#WAS IT LIKE A SUDDEN JUMP OF BRAVERY??!?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyomaslut · 9 months

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──★ ˙🍒 ̟ !! SAY THAT YOU MISS ME. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇx

✿ ─ characters: bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, rin itoshi ✿ ─ cw: somewhat angst, nsfw, smut, gn!reader, afab!reader, no pronouns, aged-up!characters(21+), established relationships??, exes to lovers, kissing, groping, dirty talk, semi-public sex, lots of jealousy, alcohol use, posessiveness, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, toxic behaviors/dynamics, use of foul language, suggestive themes, proofread?? ✿ ─ notes: they are straight up drabbles. i wrote hyoma's first and i was like, omg this is way too long. fuck it, hope i can get the others close to this word count. and then they were longer. im so sorry i promise next time i wont be so long winded.

BACHIRA MEGURU is unsettled by the silence that lingers in your absence...

he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself. the heavy loneliness he feels in a bed far too big for just one person is almost enough to push him to call you, staring at your contact for at least an hour. you were best friends. partners in crime. a power couple. how could things be over? he misses your voice more than anything else, all the time in his day usually spent deep in conversation with you now feeling empty.

he could tell that he reached a real pathetic stage of heartbroken when he started listening to old voicemails from you at night, but couldn’t find it in himself to care as he smiles at your laugh and tears up at your i love you’s. that turns into scrolling through photos he has of you, and then that has his mind drifting to the hidden album he has dedicated to you, full of the numerous risqué shots you’ve sent him over the course of your relationship. meguru doesn’t dwell on the moral dilemma of keeping the pictures, they were his after all. either gifted to him or taken by him, so he feels he has some sort of right to them. when he scrolls to a particular video from his point of view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his tip, his hand almost immediately moves to palm his crotch. he tugs down his boxers to stroke himself to the scene of you deepthroating his cock, the sweet sound of your moans and sputters through his phone speaker making both his dick and his heart ache for you.

after some time spent desperately trying to create a cheap imitation of the pleasure you make him feel, bachira grows frustrated. it’s really unfair now that he thinks about it. how could you indulge him in all his deepest fantasies and give him the wildest hottest fucks of his life only to leave him high and dry in the end? finally giving up on cumming, covered in a thin layer of sweat, he opens his phone again in some lust fueled bravery, texting you hey can we talk?

in your apartment, you were dedicating your evening to trying not to think about all the ways you missed your ex, knowing that the first few weeks of a break up were the hardest. you stand up from the couch, breaking out of your thoughts and hoping to just distract yourself for the time being. picking up your cell was extremely counter productive in that regard, your heart jumping at a text from megs ‹𝟹. he wants to talk. seeing that the text was sent half an hour ago, you jump to reply yeah sure. when? you don’t even think before accepting, the chance to bask in his attention one more time is too tempting when missing him this much. the contact picture you set for him pops up, indicating an incoming call.

you take a breath in the tense silence, offering a somewhat unsure, “hello?” his end of the call comes to life all of a sudden, finally connecting through his current shoddy service. he sounds slightly out of breath and you hear a faint ding in the background. the grainy noises let you know that he probably wasn’t in the quiet privacy of his home as he usually would be at this time. “meguru? is now a bad time to talk?”

“no! now's a good time,” he reassures, “i’m in the elevator up to your place.”

“you’re what?”

there’s some more shuffling from him and quick footsteps that echo both from the call and the hallway outside your apartment. “open up.”

there’s apprehension floating somewhere in your mind, but the big part of you that was very much not over him moves your feet towards the door, unlocking it. as soon as the physical barrier between you and him is gone, there is a completely different tone that settles and you almost sense it before it happens when he pushes forward to crash his lips onto yours. he didn’t exactly have a plan showing up, but seeing you, there was only one thing his body wanted to do. your back collides with the wall of your entryway, one of his hands already on the back of your head to cushion the blow, his other arm coiled around your waist to press you flush against him. unaware of it, the two of you share the same thought. this is 1000 times better than being alone tonight.

“meguru.” you call out trying to gently push against his chest to create some room between you. trying to be the rational one and state the obvious facts. you broke up with him. he shouldn’t be here. it’ll just cause more heartache for the both of you. but tingles run up his back when you say his name that way, breathless as he steals all the air from you. fuels his need to hold onto you tighter and not let you go this time around. eventually you manage to get your hand over his mouth to stop him from kissing you before your resolve really breaks and you let this go too far. “megu we shouldn’t. this is hard enough as it is-”

he pries your fingers away, and just when you think he is going to say something, convince you, justify himself, he dips his head down to capture your lips again, gently sucking on the bottom one to draw out a gasp so he can shove his tongue in. greedy hands grab at your thighs, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he can shamelessly rut his hips against yours. he makes it hard to think straight, pulling away after a moment to stare into your eyes, giving you that signature wild look that causes your knees to go weak. “tell me you don’t want me.”

“huh?”

“look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me.” he watches you expectantly, his impatience showing when he begins softly rocking into you. “cause we both know nobody else can make you cum like i can. let me make you feel good.”

you don’t find the strength to turn down his offer, not when you’re already panting at the affection he’s given you and soaking from the rhythmic press of his hard cock against you. bachira relishes the relief and arousal that floods through him when you wrap your arms around his neck to drag him into another sloppy kiss, and you feel his grin grow against your lips. the competitor in him recognizes a challenge, his heart pounding in perverse excitement. he has one chance to prove to you just how much you need him. lucky for you, that’s the kind of risk your ex gets off on.

CHIGIRI HYOMA is unreasonably bitter...

you and him are a perfect match, and the thought of you ever replacing him makes him sick. the egoist in him can’t stand the idea of someone stealing his role in your life. someone else taking you out, having your attention, putting their hands on you. deep down some rational part of him knows that he doesn’t stake any claim over you anymore, but the sinking pit in his stomach does nothing to alleviate the gut instinct that you’re his.

it eats at him. chigiri feels childish stalking your social media or casually asking mutual friends about you. he doesn’t want to seem affected, but he just can’t help but give into his curiosity. this same ‘curiosity’ is what leads him to hanging out in the bars he knows you frequent, either with friends or without. he hardly admits to himself that he’s hoping to run into you, but when it actually does happen, hyoma doesn’t hesitate to approach. he’s unsure if it’s the irresistible pull of being within arms reach of you again, or the selfish intuition to make his move on you before anyone else has the chance.

it seems innocent enough. he’s as charismatic and lighthearted as ever, offering to catch up, buy you a drink or two. chemistry you’ve always shared slowly surfaces through conversation. there was no denying that he had his charms, ones that hit all your soft spots just like the first time he won you over. so when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you on your way out of the bathroom, and wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall over from tipsy imbalance, you barely even question it. being in his embrace is familiar and there is a glance shared between you with a certain spark to it that it’s only natural he leans down to kiss you. hyoma is nothing if not an opportunist, smoothly steering you back into the small bar bathroom, his lips and tongue never leaving you.

he’s panting into your mouth between hungry kisses, hands already tugging at your clothing. his teeth find your neck, sucking and biting warm bruises in his wake, eager to mark every inch of skin he can latch onto. before you get the chance to playfully tease him about crawling back to you, your body is twisted around and bent forward over the sink. your eyes dart to the mirror in front of you, meeting his smug grin as he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs.

hyoma reaches his hand around to dip between your folds, deft fingers rubbing languid circles into your clit the way he knows you like. if it werent for the cocktails you would be embarrassed by the way you immediately melt into his touch, whimpers readily escaping you. “you’re already whining like that and i’ve barely even touched you, this pussy must’ve really missed me, huh?”

pleasure shoots up your core, arching your back at the feeling, pressing your ass into the bulge straining against his jeans. a moan bubbles up in his throat, but he’s quick to close his mouth, muffling the sound to a soft grunt, not willing to indulge you in the reactions you always seek to draw out of him. his hips push forward to grind into yours, the hard outline of his cock enough to remind you of what more you could be having instead of this PG13 dry humping session. you try to catch his gaze in the mirror, but it never leaves the place where you connect, giving you only soft thrusts while his fingers are unrelenting against your clit. “hyoma.” you manage to get out between heavy breaths. pink eyes finally travel up to meet yours. “please give it to me.”

and on a normal day, your ex-boyfriend would’ve dragged out the foreplay and teased you until you’re near tears and begging him for more, but something about the way you ask feels like a confession. that you wanted him just as desperately as he had been craving you. it sparks a fire up chigiri’s spine, wasting no time shoving the tight denim down to release himself. soon enough the tip of his pretty dick is squished against your entrance. his jaw is clenched from the restraint it takes not to immediately bury himself balls deep, grabbing your waist to keep steady.

any doubts that he had about still pining after you are gone, because the first tight clench of your cunt around his tip confirms what he’s always wholeheartedly believed. you were fucking made for him.

“god fuck,” he mutters breathily, biting down onto his bottom lip as he watches your hole swallow his entire length. his hips wind back, not getting far before the grip your walls have on him forces him to slowly sink back in. “anyone else fill you up this good, angel? get you this wet?” he asks, one of his hands grabbing hold of your hair to make you properly face him in the reflection again, wearing a cocky smirk that makes your stomach do flips.

a pout forms on your lips at his leisurely thrusts, far from enough to satisfy you, especially when you’ve seen firsthand the speed and effort he is depriving you of. “i don’t know, im getting a bit bored here princess,” you mock, despite the way you’re barely able to contain your noises as is.

without warning his pace becomes the staple unrelenting and overwhelming one you fantasize about while futilely trying to get off on your own. hyoma lets go of your hair in favor of clamping down over your mouth, loud moans already beginning to spill out around his fingers. the sight of the typically cool-headed prince losing his nonchalance, fucking you with pure ego and a savage glimmer in his eyes isn’t something you’ll easily forget. “this what you wanted? only satisfied when i fuck you stupid, right?"

ITOSHI RIN is not a fan of losing you, but loves getting you back...

rin doesn’t fall in love easily. he doesn’t know exactly how you managed it, but you barged into his life unannounced and dragged love out of him with your unrelenting company and killer smile. and rin was no willing victim either, figuratively kicking and screaming the whole way with his many cold moments and guarded emotions. in the end you won, with him wrapped helplessly around your finger. while rin would prefer to deny you any power over him, there’s a fire that burns in his chest for you that demands he give you everything he has. and he does.

but his love proves to be too much and not enough. too much in the ways of his possessive tendencies and clinginess and toxic defensiveness. and not enough in the way that it doesn’t keep you around. not that he blames you for it, although he does get the occasional bitter thought that you should’ve known to leave him alone from the start. deep down he knows he doesn’t really mean it, preferring even this pitiful longing you leave him with to the dark cloud that was his life before you. and it’s what he fears of returning to if you ever manage to fully pull away from him one day.

the first time you break up, rin admittedly doesn’t deal with it well. after endless calls and texts and showing up at your place with flowers and vulnerability, you take him back, only to return to the same arguments when his jealousy issues get out of hand. he wished he could say the second or third time went differently. fourth time around, however, rin gains some semblance of dignity and decides to keep his distance. maybe it was time to give moving on the good old college try. what other option did he have? as in love with you as he was, he couldn’t force you to stay and wasn’t well equipped to do the soul searching necessary to rid himself of all the behaviors that bothered you. maybe this was a lesson he needed to grow into the type of guy you could see yourself with. at least he intended to take that route, until you showed up at his house a few days later begging for him to forgive you for ever thinking you could live without him. he doesn’t even feel embarrassment over how easily he caves. it can’t be his fault when that night you swore you’d always belong to him while screaming his name. that same night he resolved that no matter what happened, you were it for him, and until you told him without a shadow of a doubt that you no longer loved him, he would return to you every time.

it started this viscous cycle of an on and off again relationship, fueled by passion and possession from both parties. one that rin never planned on ending as long as it was the only way he got to call you his, feeling a deep sense of comfort in the fact that you were weak for him too. that’s why he’s unsurprised hearing a knock on his door at 11PM. a new record considering it only been a day since the huge fight that caused your latest break up, not that rin was keeping count.

he has to stop himself from running to the door, because if he was honest he was thinking of grabbing his keys and heading to you minutes earlier. it doesn’t take more than a, “i’m so sorry baby,” to have him scooping you up into his arms on instinct. the familiar security of your legs wrapped around his hips, hands grabbing at your ass as he carries you to his bed, makes up for the self-loathing mess he becomes in the aftermath of every separation.

none of that other stuff matters when he gets to have you under him like this, already whining in anticipation as he peels away your bottom layers. rin can’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss to your clit before looking up at you from between your legs. a finger ghosts along your slit causing you to squirm and lean up towards the touch before one of his strong hands pushes you firmly to the bed, resting just under your navel. fortunately for you, rin is terrible at denying you the things he knows you want. especially when he’s practically drooling for you, letting the excess spit dribble out of his mouth and onto your cunt. you feel him lick long stripes from your entrance to your clit before wrapping his lips around it.

rin eats you as if it were his first meal in days. being apart from you always seemed a whole lot longer when he has to fear if you really mean it this time when you say you wanna stop seeing him. so he allows himself to be greedy, laves at your slick ravenously with a loud groan and humping his hips against the mattress to relieve his cock that’s already leaking in his boxers. your hands bury themselves in his hair, throwing your head back in pleasure as he bites down into your thigh, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “god you taste so good. you’re fucking criminal for trying to keep this perfect pussy from me.”

his free hand wanders to your core, two fingers easily slipping inside from a mix of your juices and his drool, curling to just the right spot. he sucks your clit into his mouth, your sweet moans fill the air and he has to stop his thrusts to keep himself from cumming in his pants at the sound, pulling away from you with a lewd pop. “‘ts mine,” he grunts out, “you’re fucking mine, and no one can make you feel like this but me. say it.”

“only you rin! ‘m yours!” you choke out, bucking against the pressure he puts on your stomach. satisfied with your response, he dives back in, fingers pumping into you with steady rhythm and using his tongue to lap up everything that leaks out. his intense gaze stays trained on yours with a newfound determination to make you feel so good, you’re ruined for anyone else but him.

“all mine.”

◑.◑ its honestly tempting to write a whole fic for rin…

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 1 month

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Behind the Mask - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (ONESHOT)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Scarecrow x Batgirl!Reader Word Count: 15079

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, fear toxin, Scarecrow x Batgirl

Summary: (REQUEST) While chasing down the Scarecrow in Gotham, Y/n forms an unexpected bond with the mysterious figure. As their relationship deepens, Y/n finds herself navigating the blurred boundaries between friend and foe.

A/N: I got a request for Scarecrow x Batgirl!reader with enemies to lovers and I fucking JUMPED at this one, I did not mean to write this much, holy shit. I didn't really have a plan going into this one, so when I started writing, I was going from top to bottom, so whatever happened happened and I clearly went OFF! While writing this, I kinda had comic-book!Scarecrow in my brain for reasons I couldn't explain, but ya know... it's the same dude so yeah. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚

"I'll need you to be on watch in the Narrows tonight," Bruce instructed Y/n as he fastened his suit, his tone carrying the weight of his responsibilities.

"Any you want me to keep an eye one in particular?" Y/n asked, adjusting her own suit in preparation.

"Many, but the Scarecrow’s been more active recently, I want you to look out for him, I have the Joker to deal with." Bruce replied, his gaze distant as he mentally prepared for the night's challenges.

It had been a a few months since Y/n first became the Batgirl. Y/n often found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps it was the right place at the right time, depending on how one looked at it. As a bystander in Gotham City, she frequently stumbled upon scenes of crime and chaos, unwittingly becoming entangled in the city's never-ending struggle for order.

On one occasion, while walking home from work, Y/n witnessed a mugging in progress. Without hesitation, she sprang into action, using her self-defense skills to fend off the assailant and protect the victim. Little did she know, Batman had been monitoring the situation from the shadows, impressed by her bravery and resourcefulness.

This became a regular occurrence for Y/n after that, seeking out injustice in the city and protecting those in need. With each encounter, Y/n found herself drawn further into Batman's world, her actions catching his attention time and time again, forging an unexpected bond between herself and the Dark Knight.

Under Batman's guidance, Y/n evolved from a mere bystander into Batgirl, a symbol of hope and strength for the citizens of Gotham. With her skills and determination, she stood shoulder to shoulder with the Caped Crusader, ready to confront the darkness that threatened to consume their city.

The two of them went their separate ways, Y/n finding herself in the Narrows, poached on a building. And as if on cue, she heard screams coming from an alley. Immediately jumping into action, Y/n dropped down and rushed to the scene, and just as she expect, the man with a burlap mask stood over a helpless person, screaming and scratching on the floor.

"Refining your toxins, Scarecrow?" Y/n's voice echoed down the dimly lit alley, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

"Alone in the shadows, Batgirl?" Scarecrow's distorted voice floated back, his eerie presence sending shivers down Y/n's spine.

Without hesitation, Y/n surged forward, her determination driving her towards the looming figure of Scarecrow. Scarecrow's agility was surprising, a testament to his cunning and prowess.

Despite his speed, Y/n's athletic skills allowed her to gain ground. With a swift motion, she held out a Batarang, sending it spinning towards Scarecrow's feet. The makeshift trap worked like a charm, causing him to stumble and crash to the ground.

"Lost your footing?" Y/n taunted, her voice laced with determination.

"Lost your vision?" Scarecrow retorted, his words accompanied by a sudden burst of suspicious powder that engulfed Y/n's senses.

Coughing and disoriented, she struggled to maintain her balance as her surroundings blurred into a hazy fog.

In the midst of the chaos, Scarecrow seized the opportunity to strike, delivering a well-aimed kick that sent Y/n tumbling to the ground. With a pained groan, she collided with the unforgiving pavement, the impact jarring her senses and rattling her confidence.

As Scarecrow's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind only the distant echoes of the Narrows, Y/n cursed her carelessness. Still reeling from the encounter, she struggled to regain her bearings, her vision still clouded and her body aching from the fall.

"This better not be permanent," Y/n muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her voice as she struggled to regain her footing amidst the haze of her blurry vision.

With the aid of the wall for support, Y/n navigated her way out of the Narrows, determination guiding her steps despite her impaired sight. Fumbling for her walkie-talkie, she summoned Batman, her admission tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

"Hey, uh... Could you bring the Batmobile? I can't see," Y/n confessed, her tone a clear indication of her frustration.

"On my way," Batman's reassuring voice crackled through the device.

As she waited at the end of the alleyway, the familiar roar of the Batmobile's engine signaled Batman's arrival. He lifted the roof of the vehicle, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of Y/n's uncertainty.

"You getting in?" Batman's usual impatience brought a hint of levity to the situation, his words a welcome distraction from Y/n's predicament.

"Yeah, could you help me? I can't see properly," Y/n admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's all just a black blob."

Without hesitation, Batman leaped out of the car, his strong hand reaching out to guide Y/n safely into the vehicle. As they embarked on their journey through the city's shadowy streets, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the steadfast ally by her side.

"Rough night?" Batman's gravelly voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension that hung in the air.

"You could say that," Y/n replied, her tone heavy with disappointment as she settled into the seat beside him. "Will my vision be like this permanently?" Y/n asked, the question bugging her for the last 10 minutes.

"Hard to tell with the Scarecrow, but you should be okay. It's a surprise he didn't use his fear toxin on you," Batman remarked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

Y/n let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the seat. In the darkness of the Batmobile, surrounded by the faint hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the city outside, she couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. But even in her moment of uncertainty, she found solace in the presence of the silent guardian beside her, a reminder that she was never truly alone in the shadows of Gotham.

Fortunately for Y/n, her vision returned within an hour, relieving her of the temporary blindness. Despite Bruce's insistence that she call it a night and rest up, Y/n's determination to uncover more about their adversary remained unyielding. In the depths of the Batcave, she was immersed in her research, combing through databases and news articles in search of a lead.

"Thought you'd be down here, Master Bruce holding you back?" Alfred's familiar voice echoed through the cavernous space as he descended into the Batcave.

"No, I was supposed to head home an hour ago," Y/n admitted, her attention still fixed on the glowing screen before her.

"Well, shall I fetch you some supper then?" Alfred offered, ever the attentive caretaker.

"It's alright, Alfred. Thank you," Y/n replied, offering a grateful smile in his direction.

As Alfred approached, he cast a glance at the screen, taking note of Y/n's diligent research and the meticulous notes scattered around her workspace.

"My, you've certainly done quite the thorough job. It's no wonder you landed that internship," Alfred remarked, his tone filled with pride.

"You and I both know I only got that internship at Arkham because of Bruce's influence," Y/n laughed.

"You ought to give yourself more credit, Miss L/n," Alfred's voice held a gentle admonishment as he glanced over Y/n's work. "When is your first day, anyway?"

Glancing at the clock, Y/n realized it was already 1 AM. "Tomorrow," she answered.

"I beg of you to go home, Miss L/n. Your sleep schedule is bad enough as it is," Alfred urged, concern etched in his voice.

Y/n let out a weary sigh. "I guess I'll have to leave the Scarecrow for another time."

Y/n and Alfred made their way back up to Wayne Manor, Y/n gathering her belongings in preparation to depart. Despite her reluctance to leave her research behind, she knew that rest was necessary if she wanted to be at her best for the challenges that lay ahead. With one last glance at the Batcomputer, Y/n bid farewell to the Batcave, her mind already turning towards the mysteries that awaited her on her first day at Arkham.

Y/n's first day at Arkham Asylum began with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The towering, foreboding structure of the institution loomed against the gray skies of Gotham, its reputation preceding it.

Working at Arkham Asylum had always been a dream for Y/n, fueled by a deep fascination with the psychology of criminals. And there was no better place than Arkham. She was aware that Bruce had played a pivotal role in securing this internship for her, primarily to make it easier to access the criminals and their files. Yet, this knowledge did little to dampen her enthusiasm. In fact, she saw it as practical to use her role for the greater good, combining her academic interests with her goal to protect Gotham.

As she stepped through the heavy, security-laden doors, she was greeted by Dr. Penelope Young, one of Arkham's leading psychiatrists and her supervisor for the duration of the internship.

"Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Miss L/n. I'm Dr. Young. I'll be showing you around today and discussing what you can expect during your time here," Dr. Young said, offering a firm handshake that Y/n returned.

Their tour began in the more benign corridors of the asylum, where Dr. Young outlined the history of Arkham, its purpose, and its challenges. She spoke with a passion that contrasted the grim surroundings, her belief in rehabilitation and understanding of the human psyche evident in her every word.

"As you'll soon learn, Arkham is more than just a holding facility for Gotham's criminally insane. It's a place of complexity, where psychology and security intersect in ways you won't see anywhere else," Dr. Young explained as they navigated through secure checkpoints.

The tour included visits to various departments, including the high-security wards where Gotham's most notorious villains were held. Dr. Young's explanations were thorough, covering the protocols for dealing with dangerous inmates, the importance of mental health assessments, and the ongoing research aimed at better understanding and treating profound psychological disorders.

"Your role here, Miss L/n, will involve assisting with patient assessments, participating in therapy sessions, and contributing to our research projects. It's crucial work that not only helps us understand the minds of those we're treating but also aids in ensuring the safety of Gotham City," Dr. Young said, her tone serious yet encouraging.

As they concluded the tour in the library, filled with texts on psychology, criminology, and the history of Arkham itself, Dr. Young offered some final advice.

"Always remember, the work we do here is challenging and often thankless. But it's also incredibly important. You're going to see and experience things that will test you, but I believe you have the potential to make a real difference."

Y/n left the tour feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation. The weight of her responsibilities at Arkham Asylum was now fully realized, but so too was her determination to meet the challenges head-on. As she prepared for her first assignment, she couldn't help but feel that her journey into the heart of Gotham's darkness was only just beginning.

Patrolling the rooftops alongside Batman had become a familiar part of Y/n's night life, yet that particular night, her performance was far from her usual standard. Missteps, a lack of balance, and a series of other minor blunders affected her efforts. Aware of Bruce's patience, she nonetheless couldn't shake off the feeling that she was more of a liability than an asset to Batman during their late-night surveillance.

"Fuck, sorry," Y/n muttered, hastily picking herself up after her foot caught on an uneven crack on a rooftop in the Narrows.

Batman halted his advance, turning to face her with a concern that seemed to pierce through the shadows of his cowl. "You should head home, you need rest," he suggested.

Y/n's gaze dropped, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. She knew he was right, yet admitting it felt like conceding to a weakness she couldn't afford.

"You're exhausted. It's been a long day," Batman tried to reassure her, recognizing the toll the day's events had taken on her.

"I know, but I feel like I need to be here," Y/n insisted, her voice a mix of determination and frustration.

"Is this about the Scarecrow again?" Batman's question cut through the tension, his insight honing in on the heart of her persistence.

