeout session. You intricate updo half udon by his actions, both your breathing labour, red lipstick smudged around both your mouths. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights. You hadn’t heard anyone coming to the room too distracted by Coriolanus’ odd behaviour which was now explained. 

Coriolanus instantly snapped into character a charming smile spread across his face as he steadied a hand on your hip. 

“My apologies I wasn’t aware anyone would be using this parlour tonight.” He spoke with a lighthearted chuckle. “Miss Gaul was just simply breathtaking this evening.” 

Your name brought you back into the moment, the velvet of his voice soothing your panic. You moved to adjust his shirt and blazer back into place, an intimate gesture painting the two of you having a deeper relationship than people initially thought.

“Corio,” you chided gently “I told you that we needed to be careful.” 

“You're right my dear. I was overconfident, assuming we had a moment to ourselves. I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.” He slipped the handkerchief out of his pocket and began cleaning up your ruined lipstick. “Please give us just a minute and we will clear the room for you.” 

He finished cleaning you up and then stood, taking your hand in his. Some more apologies were given to the crowd as the two of you absconded away like teenage lovers that had just been caught. A trail of hushed whispers and lingering glances followed you out. You couldn’t catch everything but you heard one thing very clearly. 

“Well there goes the gossip that they hate each other.”

#uzuri writes #hunger games imagine #tbosas #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the death of an actor #hunger games smut

[5h30min]

Irreplaceable.

𓉸ྀི Summary: Keeping you away from Satoru wasn't enough, his fiancée wants you out of the family, but she doesn't know what you're capable of doing to keep your loved ones close.

𓉸ྀི Featuring: Satoru Gojo x Yandere!best friend!fem!reader.

𓉸ྀི Warnings: GORE, Yandere themes, blood, violence, manipulation, stalking, gaslighting, angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of masturbation, a little (almost no) comfort at the end, no happy ending.

𓉸ྀི Notes: I wrote this in a moment of deep anguish and despair (and jealousy), I've been feeling sad lately, so there will be many more stories like this, and even a smut version of this one. I hope you enjoy reading it and have a lovely day. :)

A drop drips into the pool of blood under your feet, the wet sound startles you, your eyes move from side to side, your body is on alert. You rub your bloodstained hands on your T-shirt, no matter what you do, how hard you rub, your hands remain dirty. You walk around wondering what you're going to do with that body lying on the ground, but what worries you most is what Satoru will do when he finds out what you've done, after all, the body belongs to his fiancée.

A few hours ago she arranged to meet you in a hurry, you had no idea what she wanted to talk about so urgently, nor why the meeting place was so far out of town, but you went anyway. There was nothing to be afraid of, she was the woman your best friend chose to be by his side, you never misjudged his choices, she seemed like a good person, but she was the woman who took your place.

You arrived before her, the appointed place was an abandoned hotel by the side of the road, if you were a murderer you would surely lure your victims here, you smiled and covered your face, what the hell were you thinking? Satoru's fiancée arrived by taxi a short time later, she apologised for being late and guided you inside the hotel, the place was falling apart, there was moss and a lot of dust scattered around, the vegetation was taking over inside, it looked like a post apocalyptic scenario, but nothing scary.

"We need to have a serious conversation, woman to woman, Y/N." Her voice was rough, at this point you had your back to her and looked over your shoulder, she seemed very nervous, her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"What do you want with me?" You spun on your heels and arched an eyebrow.

"Oh dear, don't play dumb." She took a step forward and you took half a step back, leaning on your back leg to put yourself in a defensive position in case she wanted to hit you, but it made her laugh. "Do you really think I'd get my hands dirty with you?"

"..." you frowned and sighed. "Look, unlike you, I have a job, two kids and a cat, I'm very busy, you know? So if you're going to bore me, I'm going to leave you alone." You started to walk towards the exit, but she grabbed your arm.

"I know all too well how busy you've been lately." She whispered in your ear, you felt she was too close, so you pulled your arm away and stepped back. "Do you think I don't know about your secret hobby?" She took an envelope out of her handbag and handed it to you. "Come on, open it, I'd love you to explain it to me."

You felt an unpleasant shiver as you took the envelope from her hand. You opened it and inside the envelope there were lots of photos, your heart stopped, they were photos of you stalking Satoru and her. You were always very careful during your stalking time, enough not to attract Satoru's attention, but somehow that woman had noticed. Her face hardened and her expression turned sombre, you had been caught.

"It seems you have nothing to say to me, where's your courage now?" She mocked you. "I'd love to show it to Satoru, but he already knows." You stared into her eyes in shock. "Have you forgotten who he is? Those eyes aren't called six eyes for nothing. He didn't want to believe it, but I showed him everything."

You choked.

"It would be better if you stepped back, Y/N." Satoru's fiancée decreased the distance between you again without you realising, she grabbed your chin and made you look into her eyes. "Satoru doesn't need you and your protection, your children don't need you anymore, even your cat doesn't need you anymore, because I'm going to marry him and take your place." She tightened her grip on your face. "I'm going to be the mother of your children now, you don't need to keep them any longer."

"Shut up..." you grabbed her wrist.

"I'm not finished." She raised her voice. "In fact, you can take your children away, since soon Satoru and I will have one." She smiled from ear to ear and placed her free hand on her belly, a tear trickling from the corner of your eye. "Oh, honey, don't make that face, we know you could never give him a child. After all, you've always just been friends."

Something inside you broke as you stared at her. You knew you'd never be anything but a shadow to Satoru, he could consider you his best friend, but you know you're not worthy of that position, because there was someone else occupying it. When he adopted Toji's children, you offered to help him, so when he announced to everyone that you would be the mother of those children, it filled you with hope, you would have a place by his side that no one could take, you didn't imagine that even that would be taken away from you.

You looked after Megumi and Tsumiki as if they were your blood children, Satoru was your companion, every meal you would eat together like a real family. You went to the children's school reunions with him, you went to graduations, you helped with homework, you even bought a bigger house to live in with the children, you made it your business to keep that family together.

But one day he introduced you to a girl, that's when you realised how insignificant your position as mother to his children was, you congratulated him on having found someone to be by his side, you even pretended to be happy for them, but the hole inside your heart grew again.

You remember fighting with your children when they refused to accept their father's new girlfriend, how upset Megumi was when Satoru took your place at the school's Mother's Day party, how sad your daughter looked when her father's girlfriend started giving her opinions on the clothes she wore. You tried to fit her into the family, but like an extra piece in a jigsaw puzzle, she remained out of place.

It was then that Satoru asked you to stop living in the house you had bought, because it was strange for him now that he was engaged to sleep in the same house as another woman. Reluctantly, you agreed to his request, and the children suffered from your absence, but you still picked them up to spend the weekend at your new home. His girlfriend gradually took your place, pushing you out of the family you had built.

You continued your life as before, but a dark desire for possession began to grow inside you, insidious feelings that you didn't know how to deal with. At first it started with a walk to your old house, you watched your children and Satoru eat, watch TV, play video games and even sleep, but you weren't satisfied with that, so you started following them on dates, trips, to school, to work. It was the way you found to be close to them.

At work, you started avoiding Satoru, ashamed of your double life, but for some reason he came after you several times, apologised for telling you to leave, told you that you didn't have to stay away because you were still his best friend and the mother of his children. But as always, that woman was there to get in the way. Every time he offered to walk you home, she wanted to go along, every time the children asked Satoru to go out with you and them, she followed, you couldn't be alone any more, not even at work, because she decided she had to bring him his lunch every day.

At your last meeting with Satoru, he handed you the wedding invitation, he looked tired and a little nervous, but you didn't say anything, afraid that that woman would turn up if you said too much. He held your hand and said he hoped you would come to the wedding, unfortunately it would be too painful for you to see him marry her, so you told him you were sorry and that maybe you wouldn't be there for him this time. You saw the disappointment in his eyes, but you had to take care of your broke heart. You said goodbye with a tight hug, it was the first and last time he hugged you since he started dating, you left without saying anything and he stayed behind in your living room in silence.

"I told you to let me go!" You pushed his fiancée, your heart was beating too fast, all those memories going through your head like a whirlwind, months of pent-up anger and sadness building up, you were on the edge, about to lose control, but she didn't want to stop. "Go away."

"I'M NOT LET YOU GO!" She grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you. "I'm going to expose to everyone how despicable and disgusting you are, that mask of your beloved mother and perfect best friend is going to fall off, there won't be anyone left of your-."

You slapped her in the middle of the sentence, she opened her mouth to speak, but you slapped her again, and then again, again, again, until the skin on her face cut, you only saw red after that. She took her mobile phone out of her bag to call someone, but you grabbed her hand and broke her wrist, she screamed in pain, her screams were a comfort for the months of pent-up anger.

You grabbed her by the hair and dragged her deeper into the hotel, so you wouldn't risk being interrupted if anyone heard her desperate screams. You threw her against the wall and grabbed a piece of wood that was hanging from the ceiling, then hit her on the head several times, each blow harder than the last. You didn't stop until her face turned into a ball of blood.

You split the breaking piece of wood with your knee and chose the side with the sharpest edge, then turned her body over, you knelt beside her, you didn't know if she was alive or dead, but you still said. "If I can't have a child with him, neither can you." You drove the wooden stake as deep into her abdomen as you could and pulled down, tearing the skin, you put your hand inside her body, then pulled the viscera out one by one, in search of her uterus.

When you finally found it, you squeezed the little organ until it burst in your hand, pieces of flesh oozed out between your fingers, you slapped the rest of the flesh on the floor and stepped on it. You looked at the mutilated corpse with a satisfied smile, your heart began to beat slowly, as if you had just found peace.

Your mind completely erased the bloody scenes from your conscious self. When you woke up from your trance, Satoru's fiancée was already dead under your feet, your hands were smeared with blood, your clothes and shoes too, but not as much as your hands, there were pieces of human flesh on your fingernails. You were scared, you never imagined you'd be able to lose control like that, you tried to blame her for pushing you to the limit, but you knew it would happen, you just didn't know it would be so soon.

Satoru arrived on the scene not long before you lost control, he was worried when he found out that his fiancée had arranged to meet someone in a remote location, but when he heard your voice, he was reassured, but not for long, by the time his fiancée's screams reached his ears it was too late. You turned into a monster in a few seconds, he was paralysed as he watched you beat and tear her body apart.

He didn't know this side of you, you were so kind and loving, always looking after the children and him, you were so understanding that you didn't get upset when he asked you to leave. You were his best friend for as long as he can remember, when his parents died you were the person he leaned on, when the problems at school started you helped him get out of the deep end, you even adopted his children. You made his favourite food whenever he was unwell or in the mood, you waited for him to come home even if it was late, you put the covers on him when he slept on the sofa, you gave him baths when he was too depressed to get out of bed, you were his solace many nights. This monster in front of him was nothing like his lovable Y/N.

He watched you suddenly return to "normal" and how scared you were. He heard you mutter how upset he would be when he found out what you had done, you looked so strange...

You realised that you were no longer alone, your heart began to beat more slowly, you began to make calculated movements, moving around as if you were looking for something to clean up the evidence, but the truth was that you were looking for the spectator. You picked up another piece of wood and were about to surprise the intruder, that's when he grabbed the object and held it tightly, you looked up in surprise, it was Satoru.

"Gojo?!" You dropped the piece of wood and used your hands to cover your mouth.

"Are you going to kill me too?" He looked disappointed, ashamed of what you had done, he let go of the piece of wood and you lowered your head. "Y/N, what have you done?"

"I... I don't know." You lied, you know that his fiancée's provocations pushed you over the edge, but nothing you say will be able to justify the crime you committed. You kept your head down and continued talking, your right hand clutching his hand. "You don't have to forgive me, you can hand me over to the authorities if you want, just please don't leave me again."

Your response was a shock to him, you were giving yourself away, you didn't even try to justify what you'd done, it hurt deep down in his heart.

He was your best friend, no matter who you killed, he couldn't let you be arrested and tried and possibly killed, you were the most important person in his life, his children wouldn't forgive him if he let you be killed for killing his fiancée. It was then that he realised that those thoughts going through his head weren't him, you were inducing him to think that way.

There was a dark secret about you, one that you don't know, but Satoru does. You can influence people with your words, although it's a useless power against curses, with people you have an advantage. He realised this the moment you had your first fight when you were young, he couldn't get upset with you, and a few hours later he was apologising. But manipulation has a side effect: addiction. Despite having built up a certain resistance by constantly exposing himself to your power, he can't avoid those thoughts most of the time, which is why he's never been able to let you go.

This intensified when he asked you to move house and the children began to experience withdrawal symptoms, he himself began to feel the effects and it affected his relationship with his fiancée, several nights he woke up screaming your name, a few times he was caught masturbating to photos of you, his fiancée became increasingly angry, to the point of preventing him from seeing you. But when Satoru started looking for you at work, she came up with a plan.

She told him about you and your walks to their house, showed him the evidence, but he didn't say anything, after all he knew you followed him and the children, but you were an overprotective mum and friend, it was no big deal. Satoru told her he wouldn't find you again, but when she discovered that he had found you in his office during working hours, she decided to go after you on her own. He believed that you would manipulate her too, to remain part of the family, but instead you killed her.

He unconsciously pulls you into an embrace, the barrier that protects him is now covering you too, he puts a hand on your head and curls a few strands of hair in his fingers, playing with them. He kisses the top of your head and whispers that it's going to be okay, he knows it's not going to be okay, not as long as you manipulate him. But for now it doesn't matter, because people who have died can't be resurrected, so all he can do is promise that it won't happen again.

"I swear, Y/N. I'll never make you suffer again." Satoru said softly, increasing the tightness of the hug. "I'll take care of it, okay? No one needs to know what happened here."

You hold him tightly, tears flow from your eyes without stopping, he's still your best friend, your feeling of inferiority increases, he could forgive anything you did and you weren't even able to deal with his fiancée's silly threats, you feel so small and unworthy.

"Satoru..."

"Yes?" He replies, looking at you.

"Your fiancée said she was pregnant." You say hesitantly, but with your eyes on his face, analysing his expressions. For some reason he looks confused, and that makes you anxious. "She told me I could take the children away because she would have your child."

"If she were pregnant, I'd be the first to know." Satoru knew it was just a lie from his fiancée, but he still felt strange, your motives for murdering his fiancée seemed darker and darker. He only felt reassured when his expression relaxed. "No need to worry, Y/N, I don't want any more children, Megumi and Tsumiki are enough for me."

"Yes, you're right, you never asked me to have children." You don't seem satisfied, so you hold his hands, a dark desire blossoming in your heart. "But it would be nice if we had one." You feel him shudder as you use your thumbs to caress his hands, you look at him with dilated pupils, and he can't look away, his cheeks are red, but you don't know why. "Let's talk about it later, when we get home."

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere #yandere jjk #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #yandere reader #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #yandere x y/n #yandere satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satorugojo #jjk satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you

[shares-a-vest]

@steddielovemonth Day 25: Love is… Asking, “Do you want a blanket?” (Prompt by @thefreakandthehair)

wc: 952 | Rated: T | cw: Hospital setting, mild descriptions of injuries and general hospital stuff, physical pain, one mention of blood

Tags: Post-s4, Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Hospital

'Hospital Blankets'

“Steve? Hey, Steve?”

Steve is pulled out of a restless slumber by Eddie’s stage whispering. A twinge in his back fully rouses him as he remembers exactly where he is – in Hawkins General, bent up like a pretzel on what is quite possibly the world’s hardest chair, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and his underwear. He blinks harshly, his vision blurry as he looks in the direction of the chattering, dark-headed form lying in the bed in front of him.

“Huh?” he grunts, his voice thick with sleep as he becomes very much aware of the overall pain radiating over his whole body.

His throat burns too, even from a single word. He instinctively reaches a hand up to the reddened scar there – already a formed habit – only to scratch himself with his patient wristband.

“Do you want a blanket?” Eddie continues, his weakened voice indicating he is barely conscious, let alone aware of Steve’s discomfort.

Steve arches his back this time but it causes his chewed-up sides to ache, the bandages stiffening and contorting. Their tacky borders pinching at the already tight skin and scar tissue.

He gives up and slumps back in the chair, clutching the armrests for dear life as a twang shoots directly up his spine to his head. He runs a hand through his hair, impossible to keep from flopping in his face considering all he can do is give himself a goddamn sponge bath these days.

He should have just listened to Robin (and more than a few disgruntled nurses) when they begged him to stay in his own room.

But his room feels empty. Big and dark, just like his family home but a little more white and clinical smelling. It gives him nightmares. If he manages to settle enough to sleep that is…

It’s kinda hard when your friends are scattered throughout the bowels of the local hospital, all in varying states of distress meanwhile, outside the world has half caved in.

“Steeeve,” Eddie whines this time as he repeats, “Do you want a blanket?”

He half dry-sobs his query and Steve has no choice but to shimmy upright – thankfully, the slippery cover of his stupid seat helps him up this time.

Blanket… he finally considers and finds himself stifling a shiver.

