#but in case anyone ​wants to come to me like

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Now (PT. 2)

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Mild General Yandere(ish) Behavior, Arguing, Awkward Tension(?), No One is Having a Good Time, Angst, Implied Past Injuries (To Reader)]

(When I say arguing I do mean it this time. Might be a bit more OOC? Dick is living up to his nickname. This is longer than the first part, just fyi - and by a good 4k or so words. Again, take your time and remember to take breaks!)

Didn't tag anyone on this post since both this part and the first are posted back to back :] Regardless, enjoy!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3 (PT. 1). [Series Masterlist]

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"I… I just don't think it's a good idea. It doesn't feel right, and- and I…" You couldn't think of much else to say. All the reasons you had felt too personal, and you didn't feel comfortable telling Dick any of them. Not out here, and certainly not while he was in the suit. Though even if he wasn't, you weren't sure that it'd make you any more willing to tell him anything. 

After all, you wouldn't even share the date of your birthday if he asked now, with or without the suit.

"Yeah, but why? It doesn't make sense to not go to either place just because you have a ‘bad feeling’ or anything. Even then, you'll be safe, and that's what really matters." That didn't feel like it was the case. Your safety doesn't feel like a priority over him just being able to keep an eye on you, and being able to pull anything he wants to without any prying eyes.

Though it was with that thought, did you wonder when you began to see Dick as someone so untrustworthy that you considered him to be on the same level as a thug out on the streets. Just far more dangerous and capable.

"Look, I just-" You sigh harshly, looking back at Dick as the fire in your chest rose, building up as it poked at your ribs and flesh. Begging for more air, more room to grow. "I'm going to the park. If you're not coming then that's fine by me, and if you're not okay with that, then there's nothing I can do about it." You state, looking forward as you pick up your pace. 

Dick fumbles over his words before he hurriedly matches your pace, "Wait! Let's try and think this over-"

"Why? Even if we're out in the open, you're still a vigilante. If you can defend and look after an entire city, then surely you can protect one person, right? Not to mention that I can take care of myself." You huff, still keeping your eyes forward even as they narrow. You add, "Besides, again- not many people are out tonight. And if anything- seem to be rushing home, because of whatever is going on. We'll be fine."

"Sure. Yeah. I can handle it- but wouldn't it be smarter to just be inside anyway? That way it's less likely for anything to happen. You have to think rationally-" You swiftly cut Dick off again, really trying to put your foot down and stand your ground here.

"I am thinking rationally. You're a skilled vigilante that's been trained under Batman, and have only improved in skill and technique over the years. If anything goes wrong, and I can't handle it, you can. Not to mention that you have a way to contact the others if things really do go sideways, and you're in the suit. I didn't think I needed to say anything else." You sigh, lightly scratching the cup in your hands with your nail.

"Also, if you haven't noticed, even criminals and thugs are running home. It's like some kind of quarantine or lock down is going on. Some random person eavesdropping on us doesn't seem like it'll be a problem. Let alone with all of the noises that seem to be 'persuading' people to go home."

Dick could only sigh himself before saying, "Alright- okay. Fine. But like you said, I'm still in the suit."

"And?"

"And someone could see, and think that you're a close tie to me or something. You could be put in more danger."

"Are you actually worried about that now? You've been walking beside me this entire time when you didn't have to, and it's only now that you're worried about me being seen with you in the suit?"

"How else are we supposed to have this conversation? And I'm sorry for being worried about your safety, and well-being in the future for being seen with me." You could practically hear the eye-roll in Dick's voice despite knowing that he didn't actually do it. When did he get so sarcastic?

"That's not the issue, and you know that. We could've figured out some other way to have this talk, and you didn't have to walk beside me this entire time." You shot him a glance, causing Dick to sigh again.

"What if something happened while I was up top, and I couldn't react fast enough because I wasn't next to you? Someone could've tried something if I wasn't there, especially because you'd appear to be by yourself."

"So… remind me again, who's the paranoid one?"

"Y/n, I'm being serious." Dick states.

"I know. I'm being serious too, and I'm just saying that it's kind of ridiculous to be worrying about that now when it's already been a few minutes." You huff, "And I don't know what you expect me to do about it. I'm not the one in the suit, y'know. Why don't you just go and change somewhere?"

Dick rubs his nose bridge, getting annoyed but not trying to show it as he says, "Fine. I can do that, but at least come with me." He looks at you expectantly as his hand drops from his face. You couldn't help but raise a brow at his words.

"Why?"

"So that I can keep an eye on you…? And if anything happens while I'm changing- I'll be able to jump in and help much faster?" Dick said, confused. Talking as if he was stating the obvious, and maybe he was in a way, but you didn't see why he's so adamant about being close to you enough where he could easily protect you or reach you if needed.

"But wouldn't that kind of go against the point of you changing…?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I wait somewhere and Nightwing walks off, only for you-know-who to pop up after a little while, and we walk off together, wouldn't that be weird? Or at least hint at a certain something?" You point out, a little confused and surprised that you even had to explain this to Dick.

"C'mon, I won't be that obvious. And even then, no one will be able to figure it out."

"You say that like every other villain or wannabe in Gotham isn't some genius or anything. They're criminals and all that, but they aren't entirely stupid."

Dick sighs, though it came out more frustrated than he would’ve liked as he ran a hand through his hair once again, "Still, I'd just like for you to at least be close by. I don't want anything to happen to you, and I want to be able to help out as soon and as quickly as I can if anything does." He explains, getting a little closer to you.

"Please, Y/n. Just come with me."

You shake your head, your shoulders feeling far too heavy, and the flame in your chest was much too hot for you to even think about it. You knew Dick wasn't happy about it when he gave you a little room, but still kept close. As if hoping you'd change your mind, despite already knowing the answer.

"I'll just head to the park, and wait a few minutes. I'm not defenseless and can handle myself for a while, and it's not my fault that I could be in more potential danger because someone thought it was a good idea to come see me, and follow me around while in their suit. You can figure it out, and live without me for a few minutes." You huff harshly, adding, "If you aren't there after that time? I'm leaving. That's all." Once again, you pick up your pace, only to be stopped by Dick as he rushes in front of you.

"Wait- hold on. Are you sure about this? I don't think it's a good idea- and how long exactly will you be waiting? Where are you going if you leave? Are you going back to the apartment? Are you going home?" You don't like how hopeful Dick looked when he asked you that last question, but you push your discomfort to the side, and stand your ground.

"I'm an adult, and I'm a L/n. I'm sure about this. You can think whatever you want, and like I said- I'll be waiting a few minutes. If you're not there by then, I'm going to leave." You narrow your eyes at Dick, piercing him with your gaze as you said, "I've made my choice and I'm sticking to it. If you're not happy about it, or don't agree, then you can leave and I'll go on with my night. I'll wait at the park, and that's that." You state one final time before making your way around Dick, and continuing to walk forward. Luckily, he didn't try to stop you again, and if anything — seemed to stop following you entirely.

All you heard was a low scoff from behind you, and the rush of wind.

When you glance back, Dick was gone, and it was only then did you realize how heavy the air felt. Releasing the breath you didn't know you had been holding, you clutch your chest. Your heart aches, and yet you manage to push on.

Tonight wasn't exactly going well for you, but that almost tipped you over the edge.

You were beginning to hate many things about tonight, along with Dick. It almost made you think that maybe you were lucky back when he hardly ever noticed or talked to you. It made things easier, after all, and of course now that you've had your longest conversation with him — things were only getting harder.

Every word he said made him seem bigger, or pushed you down as an attempt to make you smaller. His reasoning could go from making complete sense, to being outright idiotic and paranoid. With each action of his being either too small or way too much. 

Dick, in that way, was too much.

You could chalk up some of your discomfort and nervousness to your lack of experience with Dick, and being around him. Of course some of his antics and habits would seem strange to you — since you were never able to see much of them, and those that you did notice were from a far, and never up close. You weren't able to experience them yourself, not until now. Though that almost made you grateful for all the times he turned you down or ignored you, seeing as now you could only see how much of a handful he is to deal with. 

Maybe that could've changed if you were more familiar with him, but it was too late for that now. Even if you did wonder how this whole thing would've gone if you did know him. If you were more familiar with how Dick acted, and had actually managed to spend time with him. If Dick was more familiar with you, and how that'd change this whole situation… but, again, it was much too late for that. If he really wanted to know you, he would've taken one of the chances you gave him over the years, and yet he didn't. No one did. No one except for Alfred…

You hope he's okay, at least.

Shaking your head, you push your thoughts to the side. There was no use thinking about 'what if's, not when such thoughts and possibilities kept you in the manor for so long. Not when your mind used them against you, and had you keep that pathetic hope you once desperately clung onto. You promised yourself you wouldn't do that anymore, and so you took a breath, and tried to stop them from coming in. They always slip by, but you try to ignore them. Especially since they caused you so much trouble that could have easily been avoided in the past.

You took a small sip of your coffee, only to pull it away and look at the cup strangely. 

It was… bitter. More so than you remember, and it immediately struck you as odd. Since, Jessica always managed to make your coffee the exact same way every time, and even if she did make some mistakes here and there, the change was never this significant or noticeable. Not like it was now, with the taste lingering on your tongue, almost trying to further stain your taste buds and remain there for as long as possible. As if trying to permanently ingrain itself in your mouth.

You couldn't help but cringe a bit. Maybe getting coffee really was a bad idea after all…

Sighing, you just continue on and brush the weird occurrence to the side. Whatever, you have enough things to deal with and worry about now. There wasn't much you could do about the coffee, and if anything, maybe that just went to further show how horrible your night is going thanks to Dick. 

Though, you wouldn't push it that far, even if your opinion of him was definitely souring by the minute, but the thought was pretty funny to think about, at least.

The night felt calm for once, and it’s only now, with you by yourself, do you realize how much you needed this.

Sure, Gotham was potentially going to hell, and you might see Dick again in a few minutes, but you don't have to worry about that right now. Just here, in the streets, did you have… normal problems. Problems unrelated to a family you no longer wanted to involve yourself with, that also just so happened to be made up of vigilantes. Problems that didn't involve your musical career, and how your rise to fame was becoming both an inconvenience, and a bit of an issue. Problems that… just about everyone has dealt with one way or another.

Your coffee didn't taste quite right, you felt exhausted despite having only walked a bit, and your social battery was just about to hit its limit. The air was just a tad too cold for the clothes you were wearing, you had a strong desire to crawl into bed and sleep like you had nothing else to worry about, and really — besides yourself and making a few dumb mistakes, the only thing you really had to worry about here was getting mugged. Maybe even jumped, at a push.

Yet, such things got a light, airy laugh out of you. You felt so at ease by yourself, and during the most dangerous hours of the night, no less. Despite everything, you couldn't help but find a bit of humor in it, and such a little thing even made you feel better. That uncomfortable heat in your chest dying down, and almost going away entirely as you cooled off.

As funny as it was, you felt safer and so much more at ease without the person that was so adamant about wanting to do all of these things, to protect you. How could you not laugh at the irony?

Suddenly, the bitter taste on your tongue didn't feel so bad anymore.

Walking along Gotham streets when it was so quiet still made you feel a bit uneasy, but for the time being you were able to find some small peace with it. After all, who knew when you'd get another breather like this? Especially with whatever business Dick had with you. Vigilante and hero work wasn't exactly known to be light and easy, after all. 

So, you took this moment as it is. Finding odd little details in the night that helped you relax as much as you could before things continued.

Honestly, you didn't think you were ready for whatever Dick was about to talk about or mention, but you doubt any of it could surprise you. After all, in a city where a villain breaking out of the local prison or asylum every now and again during the week was normal, it was hard to be surprised by things related to such occurrences. Since, it even felt like someone was trying to blow up the place at least twice a month, and robberies were so common that it was a wonder that anyone had any fortune left to protect at all.

Though it did still make you curious about what’s going on. 

Obviously, it couldn't be any good, but it just seems too… quiet to be anyone that Gotham had already seen before. Seeing as the usual villains and whatnot always made some kind of mess, or made things as extravagant and entertaining as possible. Almost like a certain clown that loved to try and run circles around a certain bat.

Regardless of that, however, you were still more curious about why Dick — or any of the others, really — had bothered to seek you out at all. Sure, the first thing that came to mind was that they need you for something, rather that be for help or something else entirely, but that's only because it made the most sense to you. Why else would they try to find out where you live? You couldn't think of another reason. Though, again, maybe that was because they had ignored you for so long? Even then, you can't think of anything else. 

Besides help and such, nothing else made any logical sense to you. There is no other reason. There couldn't be, and if there is — you couldn't think of it. They couldn't just be here for you. They almost weren't capable of it. You're sure, since they have made it very clear a long time ago. You were just too naive and blind to see it at first, but now you did, and you don't plan on becoming blind to that again…

Nevertheless, you continue on your little path.

Now that Dick wasn't with you, your journey to the park was short, and much more peaceful and quiet. It was almost calm in an odd way, but you appreciated it all the same.

The park held that strange feeling of abandonment and emptiness that most of Gotham seemed to have tonight — thanks to whatever was going on — but you manage to ignore it for the most part. Making your way around the park, your pace was slower and your breath was a bit heavier. You felt like you were prolonging the inevitable, and such a feeling spawned so much dread that you almost choked on it. However, you manage, and instead try to find a good place to sit and wait for the time being.

Sure, it would be easy to leave and just go on with your night, but you did want to stay true to your word even if only a little. It's the least you could do, since this would be the last thing you'd ever do for any of them, anyway. 

Besides, you were better than them in that way — following through with what you said, instead of saying a ‘maybe’ that'll never come, or a ‘next time’ that'll never arrive. Always stuck to a tomorrow that was always just out of reach.

Your words held meaning, unlike theirs.

Moving on, you eventually found a good spot. It was closer to the center of the park, and the moon could be seen as clearly as it could be with all of the clouds passing by, and building up. The air had an odd moist and damp feeling to it, and it made you think that it might rain after all, seeing as you remember hearing something about it earlier in the day. Yet, that just gave you all the more reason to hope that this whole thing would be wrapped up soon. Though whether that happened with Dick not showing up, or him making good time and keeping things short and simple, you didn't care.

Even if you did hope that he just wouldn't show. For both his sake, and your own.

Settling down on a park bench off to the side of the path, you took a big breath, before letting it all out. You still don't have a good feeling about this, but you'd take all the little victories you could. Since, you managed to avoid going to the manor and clock tower by some miracle, and even got Dick to leave you alone for a little while. Even if a small part of yourself did wish that you had pissed him off enough for him to leave you alone, you wouldn't count on it. He seemed oddly stubborn about sticking around, or to at least keep you around him, and though it made you feel uncomfortable, it unfortunately meant that there was a chance that he'd actually show up again.

You'd pray if you had any faith left, but you don't. Not at the moment, and certainly not with that possibility hanging over your head, just waiting to drop and crush you under its weight. Though for now, you'd try to not think about it as you look around, taking in the dark scenery instead.

The darkness of the night shaded over the park in an ominous, beautiful way. With the trees looming over you, and their leaves providing more shade than necessary. As if trying to protect you from the moon's stare as much as they could. The clouds slowly crawled over the sky, waiting for the perfect opportunity to drop all they were carrying — and leave the burden for Gotham to hold. They covered what could be made out of the blank, pitch black void that was the night sky, with the moon trying its hardest to shine through. To take a glimpse of the chaos below, and judge you in its silence.

A loose breeze drifts by, causing you to shiver thanks to its added chill over the night's natural coolness. The sounds of nature were hardly audible, as if even the insects have been silenced by whatever is going on, and the only thing you could hear was that constant, sickening snapping and cracking of broken bones, and that popping from joints getting dislocated. Even if such noises were much fainter now, thanks to the spot you've chosen, they still managed to reach you here, and dominate all other noises that tried to make themselves known, with its echo.

You could only sympathize with their desperation to be heard, to be noticed — only for the violence to cover all of their efforts. Maybe you'd even pity them, but you already felt foolish over your emotions, and feeling sympathy over noises was silly enough. You have already made enough humorous and dumb choices tonight, so you'd at least try to not make another. Even if you bothering to actually wait here, instead of leaving right away, is dumb enough.

You don't know if it was hilarious or sad how many stupid choices you’re making in one night, and all because of the people you are trying to leave behind. People you were so sure would never bother to look for you or even give you a single thought, and yet here you are now. Waiting for one of them to show up – only because suddenly he couldn't leave you alone. Almost like he couldn't afford to, and now you couldn't help but debate over the humor and sadness of that.

Of course it had to be now, it had to be tonight, that one of them showed up - but you don't know what exactly you're expecting. After all, if one of them were to try and show their face to you despite everything, it would be at the worst time possible. It felt fitting in an odd way, so maybe it was only right that things went down like this. That life throw one of the biggest ‘fuck you's it could at you, during a time where you are trying to recover. To heal. To get better.

Of course he just had to show his face when you were done with him — with them, and their whole family. It had to be now, when you're trying to move on, did an effort have to be made. It couldn't be while you were in the manor - when you were trying to do the same.

… Maybe you should've let him bust open the door to your apartment after all, and just ran away while you still had the chance. 

Yet, as if knowing you were thinking of walking away while he still wasn't around, Dick finally appeared and made himself known with a little whistle.

You turn your head and face him, his appearance almost making you laugh, but you didn't have it in you to do so. Much too exhausted and fatigued to even try, and your feelings were too mixed up to even consider the thought. Though you did have to admit, he did look a little funny.

Dick almost looked out of breath, but he still manages a smile when you turn to look at him. The clothes he wore looked strangely baggy, and you could've sworn that you saw the smallest glimpses of various price tags that were tucked away sloppily. Which made it look like he really was in a rush, and… well, you didn't know how to feel about that. Yet, in that same moment, you caught the tiniest bit of his suit right under the shirt he wore. Further ‘hinting’ at the fact that Dick had been in such a hurry that he didn't actually bother to change, and instead opted to cover up his suit.

His mask was off, at least, and for a moment you wondered where he put it until you noticed him subtly stuffing something in his pocket. Which is funny as it is concerning.

Dick wore an oversized coat that he left open, with a collar shirt underneath that had two of the buttons unbuttoned, along with sweatpants and shoes that didn't quite look his size. All in all, he looked like a mess, but Wayne's look good in everything for a reason, you suppose.

“Made it just in time! I told you I would, didn't I?” Dick chuckles, still holding onto the coffee you had given him earlier with one hand. The smile on his face quickly grew into a playful smirk, and you didn't know if you should find it weird or oddly scary how much closer he seems to be to the side of him you've only seen at a distance before. The side you have seen at galas or with his family, occasionally. A side you didn't have any personal experience with until now, and the dread you felt from before only grew at that.

“Um, no, you didn't-” You try to point out, only for him to cut you off.

“Well, it probably just slipped my mind, but I'm here now!” He muses, and you can’t help but find his tone off putting considering how things ended off a few minutes ago. He both looks and sounds way too happy for someone who was so annoyed with you before. 

“I didn't keep you waiting, did I?” Dick steps closer, making his way over to you casually. Not a single trace of his previous demeanor could be found.

You can't help but move a little further away, and bite your tongue. You hoped he would've, that he did, but unfortunately he did make good time. Since, from the moment you sat down, Dick appeared only a minute after, and had it not been for his messy outfit, you would've thought that he had planned this whole thing out — down to the very last second.

“No…” You drag on, looking away once again, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Yet, despite the implications of it, Dick couldn't help but find it… cute, in an odd way. Causing him to exhale softly, his smirk dying back down into a smile. Blue hues shining as they look down at you.

He moves to sit down on the bench — noticing a spot next to you, but deciding to sit beside you instead. Still remaining close, but not getting in your space entirely, since he felt like you both weren't at that point just yet. There was an armrest between the both of you, and he felt as if that'd be enough for now. Even if he did want to move closer, he decides that this was the least he could do for having been ignoring your discomfort and clear nervousness thus far. 

While he still couldn’t fully bring himself to acknowledge or accept it — since he still doesn't want to think about it — he at least wants to try and do this small thing for you.

Though, the space between you and him would never be big enough for you to be comfortable. Since just knowing he was around, and that you were in his space, already made you feel a certain way, but he didn't have to know that. Not that you would tell him, anyway.

Dick took this little opportunity to take a slow, long sip of his coffee. The drink not quite to his liking, but he wouldn't complain since you seem to like that little diner, and the last thing he wants is for your opinion of him to get worse, so he kept his mouth shut. Besides, it wasn't even that bad anyway, especially knowing that it came from a place that you enjoy going to.

Silence was quick to fall over the both of you again. Yet, this time, Dick didn't exactly have a problem with it.

Even if you weren't looking at him, he could still see that little twinkle in your eyes that the faint bits of moonlight were able to show and make clear. How your hair matched you just right, and the way you did it and took care of it completed your look even more. Along with how even the little things on your person said so much, yet so little, about who you are now. About who you have become after all this time. 

A sense of endearment and sentimentality suddenly washes over Dick, and he can't help but feel as if it were just yesterday that you were introduced to the whole family. Though he still couldn't quite describe the look in your eyes then, as there was an unmistakable hint of excitement and unfounded joy that lingered when you first met them all. When you first met him. 

You were such a little thing back then, and you have grown so much since. Dick still can't help but think about it even as he finally pulls the cup away from his lips, and sighs, content.

You were so small, and little. Your face round and youthful, hands soft and delicate - just like everything about you at the time. The world and the people in it were still so new to you, and you looked just about ready to explore it all. To see every little thing you could, and learn about everything that you found. ‘Wonder’ was the first word he thought of when he saw you that day, and looked at your expression. It was full of that child wonderment. 

Yet… look at you now. Grown, and significantly taller than you were before. Face matured and settled, but still did have a youthful look to it. He notes how your hands did seem to be a bit rougher, and instead of delicacy, he found a gentleness that was always there — but is more prominent now. That look of wonder gone, and now replaced with something more. Something complicated and complex in nature, and yet simple all the same. There's a sense of turmoil but… he couldn't look much deeper than that. He can't bring himself to.

Point is, you have clearly changed. 

Sure, he noted how you looked different and everything before, but now that same conclusion felt different in a strange way. Though maybe that was because he wasn't only looking at you now, but seeing you as well.

Dick doesn't just see the change in your clothes, and how your voice has changed its tempo and volume, but some other things as well. Maybe that's because he's able to connect some things he's learned about you over the course of the entire day, back to you and how you showed yourself now. How those details presented themselves in your appearance and mannerisms.

It’s a lot to take in, sure, but in this moment of silence - Dick found himself slowly absorbing all of this information, taking it all in and finding ways to love you through it. Even if the changes made a particular fact all the more clear — despite the time he has missed, he did genuinely love the person you have become. He does now, at least. 

Despite everything he has done to you, or lack thereof, you have managed so much on your own. Despite him and the family not being around when they could've, when they should've, you managed to pave your own path and face all the challenges it brought by yourself - from what Dick could tell anyway. Even if he wasn't fully aware of all you have gone through in his absence, and he knew that as well – you’re still here. You're sitting beside him, looking at the scenery of the park, coffee cup in hand, and just… living in this moment with him.

Dick didn't know when such small things made him feel so happy or content, but in this moment, with you, it's like all he could feel was happy and put together, in a weird way. He doesn't know how to describe it, but now that he's here with you, in your space and presence, he feels… whole. Complete. Like all the missing pieces he didn't even notice were gone, all fell into place when you were around. With you here with him, he feels the happiest he's been in a long while, and he couldn't even begin to explain why.

He's only really known you for a day, but it already felt like he's spent a lifetime with you.

“Hey… Y/n?” He spoke up, breaking the silence between the both of you, looking back at the coffee cup in his hands. “I just want to say that… I'm happy you're here, and that you let me see you.” He begins, slowly looking back at you, an easy but pleasant smile on his face. It was easily the most natural one he's shown you tonight, and his clear unannounced happiness, no matter how light, made the pit in your stomach grow deeper and wider.

Why is he looking at you like that? And why did it hurt to see it now? Why did it relight the fire in your chest, and make it burn - the flames barely tickling your chest from the inside? Why did you feel like this? What did you do to cause him to wear such a smile?

Why now? What was going on?

“I know we haven't talked much, or really hung out, but this… this is nice for what it's worth, and I'm happy that I get the chance to spend this time with you despite everything.” The small bits of moonlight shined in his eyes, almost making Dick appear better than he was. More friendly, charming, and brighter than you saw him as. You couldn't stand the sight. Your dread growing much too big for you to keep looking at him.

So, you look away. Hoping that Dick would get whatever kind of message you were trying to send - and yet, even if he saw it, he didn't bother to decipher it. Words tumbling out of his mouth before he could think them over, too deep in his own feelings to see yours. Though he doesn't seem to mind as he said the words that began to fill his heart, and let them out into the open air. The wind whisking them away, and shoving them into your ears.

“You… mean a lot to me, and I know that, again, we haven’t really done much together, or really spent the most time together either, but- you matter to me. You’re important to me, and I’m sorry that was never made clear before.” He blurts out, heart aching and swelling at his own words, but Dick just couldn’t help himself. He feels like he needs to say something, to say this, and he doesn't want to have to wait any longer to say it. Even if you don’t like him or saw him a certain way, he wants to at least say this. To tell you his truth - his new truth. A truth that is becoming more clear to him as the seconds pass. Seconds he spent with you. “I know that I’ve messed up- a lot, and I know that it isn’t just me that made things turn out like this, but I at least want to let you know that I do care about you. I just…” Dick ran a hand through his hair, pausing for a moment as countless words he wanted to say float around in his head, but he just didn't know how to say them. Or even say them in a way that would get you to understand, or at least hear him out.

He looks away for a moment before looking back at you. Hand dropping and folding around his cup once again. “I’m sorry, for everything. For missing your concerts and performances, and just- everything. I should’ve been there, and even if I was busy, that isn’t an excuse. I should’ve made time for you, I could’ve, and yet it just always slipped my mind and… I should’ve never done that to you. You didn’t- you don’t deserve to go through that, you didn’t have to, and yet you did, and I’m just.. so sorry that now is the time that I’m realizing this. You… you deserve so much more than what we gave you, and I’m sorry if that made you feel any less than what you are- because you are amazing, and wonderful, and bright-!”