"...Yeah," Y/n admitted, a mix of resolve and vulnerability in her voice.

Her obsession with stopping Scarecrow had pushed her to her limits, yet she felt an unyielding need to confront the fear he spread across Gotham. In that moment, beneath the expanse of the night sky, her dedication to their cause was as clear as the weariness she fought against.

The Scarecrow was Y/n's first real challenge with one of Gotham's notorious Rogue's. Until now, her experiences had primarily involved run-ins with lesser-known criminals. Unmasking the Scarecrow, whose identity remained a mystery to all of Gotham, would be a monumental achievement for her.

"Why don't you hang back a bit? You can stay on the scene, but I'd rather you not engage in anything major," Batman suggested, his voice carrying a note of protective caution.

Y/n nodded in agreement. She decided to approach the situation with caution, opting for observation over direct confrontation. From her vantage point on a nearby rooftop, she kept a vigilant eye on the Narrows, tracking Batman's movements as he patrolled the shadowy labyrinth below. That's when she spotted him.

Quickly, she grabbed her radio to alert Batman. "Scarecrow spotted near the north apartments!" she reported, urgency lacing her voice.

As Batman sprang into action, heading towards the reported location, Y/n felt a surge of determination. She knew she couldn't just stand by. Moving with purpose, she leaped across rooftops, her movements a blend of precision and grace, as she closed in on the two. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead yet driven by a deep-seated resolve to make a difference.

His pursuit was relentless, a testament to years of honing his skills for moments just like this. The Scarecrow, a master of terror and manipulation, darted ahead, his movements erratic and desperate, aware that the Dark Knight was closing in on him.

The Scarecrow, realizing the inevitability of his capture, turned to face Batman, a sinister smile playing across his lips, hidden beneath the grotesque mask that had become his signature.

In a swift movement, Scarecrow pulled from his tattered coat a small canister, unleashing a cloud of his fear toxin directly at Batman. The gas, a potent concoction of Scarecrow's own design, filled the air, a visible miasma of terror.

Batman, caught off-guard by the sudden assault, attempted to evade the cloud but inhaled a breath of the toxic fumes. The world around him twisted horrifyingly, his vision blurring as the gas took hold, plunging him into a nightmarish landscape of his own fears. Towering figures of his past adversaries loomed over him, their taunts echoing in his ears, while the loss of his parents replayed in agonizing detail, a never-ending cycle of pain and guilt.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Batman collapsing, overcome by the Scarecrow's fear toxin. Without hesitation, she reached out to Alfred through her radio.

"It's urgent. Batman's been incapacitated by Scarecrow's fear gas. You need to get him immediately," she relayed with urgency.

Without waiting for Alfred's confirmation, she sprung into action, her body moving almost on instinct. She descended from her vantage point into the alleyway below, her cape billowing behind her as she set her sights on the retreating figure of the Scarecrow.

"You just can't let it go, can you?" Scarecrow taunted, turning to hurl a canister of his sinister concoction in her direction.

The moment the toxin enveloped her, Y/n's reality twisted into a nightmarish tableau. She fell to the ground, a scream tearing from her lips as the shadows around her seemed to swell with judgment and scorn. But this was different, alongside the overwhelming fear, a heavy drowsiness dragged at her consciousness.

This was no ordinary fear toxin, she realized with a struggle to maintain her awareness. Her breaths came in labored gasps, each one a battle against the encroaching darkness. Her strength ebbed away, leaving her helpless on the cold, unforgiving ground of the alley. Her vision blurred, yet she could make out the Scarecrow's figure looming over her, his mask a grotesque visage that pulsated in her dimming sight.

As her field of view narrowed to a point, she saw Scarecrow bend down beside her, his hands reaching out to grasp her. Then, as if a curtain had fallen over her world, everything succumbed to darkness.

The throbbing in her head was the first sensation that pierced through the fog of unconsciousness, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo through her entire being. Gritting her teeth in discomfort, Y/n reached up, her fingers pressing into her temples in a futile attempt to sooth the pain. With her eyes still firmly shut, she sat up from the surface beneath her.

As she became more aware, her palm registered the unmistakable chill of metal against her skin. Hesitantly, she allowed her eyelids to part, squinting against the dim light that filled her unfamiliar surroundings. This place, cold, sterile, and decidedly unwelcoming, was far from the familiar confines of her home or the Batcave. Panic fluttered in her chest as the realization set in.

She found herself lying on a stark, metallic table, the centerpiece of what appeared to be a neglected laboratory. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and decay, a testament to the room's dubious purposes. With a growing sense of dread, Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her movements halting as another alarming detail dawned on her, her mask was missing.

She took a sharp intake of breath as she frantically searched her surroundings, her heart racing. Though still clad in the protective gear of Batgirl, minus her utility belt, the absence of her mask left her exposed, vulnerable.

The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She became tense, preparing for who might come through that door, her mind racing through possibilities and plans of escape.

As the door swung open, the Scarecrow stepped through, his presence immediately filling the room with a palpable sense of dread. His iconic, scratchy burlap mask seemed to leer at her, the tattered edges of his suit fluttering slightly with his movements. Y/n's heart sank, deep down, she'd known he would be her captor.

The realization of her vulnerability flashed through her mind, sparking a defiant glare, even as she attempted to shield her identity by casting her gaze downward.

"You needn't bother trying to hide now," Scarecrow's voice cut through the tense air, a smirk audible in his tone as he closed the distance between them. "I've seen all I need to see."

Acknowledging that hiding was no longer an option, Y/n understood that resistance might still sway the balance in her favor. With a burst of energy, she attempted to launch herself off the table, only to crumble to the ground, her legs betraying her strength.

"Easy, you've only just regained consciousness," Scarecrow taunted, his steps hastening towards her prone form.

In her struggle to stand back up, Scarecrow's hands suddenly steadied her, pulling her up with a firm grip on her arm. Yet, even in this vulnerable state, Y/n's resolve didn't falter. Her hand darted out, seizing a scalpel from a nearby table, and she held it towards Scarecrow, who instinctively raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The air between them crackled with tension, each poised for the other's next move.

Scarecrow's voice was calm, yet firm. "You're hardly in a position to resist effectively. Let me help you back onto the table before you injure yourself further. The scalpel isn't necessary," he advised, his tone bordering on reasonable.

Y/n couldn’t help but notice how professionally he spoke.

"So you can subject me to more of your experiments? Yeah nah," she laughed, sarcastically.

Scarecrow, unfazed by her resistance, replied with a hint of a threat, "Whether you agree or not, you're in no condition to stand. It's only a matter of time before you collapse again."

She knew he was right. She could barely feel her legs, and the bits of sensation she did have was undeniable pain. With a reluctant sigh, Y/n let the scalpel clatter back onto the table.

Seeing her give in, Scarecrow lowered his hands and gently supported her around her waist, guiding her with a care that contrasted with his usual menace. He lifted her effortlessly, placing her back on the medical table with a carefulness that seemed out of character. Her legs dangled off the side, the height of the table leaving her feet dangling in the air, a subtle reminder of her current vulnerability.

"Why am I here?" Y/n demanded.

"Had I not intervened, you would be dead," Scarecrow replied.

"So, you hit me with your gas for shits and giggles? Or am I just another subject for your midnight experiments?" Y/n's tone was laced with anger.

"I never intended to expose you to the gas," Scarecrow clarified, moving to grab an item from a nearby table.

"And what? Your hand just slipped?" Y/n retaliated with sarcasm.

"I thought you were the Batman," Scarecrow confessed as he returned to her side.

"And how does that change anything?" Y/n challenged.

Ignoring her, he held a cup, what appeared to be cloudy water. Scarecrow pressed the cup into her hand.

"What's this?" Y/n asked, raising her brow.

"For your headache and numbed legs," Scarecrow responded.

Y/n eyed the cup warily, her skepticism evident. Scarecrow sighed, his voice distorted by his mask.

"If I intended harm, it would have been done already," he assured her.

"Then answer my question," Y/n pressed.

"What question?" Scarecrow responded quickly, playing the fool.

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Why does it matter that you gassed me if I work with Batman?"

Scarecrow remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. She returned his stare, peering into the depths of his blue eyes, an aspect she'd never noticed before, having never been this close to him without a fight.

"Why don’t you want to hurt me?" Y/n rephrased her question.

"Because I don’t want to," he replied simply.

Y/n's shoulders sagged in defeat as she took a sip from the cup, relieved to find it tasted just like water.

"What's your name?" Scarecrow's question caught her off guard.

Y/n shot him a judging glance. "Seriously? Are you dumb? Or do you think I am?"

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound crackled by his mask. "Your face isn't much of a secret now," he remarked.

"True, but a name would give away too much, wouldn't it? Besides, I doubt you'd share yours even if I asked," Y/n countered.

"Fair enough. Batgirl it remains," Scarecrow said.

Concern creased Y/n's brow as she broached the subject weighing on her mind. "So, what's your plan for me now?"

"You're not in any shape to leave just yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Okay, but when I am?" Y/n pressed.

Scarecrow hesitated. "I can't say for certain when that'll be," he admitted.

"You're the reason I'm drugged up…it was your toxin," Y/n pointed out.

"I didn't anticipate having to save anyone after using the gas," Scarecrow replied, his gaze drifting away.

Y/n sensed there was more to his reluctance than he let on. "Why won't you let me go?" she demanded.

"I told you—" Scarecrow began, but Y/n interjected firmly, "I want the real reason."

Scarecrow settled into a chair at a nearby desk.

"Aw, is the Scarecrow feeling lonely?" Y/n teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air.

Though she couldn't discern his expression behind the mask, she could practically feel the weight of his glare.

"Hey, if you keep up with that attitude, I might just have to pay you a visit in the Narrows," Y/n teased further, her words laden with playful defiance.

Y/n couldn't shake the uncertainty creeping into her mind. Was she really entertaining him with her banter?

"I suppose I'll have to hold you to that," Scarecrow retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he actually want her to visit?

"...Batman must be worried about me," Y/n spoke aloud.

"You'd be correct. He's been searching the Narrows looking for you," Scarecrow confirmed.

She's now aware of their whereabouts. Somewhere in the Narrows, not entirely helpful, but better than nothing.

Relief washed over Y/n. "So he's okay then?" she asked anxiously.

"I only administered a small dose. He's perfectly fine," Scarecrow reassured her.

"Can I leave in about 10 minutes?" Y/n requested.

Scarecrow sighed. "Yes, but let me perform one final check first," he insisted.

He approached her. "Can you stand?"

Y/n noticed a tingling sensation in her legs, a welcome sign of returning strength. She gingerly hopped off the metal table, feeling Scarecrow's supportive grip immediately. Taking a moment to steady herself with his assistance, she eventually managed to push him away gently.

"Considering how quickly Batman bounced back, I'm sure he'll be able to assist you if you encounter any further issues," Scarecrow remarked.

"So, can I go?" Y/n inquired.

"Yes, but you'll be blindfolded," Scarecrow detailed.

Y/n watched as Scarecrow grabbed an unexpected item from his coat, her mask which she had completely forgotten about. She accepted it, placing it securely back on her face. Following this, he produced a blindfold, carefully tying it around her eyes.

"What about my utility belt?" she questioned.

"It's been left in the alley. I expect Batman has already located it with the tracker," Scarecrow informed her.

It made sense, had the belt been here, Batman would have pinpointed her location instantly due to its tracking device.

"Give me your hand," Scarecrow said.

Y/n reached out, feeling Scarecrow's grip. His hand was bare, contrasting with her gloved one, allowing her to feel the unique texture of his skin. Together, they navigated towards what Y/n presumed was the exit.

"Mind your step," Scarecrow instructed.

With extra caution, Y/n raised her foot higher than usual, stepping over what she imagined was the door frame. The sound of metal underfoot suggested they had transitioned onto a metallic grate.

"Coming up to some stairs," Scarecrow said.

As Scarecrow slightly descended, he guided Y/n to the first step. Clutching Scarecrow's hand for support, her free hand found a handrail. They carefully descended the staircase together.

"Last step," Scarecrow informed her.

Her feet found solid concrete below. They continued their journey outside, Y/n blind to their surroundings. After about ten minutes wandering the Narrows in silence, Scarecrow halted.

"I'm going to spin you so you won't know which direction we came from," Scarecrow explained.

Y/n snorted, "Feels like a weird game," she joked.

Gently, Scarecrow placed his hands on her shoulders and started to spin her. Y/n laughed, her steps becoming unsteady as she spun. Once she was sufficiently dizzy, Scarecrow ceased the spinning.

"Can I take off the blindfold now?" Y/n asked.

Scarecrow loosened the knot, freeing her from the blindfold. Blinking against the light, she surveyed her surroundings, her balance off from the spinning.

"I have no idea where I am," she admitted, scanning the area.

"That was the point," Scarecrow replied.

A small smile formed on her lips. "Hey, thanks for not killing me," she uttered, a phrase she never imagined saying.

"I apoligize for using the gas on you," Scarecrow said.

"I appreciate the apology...So! See you around?" Y/n tilted her head, looking at him.

Scarecrow seemed taken aback. "You aren't planning to tackling me to the ground for Batman?"

She shook her head.

"Then, yes... until next time, Batgirl," Scarecrow affirmed.

With that, Y/n walked away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the alley. Glancing back one last time, she found he had vanished into the shadows.

As Y/n made her way towards the mouth of the alley, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows with a swift, purposeful stride. The figure's imposing silhouette was unmistakable against the dimly lit street. Batman, cloaked in his iconic cape, his gaze fixed intently ahead.

He approached Y/n, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "Where have you been?" Batman's voice, deep and grave.

Although aggressive, she knew it was his way of showing his concern.

Y/n sighed. "I'm fine, thanks! But I wouldn’t have been if not for an unexpected turn of events," she responded, her voice a mix of relief and bewilderment.

Batman surveyed the surroundings with a beading eye, then returned his attention to Y/n. "Scarecrow?" he asked, already piecing together the encounter from the clues left behind.

"Yep," Y/n confirmed.

Batman summoned the Batmobile with a press of a button, and it swiftly glided around the corner, halting with precision in front of them. "We'll discuss it on the way," Batman suggested, sliding into the driver's seat of the Batmobile.

Y/n quickly followed, hopping into the passenger seat. The top sealed shut with a soft hiss, and they set off toward the Batcave, the engine's low rumble filling the air.

"As soon as you were hit with the toxin, I ran after Scarecrow. I know you said not to but I couldn't just stand by," Y/n recounted. "He hit me with some kind of super version of his toxin... I blacked out and later woke up in his lab... He had saved my life," she reflected, still piecing together the surreal events.

"Scarecrow...saved you...after he was the one to endanger you..." Batman's voice betrayed a hint of skepticism.

"Exactly... He said he mistook me for you and used a more lethal toxin," Y/n clarified.

Batman mulled over the information, "This must be part of some elaborate scheme."

"...When I was unconscious, he took off my mask," Y/n added quietly, the weight of her vulnerability in that moment hanging between them.

"We can't change what's happened," Batman responded with an unexpected calm. "For now, you need to stay at the batcave."

Y/n understood the protective gesture, Batman was ensuring her safety. This meant her encounters with Scarecrow would be on hold, a disappointing, yet perhaps for the best, turn of events.

Upon their arrival at the Batcave, Bruce insisted on conducting his own check up of Y/n to ensure her well-being. As he meticulously checked her condition, Y/n found her thoughts drifting back to Scarecrow.

The lanky figure behind the coarse, burlap mask now intrigued her more than ever. Despite her efforts to thwart his plans and her alliance with Batman, Scarecrow had spared her life. His actions defied the logic that he should have seen her as a direct threat, deserving of his lethal wrath.

Throughout their encounters, Scarecrow had consistently avoided using his fear toxin on her, opting for less harmful methods. And on the one occasion he did administer it, he promptly provided an antidote and went as far as looking after her back at his lab.

What puzzled her further was his reluctance, or perhaps refusal, to let her leave. There seemed to be an underlying reason he didn't want her to go, adding layers to his already complex persona. This unexpected mercy and the mystery shrouding his true intentions only deepened Y/n's curiosity about the man beneath the mask.

Y/n's second week interning at Arkham was unfolding better than she'd anticipated. Tasked with interacting with the less dangerous patients, she found them peculiar yet unexpectedly sweet, a stark contrast to her initial assumptions. Each person, in their own right, contributed to the unique tapestry of Arkham's inhabitants.

Walking through the asylum's corridors on her way to Dr. Young's office with a stack of files in hand, Y/n was absorbed in her thoughts, hardly aware of her surroundings. This lack of attention led to a collision with a passerby, resulting in her files scattering across the floor.

"Shit, sorry," she blurted out, immediately kneeling to gather the scattered documents.

The individual she bumped into stood frozen, offering no assistance or reaction. Once she collected her files and stood up to face him, she found herself looking at a tall, slender man adorned with rectangular, wire-framed glasses, his expression one of bafflement.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she said, hoping to break the ice.

Yet, the man remained silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open, offering nothing but a fixed stare. With an awkward smile, Y/n excused herself, moving past him to continue on her way.

"Sorry, again... Have a good day," she added, before turning her focus forward and spotting Dr. Young near her office.

"Met Dr. Crane, have you?" Dr. Young asked, observing the scene.

Glancing back, Y/n saw the man, now identified as Dr. Crane, retreating hastily down the hallway.

"Apparently. He a quiet one?" Y/n asked, intrigued by the unusual man.

"Not at all," Dr. Young confided with a hint of amusement. "He's known for being quite outspoken and, frankly, a bit abrasive. But let's keep that between us."

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, appreciating the candid insight. Together, they proceeded into Dr. Young's office. As they delved into their tasks and discussions, the brief encounter with Dr. Crane swiftly faded from Y/n's mind.

Barely two hours had passed, with Y/n engrossed in her task of organizing files, when Dr. Young re-entered the office, fresh from her break.

"It seems you've caught the attention of Dr. Crane," Dr. Young remarked as she stepped inside.

Y/n glanced up, puzzled. "Huh?"

Dr. Young, settling into her chair with a chuckle. "Well, in the cafeteria, Dr. Crane cam up to me out of the blue to ask about you. Considering he never engages in conversation unless it's strictly necessary, that was quite the surprise!"

Curiosity piqued, Y/n continued, "What exactly did he ask about?"

"Just your name and your role here," Dr. Young replied with a smile.

The thought of garnering anyone's interest, let alone Dr. Crane's, hadn't crossed Y/n's mind. Yet, she brushed it off, doubting it would have any significant impact on her internship.

Back at her home, Y/n found herself sprawled on her bed, engulfed in the unfamiliar territory of idleness. With Bruce sidelining her from night patrols, the once exhilarating darkness of Gotham's nights now stretched endlessly before her, filled with nothing but the quiet.

Letting out a sigh, she flung her book aside, a tangible sign of her growing restlessness. Reluctantly, she rose and drifted towards her computer, where the glow of her screen illuminated tabs of research left untouched since yesterday. Though the news articles of Scarecrow she had found offered little in the way of breakthroughs, she held onto the hope they might yet yield something of value.

It was then that a sudden thud against her window broke the silence, startling her. Turning to look, she expected to find nothing more unusual than a disoriented bird that flew into it. However, the repeated thudding suggested this was no ordinary accident.

With a sigh, Y/n approached the window to investigate. A crow was the culprit, determinedly striking the glass over and over. Attempting to shoo it away with a tap against the window proved futile, the bird was either stubborn or really dumb. About to turn away in defeat, Y/n noticed something clutched in the crow's beak, she naturally had to investigate.

Concerned it might be choking, she opened the window to offer assistance. The crow, uninvited, hopped boldly into her room and onto her bed.

"Hey! You’re gonna get my shit all dirty!" Y/n protested, trying to usher it off.

Yet the crow remained unbothered, stationed firmly on her bed. With a curious tilt of its head, it released its hold, letting the object, a piece of paper, fall onto her duvet.

Realizing the crow was unharmed, Y/n let out a sigh. "Okay, you can leave now," she suggested, gesturing towards the open window.

However, the crow remained stationary, its gaze fixed on her as if it had more to say. They stared at one another awkwardly, the air between them thick with uncertainty. The crow nudged the piece of paper with its beak, then lifted its eyes to hers, prompting her attention.

Reluctantly, Y/n shifted her focus to the paper, curiosity getting the better of her. The paper was torn and foled. She unfolded the ripped fragment to reveal a message that sent a jolt of shock through her.

'Found you.'

The simplicity of the message belied its ominous intent, transforming her initial confusion into a wave of dread. "Holy fuck," she muttered, her pulse quickening.

As if its mission was accomplished, the crow took its leave, soaring out the window. Y/n raced to the window, a futile attempt to keep it from leaving. "Oi!"

But her plea vanished into the night, leaving her to face the silence of her room. The solitude that had once been merely boring now felt ominously oppressive.

How had Scarecrow found her? The question echoed in her mind, a reminder that her sense of security was more fragile than she had ever imagined.

Y/n wasted no time in dialing Bruce's number, her fingers trembling with anxiety as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, she didn't bother with pleasantries.

"He found me," she blurted out in a tense whisper.

"Y/n? What are you talk-?" Bruce paused. “How?”

"I don't know how he did it, Bruce. There's no way he could have tracked me from that night," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable. “He sent his fucking pet crow, or something to my window with a little note saying he found me.”

"I think it would be safest for you to stay at my place for a while," Bruce suggested, his tone urgent.

"Yeah, but what if he figures out… you know?" Y/n's worry crept into her voice.

"Is there anywhere else you can go?" Bruce asked, his concern evident.

Y/n's mind raced, but she couldn't think of any safe alternatives. "Not really," she admitted reluctantly.

"Okay, just stay safe. I'll be checking up on you," Bruce instructed firmly.

"I'll do my best," Y/n sighed, feeling a sense of dread settle over her as the call ended.

She dropped her phone on her bed along with herself. Sitting on her bed, she ran her hand down her face groaning. She just prayed he was as nice as he was the night before.

The next day, Y/n felt a sense of unease as she walked through the corridors of Arkham towards Dr. Young's office. Upon entering, she was met not only by Dr. Young, but also by the presence of Dr. Crane.

"Good morning, Y/n. I'm sure you're acquainted with Dr. Crane by now," Dr. Young gestured towards the man in the room.

Y/n nodded awkwardly, turning her attention to Dr. Crane. "Hello, Dr. Crane," she greeted, extending her hand for a shake.

"Miss L/n," he replied, his voice crisp and professional as he took her hand.

There was something strangely familiar about his touch, though Y/n couldn't quite place it. Brushing it off as mere coincidence, she focused on the conversation at hand.

"Well, we've decided to switch things up a bit and provide you with more opportunities around the asylum. Today, Dr. Crane has kindly offered to mentor you instead of me," Dr. Young explained.

Y/n nodded, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh... cool," she replied, though her uncertainty lingered beneath the surface.

"My work primarily focuses on the higher-risk patients, so today I'll be showing you around those areas of the asylum," Dr. Crane explained, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Alright, shall we get started?" Y/n asked, eager to begin.

"Certainly," Dr. Crane replied, opening the door for Y/n to exit first. She thanked him and stepped into the hallway, where Dr. Crane joined her.

"So, Miss L/n, what led you to Arkham?" Dr. Crane inquired, initiating conversation.

"Well, I studied at Gotham University for five years and managed to get an internship here. It's an opportunity I couldn't pass up," Y/n replied.

Dr. Crane nodded, showing interest. "You're interested in psychology, I assume?"

"Naturally," Y/n confirmed.

"And outside of Arkham, how do you spend your time?" Dr. Crane asked, delving deeper.

Y/n wasn't prepared for such a personal question, and she found herself struggling to formulate an answer. In truth, much of her time was split between intensive research and her activities as a vigilante. "Uh... research mostly," she replied, keeping her answer vague.

"Any specific areas of focus?" Dr. Crane probed further.

"Primarily psychology-related topics, and occasionally delving into articles about various personalities in Gotham," Y/n answered, trying to keep her response casual.

"Ah, the Gotham Rogues, I presume? Have any in particular piqued your interest?" Dr. Crane inquired, his gaze lingering on her as they made their way towards the elevator.

Y/n had been informed by Dr. Young that small talk was rarely on Dr. Crane's agenda, suggesting his continuous questions might stem from a lack of social que. Yet, as a psychiatrist, his understanding of social dynamics should be adept, making his approach puzzling.

"Ah, well... each of them are interesting in their own way, to say the least," Y/n replied, deflecting deflecting to keep the conversation neutral.

Acknowledging her response with a nod, Dr. Crane diverted his eyes ahead, the silence momentarily enveloping them as they approached and entered the elevator. With a practiced motion, he swiped his keycard and selected their destination floor.