He didn’t think to bring a blanket with him as he was much too focused on getting out of bed and down the hall to Eddie’s room. A room that is much colder than his own, which the occupant clearly knows.

Eddie’s fist is balled up in his blankets, offering them up as he raises his shaky arm.

“No,” Steve says softly, shaking his head and waving him away.

Eddie needs it more.

With a herculean effort, Steve moves the chair a few inches closer to the bed, hoping it isn’t scraping the floor or tangling up any of the wires and tubes hooked up to beeping machines – god knows where they each begin and end. His sides all but seize up as he sits back down and forces himself to correct his posture.

“But you’re cold,” Eddie frowns, his voice impossibly small.

“I’m fine,” Steve protests.

Eddie’s weak hand punches at his banket in a haphazard swish motion.

“Get into bed with me…” he mumbles, closing his eyes, “Rest with me, sweetheart.”

His head lolls to the side and Steve huffs out a laugh. Eddie is certainly on one hell of a cocktail of meds, mixed with the overall exhaustion that must come from almost dying. Steve can barely keep his own eyes open and he wasn’t anywhere near as close to it.

His heart thuds in his chest as thoughts of Eddie’s almost lifeless body rush back to his sleepy brain.

Dustin’s sobs… Robin scrambling to tear up clothes and sheets from the Upside Down version of the Munson’s trailer to make bandages… Nancy forcing everyone to focus as she devised a game plan, stopping every few moments to shoot down undead bats…

Steve screws his eyes shut and stands, bracing his arms on the sides of the chair before swiftly moving them to the bed for purchase.

At least Eddie’s right side is a little less banged up – but only just enough, Steve thinks as he hikes back the three warm layers of blankets enough to sit himself down on the bed. He swings his legs up next, clenching his jaw as every muscle in his body aches and pains from what transpired however many days ago.

The bed is a tight fit, but Steve doesn’t mind. The mattress is perhaps a fraction more comfortable than the chair, but he soon warms as he settles down and rights the blankets, smoothing them out for good measure and double-checking he hasn’t disturbed Eddie too much.

His body warms almost instantly as he rests his head beside Eddie’s on his pillow, positioned close enough that he can feel frizzed dark curls tickling his cheek. Eddie’s wispier than he expected and smells of the generic hospital soap – but at least the dried and caked-up blood is gone.

“That’s good…” Eddie coos, turning his head to face Steve, those tickling tendrils now replaced with a soft woosh of his breathing.

He can see the scar on Eddie’s cheek now. The bandage patch has been removed, exposing raw stitches today. Steve sighs, relieved by the smallest of steps forward.

Eddie can’t do much more than reach his hand out. And Steve takes it, interlacing their fingers despite the heart monitor clipped onto Eddie’s right index finger.

“Blanket’s... warm…” he mutters, nodding as he feels slumber tugging at him once again.

Eddie hums in agreeance and lightly squeezes his hand.

#i'm baaaaack (to posting - i've been sprinting my heart out) #big thanks to sandy for checking in and sending the positive vibes that got me back to writing 💖💖💖 #steddielovemonth #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #healing steddie #(now lets see if i can remember my new tagging system) #tw hospital #tw medical #tw blood

[satosugusandwich]

𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…

True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)

Cw: mentions of violence from previous chapter, body image issues mentioned, sukuna is kinda an asshole

Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?

*despite this being an aged up version of yuji, there will be no sexual stuff involving him, also the violence is only in the first chapter with a few mentions after that!!! Cross posted on Ao3 under Spicycrunchroll! THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT LATER ON!*

Chapter 1 here (chapters will also get much longer once the plot is moving)

Chapter 2: Pain in the Ass

So now you smell like piss, vape juice, cum, tears, and malicious horror in the front of your best friend's car. Nothing about anything is normal right now and as much as you wanted to know about the monster in the back seat, you were still in shock from almost being trafficked and also knowing that the monster brutally attacked the men that were attacking you. They might have deserved it, but it’s not exactly the most enjoyable experience for you. You looked into the rear view mirror and could see the monster glaring out the window, seemingly bored and watching the lights of the city as Yuji sped to your home.

Yuji broke the silence. “He’s bound to me. Cuz of some family curse. He’s been sealed for a long time, but I reawakened him. You can see him now, right?” The last sentence sounded almost worried.

Your throat ached from sobbing. “Yeah.”

Yuji’s face was pale and drooping. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’ll help you when we get home.”

You closed your eyes and another tear spilled. You attempted to shift away from the thoughts of what just happened to you, “Thank you. I’m not going to ask about him too much, right now it’s all a lot to process, but what… is he?”

Sukuna huffed from the back seat, shifting ever so slightly. “I’m a demon. You can ask me.”

“Hey!” Yuji called out. “Don’t talk to her like that after all of what she just went through.”

Sukuna sighed and remained silent, turning his eyes to look at you and fixating on the outline of your face. “I’m no threat to her."

Yuji didn't respond, instead he focused on driving home, not knowing exactly what to say to you. You didn't know what to say either, your mind racing back and forth between the traffickers, the man you went out with, and the demon in the back seat. Even though you wanted to find anything else to talk about, you couldn't help but be curious about him. You tried to eye him through the rearview mirror, looking at his features. If it wasn't for his intimidating and inhuman appearance, you'd think he was pretty hot, and he also looked a lot like Yuji. Much larger than Yuji, and much much larger than Yuji. He has to slump down in his seat and his legs are pressed against the back of your seats, he easily takes up half the space in the back of the car, and on top of that, he's built like a wrestler. You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the features of the more monstrous side of his face. Sukuna certainly notices your stare, but says nothing of it. Under normal circumstances, he'd tease but he's not exactly interested with upsetting you more. After your stare lingers on him long enough, he meets your eyes in the mirror and you quickly look away, an shiver running up your body. He couldn't help but smirk at your reaction.

When you arrived at your apartment, Yuji insisted on holding onto as you wandered inside together, along with Sukuna following closely behind. You didn't ask about him even when he followed the both of you inside, standing to the side of the living room while you and Yuji wandered to your bathroom. After what felt like a century, you removed your soiled clothes and tossed them directly into the trash, not wanting to wear them ever again. You didn't even care that he saw you strip naked, he didn't even care either, he was more focused on the fact that he's gonna have to find some way to explain what just happened and what that might mean for you. You didn't have an inkling of what he was thinking about or what had even happened to make Sukuna suddenly visible to you and Yuji wasn't very excited to explain it to you.

After showering and sobbing for almost another hour, you finally left the bathroom to get dressed, your eyes avoiding the mirror as you rushed to get dressed, disgusted by your own body. You opened bedroom door and went out to see Yuji who was dead silent on the couch. Sukuna had moved from the door and was now looking through your fridge. He paid no mind to your presence even as you gaped at him rummaging through your food, Yuji noticed your expression and turned to Sukuna.

"Don't just eat her shit!" He sounded exasperated as though he had this conversation before.

Sukuna groaned. "You humans and your decorum. Drives me insane." He shut your fridge but took out sandwich meat and started to eat directly from the packaging.

"Um. You can get bread and cheese." You said, making both of them stop moving. "Did I say something wrong?"

Sukuna started to laugh. "Here the brat was, concerned you'd be upset I'm stealing your food." The mouth on his stomach also stretched into a smile before opening up and he dumped the rest of the lunch meat directly into it, making you gape even wider. "That's enough for now." He stepped out of your kitchen and immediately went to the recliner in the room and sat down, watching your face.

Yuji sighed again and gestured for you to sit down. "Listen, y/n. I have something I need to tell you now. I know you have a lot on your mind, but I don't just wanna tiptoe around." Yuji swallowed, looking down at the floor.

Sukuna seemed to be already annoyed before Yuji even started started talking, groaning dramatically. "Do I need to tell her? Spit it out."

He quickly quipped back, "I'm telling her!"

Sukuna rolled his eyes and sunk back into the recliner which now looks significantly smaller with him seated on it. You shifted your gaze back to Yuji and waited for him to speak. "What is it? Can't be any worse than what we just went through."

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna. Or at least that's the name that was given to him. He's a demonic spirit of the past that became bound to my family a long ass time ago, but after the first person he was bound to died, he was sealed away, but then one day, I was fucking around with some shit that was passed on to me and... well... next thing I knew he was sitting on my bed." He looked to your face for a reaction, but all you could muster was a stare. He took that as a sign to continue. "Sukuna is bound to me and as a result of me asking him to save you, he's bound to you now."

You blinked a few times before speaking. "What? What does that mean?"

Yuji looked to Sukuna then back to you. "Well, for one, you can see him. And now you can interact with him freely. Sukuna can interact with whatever he wants, just not whoever. Because of his bindings to my ancestor, he can only do certain things, like for instance, he can't hurt someone unless given a direct command. And the reason he is bound to you and not the guys he attacked is because of the way he had to save you. You see, the guy who first orchestrated your kidnapping was also bound to a demon and this demon was--"

"A pain in the ass." Sukuna interrupted. "A pitiful excuse of one too. A manipulative bastard that made a vow they regret now." Sukuna had leaned forward, looking at you with all four eyes. "By killing the bastard, I ended up creating a vacant binding and the weakling decided to reflect the binding back onto me. Luckily, the stupid shit didn't know how to do the spell properly so I was able to choose who I had to make a vow with. I don't desire to be commanded around by anyone else and thankfully, you aren't the type to demand others."

You didn't say anything in response to him, he's right. If you had the courage to boss anyone around, you wouldn't have slept with all the one pump chumps and found yourself in the situation you did. Yuji, on the other hand, was pissed that he said that to you.

"What the hell? She was literally kidnapped and almost sex trafficked, what the fuck is wrong with you!?" Yuji shouted and Sukuna had no expression.

The demon cocked his head to the side and rested it on his hand. "I didn't say anything hurtful. She's more docile than the other assholes who were in the proximity."

You rose from the couch and Yuji panicked, before he could say anything you reassured him. "He didn't hurt my feelings. Don't worry. I want to go to bed."

Yuji got up to follow. "Do you need me to sleep with you?"

Swallowing a tightness in your throat, you answered. "Could you?"

"Of course!"

Sukuna watched the two of you retreat to your bedroom and couldn't help but wonder why you stopped the conversation so soon. He isn't fond of the situation himself, when he went after the man that kicked you out of his house, he was hoping it'd be a quick return to sender and was beyond angered when he was faced with one of his own. Few demons have the audacity to openly manipulate humans, let alone the pride. He was grateful they weren't a human and was able to get rid of them, but wasn't pleased with the fact that now he has a new "owner". Truthfully, the whole situation left him scowling and exceptionally eager to release his frustrations. The humans that tried to apprehend you were foolish to ally themselves with such a cunt of a demon, but even more foolish to try and steal a human for the sake of a demon's orders. Really, Sukuna leaving one of them without the ability to speak ever again and the other with a few shattered bones was a blessing. The ones that attacked Yuji should be grateful that Itadori was compassionate enough to leave them only with some broken limbs as well. Sukuna's takes no thrill in fighting the weak and barely takes any enjoyment in other's suffering, in fact, compared to most demons, he finds it boring. And here he is, stuck with the most boring people he could have as masters, at least Itadori's ancestor was a fighter himself and sought strength similar to Sukuna. Then again, he reminds himself, at least Itadori and you are stupid enough to be funny.

Sukuna sighed to himself and looked out the window of your apartment, he's going to have an overwhelmingly uneventful life with being bound to both of you. Here he was, so ecstatic to be awoken once again, just to have to watch a shitty college romance between two brats and now watch your pathetic and sad life. At least amp up the drama if he's stuck as a bystander! Well, he wishes for that, but unbeknownst to him is that he already has plenty of drama for himself approaching at high speed now that you're in his life, as he is in yours.

#jjk #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna #sukuna x reader fluff #yuji itadori #jjk x you

[blue-sadie]

The Bad Influence

Marcus x Preppy Reader

Series Masterlist

Prt 2 of the Different Versions Series

Summary: waking up in an unknown place untouched by wounds and another version of your husbands.

Warning: smoking

Yn/3rd person pov

I groaned stretching out my sore limbs, yawning taking a deep breath in as I stirred from my sleep tap tap I huffed hearing the tap against my window then I stopped.

I shot up my breath hitched as I ran my hands over my body checking for injuries my eyes searching around the room I wasn't in the hospital, my apartment or even Steven's "where the fuck am i".

The tapping continued as I rose from the bed my eyes adjusted to look around the dark room the only light coming from the window I slowly crept closer to it seeing the tapping was coming from.

I peered out the window my eyes widening as I saw marc but he was different I squinted my eyes as he gestured to the window "open up" he mouthed I hesitantly obliged he came closer to the wall to climb up the trellis.

My eyes went back to wondering around the room a few pictures catching my attention I walked up to one it was me and him I bit my lip I always wanted marc to grow out his hair a bit.

I flipped the picture over and read the few words on the back 'yn x marcus for ever' marcus? my brows frowned before realization hit me and I turned my attention to the man who sat half in and out of my window a toothy grin plastered on my face as he stared at me.

"Fucking doppelgangers" I whispered to myself placing the photo back where it came from "how've you been baby" he asked biting his lip as his eyes traveled up and down my body.

I settled my arms over my chest which was barely covered by a thin white nightie "good and you" I murmured something about him was alluring to me "better now since I'm with you" he winked taking out something from his pockets, it was a cigarette and a lighter.

'Smoking really' I rolled my eyes he put the cigarette into his mouth cupping his hand around it as he lit it, a puff of smoke escaping from the corner of his lips.

He took it out his mouth holding it between his fingers "how's that asshole of a father doing" he words were laced with venom as his eyes looked onto a photo next to me.

I glanced towards I cringed as I remember taking family photos just like that, it was doppelganger me and her family in full white prepply posed, everyone had their legs crossed and their hands settled on their knees.

I turned back to marcus shrugging my shoulders "I honestly don't know" I murmured the sides of his lips twitching up wards "so my bad influence is finally taking a hold of you" he chuckled leaning his head onto the window frame blowing his smoke out the window.

"Your bad influence" I asked giggling his brows rose up in surprise he flicked the butt of the cigarette outside before climbing fully in "are you disagreeing with me" he murmured in a teasing tone as he slowly made his way to me.

"I mean how could me not knowing how my dad is be the effect of your bad influence" I murmured, he stopped just a few inches away from me "because when I first met you you were a daddies girl, a preppy girl but look at you now" he's eyes ran over my body his gaze making me shudder.

"Your my girl now" he growled before leaning down to press his lips against mine in a rough kiss his hands grabbing my waist tugging me closer to him "marcus" i murmured against his lips my hands slowly running up his chest my body shivering with excitement.

His hands moved to my ass patting it slightly "jump" he said and I did my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping my ass as he slowly moved to my bed, he dropped me onto my mattress smirking as he heard my gasp.

"Such pretty sounds" he bit his lip his eyes looking up and down my body with a more lustful gaze "I wonder what your dad would think if he walked in on us, his precious girl begging for some cock" he muttered pulling his shirt over his head.

My eyes were glued to his chest he was more toned then marc and fuck I loved it, he chuckled at my distracted state and used his hand up to my face making me look up at him "to see what a slut you've become" he grinned devilishly.

It felt as if my breath has been sucked out of my lungs as he pressed his lips to mine once more his hand moving from my chin to my neck his hand wrapping around it, slightly squeezing it in a teasingly manner.

"Fuck I need to see my cock buried inside you" he muttered his hands moved to tear off my nightie, I gasped as my bare skin was exposed to the cold "f-fuck" I breathed out I looked down my body seeing my nipples become perked and hard.

"Marcus" I murmured moving my gaze to look up at him, he groaned loudly "fuck I love it when you say my name baby" he growled as his hands drifted up and down my body.

"I wonder what you'd sound like screaming it" he whispered a smirk plastered on his lips as he leaned down attaching them to my neck, licking a long stripe up along my neck before sucking and biting my skin.

"Marcus" I whined my hands threading themselves through his hair gripping it tightly pushing his head into my skin "eager baby" he nipped at my skin causing me to skip a breath.

One of his hands slipped down to my core using his middle finger to run up and down my slit teasing my pussy lips, "m-marcus" I moaned pushing my head back into the mattress he chuckled darkly and slowly pushed in a finger making me moan out again.

"That's it baby take it" he grinned as he added another, scissoring me he licked his lips hungrily as he racked his eyes up and down my body, the thrusting of his fingers only increased intil I was on the edge of coming "c-cumming" I squealed and as I was about to cum he pulled out making me cry out.

"W-why" I whimpered, my hands falling from his hair down to my sides as I stared at him with pleading eyes "you can only cum on my cock" he grunted tugging down his pants to reveal his hardened cock which was slightly pulsing and leaking precum.

His eyes filled with lust and hunger stared into my as he positioned himself infront of my entrance "I'm already leaking for you" he whispered and slowly pushed himself inside making me whine out and grip his shoulders.

He growled out as he slowly started to thrust in and out "you feel so good" he panted closing his eyes tightly as he thrusted, his head leaned back as he groaned and grunted.