“You’re.. you’re a lot of things, and I really couldn’t list them all since I’m still slowly seeing it all for myself. Though even then, we’d be here for a while… wouldn’t we?” Dick chuckles lightly, a tinge of endearment in his tone, with a hint of a softness that was slowly becoming more and more apparent as he went on. His expression softened even more, and yet all you could feel was dread and anger that grew with each sentence that fell out of his mouth.

Was he messing with you? Was Dick trying to make himself feel better about everything, or just mess you up even more? Maybe both?

Why was he saying all of this now? Why tonight? Why now of all times? His words… they couldn’t be true. They can’t be. If they were, if they are – then why did he wait so long? How come he didn’t realize anything sooner? Why couldn’t he realize it sooner? Why now? Why right this minute, when you were almost ready to let go?

Why is he trying to give you hope over a future, a dream, a wish you never thought would come true? That they, indirectly or not, made you believe would never be made into a reality? No matter how much you did, and sacrificed for them behind the scenes? Was he trying to trick you? Did he really believe that you’d allow yourself to become blind again? That you could actually take the little words that he’s saying to you at face value, after all this time? After all of your wasted effort?

Did he really think that he could salvage what little remained of your nonexistent relationship with him, with just a few words and soft smiles? That you would just suddenly be willing to let him back into your life, after you spent the last year or so just trying to make it so that once you left, you’d never have to turn back? After everything he and the others put you through?

You understood that they were busy. That protecting Gotham and Bludhaven were more important to them than you’d ever be. That they care more about their work and their own lives than they never will about anything you’d try to say to them - you understood that well. It was almost impossible not too with how long you’ve had to deal with it, and come to terms with everything over the few months you’ve given yourself to truly soak everything in and reflect. The one time you gave yourself a breather to process all that's happened over the years you wasted on them, and think about how you are going to move forward in your life. How you’re going to deal with the family moving forward, or if you’d ever bother to deal with them at all. Though, you're still in that process, and had yet to really think about what you’d do moving forward.

Yet, Dick just had to show up while you were in that process. He just had to show his face after so long, and do this to you. Torment you with his words, and cause further conflict inside of you that you don’t need. Causing more heartache and pain that you didn’t want, and yet he just had to keep going, he had to keep talking. He couldn’t just walk away again like he had all of those other times when you were fighting to spend time with him, to just mean something to him. Dick just had to show up, and lie to your face about this. He just had to finally notice you, and hurt you more.

“I’m… I’m just really glad I got to see you is all I’m trying to say, I guess. And that I missed you too, in all honesty.”

So he keeps going, it seems. He just has to say that, like you’d believe him. Like you’d truly think that he cared about you more than the criminals in Gotham did. Like he wasn’t just lying to your face in an attempt to try and hurt you more. To crush what little part of your heart you still had given to them, and destroy it entirely. 

Honestly, now it was like he's trying to get you to hate him. To rid of the memories where you used to look up to him, and really tried to see him as your older brother until the reality of it all crushed you. Until reality forced your eyes open, and made you realize the little you had, and the little he cared.

Your own anger was beginning to blind you, and your hatred grew within you - though you hardly found a part of yourself that cared anymore. 

Even if Dick’s words are true to him, they aren't to you, and that’s all you cared about. Since, as far as you know, they were never true until he suddenly felt bad, and this whole thing started.

However, you still try to remain civil. Just taking in a breath, and sighing before looking back at Dick. Exhaustion becoming more evident, anger and hatred beginning to bloom – but you manage to tuck it away for now. No matter how frustrated Dick makes you, you could keep your composer. You could keep yourself together, and by God would you try no matter how much you want to just get up and leave. No matter how much you want to think that he wasn’t worth the time or energy. At least, not anymore.

“Dick, just tell me why you’re here.” You say, getting straight to the point and seemingly completely ignoring what he said before. Not taking his words to heart, no matter how much they sting and add fuel to the flame growing in your chest. 

Dick looks at you confused, a little taken aback by your response, but just pushes it to the side. Only raising a brow, managing to keep up his smile, “What do you mean? I told you already, silly.” He chuckles a bit, his words already pinching at your skin.

“I’m here to see you.”

‘Bullshit.’ You immediately thought, but don’t say out loud. Not yet, anyway.

“It’s obvious that something’s going on, I mean- do you hear the sounds echoing throughout Gotham? Or, hell, how quiet it is besides said noises?” You ask, tone shifting with every word that spilled out of your mouth, undertone unclear, but Dick didn’t like it. “You don’t have to explain what’s going on, but please, just tell me how or if I can help so that we can both go on with our nights? I know you don’t have time for this. Both of us don’t.” 

Dick can only furrow his brows in response, his confusion growing the more you spoke, but also worried about the tone you’re using with him. A tone that was growing increasingly harsh.

“What are you talking about? I never said I needed your help with anything, and didn’t I already mention that the others are handling the situation?” Dick said, genuinely confused, and yet that only seems to make the flame in your chest burn brighter.

“Then what are you doing here? Why are we even talking right now if you don’t need anything from me?” You ask, voice rising in volume a bit before you bring it back down. The little stings Dick’s words left on your skin turning into a grip around your heart. 

“I’ve already told you, Y/n…. I just wanted to see you.” Dick said again, growing a little more worried now.

“Yes, but why? What made you want to see me so badly that you even went out of your way to find out where I live?” You couldn’t help but ask, frustration growing but so did your desperation. Over what, you don’t know, but all you knew was that you want this to be over. You want to go home. You want to be away from Dick. From them.

Even if your home probably wouldn’t feel as safe anymore now that they knew where it is, and you knew that too, but couldn't find it in yourself to care. Anywhere that wasn't in the immediate vicinity of Dick felt better than being here, with him at arm's length.

“I need a reason to see my younger sibling now? I can’t just come visit them?” Dick asks, still worried and confused, yes, but an odd tone of sarcasm seemed to develop under his tongue.

“After months of no contact? After all that’s happened?” You say as a meaningless, humorless laugh escapes you before your voice drops and cements itself, “Yes. Yes you do, because you’ve never visited me before. You’ve never gone out of your way like this, not even to see me in my own room. So why now? Why tonight? Why come see me?”

Your words stung Dick, and you can tell with how he flinches a bit at your words, if only for a brief moment. He even cringes a little, as if they have physically hurt him, but you didn’t react much. You want to know why, because it made no sense to you, and by God did you deserve an answer.

There is no reason why he should’ve come to see you, none. You aren’t related to him, and even if you are by law, he’s never treated you like family in the past - just someone else who lives in the manor, but over time you began to believe that he started to forget that too, with how he’d grow increasingly surprised by seeing you in person when he'd occasionally visit.

You meant nothing to him, last you checked. So what was so important that he and the others needed to find out where you live, and seek you out like this? What was going on?

From how you look at Dick, he can tell you wanted to know. That you want a ‘real’ answer, one that you’d accept, anyway. Along with the fact that you aren’t going to take your words back, finding them to be nothing less than true, and even if they are, they don’t hurt any less. Especially considering how far he’s come today. How much he’s seen, and how his view is beginning to change. How you were growing on him without even knowing it, making him realize that some of it isn’t even you to begin with. Though there wasn’t much he could do about that, not right now. Not with you getting worked up like this, and not with how he's beginning to hurt too.

The truth hurt, it almost always did. Never sparing anyone, and almost acting as a sword rather than weight. A dagger than another page, but paper cuts did exist for a reason – he supposes.

“I.. I know that it might seem hard to believe, considering everything, but that really is all there is to it.” Dick says, trying to explain as he clutches onto the coffee cup in his hands, “I just want to see you because I was worried, and I… I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all.”

“Then what about the others? Why find out where I live? What’s with all the noise?” Your desperation was becoming a little clearer as you spoke quickly, the questions falling out of your mouth as your heart began to squeeze tightly. The smoke that the fire in your chest was creating, started to reach and fill your lungs little by little with each passing second.

“The others are busy taking care of the city, and how else am I supposed to see you? You weren’t answering any of my or Tim’s calls or texts. We…” Dick drags on a little before just sighing, looking dejected, “I was worried about you- I am worried about you. I thought something happened, and I had to know if something did. Is that so wrong? Can I not check on my younger siblings anymore?”

“That's not what I meant, and you know that.” You point out straight away, but did falter the slightest bit when he mentions how you were ignoring them trying to contact you earlier. However, you didn't back down. “And both of you just started contacting me today. I didn't have any time to answer either of you before you showed up at my door.”

“Really? You had absolutely no time at all to pick up the phone? Not even send a quick message, or even read our texts?”

“I was busy? And was doing something else, so I couldn't get to the phone right away.”

“For several hours? Y/n, you've got to be kidding me.” Dick chuckles out, obviously not believing you, which ticks you off even more.

“What, so I can't do other things? I have to be at your every beck and call, now?” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “None of you have ever contacted me first, so I'm sorry that I didn't have any time to respond to whatever you both had to say. I have my own life to deal with, you do know that, right?”

“That's not what I-” Dick cuts himself off, just letting out a sigh before speaking again after thinking over how to reword what he wants to say, “Look, just- what was so important that made it so you couldn't answer the phone?” He asks instead, searching your expression for something, and furrowing his brows when he couldn't find it.

“... That's none of your business.” You answer instead, narrowing your eyes at him a little. Whatever you did in your life, he didn't have to know. He doesn't have the right to know, not anymore. You may have been willing to offer him this one chance to ask something from you to help with whatever is going on, but that was all, and where your generosity ended. It wasn't a chance to reconnect, or to rebuild what never was, and still isn't. 

If there's anything that this whole situation has told you, it's that you shouldn't have tried in the first place - and that maybe, just maybe, you should've left sooner. That was clear to you now. 

“...” It's like Dick could tell things were getting worse this way. He didn't know what was causing it or how, but he could feel it. Especially with how you were growing increasingly upset, and how he was as well. 

So, he tried to settle down a little and just took a breath. At this rate, he could only dread how things would get, and so he at least tried to change the direction of things a bit. Yet, he still couldn't help himself either. Maybe he didn't deserve to know, but he did want to ask. 

“Look, just-” he tries to find the words to say, to not make this whole thing worse than it already is, and settles on a simpler question. One he figures you can handle, one he hopes does what he wants it to do. “Can you at least tell me why you keep ignoring me when I say that I'm here to see you? Or at least why you just… brush it off?” Dick manages to say, eyes never once leaving you, but for a different reason this time.

He just wants you to open up, but how could you do that when he kept you out for so long? When he locked that door so long ago, and forgot where he left the key? Leaving him to never know of the chair you left right under the handle.

“... What do you-”

“You know what I'm talking about, Y/n, just… please.” Dick almost pleads, which makes you uncomfortable. Causing you to press your lips into a thin line once again, “I don't want this to…” he doesn't want to say it outloud. He couldn't bring himself to. Especially when he doesn't want it to be true. To be made into reality.

“I just want to know, Y/n. So please, just tell me? Because I don't understand why you keep avoiding it, or just don't acknowledge it at all.” Dick says instead, which causes you to grow quiet in the process. 

“...”

You couldn't think of anything to say, just being able to look at him before glancing away and taking in a breath of your own. You couldn't bring yourself to answer the question because - what were you supposed to say? What are you supposed to say? The truth? Or make up a lie? Though even if you picked one or the other, would it be for yourself? Or for Dick?

You didn't know, and a special kind of uncertainty came with that, jabbing your gut and making the flame within you crackle harshly. You hate this. You hate this more than what their inaction did to you, and almost as much as the realization that it's because of them that you're in this position to begin with.

“Why do you think?” You begin, emotions and thoughts swarming in your head and squeezing your heart. You want to not care, to brush it all off as you have before, but only find yourself hurting despite everything. Why does your chest hurt so much? Why did it feel like something was pressing against it, threatening to pierce it? “Why do you think that I'm ‘ignoring’ it or just… dismiss it?”

Dick hates how you look away, and the swirl of emotion he saw in your eyes when you looked at him before. Which only made his own emotions grow like a heavy weight, threatening to fall on him. To crush him, and only leave the tiniest parts of himself behind. Parts that still hung onto that false hope he made himself.

He knew, or at least had an idea, but he ignored it. Dick wants to hear it from you, even if he doesn't know what he's hoping for with that. He knows of his faults, and yet not the entirety of them - at least, that was the impression he was getting from all of this.

He isn't blind, but there are only so many things he could let himself see before the ugliness of it all rears its head at him, and snarls. Before the quiet part that he refuses to glance at, becomes loud.

“I… I don't know,” Dick manages to say after a moment, still looking at you as he searches for something, anything that will point things in a different direction. Something that will give the little hope he has anything to cling on to.

Something he doesn't find.

He takes in another breath, “Can you please just… tell me? I do want to know, I really do- so just, please. Tell me why you keep ignoring what I'm saying?”

“I'm not-” You cut yourself off, speaking before you could come up with a response, the words tumbling out of your mouth quickly before you caught yourself and take in a slow, uneven breath. “I'm not ignoring what you're saying. I'm not, but- just…” You drag on before finally letting out a sigh. Some of the tension freeing itself from your body, but not enough for it to let you truly calm down or relax. 

“What do you expect me to do? To say?” You finally manage to voice it outloud, to ask as you look back at Dick briefly. With the moon trying its hardest to peek through the clouds as they begin to fill and crowd the sky. “You haven't checked up on me in all the years I was in the manor, and, hell, I doubt you even know where my room is-”

“I know where it is.”

“- and even if you do, that doesn't change what happened. Or, really, what didn't.” You narrow your eyes at Dick's sudden words, but don't comment on them as you continue, voice wavering slightly, “You've… never checked up on me before, or even asked me if I was okay- we barely even greeted each other, and I didn't see you around all that often. I didn't get to. So I'm sorry if it's hard for me to believe that you just suddenly care, or want to check up on me after all this time.” You say, still biting your tongue and holding yourself back from sharing more than you should. From giving more than you already have.

“...” Dick's lips press into a thin line before he goes to speak again, “I understand that, but… why can't that change now? Why can't I care about you now?” 

“It isn't about what you can and can't do, Dick. Nor what can be changed now or not, it's…” A quick, small groan escapes you as you try to gather the words you want to say, and finally let them out when you do, “it's what I'm used to, Dick. That's just how it is.”

Finally, dread made its way into Dick’s heart as well, “So… that's it? You're just ‘used to it’? And I can't change that?”

“I don’t know, can you?” You asked sarcastically in a dead tone, already tired of all of this, and yet the fire in your chest continues to burn ever so brightly. “You haven’t really done a good job of that thus far, if that's what you’re trying to do. I’ll say that much.” Your words hurt, you could tell right away. The way he looked at you said everything, but you didn’t try to look deeper than what presented itself on the surface. 

“This isn’t some kind of…. ‘reconnecting session’, stuff like that doesn’t really matter. I thought something serious- something important was going on, or had happened, that’s why I bothered with… all of this.” You point out and explain, only watching as the expression on Dick’s face morphed into something else. Something you couldn’t decipher, but didn’t like looking at. A face that made your stomach twist, with dread pouring out of every crevasse it could manage.

“And why would you think that? I don’t remember saying anything that would hint at that, and even then I would’ve said it outright.”

“You suddenly appeared at my door in the suit, and at some point was banging on it. How could I not think something was going on? Or that you didn’t need something from me? That something serious wasn’t happening? Especially when I don’t remember telling any of you where I live-”

“Okay, okay. I… I get it,” He didn’t, at least maybe not to the extent one would hope he would, but he didn’t want to argue. Not here, and not with you. Especially not when he was really beginning to see you. “But still… I want to change that. I want to make it up to you and fix things. Is that so bad?”

“...” You had no response to that, but even if you did, what could you say? You had imagined countless instances like this, but those situations weren’t real — this one was. In those scenarios, you always had something to say, rather it be good or bad, and you always knew what to do. Yet here, now that it was actually happening, you had nothing. You didn’t know what to do or say, and even if you did have some things you wanted to just let spill out, you kept them in. You didn’t want things to get worse either, but the more Dick talked, the harder that became.

Why couldn’t he just be the person from your thoughts and dreams? The person you always saw him as until now?

“I just…” Dick tries to gather his thoughts, not exactly liking your silence but trying to push on anyway. He finally had a chance, and he’d be damned to not take it. “I want to make things right, and yeah, maybe it's late- really, um, late, but I still want to try.” He manages to say, taking a small, quick breath before he continues, an easy smile trying to settle on his face.

“You deserve better, and I want to be better for you. Things may not be the same, and sure, it might be a bit awkward-” He chuckles slightly in between his words, “-but I think that we can… work it out if you just give it a try. Give me a chance-”

“But I did.” You manage to say, cutting Dick off. He has to fight for his smile to not falter immediately, unaware of how your heart pounded harshly in your chest, the fire it held growing and clawing at the bars of its cage that was your ribs and flesh. Scorching your lungs, and the smoke causing your throat to close, making it harder to breathe.

“... What?” Dick said, partially confused but still trying to at least seem optimistic. A weight of its own beginning to press down on him.

“... What do you think I did all of this time?” You ask, looking away for a moment, glancing up at the covered moon before looking back at Dick, “What do you think I did all of those years I spent at the manor? Before I decided to move out, and be on my own?” 

“...” Dick didn’t have an answer, not one he said right away, anyway. Not one that wouldn’t make him look bad, but he didn’t know what was worse. Staying quiet when he knew a part of it, or saying the part he knew and risk being wrong, revealing how he still didn’t know the full picture despite everything. Despite getting a glance into a life he knew he wasn’t involved in, and feeling more guilty all the while.

However, you decide that his small bit of silence was enough of an answer, and just as Dick opened his mouth to say something, you spoke again. “Most of my time in the manor I’ve spent trying to give you chances- to give the others a chance. Trying to give opportunities to just do something, try anything, and… well,” You look away fully this time, caressing the coffee cup in your hand, it’s dying warm doing little to help you, causing you to draw your attention to the shaded greenery of the park instead.

“We both know how that turned out.”

If your words didn’t hurt him before, they definitely did now. Even as Dick fought to keep that smile of his up, it was pointless. You were right, and he knew that. Even if he didn’t know the true extent of your words, he was at least aware of the times where you’d try to get them to see you perform, to hear your songs and listen to your music that had gotten you this far. He knew that much, and yet he still couldn’t help but try. He wants to mean more to you, to do what he hasn’t done up until this point, to truly be your older brother, to be your family - despite how long he’s been unable to do that.

“I… I know, and I’m sorry.” Dick could only say that much, even if it did little in the long run, and a part of himself could tell that his words only made whatever you were feeling worse as you inched away from him, the sight of the small action breaking his heart even more.

“Maybe that doesn’t mean much, but it’s true. I’m just… sorry that things turned out this way. That we- that I never noticed how hard you were trying until now, and even if it is late, I want to be honest and say that I’m sorry.” He adds, finally managing to look away as well as he looked down at the cup in his hands, thoughts swarming and eating away at his heart. Even if they were going too fast for him to process them all, they hurt him all the same and caused his worry to grow. “I’m sorry for everything, for never noticing what was going on or the extent of it, or appreciating the effort you tried to put in for our attention, for just not… being around. You deserve better- and I want to give that. I want to give you want you deserve and finally be-”

“Stop.” You said under your breath, voice wavering as you take in a shaky breath. Yet, even as it falls upon deaf ears, and Dick couldn’t make out exactly what you said, he still pauses for a moment before speaking again.

“... I just want to fix things, Y/n.” Dick says instead, but it doesn’t make you feel any better, nothing does. 

“You mean a lot to me.” You just want him to stop. 

“And maybe that’s… weird to hear with everything that’s happened. But it is true, and I’m sorry I never made that clear before.” You want him to stop lying to you, to stop trying to make you feel better. You’ve been doing fine on your own without him, without them, and so the only thing you wanted now was for Dick to stop and leave. To act like he had before, and go back to ignoring you.

“So… let’s change that, okay? I… I want to spend more time with you.” You want him to shut up. You want it so bad that it hurts to hear him talk as he goes on and on. His voice ringing in your ears to a point you’re convinced that they’ll bleed if this continues on for any longer. If he continues to talk for any longer. 

“I’m being honest, I really want to try and be your-”

“Stop… please, just- just stop.” You manage to say, voice small and wavering as you try to take in another breath. You want to be unbothered, unhurt, painless, and numb, but you can’t and you don’t know why. You thought you had gotten used to this, and you had, but to hear that - to hear the words you’ve wanted to hear for so many years - that hurt more than anything else. The pain was indescribable, and its result only made that fire grow, the flames scratching at your chest even harder, and your heart bleeding as a result.

Suddenly, all the progress you’ve made over all the months you’ve been away feel useless now. Reduced to nothing in Dick’s presence as his words stripped down your walls in the most violent, volatile ways possible.

Once upon a time, you fought to have a single conversation with him that lasted more than just a few short exchanges, and now you’d do anything to have that back. For him to go back to the Dick you grew up with, the one you fought to even have to look at you for more than a few seconds.

“You can’t do this to me.” You said without thinking, voice weak and shaky as you scramble to keep yourself together, to hold back tears that you refuse to spill – refusing to shed any more over them. Refusing to let all of your progress go to waste just like that.

You were happy, you have been happy these past few months, and you refuse for that to be taken away from you.

“What? Y/n, what do you mean-” Dick tries to speak, but you don’t give him the luxury, not after this. Not after what he’s been doing to you.

“You can’t do this to me,” You repeat, trying to breathe and fight past the smoke building in your lungs, nearly gasping for air as your teeth begin to grind, “you can’t- you just can’t. So stop… please just..” You try to take in another breath, no matter how small it is or strangled it feels.

“Just. Stop.”

“...” It’s like no matter what Dick tries to do, things end up becoming worse, and he hates that he doesn’t know why. He can't understand why. 

Clearly he’s hurting you, he could see that no matter how much he doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying that’s hurting you. He doesn’t know what he’s doing that’s causing you to become so upset. 

After all, don’t you want this? Don’t you want him to try? For your efforts to be reciprocated? Don’t you want to be family too? For him to try and be what he’s supposed to have been all of this time? Don’t you want him to try and be your big brother? 

You couldn’t have given up yet, right? There was no way you could have. You couldn’t have given up after all you have done, after all the awards and such he saw that you’ve earned over the years – awards that were still in your room. You couldn’t have given up. That's impossible, there’s no way. No one would throw all of that away, right? No one would do all that you have, only to just put it all behind them - not anyone that Dick could think of at the moment.

… He hated how he thought of it anyway. How the thought creeped into his mind, and remained there. Letting his dread and worry grow as reality began to sneak its way into his brain. 

Dick doesn’t want to think about it – let along consider the idea, but this isn’t about him. This isn’t about what he thinks or feels.

This is about you, and despite his words, he hates that he had forgotten that already.

“Y/n,” He calls out to you softly, really trying this time, and you hate that detail with all of your heart, “can you just please tell me what’s wrong?” Dick’s words make you physically pause, even causing your rushing thoughts to come to a halt. They repeat in your head once more, and you can only think one thing.

Is he seriously asking you that?

“I know that you’re upset, but I want to work through this with you. So, just tell me so I can help, okay-?”

“Stop- God, just please stop, Dick.” You manage to say, already getting slightly choked up before you manage to shakily exhale, trying your hardest to keep it together as your heart squeezes and your chest tightens. You can’t bring yourself to look at Dick, but your teeth grind as you scramble to keep the flames eating up your body from the inside, trapped and hidden away.

“You can’t do this to me,” You say more desperately than you wanted to, a few tears developing that you fight back violently to keep them from spilling, your own teeth getting crushed and feel as if they were beginning to chip and break with how hard they’re grinding against each other. “You can’t- you can’t-” You struggle to get the words out, nearly gasping for air as that sickening, thick smoke threatens to escape your lungs.

“You can’t do this to me, you can’t give me hope.” You finally say, voice straining as your breath trembles. When you finally do look at Dick, neither of your expressions are good ones. Both filled with mixes of emotions, but his was more deep and almost controlled, while yours was frantic and ever changing.

“... What?”

“After all of this time, after everything- everything I’ve been put through. Everything I’ve been trying to move on from-” You struggle to breathe momentarily, but manage to get yet another gasp of air before continuing, “you can’t just try and give me hope like that. You can’t. You just- can’t.”

Now it’s Dick’s turn to pause as he processes what you said, each word making the weight in his chest sink deeper and deeper until it reaches his stomach. The very thing he seems to dread is becoming more real with every minute that passes and he hates that more than anything. He wants to ignore it, to push past it, but how can he do that when it’s right in front of him? How can he do that when something worse could be laying underneath everything?

He doesn’t want to think about it, and so he doesn’t and tries to tuck it away as he goes on to say, “But… why? Why can’t I give that to you? Why can’t I try to help you?”

“Dick, please, for the love of god just-” You want to say it, you really do, but manage to hold yourself back with the little self control you have, and simply just take in the biggest breath you can manage, and sigh just as deeply. “Nevermind, and just- you know what? We’re… we’re done here.” You say instead. Placing your coffee cup on the bench, not even caring that you barely finished the drink, and move to stand up.

“What? Wait- what?” Dick asks, sitting up and tensing when you stand, but not making a move just yet, even if it was clear that he’d do something. What, you don’t know, but you didn’t notice anyway as you were too focused on yourself and getting out of this situation.

“We’re done here, what else do I have to say?” You don’t look back at Dick, instead continue to try and steady your breath. Trying to calm yourself down, and finally do something to quell the burning flames inside your chest, “This isn’t going anywhere, and we aren’t discussing anything important, so… let’s call it here. I’m leaving.” You say outright, being blunt this time as you make a move to step away-

Only to be stopped when Dick suddenly grabs your wrist, his grasp a touch too tight.

“Hold on- who said you get to decide that?” Dick asks, having sprung up to grab you as swiftly and quickly as he did, a flash of panic showing on his face before he pushed it aside and swallowed his nerves. He tries to manage another smile, even if it doesn’t reach his eyes yet again, “Let’s just talk about this, okay? There’s no need to overreact.”

“Overreact…?” You glance back at him, physically feeling as all of your previous progress to calm yourself was quickly diminishing, the fire only roaring to life at Dick’s words, and it’s like he could feel it too with how his smile faltered the smallest bit before he tried to pick it up again.