The elevator began its descent in silence, the hum of its mechanism filling the small space. Dr. Crane stood with a composed posture, hands clasped behind his back, while Y/n could feel the tension in the air, an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts swirling between them.

After a moment, Dr. Crane broke the silence. "The study of fear is particularly fascinating, don't you think?" he started, his tone measured, eyes fixed on the elevator doors as if addressing the question to himself. "It's primal, yet so complex. A fundamental emotion that can be both a hindrance and a survival mechanism."

Y/n, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation, nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's quite a paradox. It shapes so much of human behavior, yet we understand so little about its underpinnings."

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the high-risk patient floor. As the doors slid open, Dr. Crane stepped out, gesturing for Y/n to follow. "Indeed. And it's within these walls that fear becomes a canvas, each patient painting their own portrait of terror."

The topic of their conversation enveloped Y/n in a sense of unease. While it was natural for a psychiatrist to delve into subjects like fear, given her recent unsettling situation, discussing it now stirred an unwelcome and deep-seated discomfort within her.

They walked through a secured door after Dr. Crane keyed in a code, entering a corridor lined with reinforced glass cells. The patients inside varied in their reactions to the newcomers, some pressed close to observe them, others retreated into shadows, and a few remained indifferent, lost in their own worlds.

"As you'll see today, our approach to treatment varies greatly, tailored to each patient's specific needs and... inclinations," Dr. Crane continued, leading Y/n past the cells. "Observation and understanding is key. Fear can be both a lock and a key in our field."

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine, not just from the atmosphere of the high-risk ward but from Dr. Crane's words. They echoed with a depth of knowledge and an intensity that felt almost too personal, as if fear itself was a familiar friend to him.

As they continued their tour, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Crane was studying her just as much as he was explaining the procedures and philosophies of Arkham Asylum. There was a calculated curiosity in his gaze, a probing quality that made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her.

Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked through the corridor, eventually halting in front of a door.

"This," he announced, ushering the door open with a gentle push, "is my office."

Crossing into the new space, Y/n found herself standing somewhat awkwardly, uncertain of what was to come next.

"I have a few patient appointments scheduled today. You'll have the opportunity to observe. But first, there are some reports I need to deal with. I imagine you have tasks of your own to do in the meantime?" he suggested.

With a nod from Y/n, he settled into his chair behind the desk, drawing out several files and a pen. As he began to write, Y/n couldn't help but observe him, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. There was an inexplicable familiarity in his presence that she couldn't quite identify.

Catching her gaze, he looked up, peering over his glasses. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering her response carefully. She wasn't sure if she should bring up her recent encounter with the Scarecrow, especially given Dr. Crane's interest in fear and psychology. But something about his demeanor encouraged her to speak up. She cracked it down to the fact that he was around higher risk patients at arkham so he should understand.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to alarm Dr. Crane or reveal too much about her involvement with Gotham's underworld.

"Well, actually..." she began, her voice measured. "I recently had a rather unusual encounter with someone who... operates outside the norms, let's say."

Dr. Crane raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on," he prompted, leaning forward slightly.

"There's this... guy," she began, her voice thoughtful. "Who put me in a rather diffucult situation. But instead of leaving me in trouble, this guy… helped me. He claimed that his actions were never intended to inconvenience me, but rather someone else entirely. It's all rather confusing to me."

As she spoke, Dr. Crane listened attentively, his analytical gaze fixed on her. There was a calculating intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed past it, determined to convey the essence of her experience without divulging too much.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. “Why do you think he wouldn’t have helped you?” he asked.

“Well this... guy... well, he’s not exactly known for his generosity,” Y/n said, choosing her words carefully.

"I see," he murmured, his tone contemplative. "It seems you've had quite the... encounter."

Y/n nodded, relieved that she had managed to convey the situation without revealing too many details.

“Well... what about the situation confuses you?” he asked.

“The fact that he helped me, I just don’t understand it,” Y/n said.

“Had you encountered this individual prior to that?” Dr. Crane inquired.

“Yes, and he wasn’t particularly pleasant,” Y/n replied.

“Perhaps he had a change of heart, felt remorse... or maybe you interested him in some way,” Dr. Crane suggested.

Y/n recognized that Dr. Crane might not offer much assistance, especially since her account was far from the complete truth, but she valued his perspective.

“Yeah... maybe,” she said, considering his viewpoint.

The two appointments proceeded smoothly. The first patient was a paranoid individual, tormented by incessant fears of lurking threats in the shadows. As for the second patient was a woman struggling with intense anxiety and recurring nightmares. Dr. Crane navigated through their sessions with his calmness and precision, offering insightful observations and gentle guidance.

As the day progressed, Y/n found herself drawn into the complexities of the patients' minds, witnessing firsthand the challenges they faced and the therapeutic approaches employed by Dr. Crane.

By the end of the day, Y/n felt a newfound respect for Dr. Crane's expertise and a deeper curiosity about the human psyche.

Leaving Arkham, they boarded the Akrham train heading to the city center. "I trust today has been insightful for you," Dr. Crane remarked as they found their seats.

The clatter of the train tracks provided a rhythmic backdrop to their conversation as they settled into their seats. Y/n nodded, reflecting on the day's events. "Definitely," she replied. "It's given me a lot to think about."

Dr. Crane inclined his head, his gaze thoughtful. "Understanding the human mind is a continuous journey, filled with both challenges and revelations," he remarked. "But it's a journey worth undertaking."

Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing his words. As the train rumbled on, she noticed that her stop was nearing.

"Thank you, Dr. Crane. You've been a really amazing mentor today," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

Dr. Crane nodded, acknowledging her gratitude. "You're welcome, Y/n. If you ever need any guidance or have any questions in the future, feel free to reach out," he said, his tone surprisingly warm.

As the train slowed to a stop at Y/n's station, she gathered her belongings and stood up. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you again," she said, offering a polite smile before stepping off the train.

"Have a safe walk home," Dr. Crane bid farewell as the train doors slid shut.

As she walked away from the station, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of curiosity about Dr. Crane. There was something intriguing about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the rest of her day ahead.

Alone in the dark, a wave of fear washed over her. Her home was just a ten-minute walk from the station, but after receiving that ominous message yesterday, she felt more uneasy than usual.

The usual nightly weirdos on the street didn't bother her much, no, it was the thought of encountering Scarecrow that sent shivers down her spine.

As she walked, a group of guys stepped out from a dark alley, eyeing her with leering grins. "Hey, sweetheart, looking for some company?" one of them called out, his tone dripping with sleaze.

Y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed by their attempts to intimidate her. "Sorry, boys, not interested," she replied, quickening her pace.

As they closed in, Y/n sprang into action with lightning speed. In one fluid motion, she lunged towards the nearest assailant, her hands moving with precision. With a swift twist, she disarmed him, the weapon clattering to the ground with a metallic clang.

Before the others could react, Y/n hit him with calculated strikes, each one finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy. With each opponent she incapacitated, the threat diminished, until finally, all that remained was a pile of defeated adversaries at her feet.

Just as she thought the situation was under control, a familiar chill ran down her spine. The dim streetlight cast eerie shadows as Scarecrow emerged from the darkness, his silhouette looming ominously. Y/n's heart raced, her muscles tensing in anticipation.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as Scarecrow's gaze swept over the scene. She braced herself as the Scarecrow raised his hand, expecting the worst. Shielding her face, she awaited the inevitable assault, but instead, she heard screams erupting behind her.

Reluctantly lowering her arms, she turned to witness a man writhing on the ground, his cries echoing through the deserted street beside a discarded firearm. Her gaze snapped back to the Scarecrow, her eyes widening in astonishment.

"One missed," he remarked coolly.

“Scarecrow…” she uttered, caught between greeting him and still processing the situation.

“Y/n,” he acknowledged.

“So...you know my name now,” she remarked, her tone barely masking her worry.

“Would you prefer I call you Batgirl still?” he asked, sarcastically.

“I suppose there’s no point,” Y/n shrugged, conceding to the truth.

Observing him in the dimly lit street, she couldn't help but notice his eerie yet intriguing presence. “Nice suit,” she commented, attempting to break the tension.

“Thank you,” he replied courteously, his mask concealing any expression.

Despite his seemingly benign demeanor, she couldn't shake off her unease about his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” she probed cautiously.

“Making sure you got home safely,” he responded matter-of-factly.

“You’re following me?” she questioned, her suspicion growing palpable.

“Looks that way,” he confirmed, his voice protraying no hint of emotion.

“...I’ll be off then,” she stated, turning to head back home.

His footsteps echoed behind her, prompting her to halt and face him. “You’re still here?”

"You don’t think I was just going to leave,” he remarked.

“Then can you at least not stalk behind me?” Y/n requested, her tone surprisingly composed despite her lingering unease.

Closing the distance between them, he fell into step beside her. “You know Batman might find you,” she warned.

“Not tonight, I saw him off chasing the Penguin,” he assured her.

Y/n looked ahead, contemplating their unusual companionship. “So… are you going to hurt me?” she questioned, her voice hinting her vulnerability.

“I didn’t hurt you before, why would I now?” he countered.

“Well, why else are you here?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued.

“It was you that said you’d ‘see me around’,” Scarecrow reminded her.

She recalled their earlier exchange, surprised that he remembered. “I didn’t think you’d remember… or care,” she admitted.

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Y/n broke it. “How did you find me?” she asked the question that was weighing on her mind since she got the note.

“It was coincidence,” Scarecrow replied cryptically.

“Seriously! That's all?” Y/n protested.

“I saw you... and gaining access to you was a simple matter after that,” he explained.

Y/n paused, contemplating the implications of his words.

“Wait, so you mean to say... Did I see you around?” Y/n's curiosity peaked.

Scarecrow's silence spoke volumes, confirming her suspicions. Y/n's mind raced, attempting to pinpoint any instance where she could have crossed paths with Scarecrow during the day, but nothing came to mind.

"You're annoying, you know that? Why can't you just tell me who you are?" Y/n pressed, frustration lacing her words.

"And give you the chance to share with your caped crusader? I think not," Scarecrow retorted with a hint of amusement in his distorted voice.

Y/n scowled, "This is bullshit. What kind of friend are you?"

"Friend?" Scarecrow echoed, a note of mock surprise in his tone.

Realizing she had referred to him as a friend, Y/n hesitated, "Well… I don’t know."

"Considering me a friend? That's rather... optimistic of you," Scarecrow jested.

"You know what? Fuck you," Y/n snapped, pushing him away in annoyance.

Scarecrow's laughter, distorted and chilling, filled the air.

"About that crow yesterday..." Y/n shifted the topic.

"Ah, yes, Craw," Scarecrow interjected.

"Craw... you named your bird after the sound it makes? What are you, five?" Y/n couldn't help but mock his choice.

"Feeling particularly bitey today, aren't we?" Scarecrow remarked with a hint of amusement.

"I'm just pointing out the obvious. You could have called him anything and you settled on 'Craw'? It's like naming a cat 'Meow' or a dog ‘Woof’," Y/n countered.

"I doubt your question was solely to critique my naming choices," Scarecrow deflected, steering the conversation forward.

"So, you have a trained crow... cool," Y/n conceded.

With a snap of his fingers, Scarecrow summoned the crow, which gracefully swooped down to perch on his shoulder.

"Fuck, that’s impressive," Y/n admitted, genuinely taken aback.

"He's a good companion," Scarecrow acknowledged, affectionately caressing the crow's feathered chest.

"And yet, when I mention friendship, I'm desperate?" Y/n teased with a scoff.

"I'm merely taken aback... You haven't even tried to call Batman on me yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Well, if he can have his criminal friend, I don't see why I shouldn't either," Y/n reasoned, thinking about Bruces weird thing with Catwomen.

"It only seems fair," Scarecrow conceded with a nod.

As they approached her apartment complex, Y/n paused and faced Scarecrow.

"I guess this is where I leave you," she remarked, a hint of reluctance in her tone as she gestured towards the looming building of her apartment complex.

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. "Seems so. You'll be safe here, I presume?"

Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of irony at the question, considering who it was coming from. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for helping me back there," she quipped, offering him a small, genuine smile.

Scarecrow nodded once, sharply, as if dismissing any need for gratitude. "Take care, Y/n."

With those parting words, he turned and disappeared into the shadows from where he came, leaving Y/n to stare after him for a long moment. Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it from the surreal encounter, she turned and headed towards her apartment, her mind swirling with thoughts about the night's events and the enigmatic figure that had just left her side.

The anticipation for her next encounter with Scarecrow had always been tinged with impatience, but now, there was a distinct shift in her desires. Gone was the sole focus on capturing him, instead, she found herself wanting to talk, even hang out with the guy.

Wandering the corridors of Arkham, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an exasperated shout not far from her location. “Damn bird!” echoed off the sterile walls.

Curious, Y/n turned on her heel to investigate. A large bird flying through the hallway, causing a commotion. But this was no ordinary crow, as it swooped closer, she recognized it instantly. Craw, Scarecrow's supposed good companion.

As the crow landed gracefully before her, Y/n crouched down, gently scooping him up. The security guard, panting from the chase, approached with a look of annoyance plastered across his face.

“Stupid bird,” he muttered, reaching out to snatch Craw away.

Y/n, cradling the crow protectively, assured him, “It's fine, I've got this. I'll make sure he's put outside.”

The guard, too worn out to argue further, simply shrugged and departed. Alone now, Y/n shifted her focus to Craw, who seemed quite content in her grasp.

Noticing a piece of paper held in his beak, she gently grabbed it, speaking softly to the crow, “Hey there, pretty. How did you manage to find me here?”

Placing Craw on her shoulder, she unfolded the note.

‘I’ll see you tonight.’

A smile unknowingly crept across her face as she read the message. Shortly after, Craw took flight from her shoulder, darting down the corridor.

“No! Craw, I need to take you outside!” she called after him, her plea falling on deaf ears.

With a resigned sigh, she watched him disappear deeper into the Asylum. “Well, he's someone else's problem now.”

Despite the mild chaos, the note clutched in her hand warmed her heart, igniting a flutter of excitement for what the evening might bring.

The walk home felt different for Y/n this evening. Each shadow cast by the dim streetlights seemed to promise the appearance of Scarecrow, echoing his note that said they would meet again. With every step, her anticipation grew, turning each corner with a mix of eagerness and anxiety, expecting to find him waiting in the familiar alley where their paths often crossed. But tonight, the alley remained empty.

The silence of the alleyway, usually filled with the tension of their encounters, now hung heavy with disappointment. She lingered for a moment, scanning the shadows and empty spaces where he might have stood, half-hoping for the rustle of his coat or the soft click of his approach. But there was nothing. Just the quiet of the night and the distant hum of the city.

As she continued her walk home, the excitement that had quickened her steps faded into a dull ache of letdown. Thoughts raced through her mind, pondering why he hadn't appeared. Had something happened to him? Had Batman managed to intervene?

Reaching her apartment, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of solitude that enveloped her. Inside, the quiet of her home only amplified her disappointment. With a heavy sigh, Y/n resigned herself to the evening's solitude, dropping onto her bed.

As she lay in the quiet of her room, Y/n found herself wrestling with thoughts that mocked her for entertaining the idea of a friendship with someone as complex and dangerous as Scarecrow. How could she, grounded in her own principles and duties, truly expect to build a connection with a figure who thrived in the shadows, a master of fear?

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a thump against her window. Startled, she glanced up, only to find the familiar silhouette of a crow striking the glass. Hurrying over, she opened the window, allowing Craw to flutter into the room. Peering out the window, her pulse quickened at the sight below.

Scarecrow stood on the ground, gazing up at her with his usual get-up.

"May I come up?" his voice floated up to her.

Without hesitation, she swung onto the fire escape, releasing the ladder for him. As he ascended, a mixture of surprise and anticipation filled her.

"Why are you here?" she inquired, as he stepped through the window into her room.

"I said I'd see you tonight," he replied.

"I thought you’d just walk me home," she admitted, a smile playing on her lips despite herself.

"Indeed, I intended to, but I was held up," Scarecrow said, his voice carrying a touch of regret.

Inside her room, with the city's night as their backdrop, she couldn't help but jest, "So, the man behind the mask has a life?"

Scarecrow chuckled below the mask, “That I do.”

Now settled in her room, Y/n found a comfortable spot on her bed, her back resting gently against the headboard.

With a curious tilt of her head, she ventured, "Could I possibly hear more about the man beneath the mask?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I was caught up at work, actual work, something that required my immediate attention."

This prompted Y/n to recall her little interaction with his crow eariler. "Speaking of work, how did you manage to send Craw into Arkham?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's just say he found his way through a window," he replied,criptically.

Scarecrow chose a spot at the foot of her bed, directly opposite her, and gracefully seated himself. Craw saw it as an opportunity to hopped onto his thigh, finding comfort in his familiar presence.

As they sat in Y/n's room, the silence between them was palpable. Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Curiosity, apprehension, and a strange sense of comfort in Scarecrow's presence. She studied him closely, trying to decipher the man, but his expression remained hidden.

"So, what really brings you here tonight?" Y/n finally broke the silence, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Scarecrow glanced at her, his gaze piercing. "I wanted to check on you," he replied simply.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, skeptical of his intentions. "Check on me?" she echoed, searching his face for any hint of deception.

"Yes," Scarecrow affirmed, his tone unwavering. "After our encounter the other night, I thought I should make sure you're okay."

Y/n's initial skepticism softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Despite their strange relationship, Scarecrow's concern for her well-being was unexpected.

"I'm fine," Y/n reassured him, offering a small smile. "But why go through the trouble? You're not exactly known for your kindness."

Scarecrow's lips quirked into a faint smile, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Perhaps I'm not as one-dimensional as you think," he remarked.

Y/n's curiosity piqued at his response, but before she could delve further, there was a sudden knock on her apartment door.

“Y/n? I called you but you didn’t answer,” it was Bruce.

The sudden interruption sent Y/n's heart racing, a surge of panic flooding her as she heard Bruce's voice through the door. She momentarily froze, realizing the difficult situation she was in. Glancing frantically at Scarecrow, she leaped into action, her movements swift and desperate.

"Under the bed, now!" she hissed, urgency lacing her whisper as she practically shoved Scarecrow towards the hiding spot.

Without hesitation, Scarecrow complied, slipping under the bed. No sooner had he vanished from sight than Y/n dashed to the apartment's entrance, her mind racing with excuses.

"Hey, Bruce, sorry about that. My phone's been on silent, what’s up?" she managed to say with a feigned nonchalance as she swung the door open, greeting him with a practiced casualness.

"I said I'd swing by to check on you. Everything's been okay lately?" Bruce asked, stepping past the threshold with a concerned glance.

"Yep, all good here," Y/n replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Y/n found herself desperately seeking a solution that wouldn't raise Bruce's suspicions, yet every moment he lingered increased the risk of Scarecrow's presence unmasking Bruce's own secret identity. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, she was at a loss, her mind racing for a strategy that seemed increasingly elusive.

Then, an ominous thump from her bedroom shattered the tense silence, causing her heart to plummet into her stomach.

"What was that?" Bruce's voice sharpened with alertness, his instinctive concern prompting him to move toward the source of the sound.

Y/n's anxiety reached it’s limits until, unexpectedly, a voice came from her bedroom. "Y/n? Who's at the door?" It was unmistakably Scarecrow, yet his voice was stripped of its usual menacing distortion, sounding disarmingly normal.

Panic painted Y/n's face with a stark shade of horror, a silent scream at the realization of her rapidly unraveling situation. However, Bruce's reaction took a turn Y/n hadn't anticipated. His expression, initially furrowed with concern, smoothly transitioned into an amused smirk.

"I didn't realize you had company. I'll leave you to your...guest," he said, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic lightness.

In that moment, Y/n's dread shifted to a baffling sense of relief to mild embarrassment. The flush of embarrassment that crept up Y/n's cheeks. The implication in Bruce's assumption that her "guest" was there for reasons more intimate was mortifying, yet it was a far more palatable scenario than him suspecting the presence of a notorious criminal in her bedroom.

"U-uh, yeah, sorry," she managed, her voice a mix of awkwardness and gratitude as she escorted Bruce to the door.

Pausing at the threshold, Bruce turned back to her, his expression lightly amused. "Have a good night," he said, his voice carrying a hint of jest before he delivered a playful wink and departed.

As Y/n closed the door behind him, a wave of relief washed over her, tinged with a lingering embarrassment. As Y/n reentered her bedroom, her gaze fell upon Craw, who had perched on the shelf by her door.

"Are you still hiding under my bed?" she asked, her knees pressing against the cool floor as she peered under the bed.

There he was, Scarecrow, his frame stretched out beneath her bed, an unexpected sight that was oddly endearing. "Yeah," came his muffled reply.

"It's safe to come out now," she assured him, her voice lifting with a mix of relief and warmth.

As Scarecrow emerged, his presence seemed to fill the room. "What was that thumping sound?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Craw decided the door looked interesting," Scarecrow quipped, a hint of affection for the mischief-maker in his tone.

Y/n's eyes darted to Craw, her expression one of mock frustration. "You bloody bird!" she growled, though the crow seemed preoccupied with scratching his wing with his beak.

"And thank you, by the way. My heart nearly stopped when he headed towards my room," she admitted, her hands finding their way to her hips.

"Who was that, if I may ask?" Scarecrow's curiosity was evident, his head tilted.

"A friend," she answered simply.

"Just a friend?" he probed further, an edge of something playful in his voice.

"Jealous?" Y/n teased, a light chuckle escaping her.

"Should I be?" he parried, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/n's laughter filled the room, a sound of genuine amusement. "Bruce is just a friend. Though now he probably thinks I've got a secret lover stashed in here," she said, the humor in her situation not lost on her.

"Bruce? As in-" Scarecrow started, only for Y/n to jump in.

"Bruce Wayne? Yes," she confirmed, closing the loop on his thought.

"I would've expected the Batman, not Bruce Wayne," he mused, his voice carrying a note of mock disappointment.

"Batman wouldn’t bother with the front door, that’s for sure," Y/n laughed.

Y/n chuckled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on her bedspread. "So, did you... you know, take off the mask when you called out?" she asked.

Scarecrow's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, yeah. I don’t know if you can tell, but my voice isn’t naturally distorted," he pointed out.

Y/n's playful pout betrayed her teasing tone. "That's not fair! My room got to see your face before I did!" she exclaimed, feigning offense.

"Your room is quite the lucky spectator," he remarked, his tone filled with amusement.

"I bet you won’t show me cause you’re insecure," Y/n teased with a playful glint in her eye.

Scarecrow tilted his head. "Or perhaps I prefer the mystery. Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" His voice was muffled slightly by the fabric covering his features.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. "Interesting for you, maybe. I'm just sitting here guessing if you're secretly a model or if you've got a face only a mother could love."

"Guess you'll just have to keep wondering," he replied.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only by the soft rustling of Craw shifting on his perch. Y/n found herself studying Scarecrow, trying to glean any hint of the man behind the mask from his posture, his movements, even the way he spoke. There was an undeniable curiosity bubbling within her, a desire to know more about the mysterious figure who'd become an unexpected constant in her life.

As the night wore on, their conversation flowed, ranging from trivial banter to more serious discussions about their contrasting views of the city they both operated in. Despite their differences, Y/n felt a strange sense of kinship with Scarecrow, a connection forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Eventually, Y/n yawned, the lateness of the hour catching up to her. Scarecrow noticed, standing up from where he had been sitting. "I should go," he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance.

Y/n nodded, feeling an unexpected twinge of disappointment at the thought of him leaving. "Yeah, I guess it's getting late."

As Scarecrow moved toward the window, Y/n called out, "Will I see you again?"

He paused at the window, turning slightly to look at her. "I'm sure you will," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.

And with that, he slipped out into the night with Craw flying after him, leaving Y/n with a mix of emotions and the lingering thrill of their conversation.

After two calm weeks, Bruce finally agreed to Y/n resuming her nightly endeavors alongside him. Although he harbored lingering doubts about Scarecrow, Y/n managed to clam his concerns, assuring him that Scarecrow would not pose a threat.

As Y/n and Batman moved stealthily through the Narrows, the dense fog seemed to cloak their presence further, blending them into the night. This part of Gotham, with its tight alleys and towering buildings, felt like a world entirely its own.

"Keep your guard up," Batman whispered, his voice barely carrying over the mist. "The Narrows are unpredictable."

Y/n nodded, her senses on high alert. The Narrows always had a way of keeping you on your toes, its residents too used to the shadows. But tonight, there was an odd stillness, as if the very air was holding its breath.

Suddenly, Batman stiffened, his head tilting slightly, the universal sign that he was receiving a communication through the cowl's integrated comms. Y/n watched him, waiting for instructions, knowing that whatever had just come through could very well dictate their next move.