My breathing quickened as more moans and whines escaped my lips, my muscles clenched and unclenched as he moved in and out "marcus fuck" I whimpered my nails slightly digging into his shoulders as I felt my climax nearing again.

His grunts got louder as I clenched around his cock and he to started to pulse inside me "cum with me baby" he said through gritted teeth as his thrusts fultered before stopping completely as he finished inside me "fuck" we both moaned breathing out loudly as we tried catching our breaths.

"I hear your father coming baby, I'll see you tomorrow ya, don't miss me to much"

#the life before her eyes #life before her eyes #movie characters x reader #movies x reader #movie fanfiction #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x reader smut #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac characters smut #oscar isaac characters x reader #oscar isaac characters x reader smut #marcus #marcus smut #marcus x reader #marcus x reader smut #oscar isaac marcus #oscar isaac marcus x reader

[theharrowing]

Fuck, you're killing me.

Yoongi finds a way to clone himself, so naturally his first instinct is to fuck himself.

🤍 Dollhouse Yoongi x Collateral Yoongi

🤍 word count: ≈ 1,660

🤍 crossover episode between fics, selfcest, sci-fi, slash, nsfw, 18+

🤍 warnings: top yoongi, bottom yoongi - but they switch. sci-fi stuff; smut (selfcest aka self incest; anal sex; teasing; begging; spitting; overstimulation; using spit as lube; rough fingering; absolutely no kissing lol); mention of past infidelity. (grey area of whether this counts as infidelity, but i think Dollhouse Jungkook will just wish he was here to see this all go down & otherwise not care.)

🤍 notes: ngl, this is straight up porn. i really speed into the situation so don't ask any questions ok??? just vibe. the sci-fi stuff is vague and alludes to Dollhouse and i use the word "clone" loosely bc i refuse to make this make logical sense!!! let it go in one eye and out the other and just enjoy the show. i guess there are some slight Dollhouse spoilers but just don't hang on too many "plot" details okay!!! in one eye, out the other!!!

🤍 written for the Harrow’s Holiday Cheer Event, requested by @park-jimin-isnt-real. 🎈 Jay, Jay, Jay. you really chose chaos on the day that you requested this fic, and for that i am grateful. i hope it makes all of your dreams come true!!! i adore you so much!!!

🤍 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🤍 posted jan. 2024

Of all the marvels of science that the Min family has participated in inventing and experimenting with, this one has to take the cake. It is not enough that his team has found a way to jump their consciousness into other people's bodies temporarily, or even permanently, but now he has somehow managed to actually clone himself.

Only, this clone is…different. 

He is clearly not quite the same man staring back at him, and it almost seems as if this man has thoughts and understandings behind those cold, dark eyes. Yoongi half expected him to show up as a clean slate with no individual consciousness or memories. 

Whereas Yoongi has recently cut his hair short and maintains an appearance of being much softer than his sharp inner demons, this clone has wild, long hair and eyes that pierce as they take him in—eyes that have clearly seen some shit. 

Through the skin surrounding one of his pretty, angry eyes is even a deep gash that begins above his eyebrow and runs through his lid, down to the apple of his cheek. Yoongi leans close to check and see whether that eye is damaged at all from whatever has sliced it, and judging by its clarity and lack of disfiguration—and the way it glares back—he surmises it must not be.

"Who the fuck are you?" the clone grumbles, looking down as his nude body shackled upright to an exam table. 

Yoongi grins. "Silly. I'm you!"

The clone sighs and glances around the examination room. "Whatever this is, please get it over with quickly. I have important matters to attend to. I need to get back home."

Now this is curious. Has Yoongi somehow managed to pull an alternate-reality version of himself into this current reality? Surely a simple clone would have no knowledge of any other life it leads…right? Fascinating.

"Tell me," Yoongi drawls, stepping up close to the alternate version of himself. "What is your name?"

The man stares for a moment, then grumbles, "Min Yoongi."

And although Yoongi knows the answer, it still delights him to no end to hear his own name come from the man's mouth. 

"Min Yoongi," he parrots, voice nearly identical to the nearly identical stranger's voice.  "Tell me…have you ever wanted to fuck yourself?

***

The way alternate Yoongi lays sprawled out on the mattress is heavenly to the point that Yoongi finds he has to pinch himself just to make sure this is not a dream. He is very much awake and very much experiencing reality. 

The man shivers while Yoongi runs lube-sticky fingers over his nipples and down the curves of his torso. He huffs quick breaths from his pretty, kiss-swollen lips, eyes screwed closed while he adjusts to the girth of his own cock. 

Everything down to tiny moles and knobby joints and the gravelly quality of his guest's voice is identical. Yoongi knows he should not enjoy this so much, but god, how could he help himself?

"You can move now," alternate Yoongi mutters somewhat desperately. "Please."

Yoongi gives him light pinches on his nipples and rolls them between his thumb and index finger. "Say please again," he softly commands. 

Alternate Yoongi sighs and trembles as he attempts to create friction by digging his heels into the bed and moving his hips. Ordinarily, Yoongi would scold his bottoms for being so greedy, but he rather likes watching himself squirm. 

"Please," his clone finally whimpers. He opens his pretty, angry eyes and does his best to plead with them. Breathtaking. "Please, Yo-Yoongi."

Yoongi grins and leans nice and close, pressing himself deeper into the man's tight, heavenly ass and making him sigh. "Say our name again."

He wonders what it must be like for the poor guy to look up and see himself towering over himself. He wonders whether that Yoongi would be into the idea of fucking him next. 

"Yoongi," the pretty man mutters pathetically. "Please."

"You sound so pretty when you beg," Yoongi teases, leaning close enough to flick his tongue over the man's lips. 

Alternate Yoongi sighs and jerks his head to the side. "For fucks sake," he grumbles. "Just fuck me already. Please."

"Awe," Yoongi mockingly coos. "Is pretty Yoongi embarrassed by how good his own cock feels?"

The man sighs once more and glares at him. This makes Yoongi laugh. 

"No need to be ashamed, pretty Yoongi. I happen to love how tight and warm we feel."

"This is so depraved," the man complains despite grinding his hips down, desperate for movement. 

With a hum, Yoongi sits up and says, "But you love it." He rubs his fingertips once more down alternate Yoongi's torso, then grips onto his hips as he adds, "I can tell."

"Please, Yoongi," the man begs as he digs his head into the pillow. "Please fuck me." He whimpers and writhes, and Yoongi cannot bite his tongue, eager to continue teasing the poor guy. 

"Look at you, squirming under me, all flushed and pretty looking. Can’t even take a little teasing, can you?"

A deep, frustrated groan works its way from deep in the man's throat, but before he can voice anything more, Yoongi pulls his hips back and snaps them forward. 

The sound that leaves alternate Yoongi's throat is pornographic and raspy—water crashing against a rocky shoreline. Despite having fucked his own body using someone else's as a host before, this feels different in a way that he struggles to comprehend. 

Yoongi wastes no time setting a pace that punches the breath from the pretty man's lungs and has him begging to let him cum. If alternate Yoongi is as sensitive as he is, then it is no wonder he is an absolute fucking mess. 

He holds onto the man's hips and pounds into him, doing his best to stave off the urge to bust for as long as possible and admiring the beauty before him. He now fully understands why his last conquest was so desperate to have him—to the point of destroying his own marriage. Poor bastard never stood a chance. 

"Please," alternate Yoongi begs, gripping tightly to the pillow with his hands raised over his head while his long hair fans out and clings to his face from sweat. 

Yoongi leans forward and collects enough saliva in his mouth to drop a sizable amount down onto the shaft of the man's cock. This makes him gasp and jolt, and Yoongi begins to gather even more spit, too amused not to do it again.

"Please, please," alternate Yoongi begs, voice broken and perfectly accentuating the firm, rhythmic slap of skin against skin. He even clenches his walls in what Yoongi imagines to be a desperate plea to urge him to do what he wants. 

Yoongi is close, and he decides he may as well give in. He wants to watch himself come completely undone beneath him. 

"Alright, alright," he says, lifting a hand from the man's hip to reach for his neglected cock. "I'll give my pretty Yoongi what he needs. I can't hold on much longer, anyway."

He grips onto alternate Yoongi's spit-slick cock and tugs, causing every muscle in the poor man's body to seemingly clench and shake. 

"Fuck," alternate Yoongi rasps, body bowing from the bed. "Feels good. Please don't stop."

Yoongi feels hypnotized as he watches his hand stroke the man's length—as he watches his nearly identical match quake and sob the closer he gets. As the man's cock begins to pulsate, Yoongi feels himself climb closer and closer to the precipice of bliss. 

With a desperate, broken sob, alternate Yoongi cums, shooting his release onto his chest while Yoongi continues to stroke him and fuck him nice and deep. The man's ass clenches tightly, squeezing and releasing in a rhythm not too unlike that of Yoongi's thrusts, and he absolutely fucking loses it. 

"Shit," Yoongi spits, releasing the man's dick so he can anchor both hands against the mattress for stability. Alternate Yoongi continues to moan and squeeze, clearly drifting from pleasure to overstimulation, and the sight, sound, and feeling makes Yoongi's head spin.

"Fuck, you're killing me," he whispers hoarsely through clenched teeth as his own orgasm rushes over him. "I'm gonna cum, pretty Yoongi."

Yoongi's hips stutter and still, and he practically falls forward, emptying himself into a nearly identical version of himself who continues to babble incoherently and tremble. 

This is what worship should feel like, Yoongi is certain of it. He racks his brain for anything that has come close to being this depraved and incredible—this absolutely fucking euphoric—and he finds he cannot top this experience. This is nirvana.

Yoongi collapses onto himself, burying his face into his guest's neck. His skin, his sweat, his hair, everything smells familiar, and Yoongi does his best not to slip into a state of sleep and comfort. 

"Gimme a breather," Yoongi mutters through gasping breaths. "Then you can fuck me and I'll send you home."

Alternate Yoongi scoffs but does not seem too eager to get away. 

"You've gotta be kidding me," he grumbles. 

"Once in a lifetime opportunity," Yoongi says to sweeten the deal, grinning despite likely not being seen. 

Silence hangs, then alternate Yoongi shifts, sliding out from underneath Yoongi and forcing Yoongi to roll onto his back with large, firm hands pressing against his shoulders. 

"Alright," the man says, "but I'm going to be fucking rough. You seem like a sick little bastard who likes pain, so I am going to make it hurt."

Yoongi's heart soars, and he smiles widely at the pretty, nearly identical man with long hair and a curious scar. "Make me cry, Yoongi."

Alternate Yoongi towers over him and spreads his legs roughly, then spits onto his fingers and begins prodding at his rim. Yoongi moans unabashedly, instantly slipping into overwhelming pleasure-pain as the man roughly begins to finger him. 

How the fuck will he explain this one to Jeongguk when he returns home?

WOW WHOO. that was a wild one. DID YOU HAVE FUN?!?!?! i miss Dollhouse Yoongi a lot! it's fun getting into his head just a little. and, of course, our hot mafia boss Yoongi really does love to beg, doesn't he??? .😈😈😈

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD IF THIS HELLSITE AND LIKES ARE SUPER APPRECIATED TOO!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

tag list: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @idkjustlovingbts @itsmina29 @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki 🤍 want to be tagged in everything i write? or just my member x member content? send me a message!

🎈 check out more drabbles from the Harrow’s Holiday Cheer Event!

Fuck, you're killing me. is copyright 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. reposts and translations are not allowed.

#yoongi smut #yoongi selfcest #yoongi x yoongi #fic: fuck you're killing me #fic: dollhouse #fic: collateral

[luvvixu]

dazai x reader (she/her)

🏡🧵 home sweet home pt. 2

series

genre: fluff, domestic au

synopsis: what does it look like to have a normal daily life at dazai's household? just you coming home to your little family after a long and exhaustion work. this is the life you and dazai had been dreaming of.

warning: none

word count: 1.7k

a/n: here is the part two y'all been wanting for!!! i tried my best to make it wholesome without being si redundant as possible hehehe. i goddamn love dazai being a dad he is, chuuuu.

SPEAK NOW (TAYLOR'S VERSION) IS OUT ON JULY 7!! BE SURE TO CHECK IT OUT PLS PLS PLS!!!

song - daylight by taylor swift

this was the moment where you and dazai's child was born...

the sound of your blood curdling screams sends a shiver down his spine as dazai could feel the bones in his hands are going to snap at any moment.

this is the moment the two of you are waiting for. you are going to welcome your bundle of joy in your little family.

you are screaming and crying your eyes out. delivering a new life feels like it was slicing your body in half. the pain was unbearable, especially since this is your first time.

but you had your husband right beside you, holding your hand as he was also taking a step with you towards the new journey of parenthood.

"you're doing good, sweetheart!" dazai made sure to keep you occupied by whispering sweet nothing in your ears.

with a final push, the two of you made it.

dazai couldn't believe his eyes when he first saw his daughter after being cleaned up and now fully dressed with the clothes he especially picked for his sweet little princess.

"hello, mr. dazai. would you like to hold her?" the nurse who carries his daughter said with a smile.

he nodded immediately as his shaky bondage arms reached for his little baby. the nurse carefully instructed him on how to properly hold a baby.

his heart pang against his chest when he first felt the little weight being pressed on his body. dazai couldn't help but to feel the salt tears pooling his eyes.

the nurse congratulates him one last time before going out of the room to give him some privacy with his first born.

dazai shed a tear. "goodness, you looked so tiny." he whispers. the man couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from the bundle of joy.

and when dazai's index finger reached for her tiny hand, the baby instantly clutched around him. dazai literally felt his whole body being electrocuted with overflowing happiness as he continued to cry.

his baby looked so adorable in his arms.

a man who was once a suicidal maniac couldn't believe that this is his life now. he had a beautiful and caring wife who accepts him despite his flaws. and now, he had someone to call his own child. these two people are his greatest blessing in life.

a blessing…

dazai cracked up the softest smile he could offer, gazing lovingly at his daughter. "your mother didn't make a wrong choice to name you, emi." he said as he stared at your sleeping figure.

"welcome to the family, emi, our greatest blessing."

as you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the white ceiling. carefully, you move your head to seek for your husband.

and there you saw him, holding the newest family member with a soft smile on his face. you also noticed that his long and slim fingers are playing on her little ones.

a smile broke into your face. this is a view that for sure would be permanent in your memory.

dazai looked into your direction and saw you finally awake. his smiles widen as he gently moves closer to you.

"honey, look! our little emi is here." he excitedly shows you emi who was still sleeping in his arms.

your husband helped you to sit as he also sat beside you, letting you lay your head on his shoulder that gives you better access to your daughter.

"she looks so much like you." dazai whispers while you shake your head at his statement.

"she looked like us, samu. don't just give me the whole credit, you also helped on creating her." you countered, making his chuckles and silently agreeing.

"when i first held her, i could feel myself crying—actually, i was still crying inside. it's just our baby looked so tiny and adorable." he confessed. when you imagine it, you for sure are laughing at how adorable he would look when he's trying not to faint.

"i assume you haven't let go of emi when the nurse gave her to you." you said.

your husband smiled cheekily. "you guessed it right. i just want to carry her all the time."

"wouldn't you get tired, though?"

dazai laughed and planted a kiss on your temple. "nope, our emi-chan is my ball of sunshine that would instantly charge me up whenever i hold her." it was true, dazai could hold her all day and all night. he doesn't care if his arms go stiff, as long as he can feel his little baby, he is complete.

"just look at her hand, sweetheart. it's so tiny!" dazai couldn't help but to squeal a little. it really amazes him how the size difference is evident between them.

you smiled at him as you wander, this view is so wholesome. "samu, where's my phone?" so, you shall take a photo of it as a memory.

"oh here." he handed you the phone.

you position your phone where dazai and emi could see. the love of your life gave his biggest smile, posing on the camera. while emi was just there, sleeping and unaware.

*click!*

you smile to yourself as you make it your wallpaper. dazai peak on your shoulder. "send that pic to me. we need to tell this great news to the agency!"

"no need. they just texted me and said they're on their way." you waved your phone where it shows the conversation you had with yosano.

dazai squinted his eyes when he read the nickname you had for yosano. oh shoot…

"girlfriend?"

"a-ah! before you say anything, i'm not cheating on you." you interrupted him before he could even finish.

"yosano may be hot, but that is just a normal nickname for a girl best friend. she also set my nickname on her phone as my boo!" you continued to justify yourself.

"i know, no need to be so defensive. besides, i'm not even mad." dazai just shrugged it off, making you breathe in relief.

"let me carry emi too." you change the topic to your daughter, who still doesn't care and is unaware for she was just born a while ago. as you were about to hold your daughter, the door of the room opened.

"y/n-chan!" it was ranpo who literally flew towards the bed with kunikuda, kyouka, and atsushi following behind him.

"quiet down your voice, ranpo-san. there is a baby sleeping." kunikida scolded his senpai, but ranpo was far too excited to care. your eyes met with his, and kunikida just offered you a nod in acknowledgement, which you replied with a smile.

"congratulations, y/n."

"thank you, kunikida."