“Okay- maybe not overreact, but we can still talk about this… can’t we?” He says instead, as if realizing his mistake once you point it out. Scrambling for something, anything.

You don’t say anything right away, your chest only hurting even more, “And talk about what, exactly?” You ask, just barely being able to hear the clouds overhead groan in displeasure, “What is there to talk about? We have nothing to discuss, and so we should just end things here.”

An airy laugh escapes Dick, almost as he can’t believe what you’re saying, and yet he continues to stare at you. All he does is raise a brow, his heart pounding as that weight in his stomach drops further, “About… everything?” He says, as if a little unsure of how to word it, but keeps going anyway, “About the family, about us, about you- everything! What isn’t there to talk about?” He counters, furrowing his brows a little.

He knows you want to leave, but he can’t bring himself to let you go. Not when he doesn’t know when he’ll have this chance again. Not when he’s so close – but to what, he doesn’t know anymore. All he knows is that it deals with you, and that’s enough for him.

“... But there isn’t anything important to talk about.” You point out as if it was obvious, raising a brow of your own as you look back at Dick, ignoring how the longer Dick held onto your wrist, the heavier your dread became. Nearly making it impossible to breathe despite how you were trying to act now,  “Again, I even bothered to do any of this because I thought something was going on or that you needed something from me, and I turned out to be wrong, so there’s no other reason for me to be here.” You try to be logical, or seem that way, anyway. You try to give whatever bullshit reason you can, saying anything that you hope would just get Dick away from you and just let you go.

“...” Dick hated your words with a burning passion he didn’t even know he was capable of feeling, and the breathy laugh of disbelief that escaped him only furthered his own change of heart, “So I’m not important to you? Our family isn’t important to you? Because of everything that’s happened? So our effort to change everything isn’t important to you? It matters that little to you now that you’ve lived on your own for… what, a few months?”

“What are you talking about? You’re asking me that as if you know me, and- news flash, you don’t. So get a hold of yourself- and let me go already!” You yank your wrist away from Dick’s grasp, pulling it back towards you harshly.

The moment your wrist leaves his grasp, his hand twitches, but he manages to hold himself back and just let his hand fold into a fist as it falls back to his side. His eyes pinned on you once again, never leaving you, “Why can’t I get to know you now? Why can’t that change, Y/n?” He asks, his own tone changing without him noticing, making it sharper than he meant it to be, “Why can’t you just let me in?”

The visceral hatred those words spawn in you is hotter than words can describe, and felt as if it was burning right through your chest, melting your muscles and organs down to nothing. You not only struggled to breathe, but it hurt to even take in the smallest breath. “‘Why’…? You’re asking me, ‘why’?” A small, airy, pathetic laugh escapes you, a look of disbelief clear on your face.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because of the years that have passed? That every attempt I’ve made to do what you’re asking me right now- was ignored until I didn’t try anymore? Until I go off and try to actually live my life, that you ask for me to let you in? For things to change?” You almost spat out, barely managing to take in a steady breath, “I don’t know, Dick. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Dick could barely pull himself together. Everything was falling apart, and even if he could see that, he could barely get a grasp on his own emotions that he was failing to calm down. He wants you to understand, and he wants to understand you too, but god was everything making it so hard. He just couldn’t understand why you were being so stubborn about this, and why you wouldn’t just hear him out. 

So, in the midst of his own frustration, he tsked and spoke without thinking.

“I haven’t done anything to you! Why are you acting like this?” The moment those words left Dick, his eyes widened and he scrambled to recover, “Wait, I didn’t mean-”

“Isn’t that the point?” You cut Dick off, the smoke finally escaping your lungs as you furrowed your brows, chest tightening as more unwanted tears began to build, “That you did nothing? That you- and everyone else didn’t do a goddamn thing?”

“You try to act like I owe you something. Like I owe you this. Like I owe you my time, but you know what? You really don’t, because back then? I clearly didn’t deserve yours. I wasn’t worth your time, and now, years later, you think that I owe you mine? That you can just say whatever the hell you want to my face, because I dared to try and be respectful and civil and do all of this shit for you?” There was no holding back anymore, not when Dick dared to say something like that to your face when you’ve been trying so hard to act calm and civil around him. To give him a chance to say his piece and leave.

The one time you tried to do something for them, for him, after months of being away from all of them, and he dared to say something like that to you?

“Then think again. Because unlike before, I have some god damn self respect and won’t stand for your bullshit anymore.” You spat out as the sky above growled even louder, “You don’t get to say that to me, Grayson.”

Yet, despite your words, a single measly tear manages to slip past your defenses and slowly, painstakingly roll down your cheek. The clouds above seem to have taken that as some sort of sign, as a few small drops of water fell from the sky and hit the pavement under your feet.

Dick pauses after that, if only for a moment as he looks over your expression before sighing. “Okay- fine, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that… but,” he took a short breath before saying, “that still doesn’t answer my question, Y/n.”

“...” All you could do was stare at him. Another pathetic, airy laugh escaping you all the while. He really was unbelievable.

“Which one? The one where you asked why things can’t change? Why I won’t ‘let you in’? Or why I’m ‘acting like this’?” Dick clenches his hands into fists, squeezing them before he lets go.

“Why can’t things change, why can’t the relationship between us change?” You hate the tone he used and how the look he gave you expressed and showed more than words could describe. A certain desperation in his eyes that you wish didn’t exist, that you didn’t notice.

“You never showed me that it could change. That it would always stay the same as it has for the past few years-”

“But why does back then matter? Why can’t we focus on now? On this?” He gestured between the two of you, “Can’t we just- I don’t know… move on from that?” You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh, or actually allow yourself to cry, especially when a few more raindrops fell from the sky. He couldn’t be serious, could he? Did Dick actually just say that, and to you of all people?

“Move on?” You say, a few more tears spilling despite your efforts to stop them, their touch burning your skin and sinking into it like acid, “You want me to move on from that? Move on from the years of my life that you weren’t a part of? To just forget all that’s happened?”

“You don’t have to forget… maybe just, push it aside so that we can work on this! On us…” Dick says, dragging on a little before he takes in another quick breath, “Is that so bad? Don’t you want to be family-?”

“You don’t get to say that to me.” You immediately cut him off the moment Dick even tries to mention family again, “You don’t get to say what I want or what I have to do- after everything I’ve done for you! For the others-! You don’t get to say that to me anymore!”

“Y/n, please, just calm down-”

“No! You don’t get to do this to me! To say all of this shit to my face-” You struggle to speak, your words catching in your throat and nearly choking you, but you manage to continue. To continue to say your part, and finally say the words your heart has been longing to say, to give yourself this much, to finally feel this out, “Do you even know how much I’ve done for you- all of you? How much time I spent doing all of these things I thought you guys liked just so that I had a chance to hold a conversation with any of you? To just mean something? To actually be part of the family, only for no one to show up-?”

“No one asked you to do those things! No one asked you to do anything!” Dick snaps, but immediately tries to reel it back, “I understand that things didn’t work out before, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Your brows furrow even more, and your teeth grind so hard that it feels like they’re chipping away, “No one had to ask! Hell- none of you ended up caring anyway! It was a waste!” You shout, voice raising the more you talked, tears mixing with the drizzling rain, “It was for you- I did everything I could think of to just talk to you, and now you want me to do more for you? After everything I’ve already done? After all the effort that was put to waste because of you?” At this rate, you knew you weren’t talking to just Dick anymore. Instead, he acted as an extension, in your mind. An extension to something bigger, something greater than himself. Something more than he was.

Dick falters, but just sighs again, “No one told you to do all of that,Y/n]. You didn’t have to do anything but just try to-”

“Try to what, Grayson? Try to what?” You cut him off, eyes swirling with untold emotion as your gaze pierces into him, “Go on, tell me what else I had to do. What I should’ve done.”

“...” Dick looks at you for a moment before speaking again with a small huff, “You could’ve tried a different approach, or maybe, talked to us?”

“...” You don’t know what you want to do more; try to strangle Dick, cry harder, or leave again after trying to kill him. “You did not just say that.” You manage to laugh out, but it’s broken and far from genuine. The humor in it long gone, and all that was left was a sickening, uncomfortable emptiness where it once remained. 

“Well, I’m just saying-”

“You did not just say that shit to me when you’ve been the one shooting down every conversation I’ve tried to have with you. You- the person who’s supposed to be the ‘family man’, and we’ve barely even talked. And let me tell you now, I’m not the one who hasn’t been trying to talk or avoiding it.” A pained smile crept up your face as you laughed breathlessly in between your words once more. Not even caring anymore as you let the fire burst from your chest, and have its ashes and smoke spill out of you.

Dick narrows his eyes and furrows his brows a bit, “‘Avoiding it’? What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been avoiding you-”

“Then please explain where the hell you’ve been all of my life until now? Why you could never follow through with what you’d always tell me? Why you come to me now, when I gave you years to do or say anything?”

“I… I was busy, okay? You know that,” He tried to lighten his tone with a chuckle but it did little to help, and only showed his own strain, “I don’t always have time to come to Gotham-”

“But you make the time to do it anyway. You make time to visit, especially when it comes to Damian.” When Dick falls silent again for a moment, you take in a shaky breath and sniffle slightly, feeling awful in every sense of the word, “I guess I just wasn’t worth it, right? I wasn’t worthy of your oh so precious time, but everyone else was. Something else was.” Your expression darkens slightly as your strained smile drops completely.

“There’s always something else, right? Something else to do, someone else to see. You could make time, alright, but just couldn’t for me.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Y/n.”

“Then please, enlighten me, what are you saying, Grayson?” Dick hates every time you say that, every time you refer to him by his last name. It feels like there's a deeper meaning to it that he refuses to see, and just hearing you call him that instead of anything else only forces him to remember that. To remind him of his own faults, both past and present.

Maybe he'd wonder how he keeps messing things up or why he keeps saying everything besides what he actually wants to say, but he's too deep in his own feelings to even think about that. Even if the answer laid within the action itself.

“Saving the city- having to look after Bludhaven and Gotham sometimes, and even the world on occasion- doesn't really give anyone a lot of time to do certain things. You know I'm not over all the time, and that I'm not always… y'know.”

“Dick Grayson?”

“Yeah! And just…” he took a breath before sighing once again, “All I'm saying is that a different approach could've been taken.” You hate how every word he said only seemed to validate concerns you had in the past. Thoughts that still liked to linger every now and then when you caught yourself still thinking about what could've been, and if certain things happened, would that really change anything?

It's funny that only now were you truly beginning to think otherwise.

“So… what?” You say in a dry voice, “Are you saying that I should’ve been just like you? Just like the others- and give up my dream, what I wanted to do- give up my passion, because at least then I would be able to talk to you? Because I would have a higher chance of even seeing you?”

“That's not what I mean, Y/n, and you know that-”

“No. No I don't. I don't know that, and honestly? I have no idea what the hell you’re even trying to tell me right now besides that I should’ve tried harder. That I didn't do enough, because clearly- spending all of my time trying to do things for you, to accommodate for the whole fucking family that couldn't even stand for me to be in their presence for even a few seconds-” You took a shaky breath, more tears spilling out and escaping you, more falling than you would've liked, “that's not enough. Wasting my life away and trying to do everything I could to the point where it put my health at risk- that wasn't enough. I should’ve just dropped everything and followed everyone else instead of trying to find an alternative, because there was no alternative, right? Is that what you're trying to say?”

For once, Dick was speechless and had nothing to say, and his silence only made you hurt more. It's like you were waiting for what felt like the inevitable.

“What else am I supposed to do, huh? What else haven't I done? Is nothing else good enough for you? Is that really the only way I could've been with you? To see you, to actually talk with you and all the others? To be part of the family? Is that what it would've taken?” You're nearly gasping for air at this rate, with every word you say only carving deeper into your heart, and getting harder to say as you struggle to voice them aloud. Nearly choking on both your words and tears, and yet you push on.

“Did I really have to give up on my passion- my dreams to have a better chance to be something to you?”

“Y/n, that's not what I mean. Doing it wouldn't have gotten in the way-”

“You know that's bullshit! You act like the line of work you do doesn't take over your life! Like you don't think about it everyday- like you aren't constantly in danger!” At this point you're shouting and you barely even realize it, tears flowing freely now as they burn into your cheeks and crash down on the pavement below, “Is it so bad that I don't want that? That I don't want to put my life at risk? That I don't want to live your life?!”

“Maybe you enjoy that. Maybe you like that chaos and constantly putting your life on the line- but some people don't! Maybe you're made for that kind of life, but I'm not! I want to live my own life without having to be even more worried about my own well-being and safety!”

“Y/n, please- calm down! I don't want to fight, I-” Dick took a quick breath, his own heart squeezing as he tries to remain stable, to remain calm. Even if it felt like he was watching his whole world crumble before him, each tear you shed stabbing into him, and every word that spilled out just twisted the knives as they dug deeper into his chest and body. “I understand what you mean, but you have to realize-”

“Realize what? That everything I did was for nothing?” Thinking it was one thing, but saying it out loud was another. The words weighed heavy on your tongue, and the more you tried to say them the more choked up you became. “That all of my effort was in vain, and I should’ve given up while I was ahead? Because that's the impression I'm getting right now-”

“That's not what I meant, Y/n. I… I didn't mean it like that.”

“But how else could you have possibly meant it? How else am I supposed to interpret that?” You laughed again, but it was just as sad and pathetic as the last, “You can't expect me to just know these things, Grayson, especially considering everything and just-” You felt like you were going to tear your hair out, like you were going to collapse and truly break. Yet you managed to stand, and speak again no matter how weak your voice is.

“You were never there for me, none of you were.” Your hands are shaking and your face burns, voice cracking in every way possible, and you hate this feeling. Yet above all else, you hate how he made you feel like this, “I could show up at the manor, bloodied and bruised, and no one- no one would notice or bat an eye. I could be wearing a cast and have crutches, and yet not a single person besides Alfred would see it or comment on it. I could be at the hospital and no one would show up, not one of you-”

“Wait… what-?” Dick tried to speak, but you wouldn’t let him, you couldn’t.

“You were never there when I needed you. You never checked up on me, you barely even noticed me-” again, you suck in another breath, barely able to take it in, “do you know what I’ve had to deal with on my own? How much it cost me? How much it hurt me-?”

“Wait, wait- hold on! You’ve been hurt?” Dick managed to cut you off, “I… I never heard about this.”

“Of course you haven't!” You couldn't help but laugh, more tears spilling and leaving scars on your face with how badly they burned into your skin, “You hardly even noticed, how can you expect to hear about it?”

“You didn't tell me- you didn't tell anyone! How- how am I supposed to know about these things when you won't even tell anyone? When you won't tell me?” Dick can feel himself begin to tear up, but he keeps it all down. He was frustrated, and even if it wasn't directed towards you, he couldn't keep his big mouth shut. Even if by the looks of things - you couldn't either, even if that was for a different reason.

Maybe you both were one in the same, but different in some ways. Dick would feel stupid if he noticed it, but of course he couldn't — not at the moment. Not with how things are going.

If only he noticed that sooner. If only he had done a lot of things sooner – then both of you wouldn't be in this position. You wouldn't be in this position.

Yet, he couldn't help himself. Both of you couldn't, in a way.

“I can't read your mind, Y/n! I'm not even at the manor half the time- how am I supposed to notice? You can't just expect me to suddenly know-”

“But you visit enough for the others? For any one of them you'd come rushing over, especially if it was for Damian-”

“At least he tells me when he gets hurt!”

“Are we talking about the same kid right now? God, and here I thought that he was your favorite.”

“‘Favorite’?” Dick chuckled out humorlessly, feeling something in him break at your words. “I don't have any favorites-”

“That is such bullshit, Grayson, and you fucking know that.” You couldn't help but sneer, everything you tried to keep inside finally rearing its ugly head as the lid you tried to put on your emotions flew off, leaving you feeling nothing but unapologetic rage. “You play favorites all the time, but I wouldn't know that, would I? I'm probably your least-”

“Don't say that. You're not. You never were.”

“Right! Yeah, you're right. After all, I'm not even on the list, am I? How can I be the least when you barely even acknowledge me-?”

“I didn't-” Dick just cuts himself off, sighing before he continues, not being able to stop the scoff that slips past, “I didn't mean it like that. You're important to me, Y/n, how many times do I have to say that? It's like you're trying to put words in my mouth at this rate.”

“Well, excuse me for not believing you considering that, oh, I don't know, I've been ignored by you for years? That-”

“‘Ignored’? I haven’t been ignoring you, no one has-”

“Really? Are you really trying to say that now-?”

“I understand that you're frustrated, okay? That you have all the reason to be mad- but no one has ignored you. I haven't ignored you-”

“BULLSHIT! That is bull-SHIT!” You scream before you even notice the words had left your mouth in the first place, “You would have said that before it that was the case! And even then- how the hell do you explain this entire shit show? How do you even dare to try and explain where the fuck ANY of you have been?! Because people can only be so ignorant and stupid until others begin to think it's intentional and you're doing it on god-damn purpose-!” Broken, harsh chuckles escape you - slipping in between your piercing words, ones so rough and dry that it scratches your throat just to let them out. The disbelief was heavy in each and every one of them, utterly devoid of any humor, and yet they were so unbelievably empty simultaneously.

You could feel your heart breaking even more, but you weren't the only one. Not that it mattered, as with each piece that was chipped off, you could only register the little sounds of you coming apart. Everything else was muffled, and almost completely blocked out. With your only focus being on him, on them.

“Just because something looks a certain way, doesn't mean that it's really like that. I told you, it isn't that easy. Like I said before- I haven't been avoiding you, let alone ignoring you! I wasn't trying to do anything like that-”

“It doesn't matter what you tried! What you're trying to do! Don't you see? What matters is what it felt like to me-”

“But you won’t let me change that! You won't let me try and change things- it’s like you want it to remain the same-!”

“YOU DON'T GET TO SAY WHAT I WANT! NOT AFTER THIS- NOT AFTER EVERYTHING! You don’t get to say shit like that- you don't know me! You don't know what I've been through-! So stop talking like you understand me!”

“But you won't let me in! You won't give me the chance to understand! How can I expect to know anything when you're giving me nothing to work with?!”

“How about you take a fucking hint, Grayson. Can't you read the room?! You're a cop for crying out loud! And was trained by the best detective the world has to offer- so it's not my fault you're acting like you're stupid!”

“You're not another case, Y/n! You're family, you’re my sibling! Not something that needs to be solved! Is it really so hard to just tell me anything and not push me away when I'm right here?!”

Your words catch in your throat momentarily, but you try to push past that and force something out, not caring if it was made of broken glass or venom. Yet, just as you go to speak, and the first letter escapes your lips – Dick finally breaks too.

“SHUT UP! Just Shut. Up. And ACTUALLY listen to me for one second! Please! For the love of-” Dick can't help but scoff, running a hand down his face, and covering his mouth with it.  Looking away as he does so, brows furrowing. 

He wants to say something, think of anything that he wants you to hear and understand clearly - but nothing comes to mind. Nothing you'd truly hear him out on, anyway. Nothing he's already mentioned to you. Nothing that would make this better. Even as he goes to try and say something, all that comes out is a mess of half finished words that he can't make comprehensible, especially not in a way that'll have you listen to him where you won't try to bite at him again.

So, he falls silent. You both do.

Your eyes widening at the sudden shout, before your gaze hardens and you glare at Dick through your tears and agony. His silence makes you angrier, but his loud response does shut you up momentarily.

“Well– fine, if you want me to be quiet so badly, then I'm leaving.” You manage to say after a moment, voice wavering and becoming weaker — now spent thanks to how you've been using it up until this point.

Still, your words immediately snap Dick out of whatever trance he was in, and cause his head to snap back in your direction, with his eyes locking onto you once again – though they widen a little before he tries to calm down, and take in one last breath. He scrambles to say anything, especially as he sees you turn to leave, and see your words through.

“W-wait, hold on, I-” he presses his lips into a thin line, thinking briefly before continuing, “Can I at least walk you home? It isn't safe-”

You pause in your movements, “No. Just-” you don't look back, you can't bring yourself to, but you do just barely glance over your shoulder – though not enough to actually see him again. Dick can't see your eyes anymore, but he can still see the tears streaming down your face. “Just leave me alone. All of you.”

Dick tries to reach out, to stop you one last time – but he hesitates, and just lets his hand fall back to his side. Instead, opting to watch you leave while he stands there, left hurt and alone. His eyes eventually find and land on the coffee you had left behind on the bench, and he finds himself staring at that once you're out of sight.

He has to hold back from running after you, and following - if only to just make sure that you'd reach your apartment in one piece - but he manages. It's the least he could do, after all, and besides, he doubts he'd be able to do that without making you hate him even more. He's gathered as much from all of this, and really - from the looks of things, he had a lot more to consider than he had originally thought. All of them did.

… It's only as you walk away and the distance between you and Dick grows bigger, with both of your words beginning to settle - that you both notice the clouds once light cries have turned into ugly sobs, with each tear being shed heavier than the last, thunder roaring and echoing in the distance, lightning striking the earth with a deafening clap. It was only then that both of you even noticed that the light drizzle from before had turned into pouring rain, and that there was more than just the two of you in the world. Something that felt heavier than it should’ve, but felt appropriate at the same time.

Regardless, you continue to walk away, and once again, never look back as you commit to your decision no matter what may happen afterwards, or the consequences that may follow. Just like that one day back in the manor, you move on and go on with your choice, just knowing what you want in that moment and seeing no reason to deny yourself — especially when you want the same thing you wanted that night, when you just want to get away. You don’t know what happened tonight, but all you knew is that you didn’t want to be a part of it anymore, so you just left, and maybe you would’ve felt a little grateful that Dick let you go if you had noticed to begin with – since your mind was more focused on just putting as much distance between you and him as possible.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and it’s only then that you remember that you still had it on you – not that you knew why you’d leave it anywhere or forget it, but it’s something you noticed nonetheless. You fish it out of your pocket as you walk, and wipe some of your tears away with the back of your hand, sniffling lightly as you check the notification. Jessica had left you a voicemail – several, actually. You couldn’t imagine why, but you didn’t try very hard to think of a reason, and instead just opened your phone to listen to it.

[“Hey, hun’, it’s been a while, you okay? If you don’t call in the next twelve hours or so then I’m calling the police- even if most of them are useless as hell, I know more of them will look, since they know who you are and all that. But I swear if that asshole did anything to you then he’s got another thing coming, and I know you don’t like to fight, but please, for the love of god, just sucker punch that creep in the face if you have to. He looks like he could use one, and an extra hard one at that.” She takes a moment to sigh, clearly frustrated - which her tone made very clear - but you could sense a little worry, “But, seriously. Just get back to me when you can, and you better be safe, alright? Listen to my other voice message if you haven’t already, talk to you soon, bye.”]

Just hearing Jessica’s voice made you feel a bit better, and some of what she said got a little laugh out of you. She always tried to look after you, and with what just happened – you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

So, you did as told, and listened to the other voice message she had left you, curious as to what she had wanted you to know about.

[“Hey, it’s Jess, darlin’. I hope you’re not still with that guy, but if you are then just remember what I told you, okay? Well, anyway, Cece came by, and is waiting for you in the diner, and barely awake at that. So just come by and pick them up, since- well, I’d send ‘em home on their own but honestly I doubt they’d be able to make it there themselves. I’m a little surprised they were even able to reach this place- but you get the jist. Come by, but if you’re still with that guy? I can wait, just hurry up because a girl’s gotta get her beauty sleep. See you, bye.”]

… Oh, well, guess you had to make a stop on your way home, then. You wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed and just sleep, but it’s not like the walk to the diner was long anyway, and besides, it was on the way back to your apartment, so you couldn’t really complain.

With that, you made a turn and headed towards the diner. Still processing and taking in everything as you do so — but when you feel more tears begin to well up, you push it to the side, and tell yourself that you’ll handle it later. No matter how short or long that interaction was, it drained you, and you desperately needed rest. Maybe it wasn’t the most healthy decision to make, but you couldn’t handle doing anything else right now, so it’d have to wait. Besides, with how tonight went, you definitely didn’t want to think about Dick and the others at the moment – they didn’t deserve it, anyway.

Thankfully, you reached the diner in no time, and it’s only when Jessica stops you at the door do you even realize that your soaked… which makes sense but you feel a little embarrassed when she points it out nonetheless, and says how she loves you but doesn’t want to have to clean the floor again when her shift has been over for about a half hour. Cece was sitting at the counter, and perks up when you enter, giving a sleepy smile before standing up and making their way over to you. Both of you thank Jessica as you take your leave – but not before you wish her a good night and say your usual goodbyes, even if she does make a point about how you and her will talk later. Hell, she even sneaks in how you almost looked like her after her breakup with Michael which… ouch, you can only imagine how awful you really look if that was the case – but it also only fully confirmed that you were talking to her about what happened no matter what.

Still, you were grateful that she left it at that, and didn’t pry anymore as she finally let you and Cece go home. The walk to the apartment – or, rather, the short run there – since you and Cece ended up sharing their jacket as cover from the rain, and they had a funny idea as you both held it over your heads, and… well, one thing led to another – and it's safe to say it turned out to be rather eventful. Ending with you and Cece laughing in front of your apartment building once you reached it, huddled in front of the small entrance – Cece ending up being partially soaked despite their best efforts, and of course, you’re beyond drenched.

Once you reach your shared home, Cece, despite barely being awake, basically shoves you into the shower once you're both a little more settled, and you just do as told – more than a little tired yourself in numerous ways, and definitely not in the mood to argue. When you’re clean and in a new set of clothes, you and Cece talk a little. They try to ask why you had been out, but you just say you ran into someone – though it wasn’t anyone important, and that it wasn’t something to worry about — with them just accepting that answer, much to your relief.

The rest of the evening becomes a bit of a blur after that, with you and Cece just talking some more here and there, sharing a few laughs that really helped brighten your mood and made you forget all about what had happened. The pain becomes dull, and that bright fire in your chest finally dies out - leaving behind a warmth that wasn’t burning or suffocating, but instead comforting and painless. One you welcomed graciously and with open arms as you felt yourself relax more and more.

Eventually, Cece turned in for the night, and as they headed back into their room, you did one last check of the apartment — making sure all the windows were not only locked, but that the curtains were closed. Going as far as to check the front door a few times just to make sure that it was really locked. Even if none of what you did would really stop any of them from getting in - it put your mind at ease a little, and really, that’s all you could hope for.