After a moment, Batman turned to her, the glow from the city behind him casting a shadow over his face. "Riddler's causing trouble downtown. I need to go now."

"I'll stay here. Keep an eye on things," she offered, already mentally preparing to handle the Narrows alone.

Batman nodded, a silent message of trust and confidence in her abilities. "Be careful," he said before grappling away, disappearing into the night sky.

Alone now, Y/n felt the weight of the silence around her. The Narrows, with its whispering shadows and secrets, suddenly seemed even more foreboding. She took a deep breath, centering herself. This was her domain too, her responsibility.

"Thought he’d never leave," came a voice below her, drawing her attention downward.

As Y/n leaned over the edge of the rooftop. To her surprise, Scarecrow stood on the balcony below, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights.

"You've been here the whole time?" Y/n exclaimed, taken aback by his sudden appearance.

"I've been waiting inside. The place was abandoned," Scarecrow replied calmly, gesturing towards the building behind him.

Y/n hopped down from the rooftop, landing gracefully on the balcony beside him.

"Wow, Batman and I need to step up our game," she remarked, impressed by Scarecrow's stealth.

"Haven’t seen you as Batgirl in a while," Scarecrow noted, his gaze lingering on her.

"Yeah, thanks to you. I was sidelined. Batman thought you were gonna go after me," Y/n explained, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Keeping you safe. Wise man," Scarecrow replied cryptically, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. "More like overprotective," she whined.

Y/n could hear Scarecrow smirk behind the mask. "He has reason to be. You're not exactly easy to replace."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased.

"Where's Craw?" Y/n asked, looking around.

"Is my presence not enough for you?" Scarecrow teased.

Y/n side-eyed him, and Scarecrow chuckled. "He's back at my lab."

Scarecrow leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze scanning the darkened streets below. "So, what's the plan now? Are you patrolling solo?"

Y/n nodded. "Looks like it. Batman got called away to deal with Riddler downtown."

Scarecrow hummed in response. "Well then, I guess it's just you and me tonight."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "You planning on causing any trouble?"

Scarecrow chuckled, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

They fell into an easy silence, the sounds of the city filling the air around them. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Scarecrow, an unexpected ally in the night.

Y/n cast a sidelong glance at Scarecrow, noting the unusual cleanliness of his attire. "Not the usual tattered suit?" she pointed out.

Scarecrow glanced down at his suit. "Well, one has to look clean to impress," he replied, glazing at her.

"I'm sure Batman doesn't mind how you look," Y/n quipped, a playful glint in her eye.

Y/n leaned her back against the balcony railing, her gaze meeting Scarecrow's with a hint of mischief.

"Although, I must admit, the rugged look suits you," she teased, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a spark of amusement. "Is that so? Perhaps I should stick to the tattered aesthetic then," he countered, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.

Y/n's laughter rang out across the night sky, the sound mixing with the distant hum of the city below. "You do you, Scarecrow. Just don't expect me to swoon over every torn thread," she replied, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes.

Scarecrow leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Ah, but what if I told you I have a whole wardrobe of tattered suits just waiting to impress you?"

Y/n chuckled, her heart fluttering at the playful tone in Scarecrow's voice. "Just for me? Scandalous.”

"Well, if torn threads won't do the trick, I'll have to find another way to catch your eye." Scarecrow added.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh? And what approach are you planning to take?"

He leaned in even closer, his gaze locking with hers. "I suppose I'll have to rely on my charming wit and irresistible charm," he replied, his tone filled with playful confidence.

Y/n chuckled, the sound light and melodious in the night air. "Smooth talker, are we?" she teased, her own playful demeanor matching his.

Scarecrow's grin widened, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Only when I'm in good company," he admitted, his voice softening slightly as he held her gaze.

Y/n's cheeks flushed at his words, her gaze lingering on his captivating eyes. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl," she teased, unable to suppress the flutter of excitement building within her.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through Y/n. "Only because you make it so easy," he murmured, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

"If I weren't on duty, I might have been tempted to steal a kiss from you right here," she teased, her fingers playfully tugging at his noose.

With a wink, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the abandoned apartment, leaving Scarecrow to ponder her words.

"You never know, the night is young," he remarked, his voice laced with playful innuendo.

"Oh, but I could never kiss a man whose face I've never seen," Y/n remarked.

"Oh, but the mystery adds to the allure, don't you think?" Scarecrow countered.

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. "Who says you haven't seen it before?"

Y/n halted in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned back to face him.

"So, I have actually seen you before?" she asked eagerly.

Scarecrow nodded, a hint of amusement in his demeanor. "Yes, indeed," he confirmed.

Her excitement grew, and she leaned in closer. "Did we talk?" she pressed.

"We did," he replied, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Her disbelief turned into sheer astonishment. "Oh my god! Seriously? Can you tell me more?" she exclaimed.

"We had quite a conversation, and we crossed paths a few times afterward," Scarecrow disclosed.

Y/n racked her brain, trying to recall any details, but she was drawing a blank. Feeling frustrated and a little foolish for not making the connection, she sighed. Despite now knowing what he sounded like without the mask, she still couldn't piece it together.

"Holy fuck! That's incredible!" Y/n exclaimed, laughter bubbling up from within her. "Can you give me just a tiny hint about what you look like?" Y/n pleaded.

"Sorry, but that would spoil the fun," Scarecrow replied.

Y/n persisted, "Well, do you at least know if I find you attractive?"

"Why do you want to know that?" Scarecrow questioned.

"Because it might have to kiss you after all," Y/n teased.

Scarecrow considered her words before responding, "...I don’t know. You didn't seem particularly impressed when you saw me, you were just a bit awkward at first. But to be fair, so was I."

There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, though Y/n couldn't be sure. "Perhaps my awkwardness was due to the fact I was starstruck?" she offered playfully.

Scarecrow sounded unconvinced. "Unlikely," he countered gently.

"Or… could it be because my attention was already captivated by someone else? Maybe a certain Scarecrow?" Y/n teased, aiming to lighten his spirits.

Scarecrow's demeanor shifted, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "Why the sudden interest, Batgirl? You've never shown any feelings towards me before. What's changed?" he asked.

Y/n found herself confused by the unfolding situation. When had she begun to flirt with Scarecrow, and why was she so invested in making him believe she was romantically interested? Whenever this change occurred, she didn’t mind it.

"Woah. You started this, and don't act as if you weren't flirting with me too," Y/n retorted.

Scarecrow's tone never softened, his eyes narrowing as he studied Y/n's face. "And if I was? What are your intentions, Y/n?" he asked.

"I don’t know! I was just bantering, playing along… what were your intentions then? How do I know you're not just leading me on so you can gas me again?" Y/n retorted, turning the tables on him.

This clearly offended Scarecrow. "You know it was an accident."

"Do I?" Y/n challenged.

Scarecrow's expression softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly.

Y/n felt a pang of sympathy. "I know," she replied softly.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. Eventually, Y/n spoke up again. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Look, I didn't mean to upset you," Y/n said, her tone sincere.

Scarecrow took a deep breath, visible even through his attire. "And I apologize if I seemed defensive. It wasn't my intention."

Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Both were treading uncharted waters, neither sure of where the current would take them but willing to navigate it together.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Y/n began, again with the playfulness in her voice, "do you wear contacts?"

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, "Prescription ones, yes."

"But not colored?" she probed further.

"No, why do you ask?" Scarecrow's response carried a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Y/n's tone softened, warmth seeping into her words, "It's just that... you have really pretty eyes."

"Again with the flattery?" Scarecrow teased.

"It's just the truth," Y/n replied with a grin.

"And here I was thinking I might get a kiss," Scarecrow joked.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head, "I told you, I’m not going to kiss a man I don’t know."

Scarecrow shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes, "That’s a shame."

The distant wail of sirens interrupted their banter.

"I should probably leave now," Scarecrow remarked.

"Yeah… see you later?" Y/n said, a hopeful note in her voice.

"Count on it. Until then... See you at Arkham," Scarecrow said, disappearing into the night.

Y/n's mind raced to piece together the puzzle he had inadvertently presented her. It took a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it did, her heart skipped a beat.

"Wait a minute!" she called out, but it was futile, Scarecrow was already gone.

Her mind buzzed with newfound clarity. Tall, lanky, formal speech, glasses, and now, a connection to Arkham. It all clicked into place with a sudden jolt of realization. How had she not seen it before?

"Holy fuck," Y/n breathed, her pulse quickening.

The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place, revealing a truth she couldn't ignore. Scarecrow... was someone from Arkham. And in that moment, a single name echoed in her mind with chilling clarity.

The conversations they'd shared, the topics they'd discussed, all pointed to one undeniable truth. His fascination with fear, his strange approach to their encounters, it was all too familiar now.

The memory of their first meeting flooded back, and suddenly, it made perfect sense. The shock on his face, the careful choice of words. It was Dr. Crane, right before her eyes.

Y/n couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner. How had she missed the signs? How had she not recognized the man behind the mask all along?

Now faced with this newfound knowledge, Y/n was at a crossroads. Should she maintain the facade of ignorance, carrying on as if nothing had changed? Or should she confront Dr. Crane, acknowledging the truth that lay between them? And what about the promise she'd made, the playful banter about kissing him. Was it all just a game, or did it hold deeper significance now?

One thing was certain, she couldn't risk revealing her discovery to Bruce. As she grappled with these thoughts, Y/n resolved to tread carefully, to navigate this delicate situation with caution. The truth had been revealed, but its aftermath remained to be seen.

Throughout the morning, Y/n felt restless as she awaited her encounter with Dr. Crane. Stuck in Dr. Young's office sorting files, she impatiently waited for the opportunity to find him.

As soon as she finished with the files, Y/n swiftly stored them away and left the office, determined to seek out Dr. Crane in the secure section of Arkham.

As Y/n made her way through the corridors of Arkham, her mind raced with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment, hoping to confront Dr. Crane. Suddenly, she spotted him in the distance, his figure unmistakable amidst the gloom. Their eyes locked, and she saw a hint of amusement in his expression, as if he knew she was coming.

Her heart skipped a beat. Feeling a surge of determination, Y/n hastened her steps, closing the gap between them with purpose. As she reached Dr. Crane, she grabbed his arm firmly, surprising him with her sudden boldness. His smirk widened slightly, betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity at her actions.

Without uttering a word, Y/n tugged him along, leading him towards his office. Dr. Crane offered little resistance, seemingly taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness. As they entered the office, Y/n swiftly closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock, sealing them inside.

"You sly motherfucker," Y/n breathed out.

Entwining her fingers in his hair, she drew him closer, her lips crashing against his in a fiery embrace. The kiss ignited a whirlwind of emotions, fueled by pent-up desire and the thrill of discovery.

Caught off guard by Y/n's sudden boldness, Dr. Crane hesitated for a moment before surrendering to the intoxicating allure of her kiss. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the intensity of the moment enveloped them both.

For a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own private universe of passion and longing. But as the kiss deepened, an obnoxious buzz interrupted the moment, reminding them of their surroundings.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Y/n and Dr. Crane gazed into each other's eyes, a mixture of surprise and desire reflected in their expressions.

"I... I didn't expect..." Dr. Crane began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

Y/n's heart raced as she searched his eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation. But instead, she found a spark of something else, a glimmer of longing and vulnerability that mirrored her own.

"I'm sorry," Y/n whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I just couldn't resist."

She noticed a blush creeping up Dr. Crane’s cheeks as he adjusted his glasses.

"Am I fogging up your glasses?" Y/n teased.

Dr. Crane chuckled nervously. "Not disappointed, I see," he replied, his tone unable to hide his embarrassment.

Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Now, I could never be disappointed in my Scarecrow," she said, her words filled with warmth.

Dr. Crane's blush deepened at the endearing nickname, but he tried to maintain his composure. "I hope you don't go around kissing all your superiors," he joked, attempting to deflect the attention.

Y/n grinned mischievously. "Just you, Dr. Crane," she said, her tone teasing yet sincere.

Dr. Crane's lips curled into a soft smile at her response. "Seeing as circumstances change, you can call me Jonathan," he offered, his voice tinged with newfound intimacy.

"Well, Jonathan… I'm glad to finally know the man behind the mask," Y/n said with a smile.

"You better not go off telling your bat friend about this," Jonathan warned playfully.

"And lose my nighttime companion? No way," Y/n retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Jonathan chuckled at her response. Y/n’s eyes drifted to the closed office door.

“We should probably be getting back to work now," Y/n said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"We should, yes..." Jonathan began, his gaze lingering on her. "But I've never been one to follow the rules too closely," he added, drawing her closer into his embrace.

Y/n chuckled softly, realizing she wouldn't be leaving the office anytime soon. With a smile on her lips and a newfound connection in her heart, Y/n embraced the unpredictable journey ahead, knowing that whatever was between them was going to be complicated. But as Jonathan's lips met hers once more, Y/n felt a rush of exhilaration, realizing that wouldn’t want it any other way.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request 💚 I really did enjoy writing this fic, enemies hit differently when it's in superhero fics and I love it. Even with the fic being 15k long, I wasn't sure how to make them 'lovers', so I ended up just making them playfully flirt and just turn it into real attraction cause...slay. So yeah, it's a bit fast paced but I am still happy with what I've written and I hope yous are too :) It took me quite a while to write as I've just been so busy with Uni and work lately, finding time between has been difficult. Thank you again and I hope you enjoyed 💚

#fanfic #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #dc scarecrow #cillian murphy scarecrow #batman scarecrow #the scarecrow #scarecrow #scarecrow x batgirl #batgirl #reader is batgirl #scarecrow x reader

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temis-de-leon · 2 months

Text

Replaced MC AU/AU - Part 1

Characters: demon brothers, Diavolo, fem!MC and high school crush! male! NES (MC x NES)

How’s it gonna be , Intro – Part 0 , Part 2 , Part 3

Masterlist

CW: unrequited love, rejection, insecure demons, i refuse to let MC be a doormat, lesson 16 mentioned, my interpretations of the pacts, suggestive (kinda? i dont know), MC is down bad for NES, golden retriever NES, both MC and NES are in their 20s

There were two songs during the writing of this part: Rock Lobster and Girl With One Eye; do with that information what you will

Diavolo liked NES. What a fine addition to the program he was! Invested in his studies, clearly interested in the new world he had been suddenly thrown to and cooperative as an advisor whenever MC was occupied with other matters. Charismatic, polite and respectful, still acting with naiveness, but quickly adapting to his surroundings.

No wonder MC used to be in love with him.

That was a surprise for everyone, although he’d be lying if he said it was a pleasant one. Solomon had laughed at the turn of events, stating how lucky MC was finding NES years later. In hell, no less! And while that made everything easier in terms of getting to know the Devildom from a familiar face, seeing MC smile with that bashfulness whenever she crossed paths with NES wasn’t something none of them were keen on.

Sending him to Purgatory Hall despite MC’s protests was the obvious choice. The House of Lamentation was already crowded and having MC share her room was both unnecessary and unfair; at least, that’s what Lucifer said.

Both of the angels’ and Solomon’s reports were as positive as they could be. Luke thoroughly enjoyed baking with him, Simeon described his company as delightful and the sorcerer was ecstatic when he announced that NES tried every single one of his dishes, which just proved his bravery and resilience.

Diavolo liked NES, yes, but he’d like him even more if MC liked him a little less.

“So those are pacts?”

MC stared at NES, mouth dry and words stuck in her throat. She needed to blink, but she didn’t know how to do that without looking weird. Of course NES’s eyes had to look like that under the light of the fireplace.

“MC?”

“Yes?”

He laughed and her heart skipped a beat. There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his voice, making her wish his soft smile was born out of the intimate bubble encasing them. If she focused enough, she could swear NES had a blush in his cheeks. If only that wasn’t due to the heat.

“The pacts, MC”

“Oh, yeah”

Could the earth swallow her if she was already in hell?

“They’re bonds I share with the brothers. Kinda like…”

She didn’t know what to say then. That she could command the brothers and they had no other choice but to obey her? He'd discover the true meaning of the pacts if he asked the right people, mainly Solomon, but it still seemed like a fact too vulnerable to share.

“It means she’s part of the family” a voice behind them intervened. “That she belongs with us”

MC jumped and turned around at lightning speed, drowning in embarrassment at the realization that she’d completely forgotten about Satan’s presence in the library. However, something in his words irked her mind. Did he want to say that? Or rather that she belonged to them?

“That’s nice, right?”

She looked at NES, who was smiling despite the heavy silence in the air. Satan scoffed, no doubt in a mocking tone, and MC wondered with sudden ire how far she could go.

“Well, these are just two of them”

Mammon’s, covering the tip of her fingers in pure black with golden swirls; and Beel’s, dripping out of her mouth down the length of her throat.

“And where are the others? They look really cool!”

“Come closer, I’ll show you Satan’s”

Said demon snapped his book close, turning around with glaring eyes. MC ignored him and opened her mouth, letting herself enjoy NES’s presence so close to her body. There was ink in her tongue, drawing hard edges in the shape of a very elaborated arrow. NES stared at it in amazement, unconsciously grabbing MC’s chin and moving it side to side, up and down, to admire the tattoo better.

“Do you want to see the others?”

NES took his hand away, discreetly looking at Satan out of the corner of his eye.

“Would you…?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary”

The blond glared at them and MC stared him down with a silent warning.

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make”

The tension was thick once again and MC sighed when NES looked away in awkwardness, but she couldn’t let Satan spoil what she wanted to be a nice date.

“Come with me to my room, NES, I’ll show you the rest of them”

He didn’t need any reassurance, taking his DDD and MC’s blanket with him before following her out of the room.

The fireplace was still lit, but Satan felt unusually cold.

“She invited him to her room?!” Asmo clutched his chest before covering his annoyance in fake saccharine words. “How daring!”

“Lucifer will be furious!” cried Levi trying not to drop his DDD in his drink, finally letting it rest on the table and keeping his trembling hands inside his pockets.

“Why didn’t you stop them?”

Satan looked at Mammon in disbelief, sneering at his brother’s furious expression.

“Do you really think I didn’t want to? She wasn’t exactly happy with me at the moment!”

“Well, no wonder! You cock-blocked her!”

Levi screeched at Asmo with a horrified look in his face, tears already in his eyes and fingers fidgeting with his jacket’s zipper.

“She’s raising their intimacy levels at ultimate speed! She’s taking the shortcut! There’s no way a yucky disgusting otaku could compete with that!”

Asmo rolled his eyes, patting the sobering demon’s back.

“None of us can compete with that, Levi”

Everyone looked at Mammon in surprise, but he was staring at his fingers, completely defeated.

“As much as it pains me to say this, Mammon is right”

“Oi! Have some respect for your older brother!”

“Shut up, you moron! I’m taking your side” speaked Asmo once again. He sighed and crossed his arms, hugging himself with sadness. “MC already made her choice. The only thing we can do is slow the process”

“Then we’ll do that”

Satan seemed determined, rejecting Mammon’s supporting touch when he leaned over his chair to grasp his arm. He got up and started to grab his things, stopping only when he heard Levi’s nervous voice.

“She’s already mad at you, Satan. Like… bosslike mad at you.”

“Do you really want to risk that?”

He refused to meet his brothers’ eyes, nor their fear, their empathy or their dejectedness. Without saying another word, he stepped out of Café Lament and set foot to the House of Lamentation.

MC loved the brothers. They’d become family, even with the death threats, the broken wall and the murder. They knew what she liked to do and eat and wear and they were more than happy to indulge in her wishes.

But if they interrupted her time with NES one more time, so help me God, she’d give Hell a whole new meaning.

First it was Satan, sitting next to her in every class and cutting every attempt at a conversation with NES short in the name of a proper education. Then followed Belphie, who slept on the floor by her bedroom door, locking her inside and forcing her to jump out of the window, which gave everyone a heart attack.

Lucifer mildly scolded them for that, stating himself above the poor behavior they were displaying, but still found multiple reasons for MC to be in his office for hours on end. Same as Levi, who pulled three all-nighters in a row and left her half-dead for a week.

Mammon and Beel had been more subtle, both inviting her to movie nights, cooking sessions and shopping sprees. She only put a stop to all of the nonsense when Mammon tried to intercept her when she was on her way to a date with NES, excusing himself with a poor idiotic story about some angry witches.

Strangely, the only one not to have a stupid scheme against her crush was Asmo. She almost expected him to be the most obvious about it, but nothing happened. He still did her nails and he helped her choose her outfits whenever she had a date with NES, albeit with a harsher critical attitude.

He quickly became the nicest one to be around and she had no qualms in saying so.

“Oh, MC! You always know how to make me happy!”

“But it is true! I don’t know what’s wrong with the others! They’ve been acting so weird…”

Asmo stopped rummaging through her closet, turning around to look at her with an unamused expression. He looked tired.

“Honey… Surely you know. You must know”

They stayed in silence for a few seconds, both knowing that MC knew what he was talking about. All seven brothers had been interested in her to some extent, claiming ownership over her soul on more than one occasion, and this was the first time she’d rejected all those statements in such an obvious way.

“We miss you, MC”

Not the whole truth, but something neither of them could deny.

“I miss you too”, she assured him.

She could’ve left it at that, ending the raw, vulnerable talk in a positive tone. Alas, things weren’t always that easy.

“But I like him. So, so much”

MC didn’t want to cry, but she was close. The dejection in Asmo’s eyes lasted long enough for her to almost regret knowing NES for so many years. In the end, he hid himself amongst her pile of clothes and continued looking for a good outfit.

“I’ll find time for you, I swear. For all of you”

Asmo nodded without looking at her, ending the conversation when he threw some clothes in her direction and waited for the mandatory catwalk.

It wouldn’t be enough, but it was the best the brothers could ever get. After all, if someone deserved to be happy and in love, it was her.

Taglist: @stfuchaase @k1-an @megs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry @arylleb @b-a-m-2006

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stvrni0lo · 10 months

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

matt sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: following the hot summer weather, a thunderstorm brews as you look to matt for comfort and warmth

warnings/notes: none! lmk if i missed something though

requested?: no

> > >

The past few months had been scorching hot. Almost everyday was spent in shorts, bikinis, or crop tops - and a huge layer of sunscreen. The sun always blazed into the living room causing the beautiful rays to paint your furniture golden.

Yet with each passing day spent at the beach, the looming knowledge that a thunderstorm would soon follow grew stronger and stronger.

It’s not that you didn’t like storms, or even the rain, but loud noises had always scared you and LA storms were like no other. They were louder than your typical storms and the volume at which the rain smashed against the windows drowned out any other outside noises.

The streets looked almost apocalyptic - deserted and flooded. Trees were flailing about, causing the leaves and branches to let go of their homes, one by one.

Your kitchen was desaturated, a slight grey hue strewn across your apartment. The fear that something would leak somewhere crawled into your mind and your anxiety grew by the second. Today was already too stressful - a leak was the last thing you needed. Grabbing the popcorn you had just made, you made your way out of the kitchen and towards the couch.

Matt had decided to put on a movie for you two as your date night had gotten rudely interrupted by the storm. He suggested that you two watch a horror movie because apparently it was “too scenic not to”. Which, to be fair, it was true it that the weather was perfect for a scary movie.

On the other hand, you sort of wished that you could watch a silly romcom or something instead. Too embarrassed to admit to Matt that you were afraid to mix a horror movie with a thunderstorm, you decided to give in and let him find one to put on.

Making it to the living room, you plopped down next to him and placed the popcorn onto the coffee table in-front of you. Getting comfortable and snuggling into your shared blanket, you placed your head on Matt’s shoulder as you waited for him to press play on the movie.

A particularly loud clap of thunder sounded, and you all but jumped out of your skin at the sudden break in silence.

Matt rubbed your shoulder in comfort, chuckling at your startled state. “You okay?” he asked.

Not trusting your voice to not tremble, you simply nodded and cuddled further into him.

“We don’t have to watch the movie if you’re scared,” he stated, grabbing the popcorn from the table and placing it on his lap.

“I’m not scared,” you scoffed. There was no way you were about to admit to being afraid of a simple thunderstorm. So, with the last ounce of bravery that you could muster, you grabbed the remote and pressed play.

However, as time passed you seemed to regret not switching the movie to something more lighthearted. Every strike of lightning that flooded the room made you more and more tense. The boom of thunder that followed made your eyes squint shut in discomfort - how could anybody find this relaxing? It felt like a real life jump-scare each time.

It didn’t help that as soon as the thunder stopped, the movie’s score picked up and a creature popped onto the screen.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed, pausing the movie immediately. Your heart was hammering against your ribcage, and your breathing quickened in an attempt to get more air into your panicked body.