"ouch! aren't you also going to congratulate me, kunikida-kun~?"

"no."

kyouka and atsushi handed dazai a basket full of fruits and chocolates as a gift for your labor. they also squeal at the sight of your baby.

"the baby really resembles the two of you, dazai-san."

"i know, right?! our emi is going to be the bestest baby of all. atsushi-kun, let's make a bet if emi would had a dimple or not!"

"will she also work in the agency someday, ms. y/n?"

"that's up for her if she wants to, kyouka-chan."

while ranpo, he is the third baby in this room. one is emi, two is dazai, and three is him. this is going to be too much to handle. ranpo jumps in the bed to get closer with your daughter who's finally now in your chest.

"can i carry her?! can i?! can i?!"

"i thought you think babies are annoying?"

"a detective can make exceptions, dazai-kun."

"that's right, emi should be an exemption."

"ooh~! look at you, emi. you're so tiny like a bean! now i know why you named her that, y/n-chan."

"of course you knew. you saw me looking through the baby names."

everyone gathered around to see your baby who was nestling on her mama, but you noticed some people are missing.

"where are the others?" you asked them.

"kenji-kun, naomi-chan and tanizaki-kun are on their way here. they said they wouldn't come here without a present to emi-chan." ranpo said as he sneakily stole a chocolate lollipop from the basket to mend his sweet tooth.

"oi! don't steal that candy! you already eat a lot of that!" kunikida notices ranpo as he yanks his hand away from the basket, making ranpo throw fits and tantrums.

you all laughed at his behavior. but in the end, you let him have and he almost hugged you to death due to his happiness and gratitude. thankfully, dazai was there to not let him crush you.

everything went smoothly. they even argue who's going to be the best uncle of emi. but we all know atsushi is going to be the lead of them (canonically).

"the president and yosano are taking care of emi's birth certificate. i asked them to prepare in advance since i'm not very uh…you know, knowledgeable when it comes to that stuff." dazai whispers to you, kind of feeling ashamed.

"you know how to forge documents but don't know how to file your daughter's birth certificate?" you jokingly said.

dazai pouts. "i am willing to figure it out on my own. but the president said i should handle it higher up—like him, for some reasons. anyways, i'm still thankful to them, i got more time with emi."

you smile and you gaze back down to your daughter. it's a surprise to see that emi was still deep asleep in your arms despite the noises around her surroundings.

"i love you, y/n." dazai said out of nowhere and kissed your side temple, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"i love you too, samu." you replied, and you felt a slight kick in your arms. you chuckles as you see your daughter wriggling on her own.

"and we love you too, emi." you whisper to your daughter.

"uh sweetheart? i don't think i can hold it any longer. can i carry emi now?" your husband tugged your arms.

you let out a laugh as you shook your head at his silliness, but still let him carry emi. dazai almost let out a yey when his daughter was in his arms again.

and that moment you knew, emi is going to be daddy's girl.

©luvvixu2023

#dazai x reader #dazai fluff #dazai domestic #bsd #bsd dazai #domestic dazai #bungou stray dogs #fanfic #fanfiction #anime #fluff #luvvixu

[mandos-mind-trick]

Instinct - Part 12

Summary: Omegas were rare. Some even thought them extinct. So when Boba contacts Din saying he has a gift Din can’t refuse, the last thing he expects to find is an omega in need of an alpha. Din has to make the hard decision, but what else was he really doing anyways? But naturally, there’s more to this omega than meets the eye.

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fluff, A/B/O, brief mention of injuries, unplanned pregnancy, brief discussion of abortion (more implied than an actual discussion), so much softness omg

A/N: It's hard to believe this story is over. It's been fun writing it and I'm kind of sad that it's over. I wound up going a different direction with the story than I originally planned. I'm a little bummed that I didn't go with the original idea but it would have been more complex and taken a lot longer to get to inevitably the same ending. I think I'm just ready to finish this one up and let it lie with this ending.

Thank you to all of my readers, I'm so grateful that all of you took the time to read and enjoy this story. Here's to whatever comes next!

< Previous | MASTERLIST | OC Version

You stare out at the flickering blue of hyperspace. You’re tired. Your heat has taken its toll on you. You’re still achy, your inner thighs raw from Din’s stubble. You had left not long after your heat ended, Din getting a comm message from Karga about the location of some of the targets, and the bounty on their heads. 

Din wanted to get things taken care of before they disappeared again, or someone else found them. He had packed things up, hauling their belongings and you, still half asleep onto the Crest before leaving the planet. 

Three of them. One more and you’d be on their way to Navarro. 

It wasn’t like you necessarily needed the credits. Boba could easily send more, and would if you asked. Din wanted to do things his way, though. The dumb alpha instinct to prove their worth, to prove they could properly care for a mate, for a family. 

You curl up in your seat, tucking your knees to your chest. Din had proven himself time and time again to more, more than he needed to. You won’t change his mind, though. He was determined to see this through. You’re saving others from what you went through. That’s what you tell yourself. It’s not all about revenge. It would be impossible, now that you know the truth. Now that you remember. 

A shiver runs down your spine as memories run through your head. What happened to the others? Had any of them escaped? Or had you been lucky to survive, to be taken by the pirates and saved from a worse fate? 

You don't want to think about it anymore. You screw your eyes shut, focusing on the scent of your alpha heavy in the air, letting it relax you. He smells musky, both of you still recovering from your heat. From what you can remember, it had been an intense one. More intense than your last. Perhaps the suppressants were finally completely out of your system. Or maybe it was just your body’s reaction to going years without a heat. 

You can still feel the lingering effects of it. Your brain feels fuzzy still, your body warm. Everything is louder, stronger, more amplified. You want to crawl into Din’s lap and sink right under his armor into his skin. 

If only that were possible. 

***

You wake when the ship lands. It startles you for a moment before you’re able to get your bearings. You rub your eyes, Din running a hand over your head before leaving the cockpit. You let your brain wake up more before you follow him, dropping into the hull. 

“Stay with the ship.” Din says, loading the last of his weapons. “This won’t take long.” 

You grab his arm before he can walk away, turning him to face you. You reach up, lifting his helmet just enough to reveal his mouth. You stand on your toes, pressing your lips to his. His hands grab your waist, holding you steady as you kiss him. Your brain feels fuzzy, still fighting the lingering buzz from your heat. 

“As soon as I get this done,” Din murmurs against your lips, squeezing your sides. “I’ll come back and help you.” 

You let out a quiet whine, but relent, letting him go. You watch him leave the ship, the ramp closing behind him. You crawl into the nest, burrowing yourself in Din’s scent to wait for his return. 

It only takes two hours before the ramp is lowering once more, Din leading someone into the ship. You lay still, buried beneath the blankets out of sight. You hear the familiar rush of air from the carbonite chamber before footsteps approach. You don't move, don't reveal yourself, but you don't have to. The blankets shift slightly, a gloved hand reaching beneath them. You lean into his touch, keening quietly. Your underwear is soaked through, your mind racing nonstop in his absence. 

The cool air of the Crest hits your skin as the blankets are tossed off, your body rolling to present for him. His hand presses into your back, holding you flat against the floor. You buck your hips, desperate for any sort of friction, any contact to alleviate the need rushing through you.

Gloved hands slip under the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging both down just far enough. Din inhales deeply, groaning at the scent of you heavy in the air. 

“Could smell you outside the ship.” He growls, pressing his body flat against yours. 

You keens, bucking your hips up to grind against his hard length. He reaches between them, guiding his cock into your slick folds. You gasp at the stretch, back arching to take him deeper. 

“Stinking up the ship with that needy pussy.” He growls, a hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head and reveal your neck. “All for me, huh?” 

“Yes, alpha!” You whine as he pulls back before slamming his hips against your ass. “Need you. Need you so bad.” 

He shushes you, lips tracing your neck. “I’ve got you, omega. Let your alpha take care of you.” 

You practically sob as he begins thrusting into you, his movements slow and deep. Your clit drags along the blanket under you, making you dizzy with pleasure. His lips close around your mark, fingers tangling with yours to hold you steady as he fucks you. You’re loud, keening and whining and moaning under him as he fucks you through your first orgasm. He doesn’t slow any, keeping his pace steady. 

“Alpha, alpha!” You chant his title like a prayer, moving your body with his. “Need your cum! Please!” 

He shushes you, shifting his hips just slightly to hit that spot inside you with every thrust. His teeth sink into your shoulder, your body shuddering violently under him as you cums a second time, soaking him and the blankets with your slick. 

He releases with a groan inside you, keeping his hold on your shoulder for a moment as he fills you with his cum. You let out little whines beneath him, your hips still jerking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He releases your shoulder, running his tongue along the teeth marks indented in your skin. 

You go limp beneath him, his arms slipping under you to roll them to one side. He holds you against his chest, fingers tracing your skin as he continues to lap at your mark. He’s still buried inside you, half-hard in your pussy.

“I need to get us on our way to Nevarro.” He says, lips brushing your skin. 

You make a noise in protest, grabbing onto his wrists with surprising strength before he can get up. 

“I won’t be gone long.” He says, shifting his hips to pull out of you. “I’ll be back.” 

You make a disgruntled noise as he leaves the nest, mind working off of muscle memory to get the ship out of the atmosphere and into hyperspace. As soon as you’re headed towards Nevarro, he descends into the hull once more, crawling back into the nest with you. 

***

The warning alarm that the ship is about to drop out of hyperspace draws him from the nest. You shift in your sleep as he pulls himself from you, climbing back into the cockpit. He lands the ship, finding you sitting up in the nest when he gets back down to the hull. 

“We land already?” You ask, rubbing your eyes. 

“Just did.” He says, putting pieces of his armor back on. 

You get up, stepping into the fresher. “You’re lucky you have armor to hide behind.” 

“You look fine.” He says, slipping his blaster into the holster. 

“I most certainly do not.” You step back out. “If I go out there looking like this, people are gonna ask questions.” 

He eyes the bite mark on your shoulder, and the bruises across your collarbones and the sides of your neck. “You can always say it was a fight.” 

You give him a look. “Yeah, because people are gonna believe that. ‘You think this is bad, you should see the other guy.’” You mock, changing into clothes that offer better coverage. 

“You did quite a number on me.” He says. 

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as you try to fix your hair so it doesn’t look like you’d fucked the entire trip. “Yeah, but no one’s gonna see it but me.” 

“Good.” He growls, his chest pressing against your back. 

You roll your eyes, smacking his arm with your brush. “Don’t we have things to do? People to see?” 

He rests his helmet against the side of your head for a moment before letting you go. He’s glad to see you're back to your normal self again, even if you are a bit of a pain in his ass. His hand brushes your side as you wait for the ramp to lower, feeling the blaster tucked into your pants. He smiles a bit behind his helmet. He never has to remind you. 

He takes your hand, leading you down the ramp. Karga and Cara are there already, waiting for you. 

“You never fail to impress me.” Karga says, greeting Din with a handshake. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” 

“It was an easy job.” Din says.

“Come on,” Karga says, clapping Din’s shoulder. “Let’s get them off-loaded then we can talk payment.” 

***

“How many have you found?” Cara asks as you sit around a table in the cantina. 

“Counting these three, ten.” Din answers. “Not nearly all of them, but things have gotten... complicated.” 

“They’re figuring it out.” Karga says. 

Din nods. “That, and...” 

“The Empire was involved.” You answer for him, not wanting to beat around the bush like Din was probably going to. You had no reason to lie, no reason to hide it. “They were the ones that picked us up trying to escape Mandalore.” 

“What would the Empire want with a bunch of Mandalorians?” Karga asks. 

“They wanted to study our kind.” You answer. “They wanted to know about our abilities. The heightened senses, increased strength, all of it. All beings are capable of waking it, but most have forgotten how. Mandalorians are one of the last groups that remember, and actively practice.” 

“This is getting into dangerous territory.” Cara warns. 

“I know.” Din says. “That’s why we came here after picking up the last three. We...have to decide what to do next.” 

“You can stay as long as you’d like.” Karga says. “I’ll put you up in a nice house on the outskirts, lots of privacy. My treat.” 

Din glances down at you, seeing the desire in your gaze. He’d be content staying in the ship, but he knows you miss a real roof over your head, a real bed. Your last vacation had really taken its toll on your omega instincts. He might never get you to leave if you stay. 

His shoulders slump a bit. “Fine.” 

***

What Din was hoping would only be a few days turns into a couple weeks. You had quickly fallen in love with Nevarro and its newly refreshed culture. You had yet to talk about your next move, as Karga was insistent on spoiling you and showing you all the best that Nevarro now had to offer. You were eating it up, and Din didn’t have it in him to stop you. 

After a few days, you began to slow down a bit. It was really what prompted him to stay longer than those few days. You were acting strangely, stranger than normal. You were more agitated, tossing and turning at night and then sleeping late into the day. He wondered if it was some lasting effect from your heat, or perhaps the underlying stress had caused your heat to start back up. 

You weren't showing any other normal symptoms of a heat, though. 

In fact, you were acting the opposite. 

Besides your grumpy attitude, he had been forced to sleep on the floor a couple times after you’d nearly pushed him off the bed. You’ve dodged his touches a few times, as well as shrugged off a few others. Your instincts were going haywire, and it was putting him on edge. 

His natural first thought was that someone had slipped something into some food or a drink. You weren't acting like you had been slipped a suppressant. Spice didn’t have much of an effect on your kind either, and he can’t think of anything else that could be causing such a reaction. It could just be delayed stress, or your body fighting some sort of illness. He considered contacting Boba, but he probably wouldn’t be able to offer up an explanation either. 

He should just load you up and take you back to Tatooine, but he’s worried a confined space might make you more agitated. The last thing he needs is an agitated omega in hyperspace. He could slip you something to help you sleep through the trip, but you’d be raging when you woke up again. 

He could always command you to. 

He doesn’t want to do that. It would be cruel. It would break the trust that had formed between them. He had told himself he’d only do it if he had no other choice, and this doesn't feel like the right situation. 

He won’t do that to you. 

He resorts to just asking you. 

He approaches you in the morning. You’re seated at the small table in the kitchen, your back to him. He keeps his distance, remembering the stories of how aggressive your omega is. He doesn't want to risk you getting hurt. 

He says your name, watching you from behind.. You let out a grunt in response. “Are you okay?” He asks. 

Your shoulders tense, hands closing into fists where they’re laying on the table. You're annoyed, the sharp scent filling the air. “Why?” 

Din shifts slightly on his feet. “You’ve been acting...different. Are you...feeling alright?” 

“Fine.” You snap. “I’m fine.” 

Din decides not to push it. You're not fine, but you're not in a place to answer either. 

***

You feel like you're’s going insane. You're tired, the same kind of tired you’d felt when you were on suppressants. You can’t sleep, though. Sleep evades you, leaving you tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning. You're on edge, every sound too loud, every smell too strong. 

And Din. His very presence is making your skin crawl. His scent, the quiet clank of his armor and shuffle of his flight suit is driving you up the wall. He’s been clingy lately, and you know it’s because of the way you’re acting, but the last thing you want is him close. You want space. You want to run off into the lava fields and just sit in silence for hours and breathe. 

You can’t, though. Din would be after you in an instant. 

Not to mention, you've started to feel sick. Certain smells have started to make you feel nauseous. If you lay a certain way too long you begin to feel it, the churning in your stomach. You refuse to be sick. It would only worry Din more, which would only make you more agitated. 

You hate it. 

So, you decide to visit the medical center. 

You slip out at night, after Din is fast asleep. You felt bad for forcing him on the floor, but the idea of him being that close, touching you, his body heat, all of it made your skin crawl. 

You slip out the door without him knowing, taking the short walk into town. You're on edge, every little sound making you jump and swing your light stick around. The town is dimly lit but quiet as you creep along the streets. Something tickles at the back of your neck as you nears the medical center, footsteps that aren’t your own sounding behind you. 

You slow your pace, hand slipping under your poncho. You spin, drawing your blaster, your heart in your throat. You tense, staring wide eyed at Cara. 

“Sorry,” The woman lifts her hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” Her lips lift in a smile. “You’re a quick draw.” 

You lower your blaster, taking a breath. “I had a good teacher.” 

“Where are you sneaking off to in the middle of the night?” Cara asks, taking a couple steps closer. 

You slip the blaster back into your waistband. “The medical center.” You answer honestly. “I need to get a test done.” 

Cara stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Would you like some company?” 

You swallow nervously. You don't want to go to the medical center. You know you might react like you did the last time. Especially being so on edge, there’s no telling what might happen, and with Din absent...

“Sure.” You nod. Maybe having someone there will help. Of course, Cara might tell Din, but he’s going to find out eventually if it is true. 

***

Din sits up, wide awake. It’s still dark out, the room lit from the moon shining in the window. Something is wrong, something is off. He can sense it, but his waking brain can’t quite figure it out. He glances around the room, seeing no intruders. He can’t hear anything either. 

He glances to the bed, the sheets messy and thrown back. You’re missing.

His heart leaps into his throat, body moving before he can even think. He’s on his feet, stepping through the door into the rest of the house. The fresher is open, the kitchen empty, and the living room. Have you run away? Did someone sneak in and take you? It would be impossible. 