With that, you finally settled into bed, and fell asleep faster than you had in years.

For once, you hoped you’d never wake up as your worries and fears felt so far away, and reality was out of reach – even if it laid just beyond your closed eyelids. As much as you hoped for a better morning, more than anything, you hoped that you’d just sleep the week away if you could help it. God knows you needed the rest, or at least it felt like you did.

—----------

Dick had no such luxury.

The night became a blur after you had left, and he barely remembers even meeting up with the rest of the family once everything was said and done. He couldn’t tell how long he had been standing in that park all by himself, thinking of everything you had told him and looking at the little pieces of your existence that still remained behind.

All he knows is one thing led to another, and now he’s here – sitting on top of a roof with everyone else both simultaneously chastising him and trying to discuss what they should do now. Though Dick couldn’t bring himself to pay attention, since the events that had unfolded moments prior replayed in his mind like a broken record, torturing him slowly as his brain reminded him of all of the mistakes he’s made tonight. He can’t understand why he said half of what he did, especially because he didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean to blow up like he did – especially in front of you, and when you were clearly hurting and frustrated on top of that. The only thing Dick wanted to do in that moment was stop both of you from arguing, and it seems that his mouth ran off to do just that before he could think of a better way to do it. Now leaving him like this, and things worse off than they were before.

Point is, Dick felt like shit, and he knew he deserved it. Though the rest of the family definitely weren’t helping him out in that regard.

“How the hell did you even fuck this up, Dick?” Jason asks, his tone so heated it sounds like it could’ve come from the depths of hell itself – and all just to burn his older brother.

“I knew I should’ve gone instead, this would’ve never happened-” Tim can’t help but mumble to himself, arms crossed as he sighs, frustrated – but not completely at Dick. If there was a moment for him to really believe he should’ve kept your address and apartment number to himself, it was definitely now.

“Wait- so… what do we do now?” Stephanie asks, concerned over what happened, and that Dick hasn’t really said anything about it to them – even if all of them can tell it went poorly.

Damian just sighs, his arms crossed as well as he looks at Dick before looking to the others, “Take matters into our own hands, obviously.”

“While I agree that something should be done, is it really a good idea to act now?” Barbara pitches in, not entirely sure of what Damian was talking about, but not liking the implications of it all the same. Something about it just didn’t feel right to her, nor did the look he gave her.

“Of course. Now that they’re presumably heading to their apartment, we can just-” before Damian can finish what he was going to say, Cassandra covers his mouth, cutting him off swiftly which annoys the little Robin enough to shove her hand away and give her a scrutinizing look, “what?”

Cassandra just shakes her head, and instead begins to sign something, basically saying how they don’t know if you're even at your apartment, and by the time they find out where you actually are, it’ll probably be morning. Even mentioning how since you know that they know where you live, you probably wouldn’t even be there anymore. Which just causes Damian to huff in response. She had a point, and he knew it, but he wasn’t going to admit it out loud.

Still, despite that Jason spoke up again, “Actually, I agree with the little twerp. Now’s a good a time as any to get them home.”

“... You can't be serious, right?” Barbara asks, now getting a little concerned over what Jason meant as well, and the half-shrug he gave did little to reassure her or calm her nerves that were slowly beginning to rise.

“Why not? They’re still out there doing god knows what- who knows where in the dead of night,” he points out, giving Barbara a little glance, “it anything, I just see more of a reason to get them before anything else happens.”

“Jason, do you even hear yourself right now.”

“What? Is it a crime to be worried for my god damn family now?”

“Jason.” Bruce’s voice pierces through the air, cutting through the tension before anyone else can speak up or give their two cents. Almost as if just his voice alone was enough of a barrier between those who wanted to get you home, those that didn’t, and the few who didn’t know where they stood at the moment. 

Regardless, it’s enough for Jason to stand down, if only temporarily as Bruce turns to Dick – who’s still out of it, and staring at the ground just before his feet.

“Dick,” Bruce calls out, which only gets him a subtle glance, with Dick not even bothering to pick up his head – or maybe he just couldn’t, no one could tell except for the one person among them who was much too fluent in body language. “What do you think?” He asks simply, narrowing his eyes a little when his eldest son grows quieter somehow.

Dick fidgets with the coffee cup in his hands, its warmth long gone, and yet he still runs a finger or two along the side as if it was still there. He doesn’t know why he grabbed it, but now he almost couldn’t find it in himself to let it go. It was yours, after all, if only for a brief moment – and even if all it did was serve as a reminder of his faults, it reminded him of you, and right now? That’s all he could ask for. Dick can’t explain it, but it’s like by holding the cup and having it with him, he had a small part of you with him. Since, sure, while you had left it during your… ‘dispute’ with him, it had come from a place you liked and he could only assume that it was just how you liked your coffee. It was silly, but holding it made him feel close to you, and that’s all he wanted at the moment. To be close.

… It takes him a beat or two before he responds, and even then he seems unsure of himself – but remembering what had transpired minutes ago is enough to set his mind straight.

“I think… we should give them some time, and… a bit of space too for a while.” Dick manages to say hesitantly, tapping the cup lightly as he still holds onto it.

That seemed to quiet everyone down for a moment, until Stephanie eventually asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“Just how badly did things go, Dick?”

He couldn’t answer that, he didn’t want to, so he remained silent. However, Cassandra could tell, and found herself just as divided as she felt the moment she first saw him. She didn’t know what she wanted to do more – throw Dick off the roof, or go looking for you herself. Maybe she’d try to do both if Bruce wasn’t right there. 

“So, what? Do they hate us now or something?” Jason says sarcastically, but with how Dick tenses a little his tone turns harsher, “... You can’t be serious.”

“Dick- please tell me you didn’t screw things up that badly. Please tell me that you didn’t make things worse!” Tim almost begs, desperate to be wrong and hoping that his eldest brother hadn’t made things worse – that there was still a small chance.

Sure, they didn’t expect things to go great, but none of them really believed that they would go so horribly!

“Look, just-” Dick takes a short breath, looking at the cup in his hands in quiet defeat before glancing away, “I think we should give them some time to themself is all.”

Jason can only scoff as he crosses his arms, “I knew I should’ve gone instead, they would’ve been home right now.”

“I believe me and father would’ve handled the situation much better,” Damian states, as if it would lead to the only positive outcome should he and Bruce had gone instead.

“I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut and just gone over by myself- stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Tim curses under his breath, looking away as he continues to mumble to himself – expression growing increasingly darker and the air around him shifting into… something indescribable.

Cassandra seemed just about ready to rip something apart, and Stephanie was getting nervous from how the others seemed to be reacting, only able to stutter out a small, “G- guys? Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this right now-”

“I agree…” Barbara chips in, her own concerns only growing as she looks at the family, but tries to help Stephanie out nonetheless, “What’s done is done, and we should be trying to figure out what to do from here on out.”

Damian scoffs, “Right, like that will be easy with brother being silent about everything.” Dick could only look away in response, taking a small sip of the coffee in his hands, finding a little bit of comfort in its taste. It was cold, and wasn’t how he usually got his done – but it’s how you liked it, and that was enough from him to like it too.

A small argument seemed to spawn from that alone, with some now going back and forth yet again on what to do – Cassandra, Jason, and Damian pretty adamant about wanting to bring you home, with Barbara, Stephanie, and Dick more keen on waiting and giving you space — even if Dick was definitely more quiet about his stance, still thinking about… whatever was on his mind. Tim didn’t seem to engage much in the arguing either, and instead seemed to be dealing with his own thing as he kept mumbling to himself, leaving Bruce to be stuck listening to all of the nonsense until he finally got fed up with it.

“Quiet down, all of you.” He states firmly, voice cold and harsh as he shuts everyone up without even moving an inch. His eyes seemed to judge all of them as he looked at everything before sighing, and making the decision for everyone.

“We’ll give them time, and stand down for now.” He says, his tone alone indicating that there would be no arguing on this. What he said was final, and everyone would be smart to follow along with it, no matter where they stood. Still, he turned to look down at the city, and caught the faintest glimpse of your apartment building in the not-so-far distance. “but if anything happens, then we’ll act accordingly.”

#yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #gn reader #yandere dc #platonic yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere dick grayson x gn reader #it's finally here in full! #total wc is around 37.5k words #so the 1st part is around 16.5K~ words #and this part is around 20K-21k~ words respectfully #ngl i lost a bit more of my sanity writing this chapter #i was so naive when i called chapter 2 my longest post...

[angelsdean]

*record scratch* freeze frame. Reality Check. "You're the one who came and got me at school. You're the one who dragged me back into this." let's re-evaluate that statement, Sam, because that is not, in fact, what happened.

The context in which Sam makes this statement is that he's arguing Dean used to care about the revenge quest and killing the demon because Dean is the one that came and got Sam and thus "dragged him back" into the quest to kill the demon. But, that is not why Dean went to get Sam at school, it was to find John, who was missing and possibly dead. Dean didn't even Know about the demon at this point (they don't find out that "the thing that killed mom" is a demon til 1x11) or that John was closing in on it. Dean goes to Stanford to ask Sam to help him look for John, that's it. Then, at the end of 1x01 Dean brings Sam back to school in time for his interview as promised, and drives away. He only turns around when, in the deleted scene, he notices his watch has stopped, cluing him in that something is wrong. And he gets there in time to save Sam from the burning building.

Sam then makes the choice to leave with Dean because now that he's lost someone, he is personally invested in finding John because John knows more about the thing that killed Mary (and now Jess) than anyone, and Sam is the one who is now consumed by the need for revenge and the first step in getting that revenge is finding John, something he had no vested interest in doing before, but is now heavily invested in, even more than Dean is, as we see throughout the first half of s1 where Sam is often the one calling around looking for John and is more interested in searching for John than taking on random cases.

Anyways, it's just so interesting to track this revisionism of events and how both Sam and Dean come to accept this as the truth when it's literally not what we saw happen throughout the season. And we see Dean start to absorb this belief after Meg plants the seed in their heads in 1x16, trying to drive a wedge between them, by falsely saying Dean "drags Sam around like luggage" when literally the whole reason Sam and Meg meet is because Sam wanted to part ways in 1x11 and Dean let him go. Sam then comes back and decides to stay all on his own, even after Dean offers to drop Sam off somewhere.

Dean expresses in 1x16, that yes, he wants Sam around, he wants his family together again, but at the end of that very episode Dean is also the one who says they need to split up from John, even though it's the last thing he wants. Dean consistently is willing to let people go, even if it's not what he personally wants. And especially Sam. Over and over throughout the season he expressed how he wants Sam to have a normal life, is willing to let Sam go, or stay in some random town and drop the search for John. So even IF Dean did secretly want Sam to stick around when he went to get Sam at Stanford, he never expected it. Never enforced it.

That Sam comes to think Dean "dragged him back" into hunting is a purely revisionism and a bit of projection, I think, because Sam might not want to face the truth of the matter which is that he consistently chose to stick with hunting, and actually enjoys it more than he'd like to admit. And, as both he and John express, this quest to kill Yellow Eyes becomes "their" obsession. Not Dean's. Dean is the one who says he'd rather they never find the demon if it means losing his family. Dean is the one that says getting revenge isn't worth dying for. And then, Sam takes this to heart, when at the end of 1x22 he refuses to kill John Possessed by Azazel at Dean's pleading, AND when he tells John that killing this demon does not come "before everything" while eyeing Dean bleeding out in the backseat.

Dean was never the one invested in revenge. He did not come get Sam from Stanford to aid in the family revenge quest, he came for help in finding their missing father, something Dean cared abt simply because that's family, and Dean cares deeply, despite everything John put them through. Dean is the one that cares, the heart of the narrative, etc etc. He comes to Sam because he is alone in the world, because their only other blood relative is missing, because it's a very human thing, to reach out, to want family around. And still, he was always going to let Sam go after the 1x01. He didn't like it. It's not what Dean wanted. But he was going to let him go back to his life. Sam chose to follow Dean and continue searching for John.

#vics spn rewatch #sam revisionism #family dynamics #long post #sorry i got lots to say #spn 1x01 #spn 1x11 #spn 1x16 #spn 1x21 #spn 1x22

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part thirty-two

summary: the end.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(

ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!

if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!

just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')

see you soon!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.

Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.

It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.

Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.

"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.

"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.

"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."

"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."

"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.

"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.

"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.

The funeral.

All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.

"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."

"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"

You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."

"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."

"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.

"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."

The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.

You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.

It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.

Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."

You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.

You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.

You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.

Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.

He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.

Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.

He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.

As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.

Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.

"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.

"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."

"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."

You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.

"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.

"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.

"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.

"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."

He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."

"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.

This was it. This was your breaking point.

Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.

Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"

"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.

When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."

You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."

"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."

You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.

"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.

"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."

"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."

You pry your eyes open to face him.

"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.

"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."

"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.

"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."

"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.

"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"

"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.

He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"

You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.

"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.

Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.

"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."

"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."

"That should not be enough, though." You insist.

"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.

He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."

"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.

He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"

"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.

You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

#tbosas #tbosas x reader #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction #thg #thg series #thg fanfiction #thg fanfic #thg fic #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coriolanus imagine #coryo snow #coryo #coryo x you #coryo x reader #snow lands on top #snow x reader

[magpod-confessions]

I know sexism in fandom is a thing, but I mostly encounter a lot of very vocal love and positivity for female tma characters (not to say that's the case in all forums ofc). Which is good, obviously.

Basira, Georgie and Melanie are important characters, but they all come along later and honestly throughout a lot of Canon kinda feel like an anti-jon wall. If you happen to be a fan who doesn't vibe with that sentiment, its less appealing to engage with a big portion of the female characters. It's not wrong or right to find yourself empathising more with Georgie or Martin etc etc, none of thecharacters are all good or bad so it's personal how a listener is gonna feel. But to me it sort of unfortunately feels like, since the (majority of significant) women are kind of aligned in one group, youre more likely to either into all of them or none of them. I hope that makes sense? Like I'm very much not coming after anyone.

Also some other thoughts on sexism: sasha has less time, less backstory, and is less developed than say Tim. So she has less content. Someone saying "if you do an ao3 search for fics that include sasha but not Tim, there isn't many, so sexism!" doesnt make much sense to me. The workplace is the only context we have for sasha, and Tim is her coworker and friend. A fanfic featuring sasha but NOT Tim (or any other magnus staff!) would have to create a lot of backstory wholecloth, and not everyone wants to do that. I love her in fanon, but we gotta acknowledge it really mostly is fanon.

As for Helen vs Michael. Michael's backstory is more developed, he was played and manipulated, its pretty damn tragic. Helen is dope! But if you want that flavour of angst and tragedy, Michael has more to work with.

I think it comes down to the type of fan you are and what you prefer to engage with! I suspect jonny has tried to make this less of a factor in tmagp and is focusing on giving more background to female characters from the start. Not trying to insinuate anything shitty abt him either.

.

#yea #magpod #tma #the magnus archives #tmagp #the magnus protocol #magpod confession

[fernlessbastard]

ok hot take. we all hate capitalists. I know. I do too. I really, REALLY hate capitalists.

that being said C!Quackity is the definition of a capitalist. like in a fully "I made the money, I deserve it because I took the risks." "its not my fault that some people dont work as hard as I do." "las nevadas is a company, the only government is the corporation which Quackity owns." way.

he is sat RIGHT at the bottom right corner on the political compass, and he is not budging. obviously, thats not to say hes a homophobe or a racist or generally a bigot, but hes very much a land hoarding, greedy, individualistic, profiteer type guy.

him and wilbur have gotten into several arguments about this, as with pretty much all of the ways Quackity runs his goverment, and shots have been FIRED.

I think the main argument from wilbur would be: "was it your fault that you were homeless after you ran from schlatt? do you really belive that youre the only person who has ever needed to run from financial abuse?" and "if it hadn't been for my policies about taking in all we can feed, then you would have starved to death in the woods. according to your philosophy I should have told you to piss off because you wernt profitable."

and then quackity responding with: "you change your ideology like youre a kid playing dressup, dont act like youre better than me because you woke up and decided that being a marxist suited your situation best, you just want something to argue about." and "you only took me in BECAUSE I was profitable. maybe not through labour but you would have used me as a bargaining chip any day of the week."

anyways, they've both been heads of state and both of them are well versed in political science and economics, which leads to both some very fun conversations and some less fun arguments. (wilbur might enjoy it a little)

ok so yes I agree with that take in the context of the smp, but it's also important to point out that minecraft "capitalism" is what those capitalists who want to convince you it's good claim capitalism to be. Food is abundant, shelter has little requirements to be functional, you can literally just dig a little into a hill and you're set, and then make a farm from things you can find anywhere. Anyone can mine, anyone has access to anywhere that isn't already someone's exact base, food is easily accessible and renewable, etc etc.

What Quackity's doing is he's actually providing a luxury service which isn't at all necessary. And Las Nevadas deserves to earn a profit from people using its facilities, cause they've been carefully and deliberately made to provide entertainment. Quackity doesn't have monopoly on food, shelter, land, resources, etc. Anyone could make their own small version of LN if they had the want and time to. So it isn't fair putting cQuackity in the same box as idfk bezos or musk, cause in cQ's case it's deserved, earned, and not a monopoly that causes everyone but him to suffer. Translating that into real life is just simply much more difficult than taking it at face value

As a sidenote I think that while Quackity is like that on the outside, he still wouldn't ignore someone needing help. Like, he's definitely got that built up resentment of "I had to work for all of this so hard, I've gotten through so many hardships. Why should someone else have it easier??" but then when the push comes to shove he's still end up helping, even if just a little bit.

#like i say all that as an ancom so y'know #the big thing is that there is a fundamental difference between mc and real life and it's luxury/amenity vs necessity #ask #asks #ask fern #anon #capitalism #socialism #tntduo #dsmp #tnt duo #quackity #quackbur #dream smp #tntblr #c!wilbur soot #c!tnt duo #c!tntduo #c!wilbur #c!quackity #c!quackbur #quackbur headcanons

[mrwavellswaps]

What type of body would you like to swap with? Hairy or smooth? Muscled jock or fit twink? Young or old?

A simple question that I’m more than happy to answer.

Overall I tend to gravitate more towards hairy men so if I had to pick I’d most certainly pick a man with a nice healthy amount of body hair. And of course anyone that knows me will know I absolutely adore a good beard on a man so that’d be something I’ll be looking out for as well. But yeah hairy all over would be ideal for my new body. Really helps give off that masculine aura as well in my opinion.

Now growing up I was always skinny and somewhat twinkish and all I can remember is wanting to break free of that and become a huge muscular hunk. To this day I continue working towards that goal. That said if I were picking a new body I’d definitely want one that’s already jocked up and thick with powerful muscle. Then all I’ve gotta do is maintain that bulky size and hopefully push it even further. Would definitely be hot knowing that I stole a hunks body and then managed to improve it hahaha!

As for age I’m honestly not too bothered overall. I’d be perfectly fine taking the body of a huge hairy daddy. You have no idea the rush that would give me. But I’d be equally as happy going for a younger man as well. That said if this is a one and done permanent body swap I’d probably go for a younger hunk. Simply because that way I’d have more time to enjoy it. And with time that new body would eventually become a daddy as well anyway so in a sense I’d get the best of both worlds!

So in conclusion I’d most likely be forcing a young hairy muscled jock to switch bodies with me. A perfect example being the gorgeous hunk you see below 🤤 Mmmmmm… can’t wait to switch and make that buff fuzzy body mine

And I know you didn’t ask but I’ll add a few extra points on the end here as well. A thick ass would of course be a great bonus. In terms of cock size I’d be hoping for just above average length however I’d want it to be extra fucking girthy like a beer can. When it comes to race I’m partial towards White, Black and Latino men so those are what I’d be keeping an eye out for on that front. Height isn’t one I’m massively bothered about honestly. Certainly wouldn’t be a deal breaker. If the dude is hot, hunky, hairy and hung then I’m not gonna give a fuck whether he’s 5’6 or 6’3 Lmao! Voice is another one I’m not too bothered by. Sure I love a deep voice as much as the next gay but it’s wouldn’t be a huge deal in this case. Tattoo’s would be a welcome addition (as long as they’re good ones). I’d lean towards a guy that has decent hair most likely however if he’s bald and makes it look good then I could still work with that. And finally last one, if I can find a guy who fits all of the main categories up top but is ginger and therefore has ginger body hair and a ginger beard, he’d immediately become a top candidate. Idk what it is but I love hairy ginger dudes.

Hope I answered your question my friend! - Wavell ❤️

#asks #magic #male body theft #male body swap #permanent #identity theft #hairy #muscled jock #jock #muscle theft #body swap #bearded #daddy #age progression #race change

[beetlejuicyy]

Corruption (A Blessing for a Curse User) | Geto Suguru x Reader

Summary: Geto Suguru is your last hope when you start seeing curses. But his reason for taking you in is more perverted than he lets you see. Set sometime during those ten years before jjk0

Warnings: manipulation, smut with plot, overstimulation, oral (f! receiving)

Word count: 5,834

Read on AO3

Author's note: i couldn't stop thinking that geto would have canonically used pussy therapy to cope so i had to come up with a plot for it

Masterlist

Your steps halted after reaching the top of the stairs. So many times you wanted to come to the temple, ask for help, thinking, knowing that you had nowhere else to turn to. But you always hesitated, anxiety and shame taking over your mind. But fear prevailed, at last. You went to therapists, they told you it was stress, unresolved childhood trauma. You've never heard of people seeing monsters at lunch time because they had a narcissistic mother. They were everywhere. And they were looking at you, their disgusting sounds echoing in your ears even after running away. You haven't had a good night's sleep in a couple of months. The only rest you had was always in the presence of someone else, scared that the monsters might come for you. What were they? What did they want from you?

You had reached your limit last night. You went out with some friends, thinking a large company would help. But it was worse. So many, so different, so disgusting. Those monsters were everywhere, on people's shoulders, hiding behind the corner of a building, on the counter at the grocery store. You ran home, away from the crowded neighbourhood, took a cold shower and decided you couldn't delay it anymore. Otherwise you would go completely insane.

You had to see Geto Suguru.

It was right before sunrise, when the darkness of the night was melting into brighter shades of blue, the fresh air of morning filling your lungs, encouraging you to move forward.  You doubted anyone was there so early in the morning. You were determined to wait, in any case. You wrapped your fingers around the cold golden surface of the handle, hitting it lightly against the tall door. Behind, the tip of the sun was slowly creeping up, engulfing the world in a warm orange light.

"Good morning, miss early bird." You heard a gleeful voice.

Turning back, you noticed a tall, long haired man dressed in the traditional monk attire. His lips were curled up in a smile, although it lacked any warmth.

"I-I'm sorry to bother." You quickly apologized, trying to control your stuttering voice. "I-I know it's early but... uhm I am here for... I have a problem... I mean I want to talk to-" Maybe the sleepless nights were taking their toll on your concentration.

"I am Geto Suguru." The man said, his hands hidden away under the flowing sleeves of his kesa. "Come inside, I believe it is me you're looking for."

You nodded, following him inside. All the stories you heard from people who seeked out Geto's help were similar. He was kind and jovial, with a well developed, and borderline offensive, sense of humour for a monk. He helped everyone. But there was something off about him, you heard that often. Contrary to his gentle smile, people felt in danger in his presence, some describing it as a sensation of imminent death. You were feeling all of those things right now, as you walked one step behind him. Geto looked like he was coming from somewhere, not that he had just woken up to open the temple. You walked into an empty room, the only noticeable decoration being the three scrolls hanging on the wall.

Death to the Fool

Punishment to the Weak

Love to the Strong

Your steps froze in the middle of the room while Geto walked over, sitting down on the floor with the scrolls framing his head as he leaned his head to rest on his palm. The word weak blinded you for a moment and you couldn't concentrate on anything else but the thought that you were indeed weak. A fool? You weren't quite sure. Strong? Clearly not. You fitted perfectly into the weak category. You wondered if these were the principles of the man in front of you, a drop of sweat falling along your neck. You've never heard of these words used for any other temple. But you weren't the religious type anyway.

"Miss early bird?" You heard Geto's voice get louder and you realized you must have not heard him calling you before. You blinked, confused, introducing yourself.

"I think I'm going crazy." was the first thing you blurted out after your name. You didn't have the time to prepare a speech or rehearse anything. You let out whatever you felt first and Geto laughed, a mocking but harmless laugh that you couldn't blame. "I started seeing these weird monsters. Everywhere. Next to people. On the street. Some are even talking to me." Geto's attitude changed, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I don't know how to get rid of them. Nobody else sees them. I don't even know if they are real."

"When did you start seeing these monsters?" He asked, his eyes paying more attention to your form now. It was faint, almost unnoticeable, but he could sense your cursed energy.

"A few months ago. Around the time I moved to the city. I'm from a small mountain village." You looked at Geto, your only hope, as he pondered on your fate. His silence made you more nervous with every passing second. More desperate. You didn't think you could bear to walk out on your own and see those monsters again. You would rather die.

Death to the Fool

Were you a fool?

"I want to be strong!" You yelled out as tears filled your eyes. "Please, please, please I don't ever want to see those things ever again!" You begged, falling on your knees. You were definitely weak. You sobbed in silence, not even noticing when Geto sat up and walked over to you. Your break down helped him make a decision it seemed. He crouched down in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face with his slender fingers.

"Miss early bird." He said as he wiped your tears away. You wanted to correct him, remind him that you had introduced yourself already, but his soft voice left you speechless. A softness, different from the previously dissimulated one, coated his words like a sweet ointment on your open wounds. "Do you know where these monsters come from?" You looked at him, eyes empty and confused, shaking your head. "They come from filthy monkeys." You frowned. Was he making fun of your suffering? "If you get rid of the cause, the effect would naturally disappear, don't you think?"

"Get rid of monkeys?" You asked, aware of the fact that, if he really was making fun of you, it was already unavoidable.

"A figure of speech." He threw his hands in the air, in a helpless gesture. "The things you're seeing are curses, miss early bird. And they are born out of humans that cannot control cursed energy." You would have snapped for sure at his reluctance to refer to you by name if his following words didn't make your eyes open wide in shock, unable to register the information you just received.