You expected Matt to laugh at your shocked state, but instead he grabbed your hands in his.

“Hey, baby,” he said trying to grab your attention.

Turning your dilated pupils towards him, you hummed in response. A simple ‘hm?’ was all you could really even muster.

“What’s wrong? You’re shaking.”

His warm hands found your back as he rubbed up and down, attempted to calm your body down. His other hand tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, hoping to offer some comfort to you.

Your eyes trailed to the window behind him, and you flinched as yet another bolt of lightning struck.

Matt’s eyes widened in realization.

“Is it the storm?” he asked, watching you nod. “I’m sorry I should’ve realized sooner.”

Putting the popcorn back onto the table, he scooted closer to you, wrapping you up fully in the blanket and hugging you close to his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You know you can talk to me about anything,” he whispered. His hands caressed your head, making sure to push any stray hairs away from your forehead.

“It’s- I was embarrassed,” you admitted, shoulders relaxing against him.

You could feel Matt make a noise of disbelief next to you.

“I’m not here to judge you. I’d rather you admit that you’re scared of cotton candy than have you deal with it on your own and be uncomfortable.”

You let out a little laugh of amusement, tilting your head to look up at him. His ocean blue eyes were soft as he scanned your face, his hand moving down to rest upon your cheek.

Thumb grazing across your lip, he leaned down to give you a peck.

“You don’t have to be afraid when I’m here, okay?” he mumbled against your lips. “I’ll always be there to protect you from the big bad storms,” Matt added, trying to bring some humour to the situation.

Upon seeing you smile, his own grin appeared on his face soon after. Your head found his chest once again as you sat in silence. His hands squeezed you to him each time the thunder clapped and in the warmth of his embrace, you almost forgot of the storm completely.

“Does this mean we can change the movie?” you asked.

“One hundred percent,” said Matt, reaching for the remote and exiting out of the current movie.

You watched his eyes flick from movie to movie, the blue light illuminating his gentle features. Of course, he was always pretty, but right now he looked like the most beautiful boy in the world to you.

“Hey, Matt?” you whispered.

“Hm?”

“Thank you for being here.”

He turned to give you his sweet smile, rubbing your shoulder. “Always.”

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

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an-askblog-survival-guide · 6 months

Text

[journal entry]

DAY 1:

today i was to start writing about my findings about the state of the world following the worldwide destruction of the war, in effort to keep myself sane in the desolate wasteland. instead, during my travel into the city to find supplies, i found a child.

a little girl. her skin is pale, a blue-grey not unlike my own. i fear she may be sick. she is terrified, underneath her mask of bravery. she jumps at any sudden sound outside of camp and it makes my heart ache. i had given her a doll, a bear. i think? i had hoped it would calm her, and i am grateful it did. we had talked for a while, in the rubble of that toystore. i think she had been alone for a while before i had found her. she kept looking at me like i'd disappear...

she is the first person i have come into contact with since the world ended. i dont know who is luckier,

no child should have to live through this, especially not one as young as she. she is around five, if i had to guess? much to young to be alone. especially out here.

i wont disappear, marceline.

___

after nearly a week i finally finish the introduction post ! this was supposed to be posted alongside the pinned post, but i hadnt finished it at the time and wanted to take my time to give myself the ability to properly color and line the art. aside from working on this ive already began work on answering the first ask for this blog! so keep them coming, of course, updates will be slow due to the effort i will be putting into each ask.

thank you all for being so receptive to my silly idea!! expect more in the coming weeks!

#adventure time #ask blog #ice crown #marceline abadeer #rp blog #simon and marcy #simon petrikov

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ajwild220 · 8 months

Note

Hi I just finished reading your "Trust me" Hero x Villain story and it's amazing!! Ik it's a oneshot but would you please consider writing a part 2 for it? Your writing really drew me into the scene and it was beautiful!! 💖💖

-Hello!! Thank you for my first request ever! I originally wasn't sure whether I was going to make another part, but here it is! Hope you enjoy it!-

Part 1

Trust me-Part 2

Hero stood there in the thick silence a slight curiosity growing in their core, wondering what in the world Villain was doing behind their back. One moment turned into two and Hero had to stop themselves from squirming, trying to grip onto the bravery they had offered so freely seconds before. Villain was so silent, so still, it was unnerving. Hero was just beginning to wonder if they should turn around again when warm hands encircled their wrists causing them to jump. The hands were instantly removed.

“Sorry—sorry” Hero offered a quick apology “I just didn’t know where you were.” Their words faded away as Hero hung their head cursing their actions. They had just made a declaration of trust, yet their body had so easily betrayed them. Silence followed making Hero fidget.

“You uhh” Hero looked up at the ceiling, “You can remove the cuffs now.” They paused. “Please.”

Still no response, Hero was beginning to worry that perhaps Villain wouldn’t carry out the offer at all, however a slight rustle came from behind and the weight of their nemesis’s hands once again rested on their entrapped wrists. Hero fought a sigh of relief.

The seconds ticked by and Hero could feel Villain examining the cuffs, tugging, adjusting, the occasional warm breath against their palms as an indication of Villains close inspection. Hero relaxed slightly, the whole situation catching up with them. They shifted their weight slightly from side to side, the sudden lack of intense adrenaline flooding their system leaving them weak and shaky, they really wished they would have accepted the meal henchman had brought in earlier.

“Hold still.” Villains quiet command made them stiffen. Instantly they stopped shifting, cursing how weak their knees felt beneath them. Hero tried desperately to revive the energy they had before but to no avail, they found themself taking a small step forward to balance from falling over completely.

One of Villains hands gripped around Hero’s wrists and the other around their forearm to keep them steady. Hero could feel the intense gaze of Villain boring into the back of their head.

“Sorry.” Hero offered, barely a whisper.

A beat went by before Villain rose from the chair hand still holding their cuffed wrists as their other hand came between Hero’s arm and body pushing against their waist. Hero squeaked yet Villain maintained the contact continuing to push against them.

“Move.”

Hero complied. Villain was acting more like themselves, less like a sheepish schoolboy and more like their usual confident bravado. Hero couldn’t determine if that was a good thing or not. On one hand at least they were in familiar territory, on the other hand Villain was a great deal more imposing a figure. A stray shiver went down their spine, Hero wasn’t sure how to deal with imposing right now. Whatever Hero’s feelings on the matter, Villain continued to push Hero until they were perpendicular to the other chair that occupied the room.

“Now sit down and hold still.”

Hero had no other option as Villain’s hand left their waist and aided them to sit sideways, legs dangling over one arm of the chair and restrained hands just resting over the other side. Villains’ grip slid to Hero’s bicep as they helped them to scooch closer to the back of the chair and not fall embarrassingly onto the carpet. Hero tensed slightly as Villains grip pushed uncomfortably against the hand shaped bruises left by henchmen however to Hero’s great relief Villain said nothing, merely shifting their grip.

When Hero was properly situated Villain backed up leaving a blush of nervousness tingling through Hero’s entire worn-out body. Everything Hero had grown to expect from Villain was flipped topsy turvy on its head, something Hero was not enjoying in the slightest. Sure, it was nice to be looked after, but the way Villain did it…surely butterflies were a horrible aid to the healing process. Hero gulped avoiding eye-contact trying with everything left within them to remember that the fluttering mess at the bottom of their stomach was fear and not something less sinister. Whatever this odd feeling was Hero didn’t like it, trying to dredge up memories about who was across from them. Their tongue ran over the cut on their lip and instantly the funny feeling disappeared. After all gentleness is not weakness, Villain was strong as ever and Hero thought it best to remember that they were still at Villain’s complete mercy.

Villain knelt on one knee posture still immaculate and in control as they held eye contact with Hero breaking them from their thoughts.

“What I am about to do is very precise. You have to let me work and not move unless I guide your hands to do so. If you do the cuffs are going to put out an electric shock. Nothing you can’t handle however it will not be pleasant and—” Villain pulled up Hero’s sleeve. Hero’s eyes widened at Villains observantness trying to tug their arm away. Their efforts were ultimately in vain. “It seems you have had a long enough day already.” Their tone was almost soft yet Hero could have sworn they detected an angry undertone as Villain examined the bruising already taking on a purplish hue on Hero’s arm. Hero stopped fighting it, it was pointless. It was clear Villain was going to check on them whether they wanted it or not. Hero didn’t know what to do other than avert their gaze, no matter how many times the more caring side of Villain showed itself it still took them off their guard.

Villains fingers gently traced the hand marks unintentionally coming over a patch of delicate skin. Hero winced and tried to cover it, eyes still trained on the ceiling.

“Please just get me out of these things.” Their voice was quiet, almost pleading.

Villain allowed Hero’s sleeve to fall back over the damaged skin and Hero could have sworn there was a hint of teasing in their tone.

“If you insist.”

Villain promptly disappeared from view behind Hero as their hands began to once again work on the cuffs. Hero took deep breaths trying to not concentrate on Villains touch and surprisingly it worked better than expected. Although it had an undesirable effect as Hero leaned their weight against the back of the chair in exhaustion. Their body was spent, all they wanted to do was close their eyes and forget this whole sticky situation, but they had to keep their guard up. They could feel their eyelids growing heavier the longer they had to remain frozen for Villain. They scrunched their eyes trying to fight it and bit their tongue in effort to remain awake, it worked for awhile until even the pain was beginning to be drowned out by the wave of exhaustion. Then all of a sudden

*Click*

The cuffs unclamped and fell to the floor with a soft thud. That was enough to wake Hero up. They stood almost too swiftly on their wobbly legs and brought their hands in front of them, rubbing their sore wrists out of reach of their enemy and savior.

Villain remained kneeling on the floor eyes examining Hero from afar as they reclasped the now empty cuffs.

“You’re welcome.”

Hero nodded, still rubbing their wrists absentmindedly.

“No ‘Thank you’? I thought heroes had better manners.”

Villain stood slowly but confidently from the ground once again towering over Hero. Hero swallowed and couldn’t help but glance at the door, Villain followed their gaze.

“You want me to leave hmm?” Their voice wasn’t angry, more amused with what they were thinking, “Alright. Mind your manners and I’ll leave. All I need are two little words Hero.” Villain grinned enjoying their little game.

Hero opened their mouth, but no words came as Villain began to stalk forward tossing the cuffs on the comforter.

“Come now Hero, I thought you wanted to be rid of me.”

They were growing closer, a dangerous smile on their lips. Hero refused to back up, refused to repeat being pinned to a wall. They were a Hero for goodness sakes, surely they could hold their ground. Hero began to doubt that fact as Villain stood right before them causing Hero to tip their chin back to look up into Villains eyes, fighting for some semblance of authority.

Villain reached up taking the end of Hero’s hair and twirling it around their long fingers. Hero clenched their jaw trying their best to offer a worthy glare at their opponent. Both stood eyes locked before Villain smiled and began looking all over Hero’s face, allowing the other to glare all they wanted. Hero’s cheeks began to burn with Villains close inspection and they couldn’t help but look away. Villain chuckled leaning in and causing Hero to go completely ridged as Villain softly whispered, warm breath hitting their ear.

“That’s just it isn’t it, too much of a Hero to show gratitude to a Villain.”

Hero instantly revolted, stepping back away from Villain like a spring wound to tight, a heavy scowl on their face. It was quite a short-lived rebellion however as Hero’s legs decided to completely give way beneath their passion. Hero braced to hit the floor, but the floor never came. Even with their eyes squeezed shut Hero registered a warm arm had snaked around their waist strongly supporting their precarious position. Their eyes fluttered open to meet Villains only inches away, it would have been a simple feat to move forward and bump noses. Villain’s eyes were an all consuming blue gazing so intently, Hero gulped trying to shift in their grip to no avail.

“I had thought better of you than that, Hero”

Heros anger grew, they were a Hero and they hated how helpless they had become ever since Villain had walked into the room. They hated being so afraid.

“Let me go!”

Hero fought Villains grip while trying to keep the distance between their faces.

“You know what I want first.”

“And you know what I want! Now let go.” Hero snapped.

Villains grip was tight, reprimanding yet still not hurtful. Hero’s breath was beginning to speed up, the lack of control blocking out their thoughts.

“Let me go, Villain!”

“Hero.” Hero stopped; the tone of voice Villain used sending nervous signals to their core. Villain was serious. Hero didn’t know what it was about that tone of voice but they knew they should respect it. They paused eyes wide and searching amid the vastness of the blue eyes before them.

“Thank you.” It came out quiet and timid, something that irked Hero deep down.

“It was my pleasure” The tone evaporated as Villain spoke calmly.

“N-Now let me go.”

Villain dropped Hero on their butt.

Hero shot a glare and scooted away as Villain chuckled at Hero’s bothered expression. In fact, Hero looked quite childish on the floor scowling as if they were a kindergartener whom had been denied sweets.

“If only I had a camera to show you how silly your face is.”

“If only I had my powers to make you leave.” Hero spat no humor in their comeback. Villain’s eyebrows rose almost imperceivably.

“Careful hero, I leveled the playing field when I removed the cuffs. Don’t think I won’t rise to the occasion. Just because I can clean your wounds doesn’t mean I don’t have the ability to inflict them.”

Hero had the decency to drop their challenging gaze. Now was not the time nor place.

A strained pause fell over them both before Villain broke the silence.

“I did say I would be going,” He turned swiftly and with a certain elegance strode towards the door making a point to pause “Thank you for your time, Hero.”

Hero shuddered at Villains perfect control as he went to turn the handle.

But the handle didn’t turn. It was stuck. Villains composure was rattled for no more than a second before he tried once more. His fingers flexed around the knob and wiggling and pushing with great effort before he let his hand drop.

“It’s locked.”

A statement, not a question, and the statement was laced with an ill guarded anger.

A note was thrust under the door and Villain watched it for a moment hands clenched before he rigidly stooped to grab it. Hero could see Villains face darken as he read the words and gulped as he crumpled the paper into a ball. In an uncharacteristic fit of rage Villain kicked the door with a yell of anger and hero flinched, subtly dragging themselves further away on the floor.

An ominous laugh was heard on the other side of the door slowly echoing into nothingness as Hero could hear footsteps disappear down the hall.

The room was completely silent. Hero gazed up at Villain who was composing themselves looking quite small but no longer childish as they stared eyes wide. Villain never got angry like that. Ever.

Minutes passed before Villain spoke.

“It looks like I will be staying here for now, my Hero.”

361 notes · View notes

mendessi · 1 year

Note

I see you haven't been active in a while but I'm asking a million people if you could please write a Javi Pena fic where the reader gets injured while they're on a job and he like feels something is wrong or something like that thanks

bambi | javier peña

pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

summary: you assist peña and carillo in tulo to bring gacha down but end up getting hit before the job is finished

word count: 4.4k

warnings: canon-typical violence, season 1 narcos spoilers (go watch it already wyd), kind of established relationship already, angst?, mention of death (reader does not die), tender!javi, maybe more am not sure yet, there is def a little backstory before jumping into the main part

minors dni

You had been in Colombia for almost two years and had fought your way into the position you were in. Tooth and nail, one might add. Being a woman in this line of work, in this day and age was not easy in the slightest bit. You busted your ass in school and in training just to earn a spot in the DEA, even harder to get the approval to be sent to Colombia. Even with your father having a higher up position in the DOJ, it still wasn't easy and you didn't expect it to be.

The introduction of narcotics into the United States wasn't easy on you considering one of your closest childhood friends had overdosed on their birthday trip to Miami that you were on. There was no indication that she had even consumed any drugs let alone enough to OD on, but it happened anyways and when you found her the next morning it destroyed nearly everything in you.

You were always destined to work for the Department of Justice, but something in you shifted after the death of your friend. Once the war on drugs had been declared you knew exactly where you needed to be.

Your bags were packed within an hour of receiving the call of your relocation assignment and exactly twenty four hours later you were on a flight to Bogota, Colombia to meet your new bosses at the embassy.

There was barely any time for you to set your bags down before you were asked to meet Noonan at the embassy. You weren't set to begin work for another week so you could officially move to Medellín and settle down, but there were a few papers you needed to sign to solidify your acceptance of the job.

He remembers it clear as day, the second he saw you walking into the embassy. Hair tied into a ponytail, curly pieces framing your face sweetly. A powder blue button up was tied into a knot paired with light wash jeans that weren't too tight, but were just the right amount of loose, white sneakers on your feet. His eyes followed your every step as you shook Noonan's hand outside her office door, the smile on your face brightening the room. His stomach twisted at the thought of someone like you in the war torn country you were in, wondering what even brought you here in the first place. You looked out of place, like you didn't belong here and that made him nervous. As he watched you disappear behind the ambassador's door, he decided quickly that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

About thirty minutes later, Noonan was at his desk with you by his side. He and Steve both rose from their seats at the sudden presence of the ambassador and the short guest standing next to her.

"Boys, this is your new partner. She'll join you next week in Medellín until further notice." Noonan said before turning on her heel and leaving you there standing in front of the two men that towered over you.

You had heard plenty about them and their work thus far into the hunt for Pablo Escobar and always admired their bravery for what they do.

"Right, hello. Steve." He held his hand out to you and Javier did the same, his name coming out more as a mumble.

"Sorry?" You asked.

"Javier. Peña." He repeated a bit louder and shook your hand, your name barely making it to his ears because how focused he was on taking in all of your facial features.

"I look forward to working with you both. I have to get to Medellín but, I'll see you guys next week." You spared yourself the awkward small talk and removed yourself from the situation. You could tell they were just like any other male in this line of work that were immediately doubting you upon first impressions.

What they didn't know was that you were top of your class at Quantico and could take down a man that was three times your size. You were used to people doubting you and didn't expect this to be any different.

Steve and Javier both were sharing the same thoughts and that was how someone your size could've been approved to join the DEA in Colombia. They kept that to themselves til after you had left the building.

"She's gonna get torn apart." Steve sighed gathering his things. He and Javi were only meant to be in Bogota for the day for a briefing before heading back to Medellín.

About 30 miles from home, they came across you standing on the side of the road, blood drenching your clothes and splattered across your face and your government loaned car completely totaled. The tires screeched as Javi pulled off the road behind you, he and Steve out of the car in seconds with their guns in their hands.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Javi asked, reaching a hand out to you. "Is there anyone near? Who did this?"

You were in tears, barely able to speak as Steve slowly moved around the vehicle a wave of relief washing over him when he saw the deer plunged through the windshield of your car.

"I'm sorry- I'm not- I don't ever cry like this, I swear. I'm jet lagged and covered in-" You barely could finish the sentence you just let out a frustrated groan.

"Javi," Steve called him over and he hesitated before stepping around you.

"Deer." Javi said before walking back towards you. He rested his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him, "Are you hurt?"

"No, it's his blood not mine. Fucking disgusting." You sighed, almost gagging at the sticky feeling of it drying to your skin. He almost smiled at the bad word leaving your lips, almost as if it didn't belong there.

"Here's what we'll do. We'll get your things, you can ride with us and we'll sort out the vehicle situation tomorrow." Steve said to you.

"I have a shirt in the car you can change into. It'll do til we get to your place." Javi said.

You sat in the back seat on the ride home after the boys loaded your belongings into the trunk and resumed the drive home, Javier's sweatshirt engulfing you. They weren't thinking it, but being so used to having to defend your every action to get to where you are now you felt the need to say it.

"I'm not like this usually. It's just been a rough first day." You fiddled with the sleeves of the sweater that Javier had lent you.

"You don't have to explain anything to us." Javier said.

"I do, though." Your replied in a small voice, loud enough for them to both hear and they understood it. You wanted to feel inferior to them, your two new coworkers seeing you so vulnerable before you first official day, but you knew better. They brought your things into your apartment for you once arriving and you thanked them one more time before they were gone.

When you went in on your first day, brand new desk was pushed against the two that were so used to being a duo. You even already had a nickname. You went through stacks and stacks of files catching up on the details of the hunt so far and listening to Javier and Steve tell you stories of what they'd been through so far.

Javier was slowly becoming obsessed with the way you gave whoever you were speaking to your undivided attention, how your eyebrows furrowed in concentration or even how you used your pointer finger to scan the lines of a file. The tiniest things you did were intoxicating to him and he hated it. You caught him staring at you a few times and figured he was just once again, doubting your right to be sat at that desk.

The boys both became obsessed with you in their own way. Steve obsessed with the way you carried yourself in the field. You took charge and never took any ounce of shit from any man that would look down on you. He learned quickly that you were not one to be messed with. Javier was just obsessed.

Obsessed with how your hair framed your face, how you quite literally would stop and smell the flowers while on a job, how you said his name, or how he sometimes caught you stealing glances at him from your desk that was right next to his. How your hand looked as you scribbled down notes from the day, or how you sounded when speaking over the walkies, the look on your face when you were connecting dots. He obsessed over he way you laughed at the things he said and got jealous when you'd laugh at something Steve said. He loved how easily you fell into place between him and his partner Steve, like the two of them were missing you the entire time. He loved how quickly you picked up Spanish as a second language and how intelligent you were. How you embraced to culture of Colombia as your own and were able to so easily connect with the residents of Medellín. He was obsessed with your smile, your hands, the way your waist curved, he was fucking obsessed with the way you smelled. Even after sprinting across rooftops, he still loved your scent, it's like nothing to him about you was not worth obsessing over.

It was almost your one year anniversary of moving to Colombia when he kissed you for the first time. He drove you home after a long day at the office since your car was in the shop and was nice enough to walk you to the door. You knew he was into you, he was the worst at hiding it, even Steve would tell him to which Javier would reply, "I'm not into her and even if I was, I'm smooth, okay? She'd never know."

You did know. And you were into him too, but you wanted him to make the first move. He was so caught up with his informants half the time you didn't know if that would ever happen, so whenever he was ready, you'd be there. It irked you to say the least, that somebody else was getting those parts of him but there was nothing you could do.

But that night you two stood outside your front door, talking about your childhood homes and what you loved most about them, you dangling the keys between your fingers as he leaned against the frame and kissed you. His fingers were soft against your cheek and his lips sweet against yours and you didn't know he could be so gentle. You'd seen him kill people before yet here was kissing you as if you'd break under his touch.

"Good night, Javi." You said to him, as you stood on your tiptoes for one last kiss before disappearing into your home, the biggest smile on your face.

Your relationship was what some would call a slow burn. You took things slow, mostly because between the war on drugs neither of you had time to focus on and nurture a relationship. So you remained best friends and coworkers, alongside Steve who sometimes felt like a third wheel. When the two of you did finally find some spare time, things blossomed so quickly and beautifully and the man was head over heels. Steve had a hard time believing it, but he always knew that once Javi found the right one, he'd be 150% all in. Steve loved that it was you that brought out that side of him.

"Bambi, we're rolling out." Carillo said to you. Hearing the nickname is nothing new after all these years, but it still almost makes you laugh sometimes. Who knew having a deer sprint in front of you on your first day in Colombia would get you a call sign that stuck with you for the rest of your career.

"Yes sir." You nodded and stood up from your desk and gathered your things.

"No, no, you're not coming." Javier said.

"Excuse me?" There were very few things Javi did that pissed you off, but the one that did it most was when he tried keeping you from certain jobs.

"This is gonna get ugly and I don't want you there." He rested his hand on your elbow gently.

"You don't get to make that decision. I'm going and I'm monitoring the Search Bloc. This is the one thing I ask you not to do." You lowered your voice, looking up at him.

"And I don't do ever do this, but I don't like the feeling of this." He lowered his tone to match yours. "Por favor, mi sol." (Please, my sun.)

"Javier, don't ask me again." You pulled away from him and followed behind Carillo as you and the rest of the Search Bloc loaded into vehicles and began the journey to Tolú. He knew there was nothing he could say once you called him by his full name.

You and Javi barely spoke the entire ride to Tolú and it should be known that it was a long drive from Medellín. Even though you sat in silence, he still rested his hand on your leg, his thumb rubbing circles onto the fabric of your jeans.

When you stepped out of the vehicles upon your arrival you watched and counted the men that loaded into boats to cross the bay. The plan was to catch them from a direction they wouldn't expect. Javi was going with the aerial team which meant you were splitting up.

"Hey," he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. "Be careful."

"You too."

He would've said the right words if he knew what would happen once you parted ways. He would've said them a long time ago if he had known. He knew it in his gut as he watched you walk away and board the boat alongside Carillo and yet he still let you go. He should've kissed you one more time. It wasn't his right to stop you from going on a job and he knew that. He let you go because of those words that he didn't say.

You and the rest of the Search Bloc trekked through the sand and the thick trees of the jungle quietly, nobody speaking a sound, guns up and ready to fire. You surely looked out of place being the only woman amongst them. A few inches larger and the gun you were holding would've been too big for you to hold comfortably.