You've gotten past him before. 

He slams his finger on the button to open the door, stepping out into the night. He quickly scans his gaze across the front of the house, the tension leaving his body almost instantly. 

You’re sitting in a chair in front of the house, knees pulled to your chest. The lamp is turned on, on the table next to you. You're staring out into the darkness, not even noticing his presence. 

He moves slowly, approaching you cautiously. You could snap, you could jump at him. If he startles you, you might try to shoot him again. You don’t acknowledge him at all, not seeming to notice, even as he sits in the chair next to you. He casts his gaze out where you’re looking, but he doesn’t see anything. He’s scared to break the silence, but he has to know. You're acting strangely, even more strange than before and it’s scaring him. 

“Din?” You whisper, voice barely audible even in the silence. 

“Yes, cyare?” He says, looking at you. 

Your gaze is still off in the distance, your hands tugging at your pant legs. “I want to go back to Tatooine.”

“Okay.” He says. He had told you all you needed to do was ask and he would. He had meant it. Whenever you wanted to, he would end your hunt and take you back to Tatooine. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You continue.

He doesn’t need an explanation or a reason, but he’s not going to interrupt you. He does want to know what’s been going on, and if this is his answer, then he’s going to let you talk. 

“Din...I’m pregnant.”

His hands close around the arms of the chair, his stomach dropping. This was unexpected. He hadn’t even taken that into consideration. You both have the implant, though he knew the regular implant was questionable in its ability to protect against the kind of virility omegas experienced while in heat. Omegas had their own ways to protect themselves during their heat, but that knowledge had been lost. 

It would explain your sudden change, the aggressiveness, your sleep habits. There was a big change happening within you, and your body was rapidly trying to adjust. He remembered once seeing a newly pregnant omega when he was a boy. She had nearly taken the head off of her alpha. 

“It’s nothing personal.” He had said. “Just her body and her mind doing what it needs to do.” 

She’d calmed as the baby developed, and her bond with her alpha had grown to the point they were rarely apart. Had things been the way they were supposed to, you would have been surrounded by omegas, both mated and unmated, to help care for you during your pregnancy, especially in the late stages. Birthing was a sacred omega space. Alphas were only allowed in if something went wrong. The omegas would have continued to care for you and the pup after birth, until you recovered. 

Things weren’t the way they were supposed to be, though. With fewer and fewer omegas, and fewer and fewer safe spaces for them, omegas relied on their alphas for help. There was nothing sacred anymore, no help that only other omegas could provide. 

“I’m scared.” You whisper, a tear sliding down your cheek. 

He slowly reaches over, giving you plenty of time to turn, to push him away again. You stay still, letting him pull your hand from where it’s tugging at your pants. He wraps his fingers around your hand, squeezing it gently. “You don’t have to.” 

Your head snaps to him, teary eyes wide. “What?” 

“You don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready, if you want to wait, to...to plan things before...it’s your choice.” 

You stare at him. “But...but what about you?” 

He traces your knuckles with his thumb. “You’re the one that has to go through this. If you don’t want to...if you’d rather wait...it’s your choice.” 

You look back down at your lap. “I...I don’t know.” You squeeze his hand. “I think having the baby will be the easy part.” 

He tilts his head as he stares at you. “Why’s that?” 

You turn your gaze back to him. “We have to tell Boba.” 

***

Your leg bounces nervously as you sit in the Crest. You’d left Nevarro a few hours ago with promises to keep them updated and visit every so often. You had debated staying there permanently, but deep down you know you want to be with your family. You’d already lost one family, you want to spend as much time as you can with your new one. 

You're also nervous about telling Boba. You had told him you were returning, but you hadn’t explained why. You hadn’t told him about the Empire, or their little accident that led to you remembering either. He’s probably thinking the worst, and you do feel just a little guilty about not telling him anything. 

“We’ll be landing soon.” Din says, the Crest beeping as it warns of their approach. “This is the right thing to do.” 

“I know.” You say, curling your fingers around the end of your poncho. “I don’t think we could do this alone.” 

“We shouldn’t have to.” He says, guiding the ship out of hyperspace and towards the red planet. “It’s our safest option.” 

You let out a long breath as Din flies the ship towards the palace. It feels good, being home after so long, after everything that happened. Tatooine is home now, the first place that’s felt like home since you lost Mandalore so long ago. 

Din takes your hand as the ramp lowers, squeezing it gently. Fennec is waiting for them, a smile tugging at her lips as you make their way down the ramp. 

“So you survived the trip.” She says to Din. 

“Barely.” You snort, wrapping your arms around Fennec in a hug. 

“We weren’t expecting you back so soon.” Fennec says, holding you tightly. 

“There’s been a change of plans.” Din says. 

“That’s not a bad thing.” She releases you, nodding towards the door. “Boba’s got a surprise waiting for you in the throne room.” 

You glance at Din before taking his hand, following Fennec into the palace. She leads you to the throne room, Boba’s voice floating up the stairs. You half expect him to be holding court, but you're surprised there’s no one there. At least not where you’d expect. 

A tiny green head turns as you enter the throne room, letting out a soft cooing sound. 

Din stiffens beside you, dropping your hand. “Grogu?” 

The small bundle leaps into the air, practically flying right into Din’s arms. You take half a step back, surprised at the sudden agility from the small creature. 

“It’s you.” Din breathes, staring down at Grogu. “What are you doing here?” 

“Arrived in an X-Wing.” Boba says, stepping down from the throne. “I thought we were getting a visit from the New Republic.” 

“How long has he been here?” Din asks, holding Grogu against his chest. 

“Two days.” Boba answers. “I was going to tell you, but then I got your message about returning here. Figured it would be a nice welcome home.” 

You step up to Boba, throwing your arms around his neck. He holds you tightly, rubbing your back as you press your face into his neck. You can smell it, the faint whiff of something that might have been, had he not been born as a clone.

“Hello, ad’ika.” He says, continuing to hold you as you cling to him. 

“I missed you.” You whisper, not realizing just how much you had missed him. 

“I know.” He says, gently prying you away. “But you’re here now.” He brushes the hair from your face, before letting you go. 

You turn back to Din, looking down at the green bundle in his arms. You knew about Grogu, at least who he was to Din and what had happened to him. Din had told you all about his adventures with the little green troublemaker who also happened to be a wizard of sorts. Or, at least that’s how Din had described him. 

Din introduces you, looking down at Grogu. 

He leaps from Din’s arms, and you instinctively grab onto him before you even realize it’s happened. “Oh my.” You say, settling him before looking down at him. He blinks up at you with huge brown eyes, tilting his head. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” You practically squeal, slapping Din’s arm with your hand. “You didn’t tell me he was this cute!” You wrap your arms around Grogu, squeezing him against your chest. “I just wanna squeeze him!” You release him after a couple seconds, adjusting him in your arms so you're cradling him like a baby. “You, little cutie,” You tap his little nose. “Are never leaving us again.” You turn, giving Din a pointed look. 

“I think we have a lot to discuss.” Boba says, watching you with a suspicious look on his face. 

Din nods. “We do.” 

“Are you hungry?” Boba asks. 

Both you and Grogu look up at him. “Yes!” You answer before he’s even finished asking. 

“Of course you are. Shouldn’t have bothered asking.” Boba says, calling for the table and food to be brought into the throne room. 

***

Din can barely keep his eyes off of you as you sit and eat lunch. Grogu is happily seated in your lap, eating food off your plate. You are on your third plate, having cleared most of the food yourself. Din’s arm is around the back of your seat, his own plate empty. He’d eat later. 

Instead he tells Boba about your journey. He already knew some of it, thanks to your regular updates, but the last bit and the finer details he had missed out on. Din tells him most everything, keeping the more intimate bits out of the story. He tells him about your injury and the revelation about what had happened to the ship that never made it to Concordia. 

“So why the sudden decision to come home?” Boba asks, looking between you. 

You glance up at Din, staring into his visor for a moment. “I’m pregnant.” 

The room falls silent, Boba setting his fork down slowly. Din’s hand tightens into a fist where it rests across the back of your chair. Even Grogu is quietly watching, looking between everyone. 

“I thought you both had the implant.” Fennec says, breaking the tense silence. 

“We do.” Din says. “Well, we did.”  

“The efficiency of it is only theorized.” You say. “Omegas have a higher virility rate during heat cycles and the implant is designed for non-omegas. Depending on the virility rate during a certain heat, the implant can be rendered entirely ineffective. Omegas used to have ways to prevent pregnancy during heat cycles, but now that most of us are gone and Mandalore was destroyed, I’m not sure there’s anyone out there who still knows how to do it.” 

“This is what you want?” Boba asks, still staring between you. 

“We talked about it. A lot.” You say. 

“We both agreed that maybe it’s time for a career change.” Din finishes for you. 

“The offer still stands.” Boba says.

“Then I am more than happy to accept.” Din says. 

You pass Grogu to Din before standing up, moving to Boba’s side. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. “Thanks, Grandpa.” 

“Easy, ad’ika.” Boba warns, but there’s a smile on his face. 

***

Din steps out of the fresher, wearing nothing but a thin shirt and pants. You’re stretched out on the bed on your side, Grogu snuggled against your chest. He was already enamored with you, seeming to understand the new dynamic in the way that he understood a lot of things. Din had told him about you and your place in his life, and though Grogu hadn’t offered much in an agreement of understanding, Din knew he understood. 

Din approaches the bed slowly, your eyes cracking open. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” He asks. 

You shake your head, reaching out for him. 

He crawls onto the bed, settling himself on the other side of Grogu. He can hardly believe Grogu is back. He doesn’t really understand why or how, but he’s glad Grogu has returned. He had missed the little troublemaker. Of course, the prospect of raising two children now is a bit intimidating, he at least already knew what to expect from Grogu. 

You tangle a hand in his shirt, holding onto him. He stretches an arm above Grogu’s head, slipping it under your neck. You press your nose against his arm, inhaling his scent. “I’m happy.” You whisper, turning your face back to look at him. “I’m happy we got some of those nerf herders taken care of. I’m happy we decided to come back when we did. I’m happy you have Grogu back.” 

“We have our aliit back together.” He says, lowering his other hand to your stomach. There’s no real bump there yet, no sign of the tiny life that’s forming, but he knows. Somehow he can sense your child forming inside you. “And soon, we’ll have another member.”  

“I’ll try not to beat you up too much.” You say, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. 

He smiles, kissing the palm of your hand. “From what I’ve heard about you, I’d be more concerned if you didn’t.” 

You smile, laughing quietly. “I love you.” 

He puts a hand over yours, pressing it against his cheek. He stares at you, at the way you seem to glow in the low light of the room. You're beautiful. He’s so lucky to have you, so lucky to have been given the chance at something most Mandalorians only dreamed of. He has his aliit, you’re together and you’re safe. That’s what really matters. 

He smiles, leaning over Grogu to kiss you softly. “I love you too.” 

Taglist:

@donttamethebeasts, @unicorntrooper, @spacecluster, @hugmedin, @hungrhay, @fic-for-readers, @jaydiann, @tonystank3, @lokigirlszendaya, @6oceansofmoons, @star-trekker-0013, @bobaprint

#star wars #star wars fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x reader #din x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #alpha din djarin #omega reader #a/b/o

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 3: The Fever

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Spencer is getting sick and it’s not a pleasant time for anyone.

Read chapter 3 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

97 days ago he had run a little experiment: see how long he could last before the pain became intolerable. He had made it 25 hours and 38 minutes before he called his dealer. He didn’t really know why he did it, as he had no real intention of getting clean. Just to be aware of his limitations? To torture himself? To remind himself how unbearable life was sober?

It didn’t really matter.

It had, however, continued to be a useful metric for gauging time in the bunker. Unfortunately, they were now headed into uncharted territory. The last time he had gone through full withdrawal was years earlier. He hadn’t been using as heavily or for as long a period as he had been this time, so all he could really say for certain is that as bad as it had been before, it would be worse now.

The lights had not so much as dimmed for a second. He wondered if she was ever going to switch them off or if they were to live in a single, perpetual day as long as they were there. At least in prison he’d had lights out and his own cell.

She’d given them one more bag of fruit about half an hour ago. So, a bag of fruit every 12 hours or so was the feeding schedule thus far.

“At least we won’t get scurvy,” mumbled Rossi, begrudgingly downing his last lemon wedge.

“We need medical supplies!” yelled Derek, looking to the camera. “He’s already sick and it’s going to get worse! If you want us to learn whatever lesson you’re trying to teach, you have to keep us alive long enough to understand it!”

“It’s fine, Derek,” muttered Spencer, who shivered violently on his thin foam mattress on the floor with his head in JJ’s lap. “Don’t waste your energy.”

Derek looked up at the camera and glared one last time, then knelt down beside Spencer, stroking a hand over his cheek. The touch distracted him from his crawling skin.

“You just have to make it through a few days of this Spence, then it gets better,” reassured Emily.

“I know,” he said. “I wish she would turn down the lights, at least,” he grumbled.

Hotch had been silent for a long while, sitting alone on the opposite side of the room. Rossi walked over to him and sat down beside him. He spoke with Hotch in low tones, eventually managing to coax him into conversation. Spencer could make out the words ‘Elias Voit,’ said by Hotch in a questioning tone. They were quiet enough and far enough away that Spencer couldn’t properly follow the conversation, but the murmur of the low voices was soothing.

He was glad not to listen. He didn’t envy Hotch having to learn about what Voit had done to Rossi while he wasn't there to help. He’d been on the other side of that conversation.

“It’s too hot in here,” he whined, eyes shut tight against the fluorescents, still shivering despite his burning skin.

JJ stroked her hand down his arm. “You have a fever.”

He pushed himself up for a moment, Derek reaching out an arm to stabilize him. He ripped his button down pajama shirt off leaving only a singlet underneath. He immediately curled back up on JJ’s lap, exhausted by the effort.

It took him a moment to notice the murmur across the room had ceased and JJ’s hand had stilled. He cracked an eye open.

They were all staring at him like he’d just told them there was a bomb in the room. “What?” he asked, pushing himself clumsily back up to a sitting position, letting the wall behind him take his full weight.

JJ stared at him helplessly. Emily had a hand covering her mouth. Even Rossi and Hotch across the room seemed to be leaning forward, locked on him.

“Jesus, Spencer,” said Derek, too dumb struck to bother with the usual epithets.

Spencer followed his gaze.

He might have vomited when he realized what they were all looking at if his stomach wasn’t already completely emptied out an hour ago.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“It looks like you’re trying to slowly kill yourself,” said Derek bluntly.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you in short sleeves,” said JJ. “How did I not notice that?”

Spencer reached down to grab his shirt discarded only a moment ago, pulling it back on. One last flash of his forearms, both of which were littered with track marks, fresh, healing, and long since scarred over.

“No, Spence, you don’t have to do that,” said Emily quickly. “You should be as comfortable as you can be right now.”

“She’s right,” said Derek, shaking his head as if to snap himself out of a thought. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. It’s not like we didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled. “I understand.”

“I need a minute,” said JJ quietly, getting up and walking quickly to the bathroom.

Spencer watched her go helplessly. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Emily looking at him sympathetically. He stared up at the camera.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. “Are you getting what you need?”

The light blinked its non-response.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, pulling his shirt tighter around him, in part to ensure his arms stayed hidden, in part because the burning was starting to turn to an unbearable chill. Derek put an arm around him and he leaned into it.

Rossi and Hotch went back to their whispered conversation.

When JJ emerged a considerable time later, her eyes were red rimmed and swollen.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at her. “I’m sorry for putting you through this.”

She smiled wetly at him, taking a seat on his other side and throwing her arm around him to join Derek’s.

“It wasn’t about you,” she told him. “Well... it was, but not completely. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m currently locked in a bunker with no idea if my kids are safe,” she sniffed. "It's got me a little emotional for some reason."

He squeezed her hand. “They’re safe. I know they are.”

“Yeah, big brain? How do you know?” she teased, tears spilling softly.

“I just do.”

She hugged him tight. When she pulled away she huffed a laugh. “It’s nice to have a space with a little privacy, but it’s oddly considerate of her to put a door on the bathroom, right? Seems thematically inappropriate for someone so obsessed with exposing people.”

He laughed too. “Let’s not question that too much,” he said. “We wouldn’t want to give her ideas.”

JJ sniffed again, head lolling gently into Spencer’s shoulder. Her eyes drooped.

“You should all get some sleep,” said Emily softly. Then, louder to the whole room, “We’ve been here at least a day and we can’t keep pushing through forever. I don’t like the idea of all of us being asleep at once, and someone needs to be awake for Spencer anyway. I’ll stay up for now, but everyone else should try to get a few hours.”

“I’ll stay up too,” said Hotch from across the room. Emily nodded.

Derek went to open his mouth, presumably to volunteer, but Emily cut him off. “It doesn’t work if we all stay awake,” she said with a hint of amusement. “I know nobody wants to sleep, but it has to happen eventually. Hotch and I will get some rest when you’re awake,” she promised.