"So... I'm not going crazy?" You whispered, almost scared to say it out loud.

"You said you don't want to see curses again." His voice changed to a serious tone by the time your tears ran dry. "The only solution is getting rid of their cause. Monkeys." He spat out the last word with such spite that it had you jolt back in surprise.

"But I'm a human too..." You mumbled, finding this small error of logic in his story fatal.

"No, no." He waved a long, slim finger in front of your face like a toddler. "You have cursed energy. I can help you control it."

He sat up, gathering the the folds of his traditional robe. You looked up at him, one of his arms extended towards you, his palm just above your head.

"Do you want to help me kill all the monkeys, miss early bird?"

*

Out of all the people in Geto's inner circle, you clearly stood out as the weakest, dumbest and most useless. At least this is how you felt. His found family was, if you had to pick one word, peculiar. But even more peculiar than that was your very presence amongst them. You didn't have any basics, didn't even know this world existed until you begged Geto for help. He must run out of patience at some point, you thought. But everyday he found even the smallest moments to give you some insight or reevaluate your progress so far.

Geto Suguru was a proud man. After all, he was leading a cult. Your desperation hit a very sensitive spot inside him that he wasn't even aware existed. Something about your crying face, so pretty despite your agony, gave him the satisfaction of being your saviour. The feeling caught him by surprise as well. Usually, people begging him for help disgusted him. However, he took a lot of pleasure out of teaching you everything, starting with the most obvious things. Your eyes fixed on him, taking in his every word, so well behaved, so eager to make him proud.

It was a completely different feeling from taking care of Nanako and Mimiko. His care for them came from a genuine  concern, an honest wish to defend the people like him, wronged by the unfair world. With you, his protection and guidance came from a more perverted part of his soul. A part that he ignored for long, uninterested in trivial matters like this.

He enjoyed having all the answers for your questions. He enjoyed solving your problems, being the person you depended on. He was teaching you how to be strong, yes, but he also enjoyed knowing he would always be above you, no matter what. Something about your lack of pride, your straightforward questions, your awe in response to his knowledge and strenght, everything about you rubbed him the right way.

"Tell me again about your village, miss early bird." Three months later and he still insisted on not using your name. You were convinced he had to know it, he simply found it amusing to use this silly nickname. It didn't bother you anymore.

"It's very peaceful." You said as you poured Geto some tea. After you found out about his unpleasant technique, you made it your daily task to offer him some consolation in order to make up for the nauseating taste of curses he absorbed. "People are very close to nature, it brings a lot of peace to the soul." The tea you were preparing for him had calming properties, besides the floral mild taste. "There are no natural calamities and no thieves. People learned to take what they need from nature and share it with the community. The wi-fi signal is shitty, though." You joked and he smiled before taking a sip.

You found yourself fall for that smile. It was quite inevitable, if you really put some thought into it. He was so kind, so gentle, so generous, so patient with you. Not to mention his handsome face. Soon, you started wishing you could see more of what was hiding under his attire. You quickly learned how to distinguish between the subtle undertones of his smile. Maybe you were delusional, but you never saw him smile to other people like he smiled for you.

"Sounds like a nice place." That's what he would always say. You guessed the idea of your boring home village was some kind if utopia for him. No wonder you never saw curses before. They didn't exist there.

"Why did you leave?"  It was the first time he asked. He was usually more interested in the way the community worked, how people avoided conflicts, how secluded the place was or how many modern things were absent there.

"I had no future there." He nodded, understading your perfectly valid point.

"Would you go back?" He asked, his eyes already searching the answer in your wavering gaze.

"Only to visit." You answered. He already guessed that from the sad look on your face as you remembered about your home.

"Make sure you take me too some time."

*

You gradually grew closer to everyone else. The dedication of Geto's followers was quite impressive and it only made you want to compete even more fervently for his favours. You quickly realized that the basic martial arts you learned as a kid held more importance than you initially thought. Sometimes Geto would challenge you, only to have you immobilized humiliatingly fast. But thirty seconds turned to one full minute, then two, then five. The more you trained your body, the longer you were able to face him. And the longer you lasted, the more satisfying became the moment when he had both your wrists behind your back in a tight grip, his other hand in your hair while his weight pressed your body firmly on the ground. You've never noticed him paying time and energy with anyone's training, let alone enjoy defeating them as much.

"Gotcha, miss early bird." He would whisper in your ear and you would unsuccessfully try to resist, to break free of his grip, which only made him laugh and hold you tighter. "You'd be dead by now."

When he would finally move away, you would find yourself wishing he remained longer, althought the strain in your shoulders and the pressure of his weight were painful.

"Ten minutes, that's a new record." Geto would praise you when checking the timer. You thought your heart was about to explode out of your chest when he slipped the robe off his shoulders, groaning in the scorching sun of noon. "You've got me sweating, good job."

You were still laying on the ground, rolled on your back, watching his tall figure tower over you. The sun was behind him, like a halo around his head crowned with messy raven hair that fell down to his waist. You couldn't see his face clearly, the light behind him too strong, blinding you. But what you could see was the shape of his body, the round and sharp turns that shaped the contour of his silhouette. His broad shoulders, his fit arms, his slim waist and muscular abdomen right above the band of his baloon pants. In that moment, he looked otherwordly to you. A light in your brain was switched on and you completely understood why people gathered around him, why they pledged allegiance to his cause, why he was worthy of worship. You were left speechless, on the ground, at his feet. He had all the rights to step over you, punish you. Compared to him, you would always be weak, insignificant.

Geto noticed your awe. It was only the two of you, no one else in sight. He pretended not to, but the corner of his mouth was curled in a patronizing grin. All the light of day was reflected on your body, sweaty and gasping for air after only ten minutes of facing him. How pathetic. And yet, your weakness didn't trigger repugnance or malice. Your helpless attempts to fight back, fully aware that it was futile, delighted him. Especially now, when your eyes sparkled  in the sun, pupils dilated in veneration, your presence was so unbearably arousing to the point that all the blood seemed to flow into his cock.

"I looked into your fairy tale village." Geto finally said. You would have never stood up from the ground, willing to witness his greatness for the rest of your life. "There's a very high chance you have inherited a special cursed technique." You blinked several times, like trying to get rid of a haze covering your eyes. You sat up, your previously high ponytail only a tangled mess now.

"I don't understand." How could you be so shamelessly blunt? If he were in your shoes, Geto would be embarrassed to admit his lack of knowledge so easily. But in front of him, you bluntly and carelessly showed your most innocent and pure self, like a clueless lamb unaware of the coming slaughter.

"Remote villages are common but yours seemes to have the best of both worlds. No greed, no crime, no hatred yet it's fairly modern and economically thriving."

As the words left his lips he realized that maybe this was the very reason you trusted him so easily, laid all your flaws in front of him so he could pick and choose which way to build you up. You hardly ever went through hardships in life. You learned to trust the people around you. Consequently, seeing curses for the first time was probably the worst thing that had happened to you. You were so untained by the unfair world. So untouched. So easily breakable. You were a blank canvas of innocence with plently of space for him to paint any sinful whim residing in his soul.

"Turns out you're a descendant of an old clan of sorcerers who abandoned the old ways of jujutsu a few hundred years ago. Most were exterminated, the surviving never found."

You parted your lips in an attempt to protest but not sound came out of your mouth. Insead, an astonished expression fell over your face, as you watched Geto sit back down on the ground, a couple of steps away from you.

"You've never seen curses because jujutsu sorcerers don't produce curses. And your tiny mountain village was made up of exclusively descendants of this clan. It may be dormant, but your legacy is still there."

Geto's dark eyes shimmered with a violet shade in the sun, contrasting with his long dark locks that fell over his shoulders, absorbing all the light.

"Isn't it... the world you want to create?" You asked unsure, feeling like he was a teacher testing you. One wrong answer and you could fail the class.

"A scaled-down version, yes." He agreed.

Your eyes uncontrollably fell down his body, watching how his chest softly rose and fell as he breathed, how toned his arms were, how inviting his posture was. You felt a primal urge to crawl up to him, touch him, provoke him. And you did. Gathering your remaining strength, you closed the distance between your bodies. He stood there, unmoved, his eyes looking down at your smaller body, like a hunter watching his prey. Except that his prey was walking right into his jaws, so close. Now, the words death to the fool made perfect sense. A faint breeze of air brushed over both of you, so weak that only the ends of his hair fluttered in the air, grazing against your skin.

"Geto-sama." You said, closer to a whisper, afraid that the wind might carry your words for others to hear. "I believe I was born to serve you."

*

The stronger you became, the closer you got to Geto. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Needless to say, the toll his cursed technique was taking on his body and, more importantly, on his mind was painful to witness. There were times when he would keep the distance, isolating himself so his vulnerable side would remain unknown. A couple of days later he would come back to his usual self, as if nothing happened. Everyone was used to this rare occurence, respecting his space and his choices. After all, who were they to question master Geto's actions? But it always bothered you.

Whenever the sickening taste of curses would become overwhelming and his entire soul would feel like an abandoned landfill, Geto would try to find comfort and pleasure in distractions that could help him cope, keep him one step away from the edge until he would rebuild his strength again. Soon enough, such a distraction was the thought of you, or, to be more specific, the thought of things he would do to you. The idea of corrupting those innocent, honest eyes which trusted him too much. He was almost sure you've never been with a man before, and this detail only made the thought of tainting you with his touch even more pleasing. Geto's soul was damned to be the abyss that trapped curses while yours was so empty, so peaceful, so quiet. Perhaps this was the only thin string of common sense that held him back from unleashing all his urges upon you. If he did bring ruin to your serenity, what was left for him to cling to? Everything you knew about the world, about jujutsu, it was all throgh his lens. Your convictions, your ideals, your motivation they were all his. Your loyalty to him was unbreakable, but wasn't it really his merit? If he did, after all, choose to ravage the holy garden and taste the fruit, wouldn't it also destroy the unsullied image of him in your eyes?

These thoughts were harder to resist whenever you cluelessly insisted on being next to Geto even when he pushed you away. You were knocking at his locked door, telling him you prepared some tea.

The tea is fucking useless.

The real medicine for his nerves, for his fatigue, for his dark thoughts was you. Only you. He would drink all the tea in the world just to have you sitting next to him, talking about nothing in particular. Geto used to think that your relationship dynamic is unchangeable. He was playing god, building the world around you, while you cluelessly looked up to him, not guessing even a fraction of his thoughts or intentions. He was superior in every sense. Then why did he feel so vulnerable when you knocked on his door, spoke his name so respectfully? Why was it so hard for him to control himself, send you away like all the times before?

Maybe this was what addiction felt like. Or  was that tea really poisonous? Alone in his dark room, only a dim light creeping in from outside, Geto realized that maybe the dynamic you had changed. He changed. You gave him small bites of your presence, quick sips of your warmth every day until he found himself addicted. How could he send you away when you were the last remedy he could use to cope?

"Geto-sama?" You asked again when no sound came from inside his room.

"Come in." His voice was languid, reverberating in your brain like a lustful invitation. No, he was feeling sick. You were too caught up in your own desires while he was having a hard time.

His room was dark, unlike the brightly lighted hallway. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the change, but the first thing you noticed was the mass of long hair shining in the dim light. It was so captivating how in the bright light of the sun it was a dark shade absorbing everything, while in the soft night light it was almost glimmering, so luscious and silky.

"I don't feel like drinking tea tonight." His voice filled the room, soft and vulnerable, and it almost made you think he was hurt. So you put down the tray on the floor, your eyes still unable to spot the table exactly, and hurried to his side, to the light coming in through the window.

"Are you alright, Geto-sama?" You asked, voice full of worry, as you placed a hand flat on his forehead. His hair was beautifully unkempt and you pushed some strands away to see his face better. But as soon as he raised his eyes to look at you a shiver ran down your spine and you took your hand away swiftly.

He successfully tricked you. Contrary to his frail voice and his lethargic posture on the bed, his eyes were sharp, full of energy and piercing right through you. You felt threatened, although it was the same Geto you admired and served, the same Geto who taught you how to fight curses, how to defend yourself. But how could you defend yourself from him?

"I'm sorry if my presence is not as neat as you're used to." He said. He was still wearing the usual kesa and you wondered how much of his identity really resided in the religious facade. You wanted to see past that.

"Are you in pain?" You asked. He looked like a wounded animal, one that could still do you harm even in this state.

"Yes." He said, but nothing about the way he looked at you seemed to signal that he was in need of help. Instead, he was luring you in.

"How does it feel?" You slowly approached him again and sat down by his side. His back was resting against the wall and he watched you with a certain amused look. How foolish could you be?

"Like you felt when you first came to me." Geto answered, his eyes glued to yours. "Only that all those curses are inside me."

"Is this why you helped me?"

It was painfully ironic how, despite of how smart he thought he was, you delivered the answer so effortlessly.

"For the most part, yeah." He admitted. The rest of the reason was blatantly reflected in his eyes that were eating you alive as he spoke.

"Let me help you." You breathed out, without thinking. There was no logical reasoning in your brain. You natutally felt it in your body that you had what he wanted and you wanted to give it to him. "If I could take only a fraction of your torment away it would be worth it."

"How would you do that?" He asked, noticing how you leaned in and your hand touched his in a seemingly platonic attempt to comfort. But there was nothing platonic about the way you looked at him.

"Show me how curses taste." You breathed out.

For a moment, Geto was taken by surprise by your bluntness. What if you really could feel the sickening taste of curses on his lips? Would it make you turn back in disgust? Would it shatter the perfect image he built for himself inside your mind?

You didn't give him any more time to think. You simply stood up in front of him and pulled at the hems of your shirt, taking it off. Geto's eyes followed your every move in the dark, noticing the round contour of your breasts and the white lace of your bra. All his focus, his control, was gone. He was looking at you wide eyed, his pupils devouring every inch of your body as your fingers unclasped the bra in the front. He felt his mouth water, a primal hunger sparking alive inside his soul when your tits bounced free as you discarded the bra on the floor. You were offering yourself to him like a tribute, like a sacrifice to the gods. His train of thought was broken off, all the confusion and tumult in his mind completely turned off by the feeling of your lips on top of his. For a moment he remained frozen, the shadow of doubt still lingering, waiting for you to break away in repulsion. But you didn't. Instead, you placed your hand on his cheek, pressing your body closer to his. It was the last hint he needed.

Geto's hungry lips moved along with yours, easily taking control. You moaned in discomfort when his body shifted, pressing you down on the bed in an uncomfortable position, his lips never breaking off from yours. The feeling of his weight on top of you, his hair falling over his shoulders, brushing against your skin felt oddly familiar and, while you struggled to find a more comfortable position under him, you realized it felt just like the times you would fight. It was the same tension, the same blood rushing in your veins in excitement, the same anticipation for what would come next. Except that now you were taking it one step further.

To Geto, right now, you had only one purpose. His pleasure. Altough his hands touched you greedily, your flesh kneaded under his palms so roughly yet so satisfying, and his mouth moved to your neck to suck and bite every spot he found, earning soft moans of pleasure from you, it was all for himself. He was drunk on the taste of you. So desperate to forget everything else, eager to taste only you on his lips, forever. Your flesh was so soft, so sweet, so addicting. You were soaking wet already by the time his tongue ran circles around your sensitive nipple, rubbing your thighs together under your skirt. Both your hands were buried in his hair, pushing it away from his face while he couldn't be bothered with anything else but your flesh. You could also feel it, how selfish, how insatiable he was. Your pleasure was only a fortunate side effect, a convenient occurance. Between soft whimpers and muffled sounds of sucking and licking on your skin, you realized that he didn't care. His chaotic movements, his bites that were getting deeper and deeper everytime he sank his teeth into the soft tissue of your breast, his uncontrollable groans as he devoured you, it was all for himself. You were no different than the curses he was swallowing for later use. He would eat you alive if he could.

By the time he had your skirt pulled up, your panties discarded somewhere in the dark, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your thigh, it was too late. If there was a chance you could stop him before, check on him, try to get him to slow down a little, when his tongue first touched your wet and sensitive core it was already too late.

You gasped for air, your grip on his hair tightening as his tongue ran between your folds, running circles over your throbbing clit. He was eating you out with an aching thirst, sloppy and loudly, the only thing covering the dirty wet sounds of his tongue drenched in your juices being your own moans, significantly louder than before. He had your legs over his shoulders, his arms keeping your legs spread apart while his face was burried between them. He had you arching your back, dark strands of his hair falling from between your trembling fingers as his tongue dived inside you, his nose nuzzling up against your clit.

Your taste, your smell, your everything was numbing all his other senses, his mind blank, asleep, thoughtless. The only thing driving him, dictating every turn of his tongue, every press of his lips was the unquenchable thirst to eat you, consume you. Something inside his blood, his bones, his soul dictated that the pitch black abyss where he kept all the curses he ever swallowed could be obliterated by you.

"So sweet for me."

It didn't take much before his tongue got you close to the edge, your orgasm only a few touches away as your toes curled and your muscles tightened, although his arms kept your legs pushed apart. He didn't care at all if anyone heard your filthy moans or the sound of his name echoing from inside his room. You were loud enough, even louder than ever as you came, the peak of pleasure washing over you.

But soon, pleasure turned to pain as Geto kept the same hungry rhythm, continuing to eat you out with the same determination like he didn't even notice your orgasm.

"So fucking sweet."

He couldn't have missed it, his name reverberating in the silent room like a fervent prayer, your thighs tightening under his touch, your hands pulling at his hair. He didn't care. He was doing it for himself, eating you out for his own pleasure. Moreover, his effort only intesified as you fought to push him away. The more you struggled to get his face away from your overstimulated pussy, the faster his tongue moved. You cried out his name again, this time in pain, begging him to stop. You tried pushing your legs together, fighting to break free. Your hands tried pushing his head away. The back of your heels hit his back, your legs trying to force him away. You begged, implored him to stop as tears rolled down your face. But he had your hips tightly pressed on the mattress, arms forcing your thighs apart. Once again, you felt exactly like the the times he would train you. So easily defeated. So helpless.

"Ge-geto... sa-ah-ma." You begged between cries, your salty tears falling uncontrollably like the first day when you came to him. "No more... ple-please." He pushed one of your legs with his elbows, his palm pressing firmly on your lower belly, forcing your convulsions to stop.

"Shut up or I'll have you chained up." He found the time to growl, even the feeling of his breath against your painfully overstimulated clit making you cry out.

His warning meant nothing compared to your discomfort, but your second orgasm started building up shortly. Your struggle died down and your hands were pulling him closer again, nails digging into his shoulders. A wet pool of your fluids and his saliva mixed together was dripping off your skin on the sheets as your body shook again, more violently than the previous time. He seemed to have had enough, at least for the moment, because he let you go, your legs desperately pressed together as you rolled on your side, whole body trembling, heavy breathing, every cell of your body exploding with raw pleasure.

You didn't know for how much time you simply laid there, your mind hazy from the overstimulation, your body exhausted from both pleasure and pain. It could have been five minutes or as much as the whole night that had passed when you finally became aware of Geto's eyes fixed on your body.

But the thing that really made you snap out of your lifelessness was his voice calling out your name. Your own name, for the first time. Almost as if he learned it only after having your taste left on his lips.

"You're a blessing." Geto breathed out as the strain in his jaw was slowly creeping in. You didn't say anything in return. There was nothing to say to those intoxicated eyes. Those swollen lips still covered in your juices. His tongue ran over them, collecting the last remains of your juices. But the pain in his voice was gone. Although bewildered and curious, he seemed to have regained his energy, rediscovered a reason to live.

Your breath hitched when he leaned over you again, his lips offering soft kisses along your leg, upwards to your hips. He seemed more collected, more in control of his instincts as he put the minimal pressure on your skin with every kiss until he reached your lips again. Your hands pulled at his clothes, the desire to see him naked like he saw you taking over. He chuckled, giving in to your petty efforts.

"Please, Geto-sama." You said. "Let me satisfy your needs."

He smiled, that patronizing smile of satisfaction.

"You can try."

《previous Ascension | next》 Eraser |True Form!Sukuna x Reader Sukuna x Reader

#geto suguru #geto smut #geto suguru smut #jjk geto #jujustu kaisen #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines

[iinryer]

tagged for several sentence sunday by @sibylsleaves !!

i started working on the evil fic, made myself sad, and then had a brain blast in the gc about the concept of eddie agreeing to be someone’s beard so now this is happening:

—

What he definitely isn’t expecting is to get a text notification from Vanessa (Pepa date) one afternoon that says:

Are you still single?

Followed nearly immediately by:

God. Sorry. That was not the right opener. I’m a little frazzled today lol

What I meant was: is your tia still on your case about the dating thing?

He can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him. Chimney gives him a raised brow above his book from where he’s lounging on the opposite sofa, but Eddie just waves him off. Another text comes in:

If so, I may have a proposition (as friends). If you’d like to get coffee sometime (AS FRIENDS!), I would be delighted to be in cahoots with you again.

Eddie’s just beginning to type out a response when she continues:

This is Vanessa, btw

—

i don’t have a ton planned yet, but im having fun gjfjfh vanessa should get to be a lesbian. as a treat. (for me)

tagging @gayeddieagenda and anyone who has things they want 2 share :3

#pointing my lesbian ray at every woman on my tv screen #iinryer wip

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

(Gif is not mine, I found it on google.)

Word Count - 2593.

Warnings - Negan X FM Reader.  P in V, alcohol mention, smut, swearing, vaginal licking, blow jobs.  No beta reader, any mistakes are mine own. 

Negan and you have been working together for a few years but what happens when one Friday night out changes all that.?

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

You and Negan had been work mates for years, you started about 12 months after he did and bonded one night when you were invited to join the men and their wives for Friday night drinks and was able to outdrink the great Negan, earning your place in the friendship they had already established.

Another friday night has come around again and you went home and got ready for the weekly catch up, even though you worked with the men, it was the women you missed and loved catching up with. The moment you got there, you were basically dragged away from the group by them, having them a little tipsy already.

As the night progressed and the drinks kept coming, Dwight's wife, Sherry leaned over and whispered in your ear "Negan keeps staring at you" You almost spit your drink out at her, you look at her "What?" "Negan, he has been staring at you all night, since you arrived his eyes have barely looked elsewhere." "Bullshit" You turn a little, trying to remain casual, hoping that to him it looks like you're just repositioning yourself on your seat and you look at him, your eyes connecting. He gives you a smirk, you smile back. 

"Holy shit I think I just saw sparks" Sherry says joking. You slap her arm gently and break eye contact. "He probably just watching over here in general making sure that we are not being hounded by unwanted men." "No honey, I think he is making sure no one hits on you." Sherry sips her drink and poke a finger into your chest. "Right ok, I think you should stop drinking; all that alcohol is going to your brain."  Sherry laughs " Have your really been so oblivious? He likes you Y/N. Every time we drink, he always keeps his eye on you, he gets angry when men talk to you, one night he came to ours to sleep it off, Dwight says that he was saying your name in his sleep when he went downstairs during the night."

"Well then, if that is the case, let's test this theory" You smile at her, and she raises an eyebrow. You place your drink and walk over to Negan.  "Hey" you say to him and sit down beside him. "You seem to be enjoying yourself." He says as he watches the men nod at each other and leave to go to dance with their wives, leaving you and him alone. You shrug "Could be better,I am actually thinking of picking up a guy tonight" You decide to watch Negan closely, waiting for a reaction. "Oh is that so, would be a first for you, anyone catch you eye?" Negan gruffs and he takes a sip of his gin. You take note that he didn't react as you thought so you decided to keep testing him, you look around and spot your "target", you nod over to the bar "He looks interesting and fun, he might be a good time if you get my drift."  Negan follows your nod and spots the man, he was young, short black hair, wearing jeans and a jacket, casually leaning on the bar talking to what he assume is his friend. "You really think he is your type?" Negan looks at you raise an eyebrow at him.

"You think you know my type?" You say looking at him. Negan leans back, turning his body towards yours, his arm on top of the chair.  "I actually think I do what type of man you like" You raise your eyebrow to him "Ok tell me all about MY type, I would love to hear it" you say.

Negan chuckles "You type is the bad boy type, the type that you wouldn't take home to your parents. You want the type of man who will listen to you, take care of you when you're down. Someone who will take time to spoil you both inside the bedroom and out, even dare say a dominant male, especially in the bedroom, you seem like the submissive type of woman" You can feel your cheeks heating up and you only hope that Negan won't notice your blushing.

"You just know that most women like bad boys, so that was a lucky guess." You smile as he leans closer to you. "And yet you didn't deny the other things I "assumed" about you." He shifts his hips closer to you. "You don't think I notice the way you look at me when we hang out and I'm fixing my bike, while you sit there and keep my company, I can feel your eyes on me." "Isn't that what I meant to do, look at you while we are talking? Thought it was what society calls polite" You say, a bit of smart ass coming out in your voice. "Yes but there have been times when your eyes have not been looking at my face" He looks down at himself and slowly back up. "I've caught you oogling me when I slide under my bike, when my t-shirt rides up enough to show skin" "And what about you Negan? Sherry said that you been watching me all night, and you do it every other time?" Negan laughs "Well then at least Sherry noticed." Negan's hand reaches out and gently caresses your cheek. You gulp, feeling like butterflies are fluttering inside you.  "So she was right then?" "Right about what Y/N?" Negan moves closer, you look down at his lips, his tongue peeks out to wet his dry lips and it leaves you wanting him more. "That you get angry when men try and talk to me"  "She is not wrong. You have no idea how much I have wanted to spank your barely covered ass and tell you to go change. I don't like when other men try and take what's mine" You stare into his haze eyes "Yours? I'm not yours Negan"  His hand slithers its way into your hair, grabbing it tightly, jerking your head back a bit. "Yes, you are, you just don't know it yet."

Seconds pass and he growls, pulling your hair again, his lips crashing into yours, your arms instinctly wrapping around his neck, pulling him into you closer. Negan's other hand makes it way to your hip, without breaking the kiss his pulls you onto his lap. He releases your hair, but keeps his hand there, massaging the spot he had balled into a fist.