You came across two men and the gun fire started almost immediately. This was something you were used to and certainly planned for long before you even landed in Colombia. You knew that once the first shots were fired that Gacha would try to flee.

You held your ground until enough of his men had dropped and it felt safe to start moving in. Half of those men had probably never even fired a gun before this moment. You stayed next to Carillo, taking the first steps out from the treeline only for your body to be thrown through the air as a shot from a rocket launcher hit the ground near you causing a big explosion. Your gun slammed into your face sending a piercing pain through your nose. Your ears were ringing and your vision blurred when you opened your eyes, looking at your surroundings. You felt the blood trickling down the side of your head and tasted it as it leaked from your nose.

"Bambi, are you okay? Hey! Bambi!" You looked up at one of the Search Bloc members attempting to reach you. He pulled you up to which you groaned in pain, and looked to Carillo who also looked to have a head wound. The sound of the voices and gunfire were in and out as your ears kept ringing but you racked your brain trying to focus on what was happening.

"Sí. I'm okay." You sat up and watched Gacha and his son rush down the stairs and into a red chevy parked under the house while Carillo screamed for a radio. You only allowed your body to be in shock from the blow for only a split second more before the shock was filled with anger.

"Wait, Bambi. Wait!" You clenched your teeth together and stood up, repositioning your gun as you shot down multiple men running under the house screaming in frustration as the red chevy pulled off. You fired at the truck, no bullets hitting anywhere that would help stop them.

You fell forward to your knees feeling two shots fly through your shoulder and one through your abdomen from behind. You turned and fired your gun sending three bullets into his chest, falling onto your back once he hit the ground. Multiple men ran past your body, most likely trying to flee like their boss and eventually the gun fire stopped.

You felt somebody's arms hook under yours as they dragged you back to where Carillo was with the radio. He said something along the lines of Bambi... down... tell Javier... it was all a blur.

"He's down. We'll put the bird down and recoup." You heard Javi's voice over the radio, a small smile creeping on your lips. "What's the situation there, is it safe to land?"

Carillo hesitated as he looked down at you drenched in blood he wasn't sure was your own. He knew the blood coming from your head and ears were from the rocket launcher and he could tell you had been shot, he just didn't know where or how many times. Your vest clearly didn't do its job or somehow so unluckily each bullet managed to hit you in a place you weren't protected in.

"Safe to land. Make it quick." Carillo said cupping your cheeks, forcing your eyes to focus on him. The drowsy and somehow slightly smiley look on your face told him all he needed to know. "I need medics."

"They're already on the way. Where's Bambi, put her on." Javier's chest tightened immediately as if he knew. He felt it the second Carillo got on the radio instead of you, he knew it before you even made it into Tulo. His worst nightmare was becoming a reality. "Put Bambi on."

"Hey, stay with me." Carillo slapped your cheeks once your eyes started to close. "Talk to him." He tossed the walkie to Trujillo who began describing everything to Javi except for what state you were in. You could hear Javier's panicked voice flooding the speakers of the walkie sounding angrier than you had ever heard in the entire time you've known him.

"Put her on the fucking radio!" Javi yelled at Trujillo, he had tears brimming his eyes but he didn't dare let a single one spill. Anxiety was flooding his chest at the idea that you weren't okay, but he knew it from the second it happened. "Please tell me she's okay. Please." He begged.

"Trujillo, tell me she's alive. Tell me she's not dead. Please." Javi pleaded.

Everything was in and out of focus, men shuffling around you, Carillo and Trujillo saying your name over and over again, Carillo constantly slapping your cheeks to keep you awake. You hardly noticed that your vest had been pulled off and Carillo was working to keep pressure to your wounds, but you couldn't even tell where the wounds were at that point. You felt numb. Words weren't words anymore and instead just loads of gibberish filling your ears.

"Where are the god damn medics?" You heard Carillo curse. "We're not losing her."

When your surrounding came into focus once again, Javi was running towards you, taking Carillo's place, holding your body close to his.

"Hey, hey." He said with a shaky voice. "Hey, stay with me. Where are the fucking medics!"

"My love," you looked up at him, those words leaving your mouth for the first and maybe the last time, struggling to keep him focus. His brown eyes were filled with fear and that's when it became apparent to you how bad it was. You were shot three times. Everyone was panicking and it clicked that you were possibly dying.

It clicked for Javi that you were possibly dying. That this may be the last time he look into your eyes, or the last time he heard your voice. That when he woke up this morning could've been the last time he'd wake up to your beautiful sleeping face. Or that today would be the last day you two shared coffee from the same mug at work. Or even that Steve and Connie wouldn't have you for dinner this weekend like they promised. He began shaking his head, trying to rid these thoughts. You were drenched in blood like the night he found you on the side of the road, but this time it was yours and that made him feel physically sick.

Carillo was the only one at your sides now as Javi held you in his arms, tears still refusing to fall from his eyes. Everyone moved away to give space to the normally mean man who's love of his life was dying in his arms.

"Don't do this to me, please. Please, baby." He whispered into your hair. "Please, don't leave me."

"It doesn't hurt." You said to him, your hand barely finding his, squeezing it as tightly as you could manage.

"What?" He asked, bringing your fingers to his lips. He didn't care that they were covered in blood.

"It doesn't hurt." You repeated and all he could do was release a shaky breath.

"I love you," You whispered. Your thoughts were barely thoughts anymore but as you approached what seemed to be death, the only thing you thought about what how he needed to hear it from you before you died. You weren't even sure if he heard it and the last thing you thought of before shaking hands with death himself was that you never got to hear him say it to you.

"They're here." Carillo sighed in relief as the sirens from the ambulances sounded. "Peña."

Javi looked at Carillo who was staring at you, so he followed his gaze and it felt like his heart completely stopped beating. Your eyes were shut and there was blood dripping from the side of your mouth, joining the streams that had left your nose and side of your head.

"I love you." He said to you. "I love you." He said it again and then once more after that for good measure, praying to whoever would listen that you heard it at least once before you died because he was sure you were going to die and he hated himself for not saying it sooner.

He watched as they cut your shirt off of you and began working hastily simultaneously lifting you onto a stretcher and rolling you away into an ambulance.

Carillo put his hand on Peña's shoulder and looked at him. Despite the love his life being sent away, and not knowing if you'd survive this, there was still a job to finish. Carillo, Javi and the remaining men filed into trucks and drove to the scene up the road where Gacha and his son had died. Javi felt some sense of relief knowing that this was a big hit to the Medellín Cartel.

As soon as the scene was cleared Javier and Carillo went to the hospital you were being treated in and Javier called into Medellín and Bogota to let them know that you had been injured in the line of duty. Steve and Connie were on the next flight to Tolu from Medellín and there within hours. Carillo was talking to the doctors because Javier couldn't bear to hear the news that you were dead. It would kill him.

"She's out of surgery, in recovery. She's going to be okay. She's strong, they say. You can see her soon." Carillo said to Javier and he nodded, finally taking a seat in the waiting room chair.

"Good." He nodded again, finally covering his face with his hands as the tears he fought so hard to hold back finally spilled from his eyes.

Carillo sat next to him, patting him on the back as he cried silent tears of relief knowing that you had survived.

A few hours passed and Carillo had left to make his way back to Medellín so Javier was alone in the waiting room when the nurse called for him to see you.

"Hey," You said to him, your throat scratchy from the tube they had shoved down it. His heart hurt at the sight of you. Your arm in a sling, stitches in your temple, two small stitches in your nose, and a bruised face to prove that it was in fact broken. And somehow you still made all of that look beautiful.

"Mi sol," Javi whispered as he sat down next to your bed, taking your hand into both of his, kissing each of your fingertips. "I'm so sorry I let this happen."

"It's part of the job." You told him. "I made a mistake out of rage. It's my fault."

He stared at you, "I thought I lost you. They told me you died twice. Twice."

"I had something to fight for." You said, squeezing his hand.

"I am so sorry I didn't say it before and I'm not saying it now just because of the situation pero mi amor, I love you. So fucking much that it makes my chest hurt so bad that I feel like I can't breathe and when I lost you today I regretted not ever saying it to you before." He rambled on and you could subconsciously hear the monitor beeping faster as your heart rate went up. "I love you, mi amor. Mi Bambi. Mi sol."

"I love you too." You said to him and you never meant it more than in that moment after almost losing your life, accepting the idea you'd never see him again. Now that you'd been given a second chance you'd never miss the opportunity to say it again.

He leaned forward, brushing the hair from your face with the gentlest touch, and leaning in for the gentlest kiss being so careful not to hurt your nose or any other part of your body. His thumb rested on your chin as he held it so softly kissing you with such delicacy as if not to break you and it was the most favorite kiss you had shared to date.

Javier stayed with you and a week and a half later you were on a flight home to Medellín for the rest of your recovery period. Not long after that Javier moved in officially where he helped you recover and still stay sane in the midst of not being able to go out in the field. Your dad even came to visit after hearing the news where he met Javi for the first time.

When you were finally cleared to return and leave strictly desk work to re-enter the field, Javi kept you at his side more than usual to which you had to scold him sometimes but could he really help feeling so worried all the time? Nearly losing you was scariest thing he ever experienced in your life and gave him PTSD to which he still had nightmares about.

It took navigating and discussing and finding time between being work husband and wife to actually taking care of and paying attention to your very real and personal relationship, but you finally found the well deserved balance.

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for the request! This was kind of fun to write and it was nice to write something after so long away

#pedro pascal #javier pena narcos #javier pena headcannon #javier pena imagine #narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena #narcos fanfiction

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blooming-dahlia · 7 months

Note

Could I request MC!reader giving a rockstar performance for the VDC contest? Rockstar as in their singing and performance blew everyone's's socks off. I'd like to see Pomefiore's reaction (emphasis on S/O Rook).

Especially at the end of the VDC while they're super disappointed they didn't win, at the same time they explained it felt like they were truly living and alive.

(Song sung: Empire by Shakira)

Having Fun Is More Important Than Winning [Pomefiore, Rook Hunt x MC!Reader]

╰ At first you weren't sure if you really wanted to participate in the VDC. You knew that if you won by some kind of miracle, NRC would count it as a big success.

╰ Yet you were afraid of Vil's reaction. After all, he and his team had been preparing for this event for a long time already, and you were always there supporting them during the several hours of intense rehearsals. How would the boys feel if, out of nowhere, you jumped on the stage and surprised them with your solo performance?

╰ Finally, you realized that you had nothing to lose. For such a long time you had wanted to show others what you were capable of, but there had never been a chance to do so. The members of the Light Music Club were the only people aware of your talent, and they even insisted that you should perform at the VDC.

╰ “I'm sorry, Vil.” You whispered to yourself and then, after fixing the strand of hair that had fallen across your forehead, you made your way towards the stage.

╰ Everyone fell silent when you started singing somewhat uncertainly, while your friends were watching the whole performance from backstage.

╰ Vil didn't think it was anything but a terrible joke. The song was especially slow and boring. He didn't say that you can't sing at all, on the contrary. The thing is, there's no way you could win a contest like VDC with your depressing ballad.

╰ Epel, on the other hand, seemed to be enchanted by your vocals, he also admired you for your bravery. He thought he could even do a solo performance just to annoy Vil a little.

╰ Most impressed, however, was Rook. So far, he thought Neige's performance before yours was the best of the evening. But then you took the stage and stole the show with your voice. Rook had been interested in you for some time already. Once he discreetly asked Vil for your Magicam account and seemed a bit disappointed when he found out that you didn't have one yet. That's why he took pictures of you from behind, like a typical stalker. But this time, no picture on the phone screen could make him feel as emotional as watching you perform live.

╰ And then, you surprised everyone again. This time, when the chorus hits and in the span of only one minute, you're no longer a non-magical NRC student from another world. You are a true rockstar.

╰ The crowd was loud, much more than you could ever expect. But it didn't throw you off balance. In fact, it only boosted your confidence. The way you hit higher notes made everyone scream even louder.

╰ “Is that NRC's student from another world? The magicless one? I've never heard anyone sing so GOOD in my entire life!” Someone in the crowd could ask.

╰ Meanwhile, the whole backstage was screaming your name in awe, Ace and Deuce being the loudest ones. Even Vil smiled a little when you moved to the chorus, obviously satisfied with the sudden change. “And that's how you make an excellent show.” He said to himself in a proud tone. Epel simply nodded, surprisingly able to hear Vil's words through all the noise.

╰ And then there was Rook. He didn't shout or cheer. He just stood there and watched you, his mouth slightly open, but not a word could be heard. His focus was only on you performing. Even Vil and Neige were no match for you, Rook thought. To be honest, it was unusual for someone to be better than those two. Maybe you had no magic in your veins, but your voice was enough to enchant some people. And Rook Hunt was definitely one of them.

╰ After your performance, you simply bowed and left the stage. You didn't go backstage because you were afraid your friends would be disappointed and upset with you. You just stood outside the stage, nervously waiting for the contest to end.

╰ Royal Sword Academy has just been announced as the winner of this year's VDC contest. You should have expected this, but you were still a bit disappointed. There was no way Vil wouldn't be mad at you for ruining NRC's chances of winning.

╰ You couldn't see their faces, but you could imagine Vil gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, while everyone else just stood there in disbelief, trying not to cry or break anything backstage. Except maybe Rook, who was probably pleased with Neige's win.

╰ The said blond-haired boy standing right behind you surely wasn't something you expected to see when you turned around. He just stared at you with a sympathetic look on his face. You were confused, but quickly managed to get a few words out of your mouth.

╰ “Aren't you happy?” Only a few people knew that Rook was a big fan of Neige, and somehow you'd made it into that group. It was obvious that you would think he would be happy about this turn of events. But there was something about him that seemed off.

╰ “I would be lying if I said I wasn't pleased, but tonight I was suddenly struck by Cupid's arrow and someone else has stolen my heart and soul, Mon Ange.”

╰ A slight blush appeared on your cheeks. There was no way he was referring to you, was there? But somehow, deep down, you really wanted to believe that it really was you. “Oh, really? And who might that person be?”

╰ Rook chuckled, and before he could say anything more, the other two members of Pomefiore approached you. Epel quickly began to praise your performance, while Vil just stood there, his expression rather displeased. But it wasn't because of you, he was obviously upset about losing the VDC.

╰ You just sighed and turned to him. “Look, Vil. I know you are disappointed that we lost, I am too. But hey, at least we had fun, right?” You hoped to cheer him up a bit. Vil's eyes widened at your words.

╰ “Yes, I think you are right. Maybe I was a little too focused on doing this to win rather than for fun.” You could see that he was ashamed of himself, especially since he saw during your performance that you were doing it to finally get your talent noticed, not to win the way he wanted.

╰ “Oh, do not be so ashamed, Roi du Poison. You have done an excellent job. Our performance was magnificent and it was all because of your incredible charms!” Both you and Vil side eyed him, knowing perfectly well that he still preferred Neige's performance.

╰ But then Epel spoke and suggested that you should perform with them at the next VDC. This took you completely by surprise and made you tear up a little. Your friends finally saw your talent.

╰ “Why not? When I was on stage I felt like this was my place and definitely one of the best experiences of my life. And I couldn't ask for anything more than to perform with you.”

╰ Vil smirked and fixed his hair a bit, while Epel's face lit up at your answer. Rook just nodded in satisfaction and bowed to you in a gesture of respect. This was an evening you'll never forget, even if you finally return to your world, leaving Twisted Wonderland for good. But now all you want to do is spend some time and have fun with your friends. Especially the blond-haired hunter, whose compliment meant more to you than any other person's in the world.

Thank you for requesting!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland hcs #twisted wonderland one-shots #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst hcs #twst one-shots #twst x reader #pomefiore #twst pomefiore #twisted wonderland pomefiore #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #rook hunt x reader #twisted wonderland rook x reader #twst rook x reader

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blayresmuses · 2 years

Note

smutty soft dom daemon one shot with his handmaiden 🫣🫣

say yes to heaven

summary: you and daemon have never went further than flirting until one night the tension becomes too much.

warnings: softish!daemon, fem!reader and female masturbation, sexual themes

‘how do i look Y/N?’

you straightened daemons tunic one last time. when you deigned to look up at him, he was wetting his lips, his eyes bright with nothing other than mischief. your eyes focused in on his mouth, your brain tumbling down a rabbit hole of thoughts that were less than proper.

and like the arsehole he was daemon smirked.

he knew. you knew that he knew. everything the man did set your every nerve alight. the lust and desire, you’d never felt such a thing before and daemon being daemon never failed to rub your nose in it. subtle touches here and there, brushing your hair behind your ear, whispering to you and laughing when you blushed. he revelled in it almost, enjoying the pleasure he got from teasing you.

you took a steadying breath and tried to look composed. ‘you look suitable for a wedding, my prince,’ you answered, giving him nothing to boost his ego even more.

daemons eyebrows lifted in surprise but a chuckle left his mouth anyway. ‘you flatter me, Y/N,’ daemon replied, taking a step towards you, crowding every one of your senses as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. he leaned in and the feel of his breath against you made you shudder. ‘i had assumed you’d have something nicer to say since you’re always admiring me.’

you smiled falsely, your gaze turning sweet all of a sudden even though being so close to him made your knees want to buckle. you’d play his game with him, he might be able to see how attracted you were to him but you’d never have to admit to it. ‘you’re fine clothes do nothing to hide what you are, you’re still a rogue underneath aren’t you?’

quickly, before you could even draw breath daemon had your head cradled in his hands, his grip tight and unyielding as he drew down to your height. you were supposed to be intimidated but you loved every second of it, the empty aching already blooming between your thighs. ‘watch your mouth or it’ll get you into trouble.’

‘and if i don’t?’ you were shocked at your own bravery, the words having slipped out without thinking.

daemon grinned and it was a chilling sight to behold. he straightened and removed his grip on you. you hated it but your stomach sank in disappointment as you watched him walk away towards the door, not even sparing you another glance. ‘then i would have to teach you a lesson wouldn’t i?�� he said to you over his shoulder. ‘be here when i get back.’

your mood grew fouler as the hours passed. not only were you growing tired but you were slowly drowning in everything daemon. the smell of him was everywhere, his possessions, his spirit almost. he was haunting you, consuming you whole. the chambers alone sent you on edge and with nothing to keep you entertained you could do nothing but think of him.

he was down there surrounded by dozens of gorgeous women, highborn women that you could never come close to. jealousy was an ugly emotion you knew but it was eating you alive. you wanted to dance with him, be seen in public with him and be something more than just his handmaiden.

the slamming of the door made you jump and you quickly snapped out of your depressive thoughts. daemon entered, looking contented and pleased. of course he was, he’d enjoyed a wedding and the party that followed suit whilst you’d sat around all day and into the night waiting on him.

you jumped up out of your chair instantly and stormed over to him, immediately you tried to get him out of his tunic so you could finish your duties and get out of the personal hell you found yourself in. ‘is there a problem Y/N?’ daemon queried, amusement dancing on his features. ‘i normally like to undress my women first before myself.’

my women.

‘some of us have been up since the crack of dawn running about after arrogant arses like yourself,’ you snapped, finally able to get the material loose on him. ‘then you swan off to enjoy yourself and leave me sitting here alone, for hours.’

‘what did i tell you about the attitude, my darling Y/N?’ the pet name rolled from his tongue so prettily your mouth fell slightly open, the anger drifting from you with every heavy breath you took. ‘i thought you’d be happy to see me, didn’t you miss me?’

the cockiness dripped from daemon’s very pores as he shrugged off his tunic and dropped it to the floor. the effect he had on your body was maddening, your body was already heating up at the sight of him. his short hair was messier than when he’d left and you could smell the sweet scent of wine on his breath when he took a step closer to you, tilting your chin up with his thumb. ‘i’m tired daemon.’

but you’d caught a glance of yourself in the mirror not a moment before and you didn’t look tired at all. you looked more awake than you’d ever seen yourself, eyes bright with flushed cheeks. he had this effect on you, he made you come alive and he loved it. your chest rose and fell in anticipation as daemon lowered and brushed a kiss against your cheek and then the other one. wildfire burned through your whole body as one hot hand grasped the small of your back, so warm you could feel it through the fabric of your dress.

‘my apologies for leaving you so lonely tonight,’ daemon whispered, picking up your hand and leaving a kiss there too. you didn’t know what had gotten into him, you didn’t care really. your stomach was filled with butterflies, your brain so hazy you felt drunk. you couldn’t imagine what state you’d be left in if he actually touched you. ‘let me make it up to you. a reward we’ll call it, for being so good to me.’

your head dropped back as you rose up on your tiptoes, pressing yourself right into him. daemon groaned, his cock rubbing against the softness of your tummy. his hand dropped down over your bum to grip your thigh. it was growing more inappropriate as the seconds ticked by but your body physically tensed at the mere idea of pulling away.

‘we shouldn’t,’ you said breathily. ‘daemon-‘ you were cut off when his mouth pressed greedy, open mouthed kisses against your neck. you were gone in that moment. your hands fisted in the fabric of his undershirt and with impatience you positioned yourself so you could make all your dirty thoughts come true and kiss him.

it was soft at first, a little bit of insecurity coming through on your part as you realised how experienced he was compared to you and so you moaned when daemon took control, using both hands to cup your face and bring you to him. you let out needy breaths into his mouth, burning completely for him. when he pulled away you expected some sort of degrading comment about your desperation but his gaze was soft as he thumbed at the swollen pout of your mouth. ‘let me touch you,’ daemon urged, his own eagerness shining through. it flattered you, you felt yourself heat up even more but another part of you felt oddly emotional having finally been validated - your feelings weren’t one sided after all. ‘i’ll make you feel good, sweet girl. i swear it.’

a nod was all it took for him to have his hands in the silk of your dress, not bothering to be careful either and with murmurs of i’ll buy you another he managed to tear the material from you. it spilled around your feet and you stood there bare in front of him. daemon wasted no time in backing you in the direction of his bed, his expression turning into something more predatory.

‘do you know how good you are Y/N? how beautiful?’ daemon praised as you gently fell back into the sheets. his eyes devoured every detail of your body but you weren’t scared, not of being so vulnerable when you could make out the ridge of his cock through his trousers. the intenseness of his gaze made you shiver, you felt wanted, desired. ‘men would fall at your feet but they can’t, can they? because you’re mine. all mine.’

a gasp slipped through your parted lips when daemon slid his finger down your slit, not touching any particular spot but driving you mad with want all the same. ‘no one else could do this to you. look at you,’ daemon murmured, holding his finger up into the candlelight so you could see it glisten with the proof of how much you ached for him. ‘do you normally get this wet when you think of me?’

deep inside you knew the words should make you embarrassed. although you weren’t from a particularly wealthy family you should still act like a lady but here you were writhing naked in the princes bed. shutting off those thoughts you nodded your head, wetting your lips before you answered. ‘yes daemon,’ you breathed, flushing at your own honesty. it was nerve wracking but you continued, wanting to please him. ‘late at night, when i’m alone, i think about you.’

daemon hovered over you, the most comforting shadow you could imagine. he came down over the top of your body, both hands supporting himself by your head with one knee in between yours to keep you spread. it was hard not to grind yourself downwards, your cunt trying to find any pleasure it could. stray strands of his hair fell down over his forehead, small beads of sweat gathering there too. you found him to be so otherworldly attractive, a feeling you’d never encountered before. ‘show me.’ it was a demand, delivered in a tone of voice that sent sparks of pleasure straight to your clit. ‘touch yourself for me.’

your body was practically trained to obey his every wish. slowly you edged your fingers down your sides, over the swell of your hips. daemons heavy breaths accompanied your movements, his keen eyes watching like you were the most fascinating sight in the seven kingdoms. ‘what do you think about?’ daemon asked, his voice a delicious rasp that had your back arching as your fingers finally met your inner thigh. ‘what kind of filthy things does that sweet mind of yours come up with?’

you gasped first, one finger finally coming into contact with your clit before it travelled down to gather the wetness that had gathered at your cunt. you easily slid two in, thrusting slowly as your thighs threatened to close around deamon’s leg. ‘everything,’ you whimpered, the words a struggle to release. ‘the way you look at me, the way you touch me, the things you say but you’re not doing it to tease me, you want me. in all the ways that i want you.’

you couldn’t help but tear your eyes from his form, the admission leaving a burning sensation in your throat. it was the first time since your dress came off that you really felt bare, having given him some semblance of admission. you were sure he’d only use your feelings to his advantage. your fingers kept moving even as your eyes burned. ‘look at me,’ daemon commanded, using the tips of his fingers to move your chin. your eyes met his, a storm of emotions swirled in them but the one that came through the most was fire. lust and desire, passion - all for you.

daemon took his cock in one hand, gripping it through the material of his trousers before using it to slide against your clit. it was exquisite, the roughness of the fabric but more so just having the tiniest feel of him against you. you wanted him inside you, so badly your mouth practically watered as he did it again, a smirk ghosting his mouth as he watched your reaction. ‘see, you can feel that can’t you,’ daemon said. ‘solid proof of how badly i want you Y/N.’

a gentle kiss was pressed to your mouth and you eagerly reciprocated, a whine escaping you when he left your clit neglected once more. daemons tongue took your mouth, it was sloppy but it had your toes curling and your thighs wrapping around his waist. your fingers moved faster in desperation as daemon took your bottom lip between his teeth. ‘i’ve never wanted anything more,’ he groaned as he watched the erotic movements of your body.