Derek begrudgingly said, “Fair enough.”

They all spent a bit of time rearranging the room. They put the mattresses on the side furthest from the door, but left Spencer’s mattress on the opposite side of the room. It was the best they could do to try and have a quiet zone for sleeping and to keep Spencer where he could be watched.

He wanted to protest, hating that they were arranging everything around him. Unfortunately, having to duck out halfway through the process to hunch over the toilet and clear out the last dregs of bile in his stomach undercut any argument he could have made.

Sleep did not come easily to JJ, Derek and Rossi. Despite the extreme exhaustion they must all be feeling, they each tossed and turned in fits and starts for what seemed like hours.

Emily and Hotch sat quietly with Spencer, not speaking so as to not disturb the others. They took turns getting up to pace back and forth for a while, wearing only socks to dampen the noise. Probably keeping moving to force themselves to stay awake.

Spencer wished he could sleep. He tried closing his eyes. Tried curling up and stretching out, or lying perfectly still for all of 5 seconds at a time before the bugs crawling over every inch of his skin demanded to be scratched at.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to find unconsciousness. His vision swam and his awareness waned, but he found no relief.

Why were they torturing him?

There were hands touching him, trying to rip his skin off. He batted at them and tried to scramble away, but they pulled him back.

Emily!

It was Emily whispering something in his ear. Thank God she was there.

She would keep him safe.

The bugs kept crawling on him but she was there. They would bite but she wouldn't let them tear his flesh too deeply.

Voices drifted in from above him and he felt a gentle stroking through his hair. He was waking up, which means he had fallen asleep after all.

He was awake and he was boiling alive.

“I wish I could have seen it,” came Hotch’s whispered voice with an unexpected laugh.

Emily laughed back, too loud, before Hotch hushed her. “Trust me, you don’t. He must have been the dumbest Unsub we ever dealt with. I’m sure the whole thing would have gone much smoother if you were still at the helm.”

“Because everything was so carefree when I was running the BAU,” said Hotch sarcastically.

Emily paused. “Maybe not, but that’s the job. None if it was your fault. You were a great leader, Hotch. We miss you.”

“You left first,” he pointed out.

“The job, not the team,” she countered. “Besides, I came back.”

“They’re damn lucky you did.”

Neither of them spoke for a while. He tried to tell them he was awake but his eyes and mouth were shut with glue. It was sticky and cloying and his body was too heavy to fight it.

“Doesn’t feel like I’m doing a very good job,” said Emily, sounding distant.

“Do you think if we get out of here-”

“When,” interrupted Emily.

“Do you think he’ll stay clean?”

A beat. “I don’t know. I hope so,” she said, pained.

Hotch sighed. “What the hell happened to him after I left?”

He felt a hand softly stroke his bare arm. Was it her or was it Hotch?

He didn’t remember taking his shirt off again.

They could see. They could see and it disgusted them. He wrapped his arms tighter into himself.

“A lot.” She sounded how people sound when they’re speaking through an injury, trying to pretend they aren’t in pain. “How could I miss this for so long?”

“It’s sounds like you haven’t seen him in person for a while.”

“Exactly. I should have known something was wrong,” she insisted. “I don’t know what triggered this. What if he doesn’t want to stop?”

She flinched when he mumbled “Not your fault.” It came out garbled and slurred.

“Hi, Spence,” she whispered, full of love. “You’ve been in and out for a while. You’re getting dehydrated. Can you try and drink some water?”

He cracked his eyes open, pulling back against the light. He tried to sit up but didn’t have the strength to support his own weight, so he just rolled onto his back instead. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated in case she hadn’t understood him. “I don’t want to be fixed,” he said, every word like gravel in his throat.

Her’s and Hotch’s faces swam in his vision. He lolled his head to the side and saw the sleeping forms of his other friends.

“You can’t go on like this, Spence,” she said mournfully, cradling his head in her lap. “You’ll die.”

The bugs were back, crawling all over him. He could actually see them this time. They flew around the periphery of his vision like dark stars. “We’re all going to die,” he said, knowing in his heart it was true. They were never making it out of this bunker.

“We’re not going to die,” said Hotch’s voice from a million miles away. “I won’t let it happen.”

He couldn’t look away from Emily. One of the bugs crawled down her cheek. He reached out a shaking hand and brushed it away. It dissolved into water. More and more came, wetting his thumb as he wiped them away. They were crawling out of her eyes, marching single file down to her chin. “I already died,” he said. It happened on the floor of a cabin in Georgia. “Tobias brought me back, but he left a piece behind. It’s okay though,” he breathed. “It’s okay. He showed me what to put there instead.”

If he could just explain it right, maybe they could understand.

His peripheral vision went dark and he fell into a pit of fire ants. They bit every inch of his skin, over and over and over.

“You died too…” Tears stung his eyes like acid. He wished she was there to comfort him but he was alone again. “I went to your funeral.” He was alone in the bunker. They left without him. Why would they do that?

Lights flashed in the darkness and they pierced him like daggers. Hands grasped at his clothes, at his body, at his mind. He recoiled from the touch, but it kept coming.

Somewhere nearby was a needle that could get him out of this hell. He searched for it and screamed for it and cast out blindly and begged.

It never came.

Nobody came to save him.

An eternity passed.

Then…

Awake.

He cracked an eye open, groaning at the stupid motherfucking goddamn fluorescent lights. He could tear those things from the roof with his bare fucking hands at this point.

“Jesus, kid. Tell us how you really feel,” said Rossi from somewhere behind him.

Had he said that out loud?

“Spencer!” yelped JJ. “You’re awake! Emily, Hotch, get up, he’s awake! Like, actually conscious!”

“Why are you yelling?” rasped Spencer, dragging himself to sit back against the wall and covering his eyes with his hands. “I feel like I’m going to puke.”

When he opened his eyes, the entire team was gathered around him. Derek pulled him into a hug. “Oh thank God,” he heard from Emily.

He recoiled. There was too much happening at once and every part of him hurt. “Guys! Stop touching me! I’m sorry, but stop!”

They all backed away, hands raised. “Sorry,” said JJ. “We’re all just relieved.”

He looked at them all. Really looked.

Each one of them had greasy hair, rumpled clothes, dark circles under their eyes. Everyone had discarded their shoes and jackets in a corner, standing in various degrees of undress and rumpled underclothes. Hotch, Rossi, and Derek had thick layers of unkempt stubble.

“You all look like shit.”

A few of them cracked a smile. Rossi scoffed. “You’re one to talk.”

There was a small wicker basket that seemed to contain some things, he wasn’t sure what. But the existence of any kind of new item was significant, given the circumstances.

“What happened?” he asked, then cleared his throat. His mouth felt like it was filled with ash. “How long was I out?”

Emily looked at him sympathetically. “Your fever spiked about two days ago. At least, we think it was two days. It got pretty intense for a while. You were delirious,” she said carefully. He could only imagine what a nightmare he’d been to deal with. He didn’t particularly want the details and was glad when she glossed over it. “The fever finally broke. You’ll probably still have acute symptoms for the next couple of days, but you’re through the worst of it.”

“The Unsub gave us some supplies,” said Rossi, nodding towards the basket. “I guess she realized she didn’t actually want any of us to die, at least not yet. We kept yelling out, asking for medical supplies. All we got was aspirin, but it was enough to help bring the fever down. We have a few left. Afraid that’s all we can give you for the pain.”

“How compassionate of her,” said Spencer, looking mistrustfully at the basket.

“We also got soap,” said Derek, almost excitedly. How simple life’s pleasures became when you were living in captivity. “So at least we can wash off in the sink and clean our clothes. It’s better than nothing.”

“Is that a hint?” joked Spencer.

“Just figured you’re probably dreaming of a shower by now,” he smirked.

They were all looking at him with such relief. Hotch was not lingering behind the group like he had been before. He smiled warmly at Spencer when their gaze met. It was a soft look that was incongruent with his memories of the man.

Not that Hotch was never soft, but that he was rarely soft in that way with the team.

“Sorry for putting you through that,” he said guiltily.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” said JJ. “You’re not the one who locked us up down here.”

“Still,” he said. Then; “Have we received anymore notes?”

“Not yet,” said Emily. “I’m not surprised. She wouldn’t have been able to get us to care about much else while you were so sick. She strikes me as someone who wants a high degree of control over when and how we respond to things.”

He nodded. It made sense. “I need some water,” he said, trying to push himself up to go drink from the bathroom tap. He made it halfway to standing before he collapsed again. Derek leapt forward to fling an arm around him and guide him to the ground gently.

“You’ll be glad to know that one of the items in our little gift basket was a cup,” said JJ. She picked something up out of the basket and walked to the bathroom, emerging a moment later.

She handed Spencer a small, flimsy plastic cup of water, which he drank thirstily. Emily took the cup once he was done and set it aside.

“How’s the nausea?” she asked. “We saved you some fruit. It’s still only been fruit. I could kill for a pizza or burger or just, like, a whole roast pig… God I miss protein. I'd settle for a can of baked beans at this point.”

He evaluated the sensations he was currently feeling, isolating the sickness in his stomach from the aching and itching of the rest of his body. “I’ll try to eat, but no promises it stays down. Is she still only doing drops once every 12 hours?”

“It’s hard to keep track of time,” said Hotch, finally contributing, “but that seems to be the case. Aside from the inevitable deficiencies of an all fruit diet, she doesn’t seem to be trying to starve us. There’s always enough fruit for us all to eat multiple pieces, and we can portion out our meals across the 12 hours. We’ve been speculating that the restrictive schedule might have more to do with her than it does with us. She may have other commitments, potentially even shift work. Or maybe this bunker is located remotely and she has to commute. It’s hard to say.”

“Huh,” he said vaguely, mind still foggy. He shook his head to clear it.

Emily frowned at him. “You should try and get some more sleep,” she said, gesturing for the others to give him some space. They all did. “I think you’re out of danger, but you’re still not well. You need to rest.”

He wanted to argue, but he was already drooping heavily towards the mattress. “Just wake me up if anything happens,” he requested.

She nodded. He lay down curling up on his side, completely wiped out by the interaction. As he brought his arm up to rest under his head, he was caught off guard by the bare skin. He was still only wearing his singlet, leaving his arms exposed.

He tried not to look too closely most of the time. He’d complete the ritual of getting high without lingering too long on the sobering visual.

His arms were a mess. The most recent track marks were scabbing over, making it look even worse than it had just days ago. He loathed that they could see it. That they could see him.

He loathed even more that the only thing on his mind as he drifted to sleep was how desperately he wanted to shoot up.

#criminal minds #bau team as family #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #bau team #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #spencer reid

[miscellaneoussmp]

I've been writing a lot of fluff, so I am back to writing angst. Anyways, here's something about soulmates and below average body temperature (cw/tw: General Pac trauma and blood/violence mentions):

Pac's always ran a little colder than everyone else. That's just a fact of life. It's always been like this. Pac's body temperature always surprised people, too. Nobody seemed to expect his hands to be cold or him to shiver when others were sweating. Maybe that's why he took to running. You can't be cold when adrenaline forces your body to warm your muscles to run for your life. That's a bit of an exaggeration, but that's beside the point. Pac's always been cold. Mike never questioned why his other half's hands were always cold to the touch, accepting it as fact. His hands were warm, melting the cold from the very beginning. That's just how it is.

Pac had always exaggerated when he said he's freezing. Then, he was laying on cold concrete. Every little bit of warmth was draining from him, even though his lungs burned as they expelled whatever oxygen they could to produce sound. The scream turns to static in Pac's ears even now. Then, he's stabbing himself in the thigh with a needle, his hands shaking. Adrenaline. It spread warmth around his body. Forcing his heart to keep pumping just a bit longer. Cold metal and plastic replaces flesh, Pac thinks it's fitting.

Even when he's cold, wet, trapped, and most importantly alone, Pac can still feel a sense of warmth. It's somewhere in his heart, or soul, or something like that. It's been there for years. He knows it's Mike, even when they're apart. It's love, their version of it, sitting comfortably in his chest. Love is warm as it's meant to be. He knows there's more love than what exists in the fabric of his very being. This love is easier to hold onto, a spark that keeps him from freezing. Then, people are saved from the motionless frost. Pac finds family in the frost. Tubbo's hands are cold like his. There's no temperature difference in shared materials. It's almost exciting; the shared cold. Fit's hands are warm, burning like a flame, but that might be Pac's exaggerations again. It's almost exciting; having an external heat. Then, Mike falls into inky black void. The spark disappears with him. Pac wonders if he'll finally freeze over now.

Pac thinks he's getting colder, physically and emotionally. His spark is missing, and he's terrified to find out who will leave him next. He's offered a way to stave off part of the freeze that threatens his being. The pills are white like snow. They buzz under his skin with artificial electric warmth. It's exciting; his tears and blood rushing from his nose don't threaten to burn him from the inside out. The electrical buzz of artificial warmth keeps him from freezing solid. It feels so good to be warm. Then, he's trapped in cold metal bars again. Pac's handed another needle, his hands shaking. Stabbing the needle into the thigh, which is still connected to flesh and bone, sends a rush of cold throughout his body. Cellbit's hands are warm, as he helps Pac stand again, they hold a promise. Pac wonders if he'll ever be warm on his own.

It's cold. It's really cold. Mike's hands are cold, too. That's new and terrifying in an unfamiliar way. Pac can't feel the spark, even as he stands in front of him. The spark was reduced to nothing but a fading ember lacking warmth but still glowing red. He can't warm Mike's hands within his own. Pac's other half's hands are just marginally still warmer than his. He tries to ignore the way they both shiver in the sun.

For as long as Pac could remember, he's held a pointed icicle at his own chest, over his heart. The sharp ice always just far enough away to not be an immediate threat but close enough to be noticed. It was always melted by the spark, sharp point dulling in the process, and pulled away by Mike. He wouldn't let Pac freeze. Now, there's a hand over his, coming from behind him instead of infront, and the other at the blunt end of the ice pushing it closer. The icicle now threatens to pierce his heart as it sits barely touching his sternum. It's love, their version of it, threatening his chest. Love is as cold as it's supposed to be. Maybe, just maybe, Pac thinks, freezing over wouldn't be so bad if it was caused by the person he loves and trusts the most, his soulmate. Maybe, just maybe, if Pac uses enough force, he could pierce both their hearts.

#qsmp #qsmp drabble #qsmp fanfiction (sorta) #qsmp pac #qsmp mike #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp tubbo #qsmp fit #qsmp cellbit #half of this was written from 1-3 am so please enjoy my tired ramblings #we love pac here prommy #my ass and symbolism somebody should stop me /silly #im a member of the always cold club can yall tell?

[xmalereader]

Bruce Wayne X Brother! Reader || 2 ||

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|| Masterlist || ONE ||

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Authors Note: I did have a sadder version but lost inspiration half way and decided to end it short :/ sorry everyone!

Summary: Reader and Bruce are both brothers who grew up together. One had everything while the other lost everything.

Warnings: Slight fluff, some angst, brotherly love, slow build up.

Word count: 1.3k

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He glared at the flowers that leaned against the door frame. He glared at the letter attached to them.

Bruce Wayne

It’s been two weeks since they’ve last spoken and everyday since then his brother was always leaving him gifts behind. He told him to stay away and to pretend like he didn’t exist, he didn’t want to be known and with Bruce leaving these gifts behind only made him grow angry.

He picks up the bouquet and letter, tossing them both in the trash bin nearest to the kitchen as he leaves for the day. He’s always ignoring the gifts he gets, wether they are good or not he’s not keeping anything that’ll remind him of his brother.

He leaves his apartment building and heads down to the art shop where he sees Julie outside putting up signs. She takes notice of his glare and winced. “Another?” She questions which earns her a nod. “He won’t stop.” He grumbled out angrily as he steps inside the shop, looking for some new sketchbooks since he completed his last one two days ago. “Maybe he really wants to catch up, you know? I mean, he’s the only family you’ve got.” Julie follows him around the shop. The two have grown close to become friends.

“He’s not my brother, we were never close as kids and he rarely knows me.” Y/n huffs out, bending down to check on some notebooks.

“Yeah—well maybe he does want to know you.” Julie smiles. “Just give him a chance.” She’s been trying to convince him to bond with his brother who he rarely spoke to or even knew. The two boys were never close and they never tried to create a bond until now.

Bruce was trying to hard and all he wanted was to be alone and get back to his normal life. “Why don’t you give him something back?” Julie asks, tapping her finger against her chin as she thinks. “Leave him some art work, small work.”

“I’d rather leave him a death threat on his doorstep and tell him to fuck off.” Y/n mumbled over his shoulder as he picks a blue notebook and stands back up, sighing deeply as he ran his fingers through his hair in exhaustion. “Fine—I’ll send something small but I’m not creating a bond with him.”

“Technically, you sending something is already a form of bonding—“

“Shut up!”

Julie laughs at him as she rings him out. Y/n is quick to leave the shop and back out into the streets. He shivers at the cold wind, Gotham will soon be covered in snow and he wasn’t a big fan of the cold weather. He sighs to himself as he stuffed his things in his bag, biting his lip as he thinks back to what Julie told him about bonding with Bruce.