He growls as you shimmy down a bit, hitting his growing hard on. "Careful doll"  You forgot that you were at a bar with your work mates who would be back any moment. You start to slide off Negan's lap when his hands stop you from. "Where do you think you're going?" His lips nibble at your neck, making you wiggle on his lap at the sensation. "Our friends will be back soon" You try to explain. "So what, you embarrassed to be seen on my lap?" He asks, his hips gripping your waist. "No no" You shake your head "Would rather be on your lap in private" You move closer to Negan's lips. "Oh, is that so, would private also mean, no clothing?" He smirks. "Maybe if you play your cards right." You wink at him. He gently smacks your ass.  "Well then I am more than happy to get this show on the road Y/N" He goes to stand up carrying you. "You can't be serious, put me down" You smile.

"No way in hell took us too long to get to this point, I ain't letting you go now." He leans down to grab your wallet and phone and passes it to you. Your legs gripped tightly around his waist. The owner of the bar laughs as you walk out, your friends smile and give you a thumbs up, knowing full well that come Monday you're going to be the talk of the workplace.  He gets to his car and opens the door; you slide down and hop in the passenger side of the car. Negan closes the door like a gentleman. He hops in the driver's side, puts the keys in the ignition and the car roars to life. The drive is silent, neither one wanting to break the spell that had come over you both in the bar.  You could feel yourself wet, you rub your thighs together, you gasp as you feel a large hand grab your leg, stopping you. "Don't do that doll." Negan warns, his nails digging into your flesh. His eyes focused on the road, his hand slides up your leg, under your skirt, gently touching your clothed pussy lips. You moan just at the small sensation. His finger going up and down your lips, just teasing you enough to make you crave his touch deeper.

"Please" you whisper lifting your hips a bit. Negan chuckles " Needy little thing aren't you doll?" His hand pulls away and his hand goes back to the steering wheel, as he turns the corner to his house. 

Negan gets out of the car first, rounding the back and opening the door for you, allowing you to get out of the car and he closes the door leading the way to the front door, you had been to Negan's house many times, but never like this before, it was different. He unlocks the door and lets you walk in first, you hear the door close behind you, you turn to his hand grabbing your shoulder and moves your back to the door, his lips on yours, kissing you deeply, you're thinking your lips might be bruised in the morning with the amount of pressure he is using but you don't care, his tongue pry's your lips opens and your tongues dances with his.

Negan moves from your lips to your cheek, then down to your neck as his fingers carefully undo the buttons on your top. Once it falls open, his hands are on your breasts, getting a gasp out of you as he pinches your hard nipples. His lips move down and take one hard nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, making you moan and arch your back begging for more.

Negan moves from one breast to the another, doing the same thing, your hand slides into his hair, gripping it harder, pulling him closer to your chest. You hear him moan and then feel the sensation of teeth nibbling your skin.

Negan pulls away just a little, his face moving closer to yours. "I might have been wrong about the submissive part of you doll."  You chuckle a little "Maybe, but maybe it is cause we not in the bedroom."  Negan smiles and takes your hand, leading you up to his room. Once inside he pushes you down on the bed, and crawls on top of you, covering you with his body.

"You look perfect on my bed, even if you are to overly dressed." He pushes your shirt off your shoulders, throwing in beside the bed, he sits back and undoes his shirt and throws it with yours, you reach for his jeans, unbuckling the belt in a haste. His hands work on pulling your skirt down along with your underwear, again tossing it to the side of the bed. You push his jeans down to his knees then he takes over, getting off the bed to discard them leaving you laying there on your elbows looking at him, marveling at his amazing body, the chiseled chest, his tattoos and slowly looking down to his happy trail that leads to his very hard cock, that makes you lick your lips and crawl over to the edge of the bed.  Your hand reaches out and grasps him, making him growl deeply. His hips thrust a little making himself move in and out of your hand. You open your lips and engulf the tip of his cock, his hand finds itself tangled in your hair, as he thrusts himself more, your tongue swirling around his member. You hum as he pushes himself further into your mouth.  "Doll" He growls, a warning. You look up at him, the tip of his cock just sitting between your lips.  "Hmm" you hum. "As much as I am loving this lovely mouth wrapped around my cock I really wanna be inside you, fucking your tight pussy." 

Negan pulls himself out of your lips, pushes you to the middle of the bed, your still on your stomach, the bed dips and he crawls over you, lifting your hips and ass up, you feel his fingers touch your pussy lips, "Fuck I have been waiting to see you in this position, wet and waiting for me." His finger just pushes past your lips, spreading you, then you suddenly feel his tongue, lapping at your juices, you moan when he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit. "Fuck" You breathe out, he pulls you closer to his, his face right in between your pussy, licking, sucking, the noises that fill the air should embarrass you, not turn you on more. Negan eats you out until the first orgasm washes over you, your legs shake in pleasure. Negan licks up your juices before moving over you, his legs positioned between yours, you feel his cock laying on your ass as he leans over you, kissing your cheek. "Fuck doll you ready to cum all over my cock now, such a good girl you" You turn your head, and he kisses you, you taste yourself on his face. Negan grips his dick lining it up to your wet pussy. In one quick thrust his pushes his way into you, his balls slap against your skin and you moan in delight.  "Doll, you have no idea how long I have dreamt of this moment, filling your tight cunt with my cock" He whispers in your ear, before pulling out and pushing back in fast, harder each time, getting a moan from both of you.  Negan can't stop himself from pounding into you, his cock burying itself inside the tight warm walls over your pussy, the noises that you make each time he hit the spot is like music to his ears. Negan leans over your back, pushing your face deeper into the mattress, his arms on each side of your body, he drives himself deeper into you, he is close to cumming, "Negan please...." you moan out. "I'm gonna cum doll, where do you want it, inside you? on your back?" He grunts out "or do you wanna shallow?" You can barely answer, you so cock drunk of him "Inside, please Negan" you beg him.  It doesn't take too long before Negan is pumping his seed inside you, grunting at his own release. You feel your own orgasm building and when you feel his hot cum inside you, you can't help but moan as you cum around his cock, milking him. Negan grunts as your cunt throbs around his slowly softening cock.  Negan get off of you and rolls you into his body, you both lay there panting, coming down from the high that has been building for a couple years.  "You do know now there is definitely not letting you go now." Negan says as his arm tightens around your stomach. "That is ok with me Negan." Negan chuckles and kisses your neck, thankful that finally after years of watching you from afar you were finally his.

#daddy negan #jdm #jeffery dean morgan #negan x reader #negan smut #negan smith #negan x y/n #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #twd negan #negan smith smut #negan smith x you

[smokedruid]

Come On, Cowgirl (the ghoul x lucy maclean) part 1

word count: 2.6k

after the events of season 1's finale, lucy and the ghoul embark to find lucy's father and finally get some answers (as well as maybe a bit of revenge). on the journey, they find they have more in common than either might have imagined.

"Don't Meet Your Heroes"

The Ghoul didn’t speak a word for more than half a day before Lucy couldn’t take it anymore.

At first, his silence felt like a gift - the first kind thing he’d done for her. It gave her a chance to pick apart all of the things she could and should have said to her Dad before he flew unceremoniously away in that stupid suit.

God, how had she been so blind?

Coming to the surface had meant discovering that everything she’d ever known, the foundation she built her whole life on, was a lie. That much would have broken anyone else from 33 - but Lucy would be different. She may have lost her finger, probably her health, and most of her dignity, but she had her father, and she was determined that once he was freed, he would make things make sense again.

Right. That had worked out well.

After those first few hours of silence, she started catching sideways glances from under the Ghoul’s tattered hat. His eyebrows were lowered and cast a shadow over his sunken eyes - well, they would, if he had any - but he never looked longer than a moment. They’d crossed the ridge of the mountains by now and the settlement where she’d left Max - who was hopefully conscious, by now - had vanished over the horizon. 

“Surface trained the chatterbox outta you, huh?” he finally spoke after her knees had started aching from the downhill climb. Despite feeling moreover glad that he wasn’t looking at her anymore, this sparked a hot irritation in her gut.

“What would you do if your mom was a ghoul and your dad turned out to be a megalomaniac?” she retorted hotly, then instantly felt sorry. He didn’t turn around to look at her - he hadn’t even when he first spoke.

“I din’t turn into this by sittin’ on my ass and drinkin’ lemonade, you know,” he replied, and again, his head twitched, but he didn’t look all the way around. Shame blossomed into a warm pool at the base of her chest and she bit the inside of her lip guiltily. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that,” she replied softly and a grunt answered from ahead of her. She wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a word lost behind his yellowed teeth.

After a long moment: “You knew my dad.”

At this, he slowed down, allowing her to catch up to him - something she could have done if she really wanted, but was now forced to. He stopped for a moment to examine her, his mouth working like he was chewing imaginary tobacco. Maybe he really was chewing tobacco. She wasn’t sure. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. He turned that word into a three-syllable affair. Ye-a-wh. Nobody had accents like that in the vaults. In movies, maybe, but not thick as his. Everything he said was muddled. “I’m guessin’ this’sall new information for you.” he turned away again to keep walking, but this time she kept pace at his shoulder. Well, below his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” she echoed dully. “I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.” he rested a hand on his holster and she flinched back before he turned a bemused eye on her. 

“Ain’t gunna hurtcha. Not now, anyway, that wouln’t do me much good.” he took the shotgun from his side and dropped empty casings to the ground to reload it absently. 

“Well that’s good to know,” she replied flatly, but he made no sign he’d heard her. 

“Wha’d you do with your daddy down in the vaults, hm? Play catch with jello moulds or sum shit?” he was clearly joking, but a heat was creeping up her throat and making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. She shook her head, even though he wasn’t looking. 

“No. I helped him with work, sometimes. We walked. Watched movies,” Lucy hated that he could hear the thickness in her voice, the first hints of tears, even if she wouldn’t let them fall. It had been a rhetorical question anyway. He re-holstered his gun with a snort. 

“Walked where? In circles?” he looked up and Lucy quickly turned her face away, feigning interest in the barren waste to her right. “Movies,” he repeated, and she got the feeling he’d caught a glimpse of her flushed face. Was this really better than being waterboarded for bait?

“He liked westerns. So that’s what we watched,” she shrugged, not sure why she was entertaining this conversation when the silence had been so peaceful by comparison.

When she felt composed enough to turn back around, his bare eyebrows had raised, elongating his red, fleshless face. 

“Westerns, huh?” one end of his mouth was pulling up as if by an invisible fish hook.

Lucy thought the word ‘smile’ was a little generous in describing whatever his mouth was doing. Not quite a smirk. Not genuine enough to be a smile. She nodded, surprised at his interest. She didn’t know how old he was exactly, but probably old enough to have been to a movie theater, she realized.

“Big cowboy fan. I r’member that about him.” the sentence almost made Lucy flinch.

It seemed impossible to imagine her dad outside of a vault, let alone alive before they ever existed. With him. One thought led to another, and before she realized what she was doing, her eyes were tracing the Ghoul’s jagged profile and trying to imagine hair, skin, a nose. She only had to squint a little to achieve the illusion of skin, but frankly, picturing him with a nose seemed incorrect.

“I got sum’n on my face?” he asked before Lucy could realize he’d caught her eye. 

“No. No. Sorry,” she fixed her eyes to the powdery dirt under them. He let out what Lucy thought might be a chuckle, but it quickly turned into a dry, wheezing cough. “Did you like westerns too?” she asked the ground, hoping to steer the conversation away from touchier topics - for both of them. He laughed again. 

“Feo, fuerte y formal,” he gave her a wry side glance and she felt herself smile before she could stop it. God, her dad had loved that movie so much - she must have seen it a dozen times, at least. Fallen asleep to it a dozen more. 

“You are a fan!” the lightness returning to her face and voice made her feel more like herself than she had in several days. Instead of the exasperation that he’d met her with before, he seemed amused. Maybe still in a slightly derogatory way, but Lucy decided this was better than being waterboarded. 

“Doesn’t take a fan to know that line. Couldn’t walk into a theatre without that movie hitt'n you in the nose.” this confirmed Lucy’s suspicion that he had been to a movie theater. She tried not to be a little jealous. And not to imagine him with a nose again. In a theatre. With his wife.

He’d said he had a wife, right? That conversation was a blur that ended with the single clear picture of her father leaving. 

“I, well,” Lucy began, her talkative nature kicking back in without help. “I used to have a big crush on one of those actors, when I was younger.” This caught his attention more than she’d expected. He turned his whole head to shoot her an amused stare.

“Really, now? I pit’ured you with some button up prairie boy, but you like an outlaw, don’tcha, sweetheart?” he was needling her now, provoking her, but she couldn’t help but earnestly respond.

“No, no, the good guys,” she insisted, to his greater entertainment. She knew he was making fun of her on some level, but couldn’t bring herself to be truly irritated. “You know, the heroes.” he nodded back slowly.

He was definitely making fun of her. 

“Lemme guess… Fred Larson,” he mocked hitting a button like one of those old game show contestants. “Real prim and proper, just like you.” For some reason, this made her cheeks glow again and she shook her head, still smiling.

She wasn’t sure why she was smiling except for the fact that it felt so good. Like it was the only way to crack off the hard exterior these last few weeks had caked onto her. He said he wasn’t going to hurt her, and right now, she believed him. So she was smiling. 

“No- that one actor, from that movie- Cooper… Cooper Howard!” she struggled to remember his last name. Sitting on a couch, sitting down to watch a movie, god, that felt like another lifetime. It was hard to imagine being that carefree again.

When she looked back up at him, he wasn’t smiling anymore, so she stopped too. “Feo fuerte y formal. You know,” she repeated stupidly, and he nodded. 

��Yeah. Not my fav’rite,” he shrugged, and she frowned. Hadn’t he just quoted that same movie? 

“Too heroic for you?” She tried to tease, but his eyes turned sharp and she fell quiet again. Something she’d said had irritated him, and she flipped back through the conversation, but he was as unpredictable as fire. Whatever it was, all she could do was try not to say it again… somehow. “Who did you like, then?” she tried to redirect, but he seemed to have lost the appetite for conversation. 

“‘S been a long time.” he replied indifferently, so Lucy let their walk return to silence. They continued that way until sundown.

Lucy didn’t know if the Ghoul slept, but she certainly needed to. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him exhaust himself once that first time he’d kidnapped her. Probably all of those drugs. 

“Can we stop here?” she finally asked faintly, holding a stitch in her side. Maximus was certainly larger than her, but the Ghoul was taller. Longer legs, longer strides - more effort to keep up with his normal pace. Max had also slowed down for Lucy. The Ghoul didn’t slow down for anything.

He turned to look back at her like he’d forgotten she was there. 

“‘Lrght,” he grunted back.

They’d stopped close enough to some wreckage that would make for decent cover, despite being half buried in sand and dust. You couldn’t find much untouched by sand or dust up here, Lucy had learned.

The Ghoul, as she’d predicted, didn’t show signs of sleeping. If he did, she doubted he’d ever fall asleep first anyway. He slid down against a wall and drew out a wad of cigarettes from his coat before lighting one. Another appeared before her as she laid her bag out like a pillow on the floor. An offer. She wrinkled her nose. 

“No thanks,” she replied, and they disappeared back into his trenchcoat. 

“Suityrself,” he shrugged, taking a long, satisfied draw of smoke and releasing it in lazy curls. Whatever had happened earlier had closed him off, and he was still just as reserved.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked, knowing that best case scenario, he'd just laugh at her. Granted, she had learned her interpersonal management skills from books, but still. 

“Nope,” he replied, not looking up at her from the twisting smoke between his fingers. His hat was low over his eyes, so all she could see of him in the dark was the pulsing glow of the lit cigarette. 

“Okay…” she replied, unconvinced. She couldn’t gauge what his ‘normal’ was. Nothing about him was normal. “If it was about the movies-” she began, unable to stop herself. The interpersonal management guides always urged you to fix a conflict before putting it down, and clearly, it had trained her well. 

“Wha’d I tell you?” he tilted his head up just enough for the embers to illuminate the bottom half of his face. It almost looked normal in the dim light, where you couldn’t tell his nose was nothing but a cavity, and his skin merely looked blemished, instead of raw. “If y’re worried about this-” he nudged his shotgun with an elbow, but she hurriedly shook her head. 

“I’m not. I just…” she couldn’t find a good enough reason.

I just can’t leave things well enough alone? Well, that was true at least. I have a stupid, inexplicable urge to make everyone like me, weirdly - especially - you? She definitely couldn’t say that… even if it were the truth too.

“...I thought you liked westerns,” she finished lamely. He snorted hard enough that it ruffled the clean spirals of smoke leaving his mouth. 

“I watched ‘em. Never said I liked ‘em,” he replied simply.

Lucy had been so spoiled, she realized that now. When talking to people from the vault, their tendency was often to over-speak. If you stood still long enough in front of someone from 33, you’d probably walk away with their life story and entire known genealogy.

He was completely the opposite. Simple and blunt, just like his features. Nothing about him was accommodating. Not his stride, not his words, not even his stupid face. She scolded herself inwardly - his face wasn’t stupid. Even if it was, she wouldn’t say something like that. 

“Is it… you don’t like Cooper Howard?” Lucy had told herself that whatever button she’d pressed, she wouldn’t press again. This conversation proved that she was failing that completely. 

“It’s no wonder you’re such a good girl,” he replied with a lazy sort of meanness. “All those movies fillin’ your head with horseshit about fairness and fuckin’ apple pie.” she was surprised at his response and remained still, arms wrapped around her knees habitually. 

“Well, it’s good to have a role model, isn’t it?” she replied weakly and he grunted out a laugh. Half of his communication came in grunts.

“Not up here, sweetheart. When y’re busy chasin fuckin’ fairytales, you can't see when you're about to catch a bullet in your head.” he never seemed to get angry. Irritated, yes. Mean, yes. But after so long, nothing seemed to really ruffle him.

Again, probably the drugs, She reminded herself. 

“Well, sorry,” she bit back, the words coming out more pathetically than she was intending. “I just thought we finally had something in common.” 

A long silence followed this before a deep sigh. When he inhaled on the cigarette, and the embers burned brighter, she saw he was frowning.

The conversation was over. She turned over to rest her head on her bag. 

“C’mere,” a low murmur came from behind her, and she glanced back over her shoulder. The light had completely dwindled now, and the only hint anyone was there was the small circle of light and its trail of smoke. 

“What?” She replied hoarsely, her face growing oddly warm. 

“C’mere,” he repeated, and raised his canteen to his face so his cigarette would reflect on the metal. She understood now, and shuffled forward, not looking to turn him down. Especially not after whatever had just happened. It had felt like an argument, but she didn’t have the faintest clue what they’d been arguing about.

He waited until her knees were nearly brushing his boots and she was all but inhaling his secondhand smoke to lean forward and motion for her to open her mouth. When she didn’t see it the first time, he brushed her chin with a gloved knuckle and she opened it obediently.

She was too obedient, always.

She tilted her head back and let the warm, metallic water fall into her mouth. It tasted awful, of course, but after several dry days, it was heaven in a bottle. He indulged her for slightly too long before retracting the canteen, forcing her to remember herself.

She closed her mouth hurriedly, feeling exposed so close to him in the dark and crawled back to her spot on the sandy floor.

She watched the glow flicker on the wall while he smoked his cigarette dead, and by the time the light had faded, Lucy was asleep. 

AN: this will probably be 4 or 5 parts so look forward to those soon! this is also on ao3 under my same user :]

#ghoulcy #fallout prime #fallout #cooper howard x lucy maclean #the ghoul #cooper howard #lucy maclean #fallout series #fallout amazon #fallout tv series #fallout tv show #the ghoul x lucy #fanfic #canon compliant #fic recs #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #light angst #fluff #smut

[onesidedradiostatic]

In an attempt to forget about the VOX'S STUPID FUCKING SWEATER discourse (IT'S RED), I *will* talk about something mentioned on this blog before; someone once suggested that Vox might have died from poisoning due to the red lines that sometimes appear under Vox's mouth, although I want to say that multiple characters (from sinners to winners) in the show have the same trait of these lines appearing under their mouth (Valentino and Alastor come to mind -- I'm pretty sure there's more, but that's who I can think of from off the top of my head)! It could be a demon thing, although ultimately I think it doesn't have any real relation to Vox's death. Although that still begs the question as to what those lines are as a whole--My theory is some kind of feral drool or something from their newly demonic nature... though those're my thoughts.

sorry this was in my drafts for a WHILE and I forgot about it, you can tell it's old from the stupid fucking turtleneck mention

that's true but at the same time it appears for vox more than anyone else and was even a permanent fixture in his pilot design

it being a deathmark from poisoning was just a suggestion from an anon I got a good while back but I liked it cause it helped me stop being super confused by them. although I mean feral drool is probably the most logical conclusion LMAO I just don't know why it's red, is all his saliva red? how does it even work? seeing it as a representation of blood just helps my brain not circle into questions about that

oh yeah and while I'm at it I wanna address this: I've also seen this idea go around that the red lines are from val's red liquid secretion and it ends up on vox cause they make out but I don't really think that's the case, there's too many instances outside of val where the red lines appear on vox for that to be the case

like for example it's actually ANIMATED coming out of his mouth when he tells sir pentious to kill himself, I definitely think the red lines are from vox himself, be it a deathmark, drool or something else

#ask #osrs.txt #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel

[burntheedges]

tbr list - May

hi I'm really behind on reading fic but I am going to catch up this week (month?), so help me! friends, I'm coming for you (and by that I mean I'm going to catch up on your amazing fics)! but I'm making a little TBR and I'm shouting you out in case anyone isn't already reading. 🧡 everyone, please check these out!

Centrifugation by @theclairvoyage - Joel x f!reader I love this fic so much. It's the detail and the care and the smut (hello) and it's so atmospheric, it's lovely. I'm on chapter 9 of the 10 that are out! (and I'm also going to read Sour Lemonade!! I'm so excited for it!)

Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star (Joel x f!reader) and Fortnight & New Beginnings (Joel x f!reader) by @mermaidgirl30 Jamie, how??? these ideas are so cool and I'm so excited to read them. I think I also still need to read the latest part of Dancing With Fire 👀

Closed Position by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings (Dieter x OFC) this fic!!! Dieter on Dancing With the Stars?? the chemistry between him and Kat? the detail?? and I have a two-part third installment to catch up on? I can't wait!

Scathed by @dancingtotuyo (Javi P x OFC) this fic 😭 I love it so much. I love Javi and Emily. I can't wait to read the newest chapter even though I think it's going to hurt me lol

your favorite kryptonite by @kedsandtubesocks (Dieter x f!reader) Dieter as a comic book store owner?? Erika always knows the way to my heart 🧡

as you've always been by @ezrasbirdie (Joel x f!reader) umm this description looks amazing? there are two beds but you only need one?? yes, please. can't wait to dig into this one.

Fate (Joel Miller x f!reader) and imperfect perfection (Frankie x f!reader) by @sawymredfox I can't wait to read these - wym, you have a gift for description that feels like something I can sink into and experience for myself.

Nicest Thing (Joel x f!reader) by @schnarfer neighbors and Jane Austen references?? I loved the first part and need to catch up!

Happy Ending (Frankie x f!reader) by @noxturnalpascal I've had this tab open since you posted it, Patti, I'm sorry it's taken me so long!! but I can't wait to read it. 🧡

...

anyone want to read along with me? 😂 also if you’ve posted something new in the last month please send me recs 👀

#fic rec #joel miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #dieter bravo x reader #javier peña x reader #fic rec list

[just-antithings]

Funny thing is, I used to be an anti. They recruit young, because that's when our viewpoints are black and white, and teach us there's no such thing as nuance, that liking something in fiction makes you a monster. I believed it. Until I was fourteen, when I wrote a fic where the main character, a trans minor, had some extremely messed up abuse from his father and something bad happened in the fic but off screen (I just really don't want to trigger anyone.) But I figured I wasn't romanticizing it, so I should be fine.

Wrong.

I got suicide baits. I got hate comments. People I had thought were my friends turned on me in a second. It turns out they didn't just want these things not romanticized in fiction- they didn't want them in fiction period. They never asked why I was writing this (personally I think a fourteen-year-old trans man writing this should have raised some eyebrows and people probably should've asked if I was okay, but they very much did not ask anything,) just hated me. That's why I'm pro ship. Because a little teenager online can't even write his terrible 300 words per chapter fanfic without people telling him to end himself. If those actions are of the "good" people and the actions of the proship community who accepted me instantly (except for the 18+ spaces, we had a mutual understanding, I didn't go there they didn't come here) are evil, then I think I wanna be evil rather than good. But I know that's not the case, because fiction doesn't determine morality.

Congrats, antis, you pushed me out and I found out that the "evil proship" community was actually really accepting of dark fiction. I... guess y'all count that as a win? Thanks to the proship community, though, for teaching me nuance and how fiction does not equal morality.

.

#mod erin #ask #just anti things #suicide baiting mention #abuse mention #child abuse mention

[guqin-and-flute]

Holding Me Holding You–Ch. 7 [3zun Raise Jingyi Prequel]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

[Ao3 Link]

[Holy shit, how has it been 2 years since I last updated this fic?? ANYWAY HELLO HI I MISSED YOU. We're keeping the baby, guys. CW: Disjointed, slightly nonlinear narration; negative self talk; more talk of battle aftermath, bodies (gross but no more graphic than prev chapters), and death; focus on lots of trauma to do with death and grief; general Twin Jade parental trauma; vaguest mention of child death, in that he repeatedly tells himself there isn't one and remembers part of his nightmare about Wangji/A-Fu dying]

Who are you?

‘Wen Baiqi.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Say goodbye. Tell her goodbye.’

It’s raining in Qishan. It’s nothing like the rain in Gusu.

Who are you?

‘Hei Xuecen.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘All my fault all my fault ALL MY FAULT--’

This rain isn’t crisp, but disconcertingly warm. It doesn't bring life. It soaks into the ground, milling the dirt back into the blood and gore bloated mud of that night, sucking at their feet. Reeking of putrefaction. It coats Xichen’s tongue and throat.

Who are you?

Each time, there is a chance he will receive a reply from the Yiling Patriarch himself. 

‘Ye Qian.’

He never does.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Never apologized--’

What would he do if he did?

Who are you?

What would Zewu-jun do? Clan Leader Lan?

What must be done?

Would he soothe his spirit?

Who are you?

Ghostly fingers pluck at his sleeves constantly. 

Who are you?