‘please daemon,’ you begged wantonly, throwing your pride out the window. ‘i want you, i want you inside me. please.’

‘as much as i love hearing you beg so prettily,’ daemon praised, bending down to suck your nipple into his mouth. ‘you’re going to make yourself cum first, i’m going to see what the mere thought of me can do to you.’

you huffed but didn’t disobey, your fingers slipping out covered in your wetness. you brought them up to your clit and began rubbing it in tight circles. you felt momentary relief at the sensitive spot finally being given it’s attention but as time passed you grew more needy, chasing your relief as daemon stared you down, his mouth open at the sight of your writhing form underneath him.

your pleasure finally hit its peak and you purposely stared daemon in the eye as you climaxed, moans of his name falling from your swollen lips. your whole body shook from the intensity of it. ‘beautiful,’ daemon praised, his thumb coasting over your cheekbones as you recovered with deep breaths.

you watched as he dragged it down over your chest, down your body until he got to the sensitive skin you’d just touched so dutifully for him. you were overstimulated, a broken cry filled the room as you arched against him, unsure of wether to back away from his touch or beg him for more. you slapped his hand away halfheartedly, not bothering to try a second time when he easily slipped back to you. ‘now, now Y/N,’ daemon tutted. ‘you've had your turn, its mine now.’

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon fanfic

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osleeplessflowero · 5 months

Text

-🎃Scares and a Sudden Friendship🪓-

yes i am aware it is no longer halloween and it is now december. after this oneshot i will exclusively focus on winter themes, but i just HAD to get this idea out. Horror belongs to Sour Apple Studios. Reader goes by They/Them pronouns as always. 🧡 Warning for swearing! Horror goes by Sans here since this is in a Horrortale Post-Pacifist exclusive timeline.

It's a cold Halloween night.

You and your boyfriend decided to go to a Haunted House for the occasion after you finally managed to pester him enough.

"C'mon, c'mon! Hurry up!" You walk hurriedly along the sidewalk in your shark onesie, spotting the closest Haunted House that's covered in decorations, lights, and signs. Your boyfriend following slowly behind.

"I'm coming, jeez. I don't get why you get so excited over all this. We're grown now. This is kid stuff." He looks bored, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He didn't even dress up for the occasion, just wearing his normal fall clothes to keep warm.

"Hey, Halloween is fun for all ages." You point at him accusingly. "Besides, we can finally have some fun together tonight! You've been so busy doing your own stuff and I've missed you a lot, so this is a perfect chance to-"

"Yeah yeah..let's just get this over with. Maybe if we're lucky we can get some candy little kids dropped." He stomps on some old wrappers. Jeez..such a buzzkill. Oh well, he won't ruin your fun in here! You're sure his mood will turn around once you both get inside.

You both reach the entrance, you practically bouncing with excitement while your boyfriend seems to be distracted by some of the scare actors passing by.

You're both eventually let in after signing a slightly concerning waiver, walking inside. You admire the decorations and care put into the environments, occasionally having little jumps when animatronics pop out at you which just results in laughter afterwards. Your boyfriend on the other hand looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here, rolling his eyes at some of the scares and pulling out his phone at one point.

Truth be told, the last few months haven't been..ideal with him. You've hardly had any time together and when you finally do he just ignores you or seems like he doesn't want to be there. You've started to wonder if he even really wants to be your partner anymore..

You shake your head. Now is not the right place to be thinking about that. You should be having fun!

You greet some of the scare actors, having more fun than fear. You assume this is what happens to most people with Bravery souls. There's a large variety of them, some monsters, some humans. All of them doing a very good job!

You both make your way through an escape room section, you doing most of the work. You finally find the key, unlocking the door.

"Here we gooo, next room, woo!" "Yaaay."

The next room you enter is filled with props like mannequins and hanging objects that are meant to look like ghosts.

You cling to your boyfriend's arm, feeling unsettled as you both progress. He actually seems to tense up this time as well, looking around. It's quiet in the room..you feel a chill go down your spine.

You make your way down a small hallway that leads into the next area, jolting when a tall monster jumps out at you both with a fake hatchet. You jump back, your boyfriend screams, pushes you aside and..runs off. Without you.

You stare in the direction he ran off in, eyes wide in disbelief.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" You put your hands on your head, feeling tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes.

He just..left you.

He ran off without you in a scary unfamiliar location.

He abandoned you.

You try to hold back your tears when a bony hand rests on your shoulder. You look up to see the scare actor lifting up his mask, revealing eyelights with one empty and the other having a bright red circle in it, focusing on you.

"...don't waste your tears over that guy. 's okay." His voice is deep, a comforting sound to hear in a way. It's oddly soft despite his sharp appearance. You try not to look at that large cracked hole in his head. He probably appreciates that.

He raises up the other hand, wiping your tears away.

"I am so breaking up with him." "yikes. that guy's your boyfriend? some partner, leaving your datemate in an unfamiliar place alone." "Not anymore. I'm dumping him." "good call." "..Could you maybe..show me where the exit is? I don't really have the drive to go through here all by myself." You hold your arm shyly.

"i'll do you one better." He holds out his prop hatchet, handing it to you.

You look at it then at him, raising a brow.

"let's go scare the shit out of him."

You grin wide, taking the hatchet from him as he goes to pull his mask back down.

The two of you run out of the room and the moment you spot him you start SPRINTING, the skeleton following close behind.

The moment he finds the exit the two of you burst out laughing, taking a few seconds to compose yourselves.

"So..I'm gonna be removing his number from my phone..any chance I could have yours, stranger?" You point finger guns at him.

He seems surprised for a moment, before simply lifting his mask back up and smiling.

"just call me sans. nice to meet'cha." He gives you his number and you make sure to save it. "You too, Sans. Would you like to..I dunno, go get coffee or something? I'd like to get to know you." "i wouldn't mind. how does tomorrow sound?" "Great."

The two of you smile at each other before Sans' boss tells him to get back to work, and you wave goodbye before sending a text to your boyfriend to tell him you want to talk.

Part 2

#horror sans x reader #sleeplessflower's halloween oneshots #horrortale sans x reader #horror sans #horror!sans

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eksvaized · 4 months

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Part THREE [ Previous 〡 Next ]

Simon returns only when the sun sets. The moon casts a soft grey hue over the space. The lack of lighting creates an uncanny atmosphere, leaving you feeling unsettled and on edge. By the time the door finally opens again, you find yourself on the brink of madness. The only thing keeping you from ripping out your hair or banging your head against the window until either the glass breaks or you pass out is the fact that you can't move. The frustration of attempting to move your body has overwhelmed you. No matter how determined you are, you are completely powerless against the unknown substance flowing through your veins.

A soft glow emanates from the hallway, and the light gradually floods into the room you are in. As your eyes adjust to the sudden change, you instinctively blink, momentarily shielding yourself from the brightness. You can't turn your head to look at the door, so your gaze remains fixed on the ceiling. Meanwhile, a dark figure approaches. Their footsteps make the ground shake. The sound echoes off the walls.

Black boots come to a sudden halt next to the side of your head, and for a while, Simon just looks at you as if trying to read your mind. You avert your gaze before closing your eyes. The heavy silence hangs in the air, creating a palpable tension between you and him.

"Your temporary room is ready." He scoops you up, effortlessly peeling you away from the ground. In his arms, your body is limp. He adjusts his grip and makes you lay your head on his shoulder. When you are carried into the hallway, your eyes flutter open. Your gaze scans the new surroundings, taking mental notes of every little detail.

The room you were in was dreadful — the wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the old wooden floors were sticky. There was not a single piece of furniture in sight, leaving the space feeling empty and cold. Also, the lingering metallic scent in the air made you want to vomit each time you took a deep breath. However, as you ventured further into the house, you were met by a completely different sight.

The walls in the hallways are painted in a crisp white colour. There are no paintings or pictures hung. A row of heavy grey curtains are drawn, covering every window, not allowing you to peek outside. You and Simon pass by numerous closed doors; you assume all of them are locked, too.

"Soon enough, you will start feeling like yourself again," he assures you and you assume he means that with a little more time, you will regain full control of your body.

You barely can feel Simon's arms wrapped around you, but you hate knowing that he is touching you. You wish you wouldn't be so helpless and completely at his mercy. Also, you desperately want him to stop pretending like he and you are having a conversation, when he is merely engaging in a monologue with himself, which you are forced to listen to.

"Are you hungry? Probably. Don't worry, I'll see what I can do about it."

Finally, he stops in front of another closed door. After walking through, he descends the stairs once more, and you suddenly realize that he is taking you into the dark, eerie basement. The thought of being trapped in a room with just a single window and a locked door was already terrifying, but at least then you still had a slim chance of escaping, if you could, by sheer luck, shatter the glass and then find enough bravery to jump out. However, now, you are about to be abandoned in a frigid, damp space, devoid of any windows, natural light, or fresh air.

You feel your pulse quicken. Your throat dries up as the familiar feeling of panic creeps into your mind, slowly but surely. Fear takes hold of you once again. Its grip tightening with every passing second, making you feel as if you are about to pass out. Simon, sensing your distress, lowers your body onto something soft. He looms over you and you can see concern in his eyes. After you avert your gaze, he tilts your head to the side and presses his fingers to the side of your neck. Silence settles in as he begins mumbling something to himself.

"Calm down." His fingers then curl around your chin, forcing you to look at him. When you close your eyes, his nails dig into your skin. "Don't do that."

You weigh the option of closing your eyes even tighter, but taking into account the potential consequences of disobeying his command, you decide it is in your best interest not to anger him. Provoking him would be foolish.

"Good girl." His lips curl into a smile and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your gaze continues to follow him. He slips off your sneakers and tosses them on the ground next to the mattress where you are lying. After pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, purposely avoiding looking at your face, he tears off your tights, causing your heart to sink. He then guides your body, pressing your back against the icy wall and making you sit. Your head drops to the side, and your cheek gets squished against your shoulder.

"We need to change you out of that dirty dress," Simon says as he unzips it.

You are left sitting in a matching pair of delicate lace lingerie consisting of a bra and panties. His eyes darken with lust. Slowly, he raises his hand and his fingertips glide along the curve of your neck, tracing your collarbone, cupping and squeezing your breasts through the soft fabric. The tension in the air is palpable as he bites the inside of his mouth. His touch grows hotter, burning your skin, and your body betrays you — you can feel the heat starting to pool between your thighs.

He treats you like his personal doll, acting like you belong to him and have no will of your own. You wish you could push him away and stand up for yourself, show him that his behaviour is making you sick. However, your body still refuses to listen to your commands. All you can do is close your eyes, imagine that you are someplace else and silently endure his oppressive presence.

When Simon finishes groping you and has his fill of feeling your velvety skin beneath his fingertips, he slowly rises to his feet. You don't dare to look at him again until you feel something warm press against your temple. He holds a small, soft towel, which he keeps dipping in the bowl with warm water. With one hand holding the side of your head, he cleans off the dried blood.

His eyes have a blank expression. His jaw is tight and his shoulders are stiff. You can sense that he is trying to rush through the task as if he hates doing it; it reminds him that you were hurt because of him.

"Looking much better already," he mutters and sits next to you on the mattress. With surprising ease, he gently pulls you into his lap, positioning you between his legs. Your body slumps against his chest and his arms wrap around your torso.

For what seems like an eternity, time stands still as he holds you tightly in his embrace. The feeling of his warm breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, while his fingers trace along your hipbones, inching dangerously close to the hem of your panties. Each touch is tantalizingly close to removing the flimsy fabric, yet he never goes beyond that boundary, and his hand never ventures underneath it either.

"I didn't have time to shop," he says as he moves away from you. You see, he is holding a shirt in his hand. "You came here unexpectedly, and I had to clean up the mess left down here by my previous guest, so..." With an unexpected ease, he unclips your bra, letting the straps slide off your shoulders. "For the time being, my shirt will have to suffice."

You detest feeling so vulnerable, but there is not much you can do. Once Simon leaves, a river of tears starts streaming down your cheeks. All of this feels like slow torture. You want it to end. You wish he would do what he plans to and be done with you, instead of painfully dragging this out.

Your sobbing is abruptly interrupted, and you almost choke on your own tears when your body rolls onto the side and you bury your face in your hands. There is a long pause because you can't believe what has just happened. But when you try to wiggle your toes, move your fingers and then turn your head, it works. Despite the lingering sensation of tingling in your skin and the painful ache in your muscles, the fact that you are no longer a prisoner in your own body makes you breathe out a shaky sigh of relief.

As you sit up, cautiously surveying your surroundings, you can't help but notice the slightly worn but clean mattress you are sitting on. There is a blanket and a pillow, which, despite smelling like cheap laundry detergent, is soft and not itchy. Your gaze moves to the other side of the room, where a large table stands. On top of it are placed three heavy books.

You try to stand up, but when your knees buckle, you decide to crawl instead. The concrete floor feels hard and cold beneath you. The dimly lit basement casts long shadows, making you feel like a small insect scurrying across the floor, desperate to find an escape.

Your exploration trip is cut short when suddenly, the door swings open and Simon comes. When he sees what you are doing, he hastily descends the stairs and places the tray he had been holding onto the table. Not wasting a moment, he picks you up. As his arms curl around you, a high-pitched yelp slips past your lips. He carries you back to the mattress, but this time, instead of gently lowering you, he basically just throws you down.

"I know you want to, but you shouldn't move around so much yet. Take it easy."

He joins you on the mattress after getting the tray, and placing it on his lap. You look at it. There's a slice of bread topped with a generous spread of jam, a plastic cup filled to the brim with juice, and a bowl of soup. The assortment seems odd to you, but you refrain from making any comments. The sight of food causes your stomach to emit a loud growl. Simon lets out a low chuckle and smirks before grabbing a spoon.

You are hungry. Your mouth is watering, and by the look of it, it seems like he intends to feed you. If you were clever, you might entertain the idea of letting him do so. However, you are exhausted from being treated like a mere plaything by him. As the spoonful of soup is brought to your mouth, you part your lips. Instead of swallowing, you take a breath in and, with all the strength you have left in you, you spit it all on him.

He hisses and wipes his face with your dress, which so far has been lying on the floor next to your sneakers. The spoon drops on the tray with a loud clink. His teeth click together, creating a sharp sound that resonates in the air, and you can see the tension in his jaw as it clenches tightly. You feel a sense of satisfaction wash over you because you finally showed him you won't allow him to have his way with you. However, just as you begin to revel in this moment, your satisfaction is abruptly shattered. His palm collides with your cheek.

He forcefully slaps you across the face, the impact reverberating through every fibre of your being, causing you to wince in pain. You feel his intense gaze, but you are afraid to meet his eyes. The overwhelming annoyance oozing out of him is almost palpable. You turn away and press yourself against the wall. The coolness of it eases the pain in your cheek. A few tears roll down your face.

Simon makes you look back at him. You flinch when he raises his hand once more, afraid that he might hit you again. But he just slowly caresses your bright red cheek. His touch is soft and gentle as his thumb wipes away your tears. The contrast between his previous outburst and his current tenderness creates a conflicting mix of emotions within you.

When he tries to feed you again, you open your mouth, mimicking the behaviour of a well-trained dog. The soup is too salty for you, but it warms you up, so you don't complain. After he finishes feeding you, before leaving, he takes the cup and slice of bread off the tray and leaves it all on the table.

"In case you get hungry while I'm gone."

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #writing #simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #cod #ghost x you #dead dove fic #malheur #ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #cod x reader #cod fanfic #fem!reader

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maximoff-pan · 1 year

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you, me, and the destruction | eddie munson

summary: 4 times eddie makes you want to die (metaphorically of course) and one time he makes you want to live

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 7k

warning(s): some swears, angst, mentions of death, definitely canon divergent (please don't come for me)

a/n: another 4 + 1, who could’ve guessed? I really, really struggled with this one, but I haven't written or posted a ton lately, so I thought why not... I do hope you enjoy, but I apologize because I know this will likely be difficult to follow along with/make no sense whatsoever, so if you make it through to the end, thank you!

Eddie Munson makes you want to die.

Not like a funny and jokingly crude ‘ha ha you make me wanna hurl myself into the sun’ kinda die, but like a dead serious ‘if you don’t shut up I’m going to commit mass murder and it’s going to be your fault’ kinda die. He’s that irritating. (You say that both seriously and affectionately, because your opinion of him has certainly changed over the last little while)...

But it’s an interesting concept to consider when you break it down, just how aggravating he can be. Sometimes you wonder where he gets it from; who could have possibly created this freak? And then you remember who his friends are, and it all makes sense.

Blood didn’t create him, they did. Although quite frankly, it was entirely mutual; they created each other. A mass of freaks fighting imaginary monsters.

Until one day, those monsters weren’t imaginary. And one day, you found yourself at Eddie Munson’s mercy.

...It’s safe to say you’d known about the Upside Down for as long as the rest of your friends had, you’d been in on the insanity since the beginning. So, as you’d expect, it’s pretty hard to surprise you with anything. But when Eddie got accused of murder, and was dragged into the shit storm you call your life (again), he took it immensely well. Almost too well for someone whose livelihood was on the line.

“You’re so fucking weird.” You’d said to him in disbelief and he’d smiled.

“Pot, kettle.” He’d gestured to himself, and then to you with a grin.

Those had been the first words you’d spoken to him since you’d been close friends a couple of years ago. It was also the first moment the ice started to melt between you and the first moment you'd allowed yourself to think about what you used to be.

The next moment followed shortly after. A trip through the Upside Down does that to you, creates bonds with the people you’d least expect. And as irritating as he was, that’s what you became: irrevocably bonded. Although, you’d still have your fair share of disagreements to come.

The moment it all began to change is something you’ll never forget. It started off innocent; you’d thrown an effortless joke in the air trying to brighten the atmosphere of the group, when all of a sudden, you felt a sharp pain in your right shoulder.

You recall turning to Steve in shock the second after Eddie had saved you from a group of demobats, completely gobsmacked. He’d just fucking jumped in front of you, no questions asked, with no regard whatsoever for his own well being.

Fuck. You remember thinking. You were not about to be indebted to Eddie Munson. Not devastatingly ethereal Eddie Munson. Not your childhood-best-friend-turned-virtual-stranger Eddie Munson. But by God did you owe him your life.

Once over the initial panic, even Steve had cracked up over the look on your face, not used to seeing you unsure of what to do. So, he did what he thought was best, nudging you with a blunt shove towards the man in question.

“You're welcome.” Eddie had mumbled with a pouting huff. “‘S’not like I could’ve just died doing that or anything.” In your state, you’d been too stunned to say anything, let alone thank him. But you could understand where he was coming from.

And it was cute, the way he grumbled, feeling underappreciated for his act of bravery. You’d managed to put aside your past differences, and your ultimate shock – because who knew Eddie had that in him – to eventually give him a solid pat on the back. Like a good, new, old friend(?) would.

It was a weird feeling to get used to, you’d thought. ‘Hey man, thanks a million for saving my life and all…it’s not like I totally thought you hated me two minutes ago???’

You’d managed something a little more mature than that, approaching him with an edge of nervousness. Since when had he ever made you feel nervous?

“I am grateful you know.” You’d surprised yourself with the sincerity that seeped from your tone. “You’re pretty cool Munson…much cooler than anyone gives you credit for.”

You could’ve sworn you’d seen him blush. And it was his turn to sheepishly admit your kindness meant something to him. You used to be everything to him after all, even if you had only been dumb teens.

He’d rubbed at the back of his neck with a soft upturn of his lips. “Thanks.”

That was the day your relationship with Eddie started to become something again, not just acknowledgements of preconceived notions that you’d had about each other previously. But something real. Although, it didn’t change the fact that he was both entirely aggravating and also made you want to die sometimes.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

EXHIBIT A of Why Eddie Makes You Want to Die:

He just has to be right, all the time, even if it means crossing boundaries and using whatever leverage he has on you (but it’s all to protect you, so that makes it okay, right?)

“No.” Eddie cuts you off. “I won’t even consider that.”

“Eddie.” Steve sighs. He doesn’t like this plan either, but it’s the only one that makes sense. “She should be the one to go.”

“No.” He repeats. This time more adamant. He’s not about to let you walk into Creel House alone, especially not after what happened to Chrissy.

“It’s the only way.” You try to reason, but he’s not having any of it. You roll your eyes at his bravado; who the hell does he think he is?

You feel like Eddie’s eyes are burning holes through your body, if they could widen any further you’re sure they’d pop right out of his skull. “I’m not gonna let you put yourself in danger like that…no way.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’ve been back in my life all of a couple of days, and now you want to act like you have some kind of say?”

Ouch. He recoils at the statement. Maybe you both had more to resolve than you’d thought.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, tone edging on anger.

“I’m not the one who walked out of your life Eddie.” You say, and from beside you, you can see the grimace that has made its way onto Steve’s face. He’s the only other person who knows the extent of your history. Everyone else simply has the cliff notes.

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Eddie bites back.

“Not fair?” You want to scream at him so badly, tear him a fucking new one. “Christ! You don’t see me telling you what you can and cannot do, especially considering you seem to love putting yourself in danger.”

“I saved your life!” He exclaims. “Remember that? Or was that too idiotic for you?”

And he’s right, he has you there. It’s infuriating… Even when he’s wrong, he’s right.

“I never asked you to do that.” It’s unappreciative, sure, but it’s the only thing you can think to say in your state of frustration.

“Fine.” He relents. “You’re right.”

Your brows pull together in discomfort. “That’s not—Eddie—”

“No.” He stops you, eyes daring you to overstep. “You’re right. I didn’t save you because you wanted me to, or because you needed someone to protect you. I saved you because I wanted to. Because I fucking need you! Is that what you wanna hear?” His voice breaks the louder it gets, and you’re stunned. It feels like things escalated so quickly, and yet you know it’s been building for years.

“Even after all this time…” he continues, the crack in his armor growing with each second, “because I’m selfish, and I couldn’t just watch you die. Not like her.”

Realization dawns on you. You’d forgotten all about it; how he’d watched Chrissy die. Survivor’s guilt is written all over his face, he’s begging for some kind of relief from it. And despite your differences, he still cares about you more than you can understand.

He’s right. Again.

He may have leveraged saving your life to prove it, but that doesn’t reverse what he did to protect you.

“I’m sorry.” He says. It comes out pained, nearly a whisper. “If I could go back…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you know. You nod at him, a representation of a silent acknowledgment and acceptance of his apology, and an agreement to work on whatever this is. Whatever it may become.

And in that moment, it’s the heartbroken look in his gaze that has you feeling so shitty. Like death had whipped out a pitchfork and stabbed you in the back.

Eddie Munson has much more control over you than you’d once thought, even more so now that he’s seemingly back in your life for the long haul. Because if you’re sure of anything, it’s that he’s not going to let you go. Not after what you’ve just been through.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

EXHIBIT B of Why Eddie Munson Makes You Want to Die:

He makes stupid assumptions without thinking them through, especially when it comes to your friendship (but you do too, so that makes it okay right?)

If someone had told you one month ago that Eddie would walk back into your life, you would have laughed them out of Hawkins.

The way your friendship had ended the first time had left things tense between you, and you weren’t sure if there was anything left to be salvaged. But after surviving what you had in the summer of ‘86 baby, as Eddie had called it, you’d promised to try and make it work.

So you did. As of now, you’ve spent the last number of weeks hanging out with your collective group of world saving friends, bonding over shared trauma and all the things that come with it. And that includes repairing your relationship Eddie. As hard as that has been.

Because while you know he’s genuine, and he wants to be on good terms as much as you do, it’s not easy to forgive and forget.

But despite your fears, you’ve started spending time together one on one, no one else there to buffer the tension. Dustin had recommended it, a weekly movie night to get you more comfortable with each other, and to hopefully hash things out properly. In the interest of friendship, Henderson had quipped, because even he could see there were things between you that had been left unsaid.

And while there are moments here and there where you want to throw yourself out your bedroom window because Eddie is being so fucking insufferable, or you want to build a wall of protection around yourself again because you’re afraid of what trusting him will do to you, there are also moments where you remember just how much you once loved him.