He didn’t know what to give Bruce, the man already had everything. What else would he need?

Y/n finds the situation complicated and instead changed his mind on even trying. He’d rather deal with Bruce being annoying towards him instead of creating that bond they never had. He zips up his jacket and began to head home, ignoring the other civilians of Gotham who also walked down the pavement. He sighs deeply to himself once he arrived back home, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

He pushed the door open only to see a sealed up letter fall from the door. He raised a brow and bends down to pick it up, turning it over to see his brothers name. He frowns deeply, holding the letter right between his fingers as he turns back around and heads down the hallway.

He’s had enough of these petty gifts. He wasn’t going to allow Bruce to bribe his way into his life, no way in hell is he going to allow that. So, he makes his way towards Wayne tower where his lovely step brother is living, watching everyone from above. Bruce was the real Wayne here in Gotham while he remained as nothing. He didn’t care about money or titles, he just wanted to be left alone and didn’t want to get involved with Bruce’s life again.

He spent too many years alone and doesn’t care if Bruce is trying to make things up. The man was far too late in trying to reconnect.

Upon his arrive to the Wayne tower, he is able to find a way inside without having to deal with anyone getting in his way. He lived in the tower himself, knowing the secret routines into sneaking out and getting in without being detected. He still remembers the days he snuck out without his parents knowledge, trying to find some freedom from being hidden.

He walks through one of the tunnels that takes him down to the basement. It used to be full of cars or other additional storage, but he didn’t expect himself to stumble upon his brothers nightly activities. The place was set up with computers along with equipment for his suit. His brothers motorcycle parked near the entrance along with his car hidden underneath a tarp. Now he knows where he keeps everything hidden.

He shakes his head with a groan, rubbing his temples as he continues to walk through the basement where he finds Bruce hunched over his computer, not knowing he was there. So, he approached his brother and slams the letter down, startling Bruce with wide eyes as he stands from his seat.

“How did you—?”

“Stop sending me things.” Y/n cuts to the chase. “If you think sending me things is going to fix our family relationship, well it’s not.” He points a finger at bruce, glaring at him. “I told you to leave me alone. To pretend like I don’t exist—now stop the bribing because it’s not going to work.”

Bruce frowns, standing from his seat as he glanced at the letter and then back at his brother. “I’m not bribing you, I just want to start over. I know that we didn’t get along well as kids but you are still my brother.”

“Step brother.” Y/n corrects him, sighing deeply. “It doesn’t matter Bruce, it’s not your responsibility to reconnect.”

“You weren’t there.” Bruces voice grows louder, stepping forward as he takes ahold of his arms, giving him a soft glare. “You weren’t at our parents funeral and you never showed up back home. I thought you were gone forever or that you ran away! I searched for you, Y/n. You can tell me that we never got along but I wanted you by my side. You’re all I have left and searched for you.”

Y/n shakes his head, pulling away from Bruce’s hold. “Bruce, that was a long time ago—focus on yourself, focus on being Gothams knight.” He gestures to the basement, letting him know that he is to continue on without him. To be Batman and to continue helping the city.

“Just give me a second chance.” Bruce steps up, a hint of desperation on his face. Bruce was alone when he grew up and expected his brother to be there with him but he wasn’t. Now that he has him back, he doesn’t want their relationship to be ruined again. “Just a chance.” He says again as Y/n looks away, debating if he should give this another try or not.

Y/n sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. “I’ll give you another chance.” He mumbled out but quickly points a finger to Bruce. “But don’t ever mention my name or that we are brothers. I want a calm and peaceful life and not have the press coming after me, got it?” He warns. Bruce nods in return. “Got it.”

“Good.” Y/n sighs deeply as he shakes his head, brushing past him as he heads towards the elevator. “I’m hungry, so I’m going to eat here.” He grumbled out, ignoring Bruce’s smirk as he enters the elevator, giving his older brother a glare while he rode the elevator up. He said he would give this a second chance, he never promised that things will go back to normal between them

#male reader #Bruce Wayne x male reader #Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x brother reader #dc x male reader #dc #Batman #Batman x male reader #robert battinson

[rainbow600-art]

I meant to post this many days ago but simply forgot oops 😅

~

So I had actually started this in early December when we first got a look at Deep Cut’s designs for Frostyfest. Big Man’s look reminded me of Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon with that one meme so I wanted to draw that! I did a sketch, then nothing, cleaned it up and changed Frye’s pose, then put the project on hold. I didn’t go back to it until near the end of the Frostyfest since I realized that the results would help with the outcome of this meme! I had wanted to add Shiver to the piece but wasn’t sure how until again realizing the end results for the event would help paint the picture lol. I was on team Family and for real I thought with Friends being in the lead at half time they’d end up winning with team Solo only contributing with their sneak peek points (which would of been a perfect setup for the meme) only to have Solo sweep all the points! 😲 It made Frye’s line for the meme harder to write yet made it easy to make Shiver quote a different meme lol. Either way, this was fun to make and the Frostyfest was fun to participate in! ^^ Hope you guys enjoy!

Alternate versions under the cut

#mun #rainbow600-art #drawing #art #digital art #doodle #meme #meme art #sailor moon meme #sailor moon reference #splatoon #splatoon 3 #splatoon fanart #Splatoon deep cut #Splatoon deep cut fanart #deep cut fanart #splatoon frostyfest #Frostyfest #Splatoon frostyfest 2024 #frostyfest 2024 #splatoon big man #Big Man #big man fanart #splatoon frye #Frye #Frye fanart #splatoon shiver #Shiver #shiver fanart

[ali-annals]

it was all by design ('cause i'm a mastermind)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: G | Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ao3 | WC: 2.3k | TW: -

A/N: This is part of a series called The Eras Tour (Jasonette’s Version), a collection of Jasonette-centric fics I wrote for the Maribat discord server Maribat? Get In!’s 2024 Civil War event. Not beta’d.

Marinette schemes her way into becoming Jason Todd's girlfriend. He loves her more for it.

The crisp October breeze caressed the curls around the girl’s head, softly brushing them across her face with a cool kiss. She tucked them behind her ear, pinning them out of her eyes so she could better appreciate the night sky sparkling with diamond-like stars. 

The fresh air of the balcony was a paradise to Marinette, who had been in the stifling ballroom of Wayne Manor far too long. It was full of people, socialites from Gotham and celebrities from New York all wanting to schmooze with the Waynes and other more-influential-than-they 1-percenters.

The noise of the live music and clinking of crystal and boisterous conversation eventually drove Marinette to the relative peace of the muted balcony.

She gave one last lingering look at the stars before patting her hair and dress down, drawing in a deep breath as she put her hand on the knob of the balcony door.

The noise that had been muffled on the balcony was a shock to her ears and she immediately began making her plans to escape ASAP. She’d talked to everyone she wanted and needed to, had thanked her host and his butler, and had eaten her fill in appetizers. All her evening’s boxes had been checked.

Sliding into the shadows of the edges of the room, she began making her way to the grand doors of the exit all the way across the room when her vigilant gaze caught on someone.

He was in conversation with a small group of young men around his age, at the side of the room, his face shadowed. She could only make out his profile, but what she saw made her pause in her escape, trailing her eyes down his body. He wore a red dress shirt under a tailored black suit, the first two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up neatly to his elbows. She appreciated people who rolled their sleeves instead of just shoving the fabric up, especially on knits.

He laughed at something the redhead said, bringing his glass up to his mouth with a grin. Even from across the room, his laugh sent shivers through her; it was nice and warm, something she heard, focused as she was on his person.

His gaze turned slightly and met hers, then flicked back to his conversation partners.

A tiny bit piqued that he hadn’t even taken a second to appreciate how well her dress fit–which was her talking point for the night and something she was immensely proud of–she reminded herself that he may have a girlfriend or wife or boyfriend for all she knew.

With one last glance at him, memorizing his features in case she came across him at a future event, she continued on her path to the door. 

She had some research to do, and it was better done in the comfort of her fuzzy jammies and a glass of wine than on her phone in the shadows of a billionaire’s ballroom.

~~~

A night of research later, Marinette had filled a page of her notebook with what she knew about her new target, formatted as her usual client information sheet. The next three pages were filled with half-drawn-up plans and scribbled over strategies to get to know him better.

Name: Jason Todd

Age: 28

Birthday: 16/08/1996

Primary Residence: Gotham, NJ

Features: Black hair [white forelock]; light eyes [specifics?]; tan skin, warm undertone; 1.83 m/6’0”; trapezoidal body type; warm undertones & colours best suited to skin tone.

Contact Information: -

Social Circles: Martha Wayne Foundation 20th Annual Fundraising Gala…

Relation(s): Wayne Family of Gotham; Head Family of Metropolis.

Marinette loaded her photo software. She often sent her assistant to the events when possible if she was unable to attend, having her assistant photograph the event so she could later analyze the fashions. The camera focus was on the clothing, not the faces, but she still scanned through her files in case Jason had been caught in the background somewhere.

The results surprised her. He’d appeared more often than she expected, though always in the shadows or on the sideline, and only at events that were either Wayne-business related or were for fundraising or charity. Any simply-social events showed not a trace of him.

She opened her carefully colour-blocked and organized planner. How many events had she been invited to that she’d not yet RSVP’d?

~~~

The gala was in full swing by the time Marinette arrived, having rushed to it after finishing her commission at the last minute. It was a fundraising gala in New York for the branch of the Martha Wayne Foundation’s Family Founders mission there, and she hoped that she’d calculated correctly that Jason would be there.

The little research she’d been able to dig up on him had made it clear that he was very much the black sheep and wild child of the Wayne family, with no one ever entirely sure if and when he’d show up in places.

She was dying from curiosity about what he could be doing in between public appearances.  Whatever it was, she knew it would be fascinating.

She skimmed a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and headed deeper into the crowd, approaching Chloe. If she was in the middle of the room with her old friend, she could scour all the corners at once to see if her prey had arrived.

“Marinette, you look gorgeous!”

“Thanks, so do you,” grinned Mari, taking in the shimmering green dress she’d made for her friend. “Have you been here long?”

“Only since the start of the party,” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Perks of being the head coordinator–you get to be there hours before and after the party happens.”

“Head coordinator?” Marinette looked at her friend in shock. “You didn’t tell me you got promoted!”

“I had to tell you in person, didn’t I?” asked Chloe, gesturing to her sparkling presence as if to say, “Look at me”. “Tina retired, so I was promoted last week. It’s a good thing I was already working so hard on this event, so I was prepared for everything.”

“Lucky you,” said Marinette, giggling a little at the inside joke. 

Chloe rolled her eyes fondly. “Are you ever going to get over making those stupid puns?”

“Not as long as you keep reacting so humorously to them,” she replied, turning a little to scan the room.

“Looking for someone?” asked Chloe, catching her wandering gaze.

“Just…can you see who RSVP’d?”

“Yes…”

“Do you know if Jason Todd said he’d be here tonight?”

Chloe looked at her admiringly, whistling lowly under her breath. “Dang, girl, you’ve got taste! I believe the Waynes simply RSVP’d for four. I don’t know who.”

Marinette wasn’t expecting it to be easy, but when had she ever liked easy? She’d been a magical superhero while she was still in lycee, for kwami’s sake! The thrill of the chase was something she relished, planning out her moves and organizing her target’s schedule and pickpocketing phones to delete texts-

-okay, when she puts it that way, she sounds a little unhinged and obsessive and stalkery, but she really wasn’t that bad! If they didn’t like it, she backed off and respected their ‘no’, and she (usually) only got her information from publicly available sources that didn’t even realize the help they’d given her. 

She just didn’t know how to initiate anything by any other way, having grown up scheming her way into friendships and relationships as easily as she breathed. A cleverly-worded plea here, a subtle cue she’d Pavlov’d into a friend there, and she was golden. Her lucky targets never even knew they’d just been played.

It had been so easy to out Lila, the little wannabe-manipulator. She couldn’t even research a believable untruth, or wait until her ‘friends’ had been lulled into trusting her fully before she overplayed her hand too fast, too much, too soon. It was always better to use little by little–it was more believable if they didn’t realise you’d been doing it for ages, like that frog-cooking analogy.

Marinette sighed faux-sadly into her champagne as she thought of her ex-classmate, whom she hadn’t seen or heard of in almost a decade. Knowing people was definitely the key to life.

Chloe nudged her arm. “The Waynes have arrived for their appearance. I think I see Todd among them.”

Marinette hummed an acknowledgement and drained her champagne, feeling like the bubbles were flowing through her blood as the thrill of the game began anew. Time to go on the hunt.

~~~

Jason Todd was indeed among the Wayne party of four, looking particularly edible in a well-fitted black suit layered over a black shirt. Marinette preferred to add colour and pattern to men’s suits when she could–why were they all so boring; that’s why she liked Jagged so much–but she had to admit the black-on-black really worked for Jason, upping the mysterious aura about him.

Making her way slowly through casual greeting, Marinette eventually arrived at a small circle of socialites chatting just beside Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, and Cassandra Cain, who were mingling with donors.

Bruce glanced over just as Marinette brushed her long hair over her shoulder, leaning in to hear a socialite’s joke. Her laugh was interrupted by her name being called.

“Marinette! I thought that was you! Looking stunning tonight, although you always are, what with having a personal connection to designers, eh?” winked Brucie. 

“Bruce! Lovely to see you again. I see you’ve been cheating on me with Audrey,” she looked his suit up and down.

“When in Rome?” he laughed nervously. “Or I guess, New York. Oh! My children! You must meet them!” Collaring his three children attempting to make a stealthy escape, he introduced her to the man she wanted to meet. “Mari, these are my second- and third-oldest sons, Jason Todd-Wayne and Timothy Drake-Wayne, and my daughter, Cassandra Cain-Wayne. Kids, this is Marinette; she’s the designer that made me that suit I love–the one from that Times photoshoot the other year?”

“It’s nice to meet you all.” She shook their hands, letting her fingers rest a little longer on Jason’s than the others. “Your dad is one of my favourite customers.”

“Why’s that?” Timothy tilted his head like a bird.

“He lets me use the fun designs I’m dying to try–all the colourful or ‘different’ ideas. His suits aren’t just a suit off-the-rack or hand-tailored, they’re a challenge and a pleasure to work on.”

“So you don’t like a plain black suit then?” Jason raised his eyebrow, a small smile on the edges of his lips.

“I didn’t say that,” she assured him hastily over his siblings’ snickers. “You pull it off very well.” I’d like to pull it off you, she thought. “Not everyone can wear black-on-black without looking like they’ve still not left their emo stage.”

Several glances were exchanged among the family. 

“Did you have an emo stage?” wondered Bruce. “I wonder what a fashion designer’s emo phase would look like.”

Marinette shivered. “We don’t talk about Emonette in my atelier. Anyways, it’s lovely to meet you all. Please ask your dad for my information if you’d like to step out of your shadowy comfort zone,” she winked playfully at Jason. “Well, I see Audrey waving me over, and now I have a bone to pick with her, Bruce. Ciao!”

With a wave, she left them, taking great pleasure in the feeling of eyes on her as she went.

~~~

“Marinette, why are you still up?”

She looked up from the embroidery she’d occupied her hands with while she waited for Jason to get home. “I decided there’s something you need to know.”

“Okay…” He settled onto the sofa beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “What’s up, Pixie?”

“It’s about the start of our relationship…”

“Okay?”

“The whole thing was a ruse. I saw you at a party and you intrigued me, so I stalked you and planned out everything, every time we met at parties after that, what we talked about, even when you approached me it was because I’d planned for you to. I don’t know how to actually express interest in a normal, non-stalkery way. It’s only because I’ve planned it out and prepared for it that I act like I do. I manipulated you into liking me and being my boyfriend, but I can’t live with this secret anymore.”

Jason was silent for a few minutes, breathing deeply. Marinette didn’t dare to look at him, too nervous to find out if it was because he was trying to keep his temper in check.

“Mari, look at me.”

She glanced up, catching a smirk on his lips. She took a second, longer look. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“Mari, my innocent Pixie, I know.”

“What?”

“You know I do vigilante work, and I appreciate you waiting for me to tell you about it. Well, I’m the Red Hood. I was trained by Batman and the League of Assassins. My adoptive mother is the master manipulator of the League, and she taught me how to use it and recognize it. I’ve known from the first glance we shared at that party.

“You are absolutely a clever manipulator, Pix, and that’s honestly one of the things I like most about you, maybe because it’s familiar. You may have laid the groundwork for the beginning of our relationship, but you didn’t manipulate me into loving you. Know how I know? Because I love even the things you don’t, even your flaws, things you wouldn’t show me in case it ended your ruse. Well, that won’t work, because I’ve seen them and I love them and I love you, anyways. Good luck getting away from me, my Machiavellian mastermind.”

#jasonette #fic #ali writes #dcxmlb #mgi cw 24

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Tea Party

UUUUUH Gen!fic, my nemesis...Have a slice of family drama, hot beverages, and sad memories...