‘Nie Zixing. Never knew him, tell them--’

When he had first arrived, the bodies of Wei Wuxian’s Wen contingent still hung from the gate to the battleground. Or what remained of them. After scavengers, time, and the elements had had their turn. Swaying in the warm, wet breeze along with carrion birds’ cries and the distant tunes of the guqin language. Grisly pendulums. Dripping.

There is no small boy among them. He had hoped against hope, but now he knew for sure. This secret is tucked deep, deep down beneath his heart.

Who are you?

The corpses on the ground are Wen. They are Lan. They are strangers. They are Da-ge, lying bloody on the floor of the Scorching Sun Palace. They are A-Zhan.

"We should burn them like they did to our people. Scatter their ashes, so they will never rest." A venomous whisper from his own disciples, a young man, face twisted in rage.

(“They’re killing everyone,” he had choked his sobs into A-Yao’s arms. “My people--my family are all dead and I did nothing.”)

A-Yuan had been so, so pale against the sheets. So tiny compared to the infirmary bed.

“These people?" Xichen’s voice is quiet. "These cultivators that studied healing? Miles and miles from Qishan?”

Silence.

“Did they destroy our home? Did we fight them in Sunshot?”

Too little, far too late.

There is no small boy among them. There isn’t.

A-Zhan, gray and slack, eyes glassy, head lolling--

He pushes the dream-memory away.

Who are you?

‘Jin Mingni. 

My father--’

"We will bury them and hold the proper rites, as we have the rest of the fallen. And I will ask you to swear yourselves to secrecy regarding their exact resting place. In case anyone later shares your thinking.”

‘Zhou Sanniang. Never wanted to come. Save me.’

“Help me bring them down.”

There may be no small boy among the Wen, but he sees corpses all day, every day. They're in his dreams. He cannot stop seeing them. And he cannot stop seeing a boy (Afuyuanzhan) among them, from the corner of his eye.

He can never quite catch the face before he realizes there is no one actually there.

A skeletal hand is unearthed when they lift a body--a remnant of the Sunshot Campaign, years before. There were plenty of partial skeletons from that time that the Yiling Patriarch had raised to fight them. It seems some didn't have the strength to fight their way out from the mud. The death here has layers. A slow growing mountain of violence and dead and blood instead of stone. The building of the Burial Mounds’ successor.

Do the Burial Mounds have as many crows? Is it a feasting ground, as this has become?

They carry the quiescent dead, cover them with cloth, lay them in rows. Those whose spirits have passed on easily. They lie with their Sect members--when they are able to discern who they are. Still, fields of undyed cloth mounds, waiting to be retrieved by their loved ones, if they still live. Somewhere out there, there must be people still alive, families whole and happy, living in the sunshine. Somewhere.

Who are you?

His fingertips bleed from days playing Linhai and Liebing.

What must be done for you to rest?

Even those here that are living shamble like the dead--the rogue cultivators, his Lan disciples, the handful cultivators from other Sects, all here for the same goal, all hollow eyed and pale. He is supposed to be here for morale. 

They work deep into the night, far from familiar, ingrained rules about schedule and tidiness, here. Adrift.

What must be done--?

The fierce corpse is not a powerful one, merely tenacious. Shuoyue snakes out. It crumples immediately with a muted splurch into the muck, halved.

‘Tell her I loved--’

The top half of the corpse writhes, still scrabbling for him. The sound it makes from its ruined face is horrid. It's a wonder it can sense his yang qi at all; no eyes, no nose. Its robes are a splotchy black and rusty brown-red, but the Lan ribbon around its forehead manages to show a ragged white through it, here and there.

The talisman sears, blinding. It is enough. The body slumps for the last time. He can settle into that mud, summon Linhai from his qiankun bag for the Songs of Rest.

Who are you?

‘Lan Ruicai.

Show them all--’

The blood of the walking dead is no longer life-hot, but the same, unnerving lukewarm as the rain. He cannot feel it. He can’t tell where it’s stained him until he reaches his tent each night. 

He is efficient. He is in control.

The rain here doesn't cleanse anything. It hasn’t stopped for days.

Everything is the same color; the sludge, the thick haze of lingering resentful energy, palms, boots, the hems and knees of robes. That old clotted wound color. Dirt repelling talismans can only do so much before they are overpowered by the sheer weight of yin energy permeating everything. Stained.

There's no use cleaning. He tries anyway.

‘I was so scared, so scared--’

Who are you?

Sometimes, the spirits do not answer. Sometimes, they speak first, before he can even start the questions, raking the strings repeatedly in their anguish. Sometimes, they try to tear the guqin from him, try to rend his clothes, squeeze his throat. Sometimes, banishment is the only way. 

The sudden shrieks and roars at night startle everyone from sleep. If Wangji was well, he would be here. He is known for going where the chaos is.

Is that what had led him to this? To Wei Wuxian? An affinity for soothing chaos? For chaos itself?

Who are you?

‘Don’t know. Want to go home--’

"I can't anymore, zongzhu, I-I--"

"It's alright. Return to the Cloud Recesses. You’ve done enough."

Sometimes, he wakes in the night to find that he is in the middle of dressing, having no memory of doing so, a clump of cleansing talismans clutched in his numb hands. He has cut down so many fierce corpses, he’s lost count.

Who are you?

Food is tasteless glue in his mouth.

Who are you?

Every night, he is sure to take the medicine that gives him no dreams.

‘Oh gods oh gods ohgodsohgods--’

Every night, he prays that he has not left Uncle overwhelmed, that his people are being cleansed and healed back home, that Wangji has stopped bleeding, that A-Yuan is healing, that A-Fu is….

Who are you?

(What right do you have?)

What must be done?

He has been here for days that run into one, long, dark, meaningless drain. 

‘Son. Baby. Where is he?'

Who are you?

‘Pan Liu.’

His raw fingers pause on Linhai’s strings, still humming. Rain patters quietly on the hat that shields his face from it.

He knows that name. How does he know that name.

There have been plenty of others he had recognized among the dead, from different Sects and his own, from childhood, from Cultivation Conferences, from class. But each time, he must pull himself back to that life to remember, away from the rain and the red and the dead.

He can’t place it.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘My baby. Safe.’

The spirit is a thin wisp of light, playing about the strings, shining on the dark wood. Focused. Waiting.  

Who is your son?

‘Lan Fu.’

His mouth is dry.

("A-niang?" A hopeful little voice. The memory of a crumpled form in the blood-churned muck, a shoe print between shoulder blades….) 

It is cruel, endlessly cruel that he is the one alive. That he is the one sitting in the mud across from this poor young mother’s spirit. That he is the one with blood enough in his hands to leave rain blotted stains on the strings as he tells A-Fu’s mother; He is safe.

(Shrieks of raw sound as they carry him away. Echoing off the trees. Reaching back for him.)

A hesitation. Then, ‘Who are you?’

Lan Xichen. Zewu-jun.

‘Zongzhu.’

He will be safe. I swear. 

‘...Safe.’

Rest, now.

‘...Rest….’ The notes are quiet, exhausted. Longing.

Then, silence. That pale light is gone. 

She is gone.

He sits, still and silent as the soft caverns in the clotted mud continue to patter around him. His face is wet--mist and rain and blood. He almost wishes it was tears. 

He aches in a new, terrible way, now.

Oh, little one. You were so loved.

He has been witness to both sides, now, of this small, destroyed family reaching for each other through the dark. And how useless he has been in the task of bringing either of them lasting peace. 

To bring anyone lasting peace. 

(Useless.)

And do you serve anything so fiercely that it would be your last thought, taken across into death? 

It is irrelevant. The soul quieting ceremony had been performed on them as children, with all the other inner disciples. He will not linger as a ghost, even if he were to be struck down by a fierce corpse this instant.

He finds himself trying to remember if his mother had ever mentioned having had such a ritual performed on her….

Selfish. You would have your own mother suffer and linger as an unquiet ghost for some sort of twisted confirmation that you were loved? 

Xichen remembers childhood before the death of his parents. The infinity of all of it. It probably never crossed A-Fu’s mind to beg her to stay with him. (“No, no go! P’ease!”) She had always returned before. 

The memory of A-Fu clinging to his hands so tightly he had drawn blood with his nails is inescapable. 

During that final farewell at the Jingshi, A-Huan too had had no idea it would be the last time he would ever see his mother’s face. He didn’t know what creeping death looked like, then. She was simply her, smiling, twinkling at them.  He had kissed her cheek and taken Wangji’s hand and waved to her through her ornately carved window screen as Uncle led them away. Wangji had always been the one to pull back, to fuss over leaving. Uncle had always made sure that Xichen set a good example for him.

The snowy day she had left this world, cold and dry, so far from the warm wet muck he was in now, something in him hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t believed that someone could just…no longer exist, just as suddenly as a storm might blow over the mountain summit with no warning. 

He saw her so sparingly, it seemed impossible that she wasn't just simply waiting in her front room for them to visit with a smile and open arms.

How? he had asked. When? Why?

Uncle had said that it was not for children to know. This pulled it even farther into the unreal, stretching his comprehension. It felt like a dream, a lie. A story. But if he could just see her…if he could just prove that this was some sort of…misunderstanding--

(Xichen had never asked again after that first refusal sat in his gut like a chilly stone. He suspected that Wangji had not either. Even now, decades later, he still did not know how his mother had actually died. 

He suspected enough, however. 

He knew it was sudden. He knew it was unexpected. He knew no one spoke of it. He knew it had broken his father beyond any hope of repair. Uncle had not volunteered the information, even now, when they were both grown. And Xichen will not allow useless rumination. Rule 60.)

��He remembered he hadn’t been able to stop crying. A-Huan had always hated crying--he always tried to hide away and not bother anyone with it, but this had been constant. 

Uncle had squeezed his shoulder and spoken softly, and reminded him after hours of stopping and starting that he must not grieve in excess, that he would make himself sick, that he was agitating Wangji, that he needed to calm himself, death was a natural passing, like the moon or a river, one must not let their emotions control them.

But still, that something in him that just knew it wasn't true waited until it was dark, until curfew set in and the snow lit the night full-moon-bright, reflecting the stars and lanterns. He had pulled on his boots and slipped from his window, cautiously darting across the paths of the Cloud Recesses in just his pajamas and his blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, shivering from more than the cold. 

This had to be a trick that he didn’t understand; a joke or a punishment for something he had done wrong. When he figured out what to apologize for, he would be able to see her again. 

The fear of being caught breaking the rules was washed away when he crossed beneath the familiar bower wound with skeletal winter vines. His mother’s house stood dark. All around it, snow was churned and broken, as if many people had been there. In all his memory, no one else had ever visited the Jingshi. The door was unlocked. 

It opened onto emptiness and moonlight. 

Everything was gone.  Her plants. The blue cushioned couch. Her desk and papers. Her dragon incense burner. Her tall candlesticks. Her big, thick, round rug they laid on and played games. The pictures he had painted for her.

He had drifted, stunned, through the shell of his mother’s home. The only proof that she had ever even been there were the scratches on the floor from where furniture had been dragged. That, and the scent of her that still lingered underneath the smell of whatever they had scrubbed the floor and walls with. They had erased her completely. Like she was never there in the first place.

Then it had settled on him like a cloak of lead, dropping him to his knees; the understanding, the true deepness of what this meant.

She was really gone. Forever. 

The ‘always’ was gone. The ‘next time’ and promises. That warm, constant presence on the rim of the Cloud Recesses, the visit that marked his days as cyclically and surely as the sun had simply...vanished. In just one moment, the world was made completely lightless. Incomprehensible. It had a hole ripped in its center, cold and inescapable.

She would never brush back his hair and kiss his forehead. She would never pout when she lost a game. She would never squinch up her nose and do an accidental snort-laugh.

If he had only known that it could happen so fast…if he had only known that people could leave so quickly and completely, he would have taken something. A set of her dark, weighty chopsticks, one of her bracelets, a letter; anything. But there was nothing.

Somehow, he had found himself in front of the Hanshi, his feet numb, his face and hands frozen. Thinking back on it, he couldn’t remember what his 6 year old self had planned. He wasn’t sure that there had been a plan. Maybe he had just wanted a parent. Maybe he had been seeking out the one adult that might have cared as much as he did that his mother was gone. Uncle didn’t understand--A-Huan and A-Zhan had always known that he didn’t like her. He was always polite, because that was important, it was in the rules--but he was always stiff and short. He frowned the whole time--every time--picking them up. He hated talking about her.

But the father he had hardly met, that distant, hidden figure--he had married her. He had loved her.

He would care.

The Hanshi, too, had been dark--and he panicked. Had his father left--or died like his mother and no one had told him? He had yanked the door handle--and to his shock, it slid open. He had been expecting a lock like the one that he saw being done up behind them when he and A-Zhan left the Jingshi. (A choice, not a prison, he had realized as he got older. Not in the same way, at least. Other things kept Qingheng-jun bound.) 

It was dark inside, curtains drawn, vague shapes of things illuminated by the light creeping in behind him. He stood in that doorway, frozen in body and mind, unable to trespass that much farther. It smelled unfamiliar and sharp. He had never been in his father’s home before. 

It was so dark.

He had called into that darkness, choked and quiet; “Fuqin?“ 

Silence. 

“...Diedie?”

(“They made choices. These are consequences,” is all Uncle had told him when, younger, he had asked why both of his parents were locked away from him and refused to say more.

Afterward, A-Huan had always been afraid that he might accidentally make those same choices, that he would be kept from his brother and his Uncle and nannies for it. Because no one would tell him what those choices were, he studied the rules obsessively so he could be sure to follow every single one. So he would never be locked up.)

There was a rustle, a clink. A shape had formed in the shadows, someone sitting up from being slumped on a table. A pale hand swayed into the pool of silver moonlight, pointing. The voice that followed had been rough, slurred like a mouthful of rocks. “You are not supposed to be here. Go.”

A-Huan had fled as fast as his numbed legs could go. Stumbling, breaking through the crust of snow, falling and rising and falling, back up through his window to collapse on the floor. His breath had burned in his lungs as he coughed and sobbed as quietly as he could, hot tears stinging his frozen cheeks.

Not quietly enough, though. A-Zhan had eventually crept into his room and curled up next to him on the floor without a word, arm wrapped around his middle.  When A-Huan had rolled over and held him more tightly than he had ever held anything before, he realized that A-Zhan was the only part of his mother he had left in the entire world.

And now, what did A-Fu have left of his parents, of a life he knew? 

A story, at the very least. A reason. A goodbye. The truth. It was all he could offer. It was all he had left for the boy. These other spirits and their wishes can only be passed along to others, if they were attainable at all. But this, this he can do; this, he can set right. To make absolutely sure that her will is found and executed, that the family who cares for her son is told the story of her last farewell, so he will know, too, in time. 

So a son will never have to wonder.

This much peace, he can provide. With those who can bear this place no more and an endless caravan of cloth draped bodies, he returns to Gusu, leaving behind Qishan’s bleeding sky.

-

The quiet of home stuns him. There are no screams, no groans echoing down the mountain. The trees don’t muffle sounds of sword or talisman sizzle, merely birdsong and wind. There is beauty here, something he hadn't known his soul craved like water in a drought until he saw it in rich blues, blooming whites, lush greens. The coolness, the clarity of the water and the touch of leaves. Nothing here is red-brown. All that bleeds is hidden away behind pale bandages and pale walls.

It's almost too much. 

(His hands feel filthy, no matter how many times he scrubs them. Discontent among such blessings is an insult to those that can no longer come home to them. He will kowtow in the shrine for this disrespect later.)

Time has meaning once more. In theory. There are places to eat, to rest. 

(It hardly makes sense to him anymore, despite the schedule being as familiar as the stone beneath his feet.)

Home, in the Hanshi, surrounded by familiarity and comfort, sitting at his desk as the incense burner next to him delicately permeates the air with sandalwood and the trees outside rustle and no one screams at all, he holds Pan Liu’s will in his hands. It is a brief, frail little thing in the face of such sorrow. It must have been hastily written after her husband’s death, as she willed A-Fu and her remaining possessions to the care of her younger sister. Who upon brief investigation of his ever growing list of the dead was found to have been killed in the battle against Wei Wuxian as well. The sister, yet unmarried, had no will of her own--probably too young to have begun to even consider death as a real possibility before life and Wen and war swept their way in. Their house had been one destroyed in the Wen’s sacking of the Cloud Recesses, their personal possessions few. No one else remained of their immediate family.

Pan Liu clearly had not expected to die before she could update it.

In his heart, somewhere, he had known that something like this was the case; that A-Fu was truly alone. Xichen had carried him for days and no one had come looking? No one had wondered where he was, wanted him home safe, with them? 

He had not wanted to look directly at this, at the time, knowing he would have to give A-Fu back to that loneliness, that uncertainty. Even though A-Fu is not the only child in the Cultivation World or even the Cloud Recesses with the same fate, it had been…different. He couldn’t have said why--still can’t--but it had felt like a betrayal to the boy. A loss, savage and personal. Even when he knew any other choice came nowhere close to making sense.

Still. Even he and Wangji had had their uncle and the small, rotating cadre of minders that were familiar to them. He saw his mother once a month and knew his father was there, somewhere, out of sight. There had been a thread connecting them to their parents and the life they could have had with them. 

A-Fu has none of this. 

And yet he still cries, still calls out, because he trusts that someone he knows will come. Of everything in these last few days, this is what is almost too much to bear, a knife stuck in his ribs that gouges with every breath. He does not feel sadness or regret; only pain. Everything else has been out of reach for a while now.

The rattle of his door opening onto seeping sunshine and fresh, bloodless air has him looking up. His Uncle steps over the threshold. “You’re back,” he says warmly by way of greeting as Xichen rises.

“Shufu.” He bows, then offers him his customary seat, more out of habit than necessity; this teatime visit was a familiar ritual in a life not too long ago.

 They take their places at opposite ends of the low, square table at the center of his sitting room as Xichen opens his tea cupboard. “It’s been a while since we have been able to simply sit and have tea together,” Uncle observes, easily.

Yes; nothing has been right or normal for a long time. “Mn.”

When he continues to set out the cool porcelain cups and the dark pot with no further elaboration, Uncle watches him work, expression a thoughtful blur in his periphery.  “...The library is not where I expected your first stop to be.” 

He sounds only mildly curious, but Xichen knows that it is unspoken approval that he had not gone straight to Wangji.

He hesitates, then continues his methodical ritual of movement. “There was a time-sensitive matter that I wanted to attend to.”

In truth, after the bath he had taken upon his return--where he had had to call for 3 rounds of water (Do not be wasteful, Rule 23; broken) before it was no longer clouded dark with dried blood and mud and rot--Xichen had stood on the Hanshi’s front porch, staring down at the blindingly white path before him, forking off through the trees. 

His heart had tugged him one way and his cowardice in the face of pain another. The thought of seeing more bodies just lying there, of seeing those dear to him--Wangji, A-Yuan, those in the infirmary--suffering while he could do nothing to prevent it was….

It was not something he was capable of, at present. Just for now. Just for these first few hours. It was selfish, but true. And so, he had gone to their records room in the library to request Pan Liu’s will. Pain had won. His heart was weak, choosing the easier duty.

Unable to stop himself, though he knows it will cloud his uncle’s relaxed and pleasant demeanor, he asks; “Is Wangji…?” He trails off. 

Awake? Improving? Well? …Alive? A sharp internal rebuke at this last. Do not exaggerate. Rule 671. Uncle would not be so calm if things were dire. He is angry, not cruel. He would have been told.

(A heavy hand on his shoulder. An empty house. Churned snow.)

He would have been told.

Uncle’s face does, indeed, darken. “Hmph.” A mirthless, scornful snort. “He wakes on occasion. He refuses to speak, refuses to acknowledge anyone. He is simply lengthening his own punishment.” Uncle eyes him, adding, “You should be able to talk some sense into him. He always has listened to you best.” 

‘And so how could you have let this happen? How could you have let him do this?’ 

(When will you stop being angry and start being afraid for him?)

Xichen lowers his gaze to the dark wood of the table and scoops the tiny, furled up leaves of the tea into the pot, the smokey green scent tickling his nose

It’s true. Of everyone--their caregivers, teachers, and relatives, Wangji has always responded to him best. He would not always necessarily disobey outright, but he might frown or hesitate before complying or pretend not to hear--especially if he were called to come away from Xichen’s side. “Your class is this way, xiao-gongzi,” the minder would call and A-Zhan would continue his resolute little stride beside him, hand squeezing tighter around Xichen’s fingers the only indication he had heard anything at all. 

It was when Xichen squeezed back and knelt down to straighten his robes, smiling up into his serious face, saying, “It’s alright, ZhanZhan; I’ll ask if I can come out early to pick you up, mn? Go on, be good,” that he would allow himself to be led away with no further fuss.

 He had been the only one who could finally convince him that kneeling in the rocky ground every month when they should have been visiting their mother would not force anyone to bring her out to them. The first time, he had asked him to come in, come home. But knew his brother. He was not surprised when he silently refused to even show he had heard him. 

And so he hadn’t asked again, never having the stomach to fully destroy the hope that he would be let back into the Jingshi if he just waited long enough. 

But Uncle had become frustrated, their teachers and nannies muttering. They were impatient with his refusal, seeing it as disobedience. They didn’t see his mourning, only his stubbornness. So A-Huan had had to protect his brother's soft heart from those that didn’t understand. “We can kneel together, back at home,” he had whispered, his fingers screwed tight around A-Zhan’s cold hand. “I’ll wait with you as long as you want. But niang would--” his throat had caught and he had wrestled his tears from his voice. “Niang would hate if you got sick, sitting out here in the cold all day.”

A-Zhan’s dark eyes had bored into him, thinking. Reason and punishment and demands from adults had not moved his stubborn frame one inch, month after month after winter-to-spring month. 

Then, finally, this second and last time, A-Zhan had listened to him. Whatever it was about him was what finally got his little brother slowly, stiffly to his feet to hobble back home with him. Xichen remembered that he hadn’t felt relieved at all. He just felt like he had taken their mother from him all over again.

“I will speak with him, shufu.”

 Uncle nods, then heaves a sigh. “What news is there from Qishan?”

Mechanically, as if operating his own mouth from across the room, Xichen relays numbers, movements, and times. He almost reflexively scolds himself for lying; the mundane description of dry duty and the lived horror so far from one another that they were entirely irreconcilable. Just words passed across a shining table over fragrant tea, cool wind brushing the sun-pale windows serenely with tree shadows

When he reaches the final fate of Wei Wuxian’s executed Wen contingent, Uncle approves. “It was wise to swear the disciples to secrecy. This has all gotten so inhumane. Denying them burial was an unnecessary cruelty,” he says heavily as he shakes his head, eyes closed in weariness. “I pray that we are done with this madness at last, with that Wei Ying finally taken care of. What a mess.”

There is silence. Xichen cannot fathom what his response to that could possibly be. Should possibly be--as Wangji’s brother, as the Lan Clan Leader, as his uncle's nephew. As Wei Wuxian’s…what. Friend? 

…As one who cannot delight in his death, in any case. 

Despite the period of kneeling before the Jingshi, Wangji had never been a troublemaker growing up. He was always the Jade who grasped the Lan way of life more easily, molded himself to the rigidity of the rules with that same stubborn tenacity. 

It was Xichen who failed in that, who smudged the black and white lines to gray, bent them so they were slightly more comfortable around him; bearable--once he discovered that they could be. 

He was the one who accidentally got drunk trying to see if he could filter out alcohol with his core, he was the one to kiss Mingjue first in the Jin Gardens during a Cultivation Conference. The one to urge his brother to befriend a talented teenager who was gleefully and repeatedly stomping all over their Clan’s ancestral rules.

He was the one who had told Wangji to step outside his rigid view of the world, to see people for their hearts. And then Wangji's own heart had been torn out. As his uncle said; Wangji had always listened to him best. This much would never have happened without Xichen's deliberate meddling. 

All those years ago, when Wei Wuxian had first cannonballed into their lives, Xichen had just wanted Wangji to be happy. To have friends. Alone didn’t always mean lonely, but he knew he saw it in his brother. Saw Wangji with peers who were merely in awe of his talent, who respected but did not like him, love him, know him, want to spend time with him. He knew the difference, no matter what Wangji showed the rest of the world. The older he got, the less he smiled--the soft, secret ones that so many others failed to see. Xichen had missed them, dearly. And so he had pushed.

Everything that has happened sense feels as if it’s unshakably all his fault.

As the tea is poured, they speak; it passes over him like clouds. Which elder is still in which stage of recovery. The smith they called to repair swords and assess the spirits of those now without a handler. 

Something touches him.

 “Xichen!” 

His hand burns. He is on his feet. Shuoyue’s naked blade buzzes, ready in his hand. He does not remember moving. Every fiber of cloth on his skin feels alive and writhing. Blood courses. Scalding tea is cooling, dripping from his knuckles.

The touch had been spiritual, not physical. From the corner of his awareness and the Cloud Recesses boundary wards at once; a warning, tasting of wild metal (close to blood, so close). 

The Western Wards, crossed.

“Do not unsheathe your blade in a residence!” Uncle’s face crinkles from shock to a wince. “And contain yourself, this is not a battlefield.”

It takes a moment. His killing intent is up, streaming from his core like a river of blades, of blood. 

Sucking in a breath, he takes the torrent in internal hand and yanks it back, firmly, like the reins of a horse, winding the silk rope of it over again and again in the palm of his concentration, until the thrum of it eases. The pressure that had filled the room with the promise of death ebbs. Shuoyue hums warm, expectant. When he does finally sheathe her, the connection between them flickers, confused. 

Above his hammering heart, he hears Uncle continue, frowning, “I felt it, too. Was it someone passing outward or inward?”

His tongue, his mind is mud-stuck slow.

Focus. There is no battle here. You are home. Get a hold of yourself.

“...Outward. Less resistance. Nothing powerful.”

Oddly, at this Uncle’s frown deepens, shadows of concern replacing mere puzzlement. “Hmm. Those were in the West…far….” After a moment of thought, he rises.

As he steps out the door and calls for a servant from the Hanshi’s porch, Xichen continues to try to pull in slow, deep breaths.