This, tonight, is not one of those moments.

“Can we talk?” Eddie clicks the pause button on the remote, leaving Marty McFly’s incredulous expression and his famous ‘“Wait a minute, Doc. Are you telling me you built a time machine…”’ frozen in a motionless frame.

It feels ominous, but you don’t verbally object. “Okay.” You nod, although it’s dark, so you’re not sure he can see you. You’re almost hoping he can’t.

He releases a sigh, something that sounds like he’s been holding onto it for a long time. “I wanna talk about how things ended between us.” He says as he reaches over to flick on the lamp in your living room.

“We can do that.” Apprehension is floating in the cadence of your tone. Things were just starting to become normal again…it feels like a bit of a risk to dig up your past like this. Not that you have much of a choice in the matter.

You’re more than aware that Eddie’s been eager to talk about it. It’s you who’s been avoiding this for weeks, despite knowing how inevitable and needed this conversation is. You just don’t want to ruin the trust you’ve been rebuilding.

“Where do you want to start?” You pose, giving him control of the situation.

“I guess,” he fiddles with the rings on his fingers, “I want to start by apologizing again.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You protest. Since he’s been back, he’s done nothing but apologize a million times over. And the more he does, the more feelings it stirs up.

“No, I do.” He states. “I’m sorry. I never should have done that to you. I never should have shut you out like that.”

His eyes hold so much sincerity, it almost makes you want to cry. “It’s uh–” you struggle to get the words out. You don’t want to relive it, nor do you want to admit the part you played in it. Because it’s much easier to make him the villain than to implicate yourself in this web of chaos you’ve spun yourself.

Though, it’s time for you to admit your responsibility. A friendship doesn’t end just because of one person. You gave up too, as difficult as that is to admit. “It’s not your fault.” You say sadly. “I know it seems like I put all the blame on you for what happened to us, but I’m just as responsible as you.”

Eddie smiles sadly in remembrance. He’s pretty sure he knows where you’re going with this. “If you’re going to apologize for not coming to my band’s first concert when you were sixteen, that’s so not something you need to apologize for. Honestly, that’s not even why I was mad.”

At the time he had been pretty pissed, so he can see why you’d be worried about it, though you needn’t be.

Your lips purse in thought. “I’ve regretted that decision for three years. To me, that was the beginning of our end. And I was the one who started it.”

“(Y/n), c’mon.” He shakes his head. “You can’t blame yourself for that. It had nothing to do with anything.” It really didn’t. The root of your problems was much bigger, and much darker.

You puff out a strangled breath of air, tone dead serious.“But I deserve to.” You state. “I was a pretty horrible friend to you. You’d been talking about that show for weeks, and I wasn’t there to support you, especially after all the times you’d been there for me.”

Especially after I saw what hides in the shadows, and I changed. The thought sits on the edge of your tongue, another one left unsaid.

A softness rests on his face as he reaches over to place a comforting hand on your arm. He picks up on your implication. “If I knew what you were going through, I could have been there for you more. Instead, I abandoned you, all because of some stupid misunderstanding.”

The look of confusion that crosses your face is unmistakable. “I’m not sure I follow.” You genuinely thought that concert had been the catalyst.

He tilts his head with a grimace. “Steve didn’t tell you?”

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, you tread carefully. “Harrington’s told me nothing. I couldn’t be any more clueless.”

“Oh.” Eddie sighs. “I thought for sure you knew about it.”

You shake your head, jaw clenched. “No.” You pull back your hand from his touch, turning to sit cross-legged on your couch. “But I'm getting the feeling I'm missing something pretty big..." You meet his gaze sharply. "Is Steve the reason you stopped being my friend?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. You sound so serious it almost scares him. “No.” He’s quick to say. “Not exactly.”

“So he is involved?”

“Sort of.” He utters trying to backtrack. “It’s stupid now that I think about it.”

Your gaze narrows. “Eddie. If it was enough to end our friendship, it wasn’t stupid.”

The air in the room feels like it’s thickening with every breath you take. What could Steve have possibly done to influence him?

“You can tell me Ed.” Your voice is firm but comforting. “I promise I won’t get mad.”

He swallows the lump in his throat, a little apprehensive, but abides by your request. “It was on a Tuesday in December — I remember because of how cold it was, and because of everything that was happening with Will, after he’d seemingly come back from the dead — and I heard you and Harrington talking.”

You nod, following along. “I remember that day too.” Your voice is laced with sadness. That was the day your friendship started to crumble.

“I hated him back then. So much so, I almost wanted to kill the guy.” He asserts. “And then I saw you with him, how comfortable you were with each other, and I couldn’t believe you could even be around him like that after everything he’d put us through.”

“Oh, Eddie.” You say. Steve had never done much directly to hurt you, but he’d also never stopped his friends from inflicting their cruelty. He was a bystander to the pain they caused, with the power to end it all. And that made Eddie despise him.

He smiles sadly. “I remember Steve telling you that you could never say anything about it to me.” He places the ‘it’ in air quotes. “I didn’t have the context I do now, but he was so serious about it. I figured you were dating or something and he didn’t want me to find out about it, because he knew–”

He knew how I felt about you. He wants to say, but doesn’t.

“And the way he hugged you. I felt sick.” Eddie continues. “I couldn’t understand it. And then after that day, you started pulling away from me…I know now it was because you were trying to protect me from everything, but back then,” he pauses for a moment. “I thought it was my fault.”

“Oh, God.” You feel like you’re going to cry. Hearing his side of the story is like putting all the pieces of a thousand piece puzzle together for the first time. “It was never your fault Eddie. You have to know that.”

He nods slowly in understanding. It’s crazy what hindsight can do. “I knew you were hiding something, I just didn’t know it was that big. And so, like an idiot, I let Jeff convince me you were just like everyone else…” He stops for a moment to collect his breath. A tear escapes; you watch as it rolls down his cheek. “And then I cut you off.”

“Hey.” You reach for him, pulling him gently into a hug. You snake your arms around his back, letting his head rest on your shoulder as you hear him begin to cry. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” You soothe. “We’re okay.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen Eddie cry, but it certainly hurts the most. Despite everything you’d put each other through, you’d never want him to feel this way.

“I’ve got you.” You murmur softly. “Always and forever, yeah?”

Your utterance of the promise you had made to each other as little kids stirs something in his chest. You’d promised to always be friends.

He lets out a half chuckle, half sob as he pulls himself back to meet your gaze. Your eyes search his; they’re filled with so much worry and so much love, Eddie feels whole.

“Always and forever.” He whispers.

And maybe this can be the start of a new beginning. A new kind of trust that is undeniably raw, but stronger than it has ever been.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

EXHIBIT C of Why Eddie Munson Makes You Want to Die:

He makes your heart stop at the strangest of moments (but you want him to, so that makes it okay right?)

“You’ve gotta be kidding me Harrington.” The sound of Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and has you abandoning your assigned task of reshelving all of Family Video’s recently returned movies.

It’s been a couple months since you’d finally talked about everything, and honestly, things have been much better since. You’d gotten a job working with Robin and Steve, and weekly movie nights with Eddie have been going strong. Sometimes you just talk, and it’s really nice.

“Sorry man.” Steve’s tone is anything but sorry. He’s leaning against the front till, an exasperated Eddie waiting on the other side. “I couldn’t hold onto it for you. Keith has been on my ass about not withholding the merchandise from customers just because my friends wanna see ‘em.”

“What’s this about?” You step into the conversation out of curiosity.

Robin chuckles. “Eddie’s been trying to get a copy of Top Gun again.”

“For weeks! I’ve been asking for weeks!” Eddie groans. “But Harrington’s butter fingers keep letting it slip from my grasp.”

You smile at the remark. Your friendship with Steve has managed to stay intact, despite your discovery of his involvement in ending your relationship with Eddie. The night of your big breakthrough, you’d later found out that Steve had told Eddie to keep his distance from you, ‘if you know what’s good for you Munson’, Steve had threatened him…which when you’d found out, it had you seeing red. Eddie had assured you that Steve was only looking out for you, but at the time, it had been quite difficult for him to understand.

Unbeknownst to Steve though, you’ve both forgiven him. ‘He doesn’t even need to know.’ You’d agreed. It was better to keep him in the dark than to create problems where they didn’t need to exist.

“Hey, I’m just following orders.” Steve feigns innocence, arms raised in defense.

“Since when have you ever followed orders?” Robin questions, surprised.

Fingers tapping the counter in amusement, you smirk. “Since he scored a date with some hot blonde who works at the arcade –who’s totally smokin’ by the way, nice job –” you send Steve a smug nod, “and he needs the money to take her out.”

“Ergo,” Steve muses, “I can’t afford to get fired.”

“Pathetic.” Eddie tuts. “I can’t believe you’re doing this all for some girl.” He winks at you in amusement and you stifle a laugh.

Steve’s honey orbs catch yours for a moment before he speaks, “Like (Y/n) said, this girl happens to be totally smokin’—way outta my league—and I’m not about to get myself fired and lose my only source of income just so you can hoard Top Gun from the rest of Hawkins.”

“Hoard?” Eddie’s voice is on the verge of being shrill. “I haven’t even seen the movie once!”

“Oh, well in that case…” Steve trails sarcastically. At Eddie’s dejected gaze he relents, “I am sorry though, truly.” He’s not even a little sorry.

“No no, I get it. I just thought our friendship meant more to you.” Eddie mocks pure disappointment. “I guess I was wrong.”

He almost pulled the ‘after everything we’ve been through’ card, but decided against it. Eddie’s saving that for when he really needs it.

You snicker at the interaction, adding fuel to the fire, “Whatever happened to the sanctity of bros before hoes Harrington?”

“Ah, my dear (Y/n). Clearly Steve here has lost any semblance of loyalty to the bro code.” Robin chimes in. “He’s got babes on the brain.” She wiggles her fingers mockingly.

“How tragic.” Is your response.

Steve scoffs at the remark, unimpressed. “Hey, it’s not like I’m the only one that works here.” He says. “If you were smarter,” he directs to Eddie, “you’d have asked either of them to put their neck out on the line to hold onto it for you.”

“We are more reliable.” You agree.

Robin grins. “And I don’t need this job that bad.” She states teasingly. “Plus, I fucking hate Keith, so even if I did need this job, I’d risk it to piss him off…”

Eddie laments adamantly. “You jest, but this is a big deal!”

And it almost makes you laugh how serious he is about it, because the rest of you couldn’t give a damn about the ability to get your hands on Top Gun. Sure, it’s a good movie, and sure, you’d be happy to watch it again, but you’re not that eager. If he’d wanted to watch it that badly, he probably should have just asked.

It’s not like you work in the movie store or anything…quite honestly, you’d swiped a copy off of Keith a few weeks ago and had forgotten to bring it back. Eddie could have watched the movie twenty times over if he’d bothered to say anything to you.

In amusement of that fact, this is the moment you decide to reveal the information that could have ended this conversation minutes ago.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you that I have a copy of the movie at home?”

“You–what?” Eddie exclaims, eyes wide in your direction. He places a hand on your arm without any thought, turning you towards him abruptly. “Jesus Christ woman, you could’ve led with that!”

His eyes meet yours and all time seems to stop. As your breath catches in your throat, you feel like you’re going to die (maybe that’s a little dramatic, but it feels true in the moment). You’d wanted to quip back with something witty, but you can’t find the words, losing yourself in the pool of his amber orbs. There’s a fluttering in your stomach that won’t go away, daring to grow.

And you sigh. Since when had Eddie been so pretty? Since when had he ever made you feel like this? Fuck, you beg with your conscious, please say something, anything…You can’t be falling for him, this cannot be happening.

Robin giggles at the interaction (and she never giggles). This has been the most fun she’s had in a while, watching your usually calm demeanor fall apart. “Where’s the fun in that?” She poses in your defense, finally breaking the silence.

Steve snickers with her, standing with his hands on his hips, unfazed by your sudden muteness. He’d predicted you’d fall victim to Eddie’s charm sooner or later. He’s just happy he’s getting to watch it happen.

“Y’alright?” Eddie asks, grin so wide and so cheeky that you’d swear he could read your mind. He knows. He fucking knows. “You kinda zoned out there for a second.”

You blink in surprise, trying to bring yourself back into focus. “Yeah.” But you don’t sound convinced, and neither are your friends. “Yeah I’m fine. ‘Was just a little surprised by the outburst.”

“Oh.” He rubs the side of your arm in apology.

“Yeah.” You mumble. The tension in the room has seemingly skyrocketed. You’re not sure if he feels it, but you definitely do. Even Steve and Robin, who are watching silently from the counter, feel it building. It’s awkward, and overtly palpable. But it’s also really sweet.

“So,” Eddie asks, pulling his hand back from rubbing your arm. He reaches it back to rub at his own neck in nervousness. “Top Gun on Friday?”

You nod, a breathy “yeah” escapes your lips. It seems to be the only word you can manage.

Something’s obviously just happened between you, (at least for you), and it’s something you’d rather not admit. In this moment, you’d like nothing more than to curl into a ball and simply pass away from embarrassment.

All because of Eddie Munson.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

EXHIBIT D of Why Eddie Munson Makes You Want to Die:

He has the ability to break your heart (but you’re dumb enough to let him, so that makes it okay right?)

Wednesday rolls around, then Thursday, and now you’ve reached Friday. You haven’t spoken to Eddie since your shift on Tuesday, your plans to watch Top Gun are supposedly still a go. But you’re honestly not sure.

You haven't gone this long without talking to him since you’d stopped talking altogether three years ago. And that makes you a little nervous.

“(Y/n).” Dustin groans, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’ve got to stop worrying about this.”

You pace through your kitchen, opening the oven door after shutting off the beeping timer. Pulling out a tray of chocolate chip cookies, you slide them onto the counter. “I can’t.” You admit to the teen.

He’s just watched you stress bake for the last two hours, and it’s safe to say you almost have enough cookies to feed the entire town.

“Take a breath.” He says, grabbing one of the fresh cookies from the tray. “Shit.” He hisses as it burns his hand.

You swat it from his grasp, earning a quiet splat onto the floor. “Here.” You hand him one of the cooler batches…still warm enough to be gooey, but not hot enough to kill his taste buds.

“Thanks.” He smiles sheepishly. Mouth full he mutters, “He’s gonna be here.”

“How can you be so sure?” You ask, your jaw clenched in apprehension. “I haven’t talked to him since Tuesday and I feel like he’s been avoiding me.”

“I know Eddie better than most.” Dustin licks some of the remaining chocolate off his fingers. “You’re his best friend, who he obviously has feelings for. He’s probably just overthinking things like always.”

You totally gloss over the Eddie having feelings for you part – you’re not about to open that can of worms – and skip straight to seeking reassurance. “Yeah?”

“I’m positive.” Dustin asserts.

You inhale slowly, exhaling a quick puff of air. “Yeah.” You respond, voice trailing slightly. “I’m sure you’re right.”

A silence floats between you as the curly haired boy grabs another cookie and wolfs it down. He smiles at you in thanks. You follow his lead, taking one for yourself and relishing in the comfort the taste brings you. It feels like home.

“He used to talk about you all the time.” Dustin cuts in abruptly, cookie long gone. You swallow a bite of yours in surprise.

“What do you mean?” You question, brows furrowed.

He elaborates, “Before he got dragged into everything and you weren’t even speaking, Eddie would talk to me and Mike, telling us about the importance of friendship, how you can’t let the people you care about go.” He pauses thinking back on the memory. “After a few minutes, I gathered he was talking about you. I mean, I knew you used to be friends, but I didn’t know just how much you cared about each other. It sounded like he was talking about the love of his life, someone who he’d thought he’d let get away and he was punishing himself for it.”

“C’mon Dustin.” You protest. “We’re friends. Friends care about each other.”

“Not like that.” He scoffs. “You’re always checking up on each other, and the fucking doting,” he states with a groan. “It’s almost sickening how you two can be in a room full of people and act like you’re the only ones there.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly very self conscious. “Am I really that obvious about it?”

“Totally.” His grin is wide. He sounds excited talking about you and Eddie, like he’s somehow invested in the outcome. And you suppose he is.

When you had first met Dustin, officially and not just in passing, he had been pretty adamant on setting you up with Steve. It makes you laugh to think about it now…you and Harrington? God no. But when Dustin saw you interact with Eddie, he witnessed real human chemistry for the first time. Your history was undeniable. And even though the tension had been so palpable he could hardly breathe, he knew you’d found your perfect match. Again. Eddie had just so happened to stumble back into your trauma-filled dumpster fire of a life when you needed him most.

The memory fades as you catch each other’s gaze. And the next thing out of Dustin’s mouth catches you completely off guard.

“Steve told me on Tuesday, he thought you were going to jump each other’s bones on the Family Video returns table.”

You almost choke on the cookie you had just been chewing. “He said what?!” The look on your face is incredulous. “Steve really shouldn’t be talking to you about things like that.”

“Relax.” He puffs out his chest. “I’m fifteen and I have a girlfriend. You can’t seriously think I’m that naive.”

“I guess.” You secede, still thinking of him as the little kid you and Steve fought demogorgons with at the abandoned junkyard. “But anything Steve told you is bullshit — nothing of that sort happened, it was only a moment.”

“A momentary eye fuck you mean.”

You shake your head in mock disappointment. “Jesus Dustin, no.”

“Fine, fine.” He relents, arms raised in defense. “But if you want my honest opinion,” he says more seriously now. “I've seen Eddie with you in his life, and I’ve seen him without — trust me, he’s much happier when you’re around.”

Your gaze softens at his authenticity. “You really think so?”

He nods. “Know so.”

Dustin’s right. Maybe you're just letting your insecurities get the better of you. Or maybe you have a right to be nervous. He’d walked out of your life once, what’s to stop him from doing it again?

It really doesn’t take much for you to realize the power Eddie has over you. If he wanted to, he could take your heart (which already so dangerously belongs to him), and shatter it into an insurmountable number of pieces. Quite honestly, that might be the most terrifying thing about having feelings this big. You’d barely survived losing him the last time, and that was before you’d even considered admitting there might be something more between you.

You’re not sure what you’d do now, or if you’d even come out of it alive. Physically you’d likely be fine, but mentally and emotionally? You’d be better off dead.

You’re caught by surprise when Dustin is suddenly nudging you, hissing at you – something about answering something – and your attention snaps to him.

“(Y/n).” He waves, pointing towards the phone.

It rings on the wall beside you, breaking the flow of your vulnerable thought pattern. You reach over to pick it up, Dustin taking this as a chance to pop another cookie in his mouth.

“(L/n) residence.” You answer.

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice travels through the receiver.

“Hi.” You respond, trying not to sound too excited. You don’t want to scare him away.

From the other side, he smiles; he’d missed talking to you. After Tuesday, he’d struggled with whatever moment had happened between you. His mind couldn’t process the thought that maybe you felt the same as him and he needed time to think it all through.

“Sorry for not calling earlier.” He says. “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight?”

A grin creeps its way onto your face. Dustin stops himself from laughing at the look that’s adorning your features. “Of course!” You fiddle with the phone cord anxiously. “My place at 7?”

“Sounds good.” He murmurs.

“Great, okay.” You reply. “See you then.”

“See ya.” He says.

You hang up the phone with the biggest sigh of relief. “Fuck.” You breathe.

“I told you he’d be here.” Dustin’s grin is smug. Shit eating doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You agree begrudgingly. “You did. I promise not to doubt you next time.”

He chuckles. “I’ll be sure to remind you of that next time I do something incredibly stupid.”

“Very funny.” You grimace slightly, feeling like your heart is beating out of your chest.

Dustin notices quickly and eyes you in amusement, no concern whatsoever for your current state of being. “You okay?” He asks out of pure enjoyment.

“Yeah.” You smile, breathing slowly to try and slow your heartbeat. “Just, why does it feel like this? Talking to Eddie, it’s never been like this.”

Dustin laughs. “Because you’re in love with him. And now you know it.”

Love feels like too strong a word, and simultaneously not strong enough.

“Shit…” You groan, dragging it out like your life depends on it. Your head falls into your hands and you swear you can feel the vainglorious pride radiating from Dustin’s direction. He’s so satisfied with himself it almost makes you laugh.

Fuck that little shit. You hate that he’s right. You hate even more how defenseless this makes you.

You can’t believe you’ve given Eddie the key to your heart. There was a time a few years ago where you had been sure it would happen. That was, before everything fell apart. Though you suppose, despite all the obstacles along the way, it was only a matter of time.

It still shocks you nonetheless.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

+ 1

The end credits roll across your television screen, Tom Cruise and Top Gun the only ones you’re really able to pay attention to. You’d seen this movie before…it wasn’t like you really needed to watch out for anything. If you’re being honest, you had so much more to focus on.

Like the beginning of your night for instance…

Eddie had arrived perfectly on time with a bag of microwavable popcorn, and a shy greeting. There hadn’t been much talking since, apart from a couple apologies when your hands would graze while reaching into the bowl for a popcorn kernel or two. Or when you had to pause it so Eddie could go use the restroom. It was totally and utterly bizarre how quiet it had been, unlike any of your previous movie nights where you’d regularly quip stupid lines, mocking the characters back at each other.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to explain it. And the tension was so thick — what’s that saying? — you could cut it with a knife…You'd need a pretty sharp damn knife.

“So,” you start by flicking on the lamp beside you, hoping to relieve some of the stiffness in the room, “what’d you think? Was it as good as you were expecting?”

Truth be told, Eddie hadn’t paid attention to a single second. And for all the weeks he’d begged Steve for a copy of the movie, the second he got the chance to watch it, all he could focus on was you.

“I wouldn’t know.” He answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “But we just watched it.”

“I didn’t.” His voice is so soft, yet so serious. “Couldn’t focus.” He furthers.

“Then what were you focusing on?” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he was thinking of you.

He shrugs, but you can tell there’s more to it. He’s trying to be nonchalant so you think he’s calmer than he actually is.

“Us.” He nearly whispers. “You, me — whatever line we’re teetering on crossing. I can’t get it out of my head.”

His words strike a chord with you. “Neither can I.” You admit. “I’m uh, I’m sorry for making things awkward on Tuesday, I just, something felt—”

“Different.” He finishes for you. That’s the word you’d been looking for.

“Yeah.” Is your quiet response. “Scary different,” you elaborate, “but good different.”

He hums in agreement. “So it wasn’t just me then?” He asks hopefully. “Because I was certain you’d finally realized how I felt about you and just didn’t know how to let me down easy.”

A delicate laugh bubbles from your throat. “When you touched me, my mind went into overdrive and all I could think about was how much I wished this could be all the time.” You tell him your perspective, and a smile grows on his face. “And it was terrifying, because I hadn’t had thoughts or feelings like that since…” You trail, but he knows exactly what you mean.

“I don’t think I ever stopped having feelings for you.”

That causes your heart to clench.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, taking Eddie by surprise. It’s not too sudden by any means, but he had always thought he’d be the one to make the first move, if it ever happened.

But, he supposes, he should’ve expected it from you. You’d always been ten steps ahead of him.

He blinks, still in disbelief. “Please.” He mumbles. “Tell me this is real.”

You smile, scooting forward to place a soft slow kiss on his lips. “It’s real.” You murmur against him. “I promise.”

His breath is airy and light against your skin as he captures your lips in another kiss, this time needier. He’s been waiting for a moment like this for years, and he’s not about to let you slip out of his grasp. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you begin playing gently with his hair. At the action, he shifts you inevitably closer, lips coming down to rest in the crook of your neck.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me.” Eddie hums, pulling away to get a good look at your face.

You look perfect, your eyes filled with wonderment, like a rose in first bloom. “If it’s anything like what you do to me,” your lips part effortlessly as you lean in to whisper in his ear, “then I have a pretty good idea.”

A shiver runs down Eddie’s spine. This feels like a dream, this has to be a dream. To further convince himself it’s not, he runs a hand down your cheek, eyes searching yours for any sense of regret or mistrust.

He can’t find any, and neither can you.

“I love you.” He lets it drift from his mouth with ease. It’s not the first time he’s told you he loves you, but it’s the first time he’s said it like this.

“I love you too Eddie.” Being sure to add it, you quip teasingly, “forever and always.” A reassurance from your childhood.

He laughs at the remark. A true laugh, filled with a melodic tone and pure contentment. “Forever and always.” He repeats.

As he pulls you into his side, you let your head rest on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. The silence feels comfortable, nice even. And for the first time in a really long time, you feel happy.

So yeah, sometimes he makes you want to die. But he also, equally shows you that as long as there’s a breath left in your body, that life is worth living.

Eddie Munson, as much as he makes you want to die, he makes you want to live.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine

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