Characters: Elrond & Galadriel

Words: 1 362

Warnings: absolutely nothing (Kidnap fam maybe? Finrod is mentioned?)

Elrond took a sip of the mysterious brew his friend was pouring, paused, and then took another, deeper, gulp.

His eyes closed for a moment, and his mind was transported back.

“Is it to your liking?” Galadriel asked with a soft smile. “I have tried to emulate the recipe as closely as possible with the ingredients at my disposition in these woefully ravaged lands.”

“It tastes—” Elrond waved a vague hand through the fragrant air in search of the right words—even though he was old now, he felt as if all the years of his life were slowly melting in the aromatic steam rising from his dainty cup.

He was almost surprised—upon dropping his gaze—that the hands holding the demitasse were indeed his own as he now knew them rather than the clumsy, cold fingers of a half-even child, huddled against the stiff warmth of his captor’s body.

“They stole it anyway,” Galadriel laughed. “Did you know that? My mother brought home the first version of this tea from one of her seafaring voyages—or did my grandfather give it to her? Either way, it was always ours, but—as you well know—some people have no consideration for the property, intellectual or otherwise, of others.”

Tutting out of habit rather than conviction, Elrond gave her an exasperated look; his own feelings towards the dangerous murderers and kinslayers who had kidnapped, sheltered, raised, and loved him were much too complicated and contradictory to defend them before the Lady of Lórien.

How would he even dare? She—who had grown up with Maedhros and Maglor and whose kin had perished at the end of their ruthless blades—had welcomed him in her heart and her family despite his questionable allegiances, and he did not seek to dismay her.

It was too late to change the narrative that had fossilised into history, and all the longing, regret, and resentment they might stir up between them would only be dancing ashes of a fire long dead.

“You never speak of them,” Galadriel remarked softly, “and it worries me. Do you spare my feelings because they are my kin?”

“No,” Elrond contradicted slowly. “Nevertheless, I would ask of you to extend me the very courtesy I have so cruelly denied you.”

She cocked her head in curiosity and pity.

“I hate them not, you know? Long have I poisoned my heart with bitterness, but no more—would you tell me about the tea, just that, nought more? It seems obvious to me that you recognise the flavour—when did you first taste it?”

Looking up at one so glorious and timeless, Elrond once more felt like a mere child before her.

“It was winter, and so very cold. Even though it is exceedingly rare, it is possible for Peredhil to be taken ill.” He stopped to rub his brow, lost in the memory of the torturous, delirious fever that had assailed him.

He had been sure then that he was doomed to die, in an unfamiliar camp, utterly alone except for his shivering brother, to be thrown aside by the murderers of his kin and friends.

Galadriel made a soft, cooing noise—it was the instinctive sound of maternal soothing that seemed to be the same across all peoples and lands. The very thought warmed Elrond, and he smiled wistfully.

“They kept their packs close and only opened them very rarely, but—on that night when the sickness was burning through my blood and bone—I saw them upend the worn knapsacks almost frantically.”

Frowning to pierce the haze of centuries, Elrond looked into his cup as if the mere sight of the sloshing liquid would bring back memories he had long repressed.

“There was a box—tiny, evidently invaluable, and beautifully decorated—that they emptied into the cauldron they had stolen from a young mother in Sirion. This was the first and last time I’ve ever drunk this tea, but it strengthened and heartened me, and I was soon on the mend.”

Elrond took another careful sip, and Galadriel leaned forward to replenish his cup generously which earned her another wavering, grateful smile.

“They’ve never spoken of the brew again, and I believe that Elros took away the little container as a memento. It must lie on the bottom of the sea now—what a shame!”

Holding up her hand in the universal gesture of asking for patience, his mother-in-law swept out of the room and returned promptly, her fist closed loosely and carefully around a small, rectangular object.

“Was it like this one?” she asked and revealed a box quite similar in make and decoration to the one Elrond remembered so clearly.

It was confusing and alarming to him how the mere sight of an inanimate object could flood his mind and soul with whisps of recollection—beautiful as much as terrible—and how eagerly he now leaned into that maelstrom of stale emotions even though he knew that his aching heart would pay a terrible price for letting those ghosts back in.

When he nodded slowly, she uttered a long, shivering, undeniably pained sigh.

“I take back my cruel words then,” she whispered. “They did not steal the tea. These have been crafted by my brother—Findaráto, Finrod Felagund, King of Nargothrond, Prince of Hearts—and he must have given it to them as a token of goodwill.”

Her eyes closed as she sank into the swirling, treacherous pool of her own memories. “It must have been old and exceedingly valuable to them. These leaves had been brought over from the Blessed Realm, and even though I trust that my dear brother has managed to grow something similar, both Valinor and Nargothrond are lost to us now.”

“Not forever,” Elrond opined gently but resolutely. “Surely, our efforts will be rewarded.”

Her answering chuckle was as bright and cold as the stars overhead, and a sudden weariness slipped over her beautiful features. “Yes,” she finally hummed, “yes, I must have hope. Drink your tea, Elrond, and think lovingly of those who are no longer with us.”

“Shall you join me?” he asked quietly, afraid of reopening wounds that had festered for ages and might only have closed reluctantly under the strain of her imperious, unbreakably headstrong will.

“I have not—I did not believe anything good could come from dwelling on the past,” she admitted. “All our nightmares were reality—plain and beloved—to me once and going back means recognising the glaring errors in judgement that I—amongst others, of course—am guilty of.”

“Not so,” he protested again and lifted his cup gingerly. “This tea shall be proof that all that has been perverted and twisted into evil cannot stay lost forevermore—maybe, one day, all these things and people will be cherished dreams and comfortable reality again.”

“You would see them again and call them father?” Galadriel asked, astonished and humbled by the understated fortitude of character and soul of the mysterious creature who had become a beloved son-in-law, a valued friend, and a trusted ally.

Shrugging lopsidedly, Elrond drained his cup and smiled at her indulgently.

“Pray be so good as to show me how you’ve recreated this restorative brew. I have amassed lore about many plants over the years, and I’d be honoured to add this ancient, hallowed family secret to the Great Library of Imladris—for generations to come.”

“Take this,” she whispered and placed the little box in his warm palm. “I shall give you a seedling later. If you manage to make it flourish—as I have no doubt you will—I’d ask you to plant and tend to it in honour of my valiant, desperately loved, and sorely missed brother.”

Nodding gravely, Elrond thought of the jealously guarded remnants of those they had lost—gemstones, vials, and unextinguishable lamps—and smiled wistfully.

The sands of time might have buried their names and faces, extinguished the fire of their crimes, and sublimated the stories of their bitter calvary, but—or so he hoped—the essence of their valour, loyalty, and care were still alive and would be passed on for all eternity.

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #November #Nanowrimo2023 #Elrond & Galadriel #Elrond #Galadriel #Tea Party #Kidnap fam #finrod mentioned

[scarecrowdrugs]

I easily could have decided to go with Clarice being Jonathan's biological daughter, but having her be based on his little half-sister from Year One is something that's just so utterly juicy in regards to the potential dynamics I get to play around with.

For one, I think the only possible way for a Crane so heavily based on Year One to not immediately attempt violent murder is his canonical tendency to show some level of sympathy for victim of bullying/abuse. Karen Keeny's husband is shown to be physically abusive in the original comic and Clarice being older meant that I was going to explicitly make her a victim of family violence, as well.

That being said, the Year One focus also means that I have to closely examine the darker aspects of Crane. As much as i love Year One, that version of Jon is still a monster. Shivers Jonathan was meant to show a version of Year One Crane that actually managed to pull off his goals in the comic, in that this is a man who had every intention of slaughtering his entire family in cold blood. Jon didn't intend on taking that long drive out of Georgia with someone coming with him. Now, I don't think Jonathan would normally go out of his way to murder a child, but he's still nonetheless a man who was fully capable and very willing to murder a small child in front of his own mother. Or rather, in the case of Shivers Jon, murder a child next to the still warm corpse of her strangled mother.

So, I think that the only possible thing that could prevent Jonathan from finishing the job is the fact that he looked into the eyes of a scared little kid and he saw himself. And he flinched.

Jonathan Crane was not meant to be a father. He isn't kind, he isn't patient, and he is a person that has truly never known any sort of love or affection.

Jonathan Crane is a man who's known from birth exactly how it feels to be utterly hated.

He only kept Clarice because he wanted to show his mother exactly how much he hated her. That's what he tells himself, at least.

But every time he sees this frail little girl flinch the exact moment he raises his voice, it feels like being stabbed in the chest.

#crane's mommy issues hitting him right where it hurts #this man deserves to have more children traumatize him back #also i <3 dysfunctional parental bonds #shiversverse #jonathan crane #scarecrow #oc: clarice keeny #batman oc #domestic abuse tw #child abuse tw

[alienaiver]

jalousi (n.)

Shinsou Hitoshi x gn!reader

warnings: mostly just fluffy banter but the word fuck is used once if that’s not your thing!, Shinsou is a tadbit insecure but that’s mostly because he’s a needy baby and its all light-hearted. wordcount: 1.4k content: FLUFF, SFW, genderneutral reader!, poc!friendly reader, banter, canon compliant, established relationship, prohero!shinsou and prohero!reader but reader’s quirk isn’t mentioned, ‘babe’ and ‘my love’ is used as petnames for shinsou, shinsou is needy, eri is a budding pro hero!!!, not beta’d

notes: HI HEY HELLO THIS IS FOR THE LOVELY LUNA / @cup-of-fluff TIME TO SHINE COLLAB!!!! (go check out the other amazing works!!!). imo shinsou might be reserved with love until he’s had a taste of it and then hes NEEDY. physical affection and home-y traditions are whats his driving force!!!!! this was so much fun to write but i do apologize if its very self-indulgent!!! i hope you enjoy it and have some laughs as well <333 (the title is the danish word for jealousy btw, im just having fun with not being good at titles 🤡🥰✨) also fun fact, the cat is named flour but it’s a tabby <3

Shinsou unlocks the front door and hurries inside to take shelter from the biting wind. It’s been another cold day and he can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine upon feeling the temperature change inside the entrance of your shared home. He drops his sports bag and huffs out breaths into his palms to heat them back up – maybe he can tuck them safely around your waist and regain warmth from cuddles. He can’t help but smile at the thought.

“I’m home!”

He waits for your reply as he toes off his shoes at the genkan but none comes. He calls out your name and a low, “I’m in here!” is heard from the direction of the bedroom. He cocks up an eyebrow before making his way through your home to check what you’re up to. On the way through the living room he stops by the scratching post to greet Flour who eagerly purrs and butts into his open palm. In a high-pitched voice he asks the feline about his day and tells him how much he’s missed him. Dramatically, he gives a short re-telling of his shift and how he apprehended a villain with no shortages in sound effects. Shinsou won’t admit it, but he half expects and hopes that you’re leaning up against the doorframe, smiling at him and in a teasing voice, will tell him he’s cute. When he looks up to check, you aren’t there and his brows furrow before a pout forms.

When Flour jumps down from the post, stretches, and continues to the kitchen, Shinsou decides to continue his quest to receiving head scratches himself as he holds you close – it’s 11pm and he’s had an all-day shift due to shortage at the agency. Yesterday, you had a night shift, so he hasn’t actually seen you in well over 24 hours.

 In the bedroom you’re sitting in a thinking position with your legs propped underneath you, your head rested in your palm as you’re eyeing several items on the bed with an almost comical seriousness. He repeats his words from when he arrived with a quizzical look, “I’m home?”

Shinsou likes family-related traditions – having someone to announce he’s home to fills him with a soft love that he can’t quite place other than in the deepest parts of his heart and you know this. So when you’re so caught up in something else, he can’t help the way his underlip juts out. He’s well aware that he’s being a baby.

“Ah, yeah, sorry babe, welcome home,” you reply without even looking at him before you pick up a plushie. Upon further inspection Shinsou recognizes the design – he hasn’t seen it in plushie-form before, but the color scheme and patterns make him smile brightly as pride fills his chest.

“Is that an Eri plushie?”

You smile and nod, “this is the prototypes. It’s her first merch so she’s so nervous she asked me to look them over,” you explain as you turn the soft doll version of his little sister around in your palm. “…there’s something about the color of her eyes on this though, it’s off.”

Shinsou shuffles over to the side of the bed to take a look – but with only the nightlamp on, he can’t really tell much, so with a chuckle he goes to turn on the overhead lights – you must’ve sat here for a long time if you haven’t turned them on yourself. You continue to inspect the items with a scrutiny and seriousness he admires – he really does, but…

He can’t be faulted for wanting a kiss and a hug from his favorite person after so long, can he?

 He huffs out a breath before sitting down on the side of the bed – your side, specifically, to see if he can get a reaction from you.

There’s none.

So he flops down on his back, his head landing by your hip as he huffs out another – more dramatic and louder – breath. After a few seconds of nothing, he chances a look up at you, who’s now moved on to some keychains with your lip sucked in to nibble on.

He stretches his arms over his head and groans, pretending to be sore and lets them fall down like deadweight by his sides, secretly peeking up at you, gauging your reaction. Maybe you’ll ask if he’s had a long day.

Once again, he’s rewarded absolute fuck all.

He whines your name and turns to lie on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. His legs hang from the bed. You laugh, “what’s up, babe?”

What’s up?

What’s up?

He groans and presses his head into your hip to hide his embarrassment, “you’re ignoring me.”

He feels one of your hands travel through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and if he could purr, he would be doing so as he leans into your touch, “I want to give her thorough feedback so she won’t be unhappy with how it’ll look in the stores and the deadline is tonight,” you explain, turning a headband around in your palm that’s based on the headgear of her costume. Shinsou sighs loudly to make a point, “you can still go through it all in time while giving me a welcome home kiss.”

You chuckle before grabbing his ear and pulling it back and forth as you turn and lean down, “welcome home my love,” you say with a hint of a smile before you kiss the top of his head.

It’s not enough. He grabs you by your shoulders and a surprised noise escapes you as he forcefully lies you down and buries his head in your neck, “need more than a forehead kiss or I’ll start to think you don’t love me.”

He says it with a serious voice but the raspberry he blows into your neck makes you laugh out loud and trash your legs, “Hitoshi, stop!” you plead through desperate breaths as his fingers dance over your sides. Compared to how much he loathes getting tickled, he attacks you way too frequently with it.

When he stops, he looks at you with an almost begging look, “give me a kiss?”

You regain your breath while a hand runs through his hair and down his back, “as many as you want, you big baby.”

You melt into each other as he sighs into the kiss. He feels a smile creeping onto your lips which only makes him press his own harder against yours. When he pulls back, he looks away, “you love me, right?”

The insecurity laced into his question isn’t hard to detect. Shinsou’s been going through a lot of emotional stages in the 10 years you’ve been together so you also know he’s only half-serious right now. You smile and bite your lip to hold back a laugh, “you want Eri’s merch to look good too, right?” you ask back before you continue to answer him, “of course I love you, more than anything.”

“Even more than Eri’s merch?”

This time you don’t hold back your laughter. Shinsou doesn’t mind – he thinks your laugh is the most beautiful sound in the world so he’s never minded you teasing him or being the butt of a joke if it meant you’d let out a laugh for him. His embarrassment subsides and a lovesick smile graces his features as he takes you in. You finish with a chuckle, “a lot more than Eri’s merch.”

“Good, I was just checking.”

“Of course you were, big Mr. Brainwave. Mayhaps I’m just dating you to get to your family, right?”

Shinsou groans and falls back on the bed next to you, unable to continue your banter, “it’s perhaps or maybe, you can’t just combine them.”

You smirk, “mayhaps someone’s a little mangry.”

He jumps up from the bed, “that’s it, I’m leaving your ass. Have fun with your merch and stop hanging out with Denki so much!”

A loud, villainous-like laugh leaves you as you grab onto your own stomach, “not when it’s this fun! Hey, if you’re going to the kitchen can you bring me a water?”

A resonant and firm “no!” is heard throughout the apartment but after a few minutes, a water bottle is thrown towards you in the bed. You blow him a kiss and he give you the middle finger. Both of you look forward to finally sleeping next to each other again tonight.

@hanayanetwork 🌸

mayhaps is maybe and perhaps and mangry is mad and angry! ✨

#boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha fluff #shinsou hitoshi fluff #mha fluff #shinsou bnha #collab: time to shine #nohr.writing #I THINK THIS WAS THE NEEDED TAGS I ALWAYS GET SO CONFUSED FR AIDJSUEFHS #shinsou is the cutest and his pouts are otherwordly. makes me wanna squish his cheeks so badly #i wish he lived in my arts and craft shelf........he'd fit in so well there #i also bought a purple shirt the other day and all i could think of was how the color looked like his haircolor..........HELLO????? #also i hope this is formatted correctly (clown emoji) bcos im omw to bed so i dont actally have the enrgy to check DJSKDS #also another fun fact but due to other major writing projects i havent been able to write this until now BUT its been living rent fucking #free anyways. i actually think its been charging ME LMAAAAO like its been my bedtime story for myself every night for like. months now LOLOL