Have you regressed to being such a novice that you cannot control your own qi? Your own battle intent? Are you a child? Though his uncle's voice is low and his attention is divided, the words ‘searchers’ makes it through the pounding blood in his ears. Strange.

When Uncle slides the door back open, Xichen asks, “Searchers?”

His silhouetted form hesitates, framed by the sunlight that pours in behind him and dazzles Xichen’s eyes, leaving his expression briefly in shadow. “...Yesterday evening, a child managed to wander into the woods alone.” A spike of cold worry threatens to heighten the wild surge of energy within him once more as his uncle continues, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “We have had several teams scouring the backhill and the whole of our land since then. They are young enough that their spiritual signature isn’t strong enough to register on normal tracking talismans.”

“Why was I not told?!” 

It burst from him, harsher from shock than he had meant and Uncle blinks, pausing in settling himself back onto his seat, brow furrowed.

But he cannot bring himself to care about disrespect, just now. Any child alone and lost is terrifying, awful. There is something, though…something about his tone, his expression that has breath caught in Xichen’s throat as slow, glacial horror creeps up from the depth of his gut. He is avoiding specifics. 

Why.

 “It is being handled already; why would I distract you from your duties? You’ve only just returned and you must--”

“Who. Which child.”

He huffs in irritation, brow furrowing further. And he shuts his mouth, lips compressing.

Xichen no longer needs an answer.

Behind him, he can hear Uncle’s voice raised in startled alarm, but he is already out the door, already leaping from the porch onto Shuoyue. The wind howls in his ears as shoots upward, speeding west to where he had felt the wards ring within him. To where A-Fu has just crossed beyond their safety.

He knows. He doesn’t know how, but he knows.

Xichen can barely breathe around the air battering his face and his own terror. The shrieking sky threatens to rip him from Shuoyue’s blade. Everything at once feels heightened, his awareness expanding to notice how chilly it is despite the sun, how the damp of the wind tearing at his hair and clothes tells of rain in the past day, how dark the woods look beneath the thick canopy blurring by below his feet. He had been alone and cold and terrified, out all night. Had the boy been trying to find his mother? Xichen? The thought made his gut writhe within him.

(They peel his little fingers from Xichen’s sleeve as he clutches and screams…)

Please please please please please

How could this happen? How could he have ever allowed this to happen? There were rivers, cliffs, steep slopes of scree, ponds, caves, animals--gods, animals alone would--

He is well enough to move, to cross the wards.

If it was him. If it were not a strong enough spiritual animal to trigger the alarm. 

There is no boy hanging among them THERE IS NO--

The invisible boundary rears up in his senses, mere seconds full tilt sword ride from the Hanshi but so, so far for a tiny child, wandering in the night. Beneath the canopy, before Shuoyue even manages to drop to a reasonable height and speed, he has already leapt off, landing at a sprint. Internally, the memory of the disruption in the web of the spell warps around his spiritual awareness like a broken arch as he crosses in that exact place. The ground is not suddenly more treacherous, the trees no more menacing, but beyond the relative safety of the Cloud Recesses, his hammering heart sees the whole world is a death trap for this little child.

(He cannot bear to see a tiny body, he can’t, he can’t--)

Skidding to a stop, he wheels in place, eyes scouring everything at knee level and below. “A-Fu!” his throat is pinched, his mouth bone dry. “A-Fu?!”

The ground cover is thick with bushes, shrubs, trees both young and fallen. The sun shines spots into his eyes through the swaying leaf cover above, dappling the floor with shadow and light, dancing, blurring. Silence. Even the birdsong had stopped when this strange being had suddenly crashed into their peaceful little clearing. He sucks in a breath to call again--and then he hears it.

There is a small child crying somewhere nearby. 

Quiet and hoarse but unmistakable.

He isn't slow, gentle, or cautious or anything that a terrified child might need right now; something else has a hold of him, now. He blindly crashes through the brush towards the sound, half skidding down a slope until--until! There! 

A blur of white amongst tree roots halfway down, a curled shape and-- “A-Fu!”--a little face, smudged and red cheeked and tear stained raises and his little eyes light with recognition and he scrabbles, fumbling and crawling out as Xichen tears back up the slope--slips, rights himself--and reaches and the boy throws himself off the lip of the hollow and into his arms, colliding hard with his chest like his heart coming home. 

He staggers, momentum and sudden weakness buckling his knees. A gnarled tree catches his side and he slides them down into the huddle of its roots, curled around him. Against his chest, wrapped in his arms, A-Fu is damp and chilly. He is covered in muck and sticks and burrs but he’s alive--alive--safe and hiccuping and piteously hoarse, tangling his hands through Xichen’s hair as he clutches him back, gasping.

He can breathe. He can finally breathe again.

Some unnameable agony, like some wild beast, is thrashing, welling up, bursting from his chest. It shakes him, tearing at his throat, his heart, his lungs, burning. It’s not relief. It's not fear. It’s…

Heedless of stitches cracking and bursting, he yanks his thicker outer robes open and over the child, tucking him deep into the pocket of warmth. He can feel him shivering, his tiny heart speeding.

He had forgotten that his head is so warm, that his hands are so tiny, just how real his weight is in his arms. When he buries his nose in the baby fluff of his hair, under the dirt and musty forest chill is that wild-sweet child smell he remembers from carrying him for days beneath his chin--and long ago from when Wangji was young. 

He tries to pull back to check him for injuries, for bruising, but he latches onto his neck and sobs. Mere minutes before, Xichen had never wanted to hear another scream again--but now he wishes A-Fu’s cries were as loud as the first day he held him, deafening and demanding, sure and strong in their conviction. These sobs are private, weak, exhausted little things. Not calling for attention. No longer certain of a trusted adult’s return.

“P’ease,” he croaks and that pain, that pressure bears down on Xichen and it feels like drowning; it feels like dying.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m here,” he whispers back, thick and choked (that thing inside him that aches, that wails, that loves is strangling him), and he draws up his knees, he wraps his robes tighter and rocks and rocks them both as it breaks--all of it, calving and crashing and surging and molten and ugly and broken--and he wants to beg ‘scream, little love, scream your heart out; someone is coming, someone will always come,’ but he doesn't have enough breath as it tears from his locked throat in silent sobs, because with unworthy hands and heart, he holds this blameless little life that has wandered through the halls of his heart leaving muddy fingerprints, and does the cruelest, most selfish thing he can ever recall doing. 

He realizes that he cannot let him go again. 

#'Xichen has emotions and wishes he didn't' is the name of THIS chapter! #3zun raise jingyi au #3zun raise jingyi au content #my fic #my stuff #untamed fanfic #mdzs fanfic #SORRY FOR THE LONG ASS WAIT AND THE INCREDIBLE AMOUNT OF ANGST HE HAD TO WORK THRU SOME STUFF #I'll try to post happier fluffier things next #Maybe some 3zun fluff in Snowed In. Or the next chapter of And A-Fu Makes 4 which has fluff #Or the next chapter of In Your Hands because I PROMISE we're working things out #ANYWAY LOVE YOU G'NIGHT

[bravo4iscool]

Hey , you can just say Au, where call-off-duty work in an office (more precisely, according to my idea, they get a new job), they come to a new place, they are met by the boss (Reader)

Tall,fem! reader, who is dressed in an office suit(?) (I really don't know what they're wearing), a bright blue shirt with a slightly open fly, a jacket, and a skirt just above the knees (damn,shit what's it called? A pencil skirt? Bro I don't I know, in general, the skirts that office women wear in movies :/)

(König, Soap, Ghost and, and others, you can choose any, honestly it doesn’t matter to me!:)

this is amazing! i really like this request🤭.

and yes they’re called pencil skirt hahaha.

(i hope you can forgive me that i didn’t include könig. i’ve never played him and don’t know much about him, that’s why he isn’t present here😭)

i hope it turned out the way you imagined it :)) (this is all in the same universe btw!!)

tag list: @yazt09 @blackhawkfanatic @bumblebeesfromvenus

(masterlist | join my tag list!)

simon “ghost” riley

he didn’t want to take the job. he never was one for office jobs or generally any thing involving sitting and writing.

he didn’t push all the paper work down to poor recruits because he felt like it. he hated paper work with all he had and now he was sitting in a office, in some chic skyscraper, waiting for his new boss to arrive.

damn price for throwing this job at him.

simon was sitting at his desk, playing around with the pen in his hands. he felt so free to already do background checks on all his coworkers but while he searched everything for intel about you—he found nothing. not even a single crumb. that was weird…

and then you walked in. blue blouse, a damn right pencil skirt and your hair pulled into a neat bun. you have a bunch of files under your arm and your phone in the other hand.

you walk straight towards his desk and he doesn’t know what to think. you were so, so—he couldn’t find the words. he’s never met anyone that held themselves the way you did.

you smile at him and plant the files in front of him. “lieutenant riley?” you ask and he nods. “great! john told me you’d be here today. i have this bunch of mission reports that need to be looked at.”

again, simon just nods and grabs the files. “and then?” he finally finds his voice.

“you need to look for any discrepancies. these files are maybe the only change we can win this case,” you explain. “you’ve been in the military for long, haven’t you?”

“yes ma’am.”

you give him a relieved smile and simon feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “then you know what to look for, right?”

“absolutely,” he confirms and nods.

you wipe a strand of hair out of your face. “amazing! let me know if you find anything.” you pat his shoulder and turn to leave. simon wants to start reading already but then you stop. “oh, and lieutenant riley,” you catch his attention. “i’m glad you’re on board for this case.”

simon smiles and gives you a small salute. ‘call me simon,’ he thinks but then you’re already gone.

john “soap” mactavish

“you recommended me to a law firm?” soap raises his eyebrow in a questioning manner. simon nods and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“‘s the same one i work for,” he tells his best friend with a shrug. “i’m sure they’ll be happy t’ave ya.”

soap frowns and plays with the rim of his whiskey glass. “why would they? i haven’t studied law.”

simon huffs and rolls his eyes. “‘nd ya think i did? they’re workin’ on expandin’ their military law wing. they need more experts than j’st me,” simon explains while he downs his glass of whiskey.

the younger man thinks for a second before he signs. “they’re paying good?” he asks and his best friend immediately nods.

-

soap was here. he really was here waiting to meet the boss of the law firm. he didn’t know much about her, expect from what simon told him…

after a few minutes he hears the door behind him open. “sargent mactavish,” a friendly voice calls out and soap stands up to turn around.

towards him walking are you, your signature pencil skirt and blue blouse. today you fly was slightly open and soap needed to force his eyes back onto your face. holy heaven, you were something.

“hello ma’am,” he clears his throat as he extends his hand. “a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says and you smile while you return the hand shake.

you walk around him to take a seat behind your desk. “the pleasure is all mine! i’m glad lieutenant riley recommended you. your war crime wing is expanding and when i told him he immediately thought about you!”

you quickly sort through a couple of files before you look at him again. “if i understand correctly you and lieutenant riley served together?”

soap nods and folds his hands in front of his lap. he was having a hard time to concentrate. you were just—you were a woman. a real woman.

“great!” you smile. “i will show you your workplace then!”

kyle “gaz” garrick

“simon,” you sigh. “are you really trying to convince me to hire your whole team?” you tilt your head at the lieutenant in front of you.

he shrugs, “maybe…”

“i though you and john were mastering the work alone?” you lean back in your chair. “i can always send one of my people over.”

simon shakes his head. “i want kyle,” he says—his voice barely leaving room to argue.

you sigh again and massage the bridge of your nose. “simon…”

“j’st f’r this case,” he tells you. “ya can let ‘im go after that.” the look in his eyes is pleading and you curse yourself for letting him have such power over you. “i need him.”

“this case,” you agree after a few moments of thinking. “and this case only.”

-

you walk into the office you have simon and john for their work. you open the door and three pairs of eyes snap towards you.

you give simon and john an acknowledging nod before you turn to the third man—must be kyle. “sergeant garrick?” you ask and he nods. “good. there are a few things we need to clarify before you’re allowed to work on the classified files,” you explain and gaz shoots a look towards simon. the older man gives him a small nod and gaz stands up.

“of course ma’am,” he slightly bows his head and crosses his hands behind his back. he was having a hard time concentrating… he knew about you from what soap and simon had told him but damn. that skirt was wrapping around your hips like it was tailored just for you and the way it highlighted curves–gaz felt like he was living a dream.

you immediately notice the way the sergeant is looking at you and you clear your throat. “sergeant garrick, you might want to look at my face when i talk to you.” his eyes widen in shame and he's lucky one can't see when he's blushing.

“of course ma'am. i apologize!” he trains his eyes on you, trying to ignore the way soap was snorting out a laugh behind him. he thought he was being subtle. probably not so...

captain john price

“lieutenant riley told me to deliver these files to him,” price groans when the woman at the reception didn't let him through.

“i’m sorry sir but i’ve not been told about that,” she gives price an apologetic smile and continues typing on her keyboard.

price groans and massages the bridge of his nose. “this has to be a joke. either, you let me through to lieutenant riley or i’ll make a way myself and i don’t know which one you’d like better!” he bangs his hand on the counter.

when he gets nothing more than a scared look he takes a deep breath and just pushes past the counter. “everything you have to do yourself,” he whispers under his breath.

moments before he sees simon a voice bellows through the office space. “excuse me sir,” price twirls around. “i believe my receptionist asked you to remain where you were just minutes ago.”

price frowns and tilts his head. “and i believe i asked to speak with lieutenant riley since he requested me to deliver these files personally.”

you shake you head and walk towards him. “i didn’t know that lieutenant riley runs this firm.” a smirk creeps onto your lips when you notice how the shock slowly shows on his face. “captain john price? or am i mistaken?”

price clears his throat and shuffles uncomfortably. “indeed ma’am. i am captain john price.” his eyes dart from your hips to your eyes and back to your cleavage. that blue blouse was really…working for you.

you nod and purse your lips. “well, captain price… in my law firm i believe in respect and respectful conversation.” you cross your hands behind your back. “what you are doing right now—“ you look him up and down “—is not respectful in any way.”

the captain swallows and averts his gaze. he’s never felt so ashamed before. what were you doing to him?

“everything you want to give to my lieutenant to can give to me.” you extend your hand. “or you learn how to talk and behave in the correct manner.” you raise you eyebrow in a questioning manner.

you know you got him when he takes a deep breath and straightens his back. “of course ma’am. i apologize.”

“great.”

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #call of duty #simon riley #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x you #gaz garrick x reader #gaz garrick x you #john price x you #john price x reader

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PEREGRINE // THREE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You spend the night at May and Reo’s, and then you go to visit your parents.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.0k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: literally twitching every time i have to write a chapter and nagi is just not in it LMAOAOA also l/n family slander is always acceptable here #iykyk

divider credits: @/benkeibear

“When do you plan on going to see your parents?” Reo said. You, May, and him were hanging out in their enormous kitchen as rain poured down outside, hammering against the windows and roof. The storm made you feel nostalgic, and you sighed wistfully as you watched the deluge.

“Probably tomorrow,” you said. “I just want to get it over with. Even without having the conversation, I know how it’s going to go. It’ll be the same as the usual, so there’s no point in delaying the inevitable.”

That probably didn’t mean much to either of the two, considering you had never divulged much to them. You had never been able to tell anyone about the details of your relationship with your parents — it was something secret and rotten that you held close to your chest, a hatred which festered in your stomach and cowered from the light, and you could not bear for anyone to see you like that.

“Do you want us to come?” May said. Although Reo had known you longer, May had always been the more perceptive between the two of them, had always been more in-tune with emotions — both her own and others’ — than anyone you had ever met.

“No, it’s okay,” you said. The last thing you needed was for your parents to see Reo, especially with his own fiancée. It would be the worst outcome, and when the situation was already bound to be so fraught, there was no sense in adding fuel to the fire.

“We’ll drop you off whenever, though,” Reo said. “That’s a promise.”

“No way,” you said. “You guys should be relaxing. The whole reason I came over early was to make things easier for you two during your wedding! I’m not about to cause extra problems. We’ll take the taxi, and then afterwards, I’ll look for wedding dress boutiques so we can book an appointment. We should probably get that over with soon, just in case it takes them time to get the fit altered.”

“If you mention my name, it’ll be finished in seconds,” Reo said dismissively. “Don’t worry about dumb stuff like that.”

“No need to brag,” you said, elbowing him in the side teasingly. “We should give them enough time to make sure the work is of the highest quality. Besides, we have to begin planning somewhere, don’t we? Might as well start with this.”

“But that’s another thing I can’t do with you guys,” he said. You could not help yourself from chuckling at the way he pouted, his eyes swimming with melodramatic tears.

“You’re seriously clingy,” you said.

“Once we’ve picked my dress, you can come help us choose the rest of the wedding party’s clothes,” May offered. “I don’t think there’s any superstition around that, is there?”

“No, it’s just that the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride’s dress until the wedding,” you said. “Everything else is alright. We can probably get the dresses and suits from the same shop, too, so we can kill two birds with one stone. Great idea, May!”

“Thanks,” May said.

“Just tell me when, and I’ll make sure Nagi is free — don’t look at me like that! You knew he was going to be the best man before accepting the maid of honor position. I warned you!” Reo said.

“I know, but I just…I mean, do you think he’s going to offer any valuable insight? Beyond saying something like ‘oh, this suit is less of a pain than that one,’” you said, pitching your voice deeper to mimic Nagi’s low, mild voice.

“He’s going to have to wear it, so his opinion is kind of relevant,” Reo said.

“What happened between you guys while we were gone, anyways?” May said. “It was pretty normal when we left, besides Kira making things kind of awkward, but after we got back from dropping him off, there was a really weird atmosphere. Did you guys talk about something?”

“Nothing in particular,” you said.

“That still means you talked,” Reo said. “May’s right. I thought you said you weren’t going to let the past impact the present, so what was that tense vibe all about?”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said. “He’s the one that brought it up!”

“Brought what up?” May said keenly. You gulped, suddenly feeling like you had walked into some kind of trap, though judging by Reo’s clueless expression, it was one that he, too, was unaware of.

“Um, just, our old animosity,” you said.

“He never disliked you, though,” Reo said. “I don’t know why he’d bring it up when he didn’t even have a problem in the first place.”

May laughed. “You hated someone who didn’t hate you back? So out of character, Y/N. What was the reason?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said. “If you must know, things were weird because neither of us knew what to discuss without you there, Reo. We don’t have that much in common. The only things are being friends with you and going to the same high school.”

“That does make sense,” Reo said. “If I swear I won’t leave you two alone again, will you be less annoyed about him coming along?”

“If that’s the best deal I’m getting, then yes, I suppose so,” you said, even though a part of you wanted to be alone with Nagi for as long as possible. You knew, though, that it was better if you weren’t. Just the thought of Ryosuke’s face was enough to convince you that this was the only path forward, or, if nothing else, the simplest.

“Consider it done,” Reo said. “Are you sleeping in the guest room tonight?”

“If you don’t mind,” you said, directing the question to both him and May alike.

“It doesn’t bother us,” he said.

“We wouldn’t have let you come over if it was an issue,” May agreed with a yawn. Even though you weren’t that tired, you knew it was late, and unlike you, they had not slept half of the day away. You wanted to keep them up, to talk to them until your throat was dry, but it would be unkind, so you pretended to yawn as well.

“We should probably get to bed, then,” you said.

“Are you sure?” Reo said. “We can stay up a little longer if you’d like.”

“Yup, we can,” May said. You smiled but shook your head.

“No, I’m really tired. I’m just going to call Chigiri so I can see how Sora is doing, and then I’ll probably sleep myself,” you said.

“Okay, if that’s how you feel,” Reo said, beckoning you after him. “I’ll show you where everything is, and you can do what you need to. But be up for breakfast, alright? I’m calling one of my chefs to cook something for us, and if you miss it, I’ll be really angry.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said.

“I don’t have to do a lot of things, but I do them anyways. Do you know why? It’s because I can,” he said. “So I will.”

“Honestly,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re such a show-off.”

“I have to look impressive for you,” he said.

“Aren’t we past that point now?” you said, thinking back to his ridiculous antics from high school. “I agreed to be your friend a while back.”

“Old habits die hard,” he said, shrugging and sticking his tongue out at you cheekily. You did the same back.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Whatever, rich boy. I’ll be up.”

“Good,” he said, patting you on the head. “Sleep well, Y/N.”

“The same to you, Reo,” you said. “Tell May, too.”

“She’ll probably be over to wish you herself,” he said.

“I’ll stay up until she does, then,” you said.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “See you in the morning.”

“See you.”

The familiar motions of getting ready for the night were the same no matter where you went, serving as a backdrop for your thoughts, which even now had not settled.

It had been worse than you had expected. Seeing Nagi again, being so close to him after all of this time…you thought you could handle it, but you couldn’t. You thought that by finding him again, you could reaffirm your decisions, but the only thing he had done was throw everything into a muddle. As always. Why had you expected anything different?

The rain had not abated by the time you crawled under your sheets and scrolled through your list of contacts, searching for the one you wanted. You wished it would stop. The rain meant something different to you, and for that reason, you wanted it to go away, but the weather was ignorant to your desires, and so it continued to pour.

“Hey, Y/N. Calling already?” The screen only showed the top half of Chigiri’s face; most of it was dominated by the white of his ceiling and the whirring blades of his fan. He blinked his pretty eyes at you, obviously curious about what you needed. “Is everything okay?”

“Is Sora doing alright?” you said. The camera switched to show Chigiri’s lap, which was dominated by your large white cat, who was purring to herself as he pet her.

“We’re watching TV together,” he said. “I think she likes this show.”

“Sora,” you said, your voice shaking. “Are you being perfect for Chigiri?”

“Yes, I am,” Chigiri said, doing an admittedly excellent impression of a little girl. “That was Sora, by the way. Not me.”

You sniffed. “That’s good.”

“Seriously, is something up? You’re acting a little bit freaky,” he said, the camera flipping back to its original position, though he now held it at an angle where you could see his entire face.

You hugged a pillow to your chest, resting your chin atop it when you spoke. “I don’t know.”

“Do you wanna talk about it, or is this one of those moments where I’m supposed to distract you by talking about dumb bullshit?” he said.

“The second option,” you said. You didn’t want to talk to Chigiri about it. You didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, because no one could ever know, and besides, talking about it would make it real. It would mean that you had acknowledged it, and by breathing life into something so nebulous, you ran the risk of it taking on a tangible form that would jam down your throat and wrap around your joints, halting you from moving forward as you ought to.

“Okay. Um, I went for a walk today,” he said. “It was really nice out. I wanted to run, but I decided it was probably better that I didn’t. My neighbor’s garden is flourishing — you know, he doesn’t really seem like the type to be into flower-growing, but it looks nice. Lots of roses, which is surprising, considering the whole muscle-head aesthetic he has going on. Maybe I should try to be nicer to him.”

You giggled despite yourself. “Is this the one with the orange hair who helped me carry your groceries in when you were sick? He seemed like a good person. You should be nicer to him.”

“Yes, that one. It’s not like I’m mean or anything! I just prefer minding my own business,” he said.

“If you say so,” you said. “I am surprised he’s into growing roses and flowers and whatnot, though. I would’ve thought he was exclusively into making protein powder shakes.”

”That’s what I’m saying!” he said. “I suppose everyone has many sides to them.”

“Hm,” you said. “Say, Chigiri. Can I ask you a bit of a random question?”

“If I say no, you’re going to ask anyways, aren’t you?” he said dryly.

“Yeah,” you said.

“Then what was the point of checking first?” he said.

“I knew you’d say yes,” you said. He flushed at the way you had read him so well.

“Okay, okay. What is it?” he said.

“Do you know much about Japanese soccer?” you said.

“Obviously?” he said. “Why’d you even ask that? It’s kind of a given, you know.”

“It was just a prelude. There’s a player — former player — that I was wondering if you had any thoughts on,” you said.

“Which one? If you say Kira, I’m killing you,” he said.

“No, not him. Um, Seishiro Nagi?” you said.

Chigiri raised his eyebrows. “That’s unexpected.”

“What is?” you said.

“You being interested in a player like that,” he said. “He’s Reo’s best man, isn’t he? Why don’t you ask him yourself? You guys must’ve gone to high school together.”

“I want to hear what you think,” you said. “That’s why I’m going to you. Idiot.”

“I’m flattered. Well, keep in mind that this isn’t a professional evaluation or anything; I’ve never even met him, and anyways, I’m just a failed player myself, so I’m hardly qualified to give my opinion on anything,” he said.

“That’s not true, Chigiri,” you protested.

“It is. It’s okay; there’s no need to fight about it. That’s not what we’re talking about. My thoughts on Seishiro Nagi…he was talented, and that’s a fact. If I remember correctly, they used to call him the falcon of the field, right?” he said.

“Yes, I think that’s what it was,” you said.

“He was almost unbeatable. Sure, he had a few losses, especially earlier on in his career, but for the most part, facing off against him was like a death sentence for any team that had that misfortune. A combination of unorthodox thinking and unbelievable physicality made him a genuine threat,” he said.

“I see,” you said. “I knew all of that already, though.”

“Jeez, never satisfied, huh? It’s not like I know him personally, and I was already in college by the time he started really getting big. That’s about the extent of it,” he said. “If I remember, one of my high school friends had a sister who was a fan of his for a bit, but she got over it pretty quickly, since he never went on social media or anything. Guess it’s difficult to have a parasocial relationship with someone so private.”

“Even in high school, he was that kind of guy,” you said, unable to stop yourself from grinning affectionately, though you pushed it back before Chigiri could notice. “No one knew the first thing about him. He was such a mystery.”

“Some people are into that lifestyle, I suppose,” he said. You hummed.

“Guess so,” you said.

“I don’t really know much else, Y/N, I’m sorry. You’re going to have to talk to him if you want more,” he said. Scoffing, you shook your head resolutely.

“It was just a typical curiosity,” you said. “I don’t need more than that. Thanks, Chigiri.”

“Anything for you,” he said.

“You’re making me blush,” you deadpanned.

“It’s only because your cat’s so cute,” he said. “Mind if I keep her?”

“In your dreams,” you said. “Speaking of which, I should get to bed. Talk to you later.”

“Later.”

Only a few moments elapsed between Chigiri hanging up and May knocking on your door. You knew it was her because she was light and hesitant instead of firm and sharp, the way Reo would’ve been, and also because she announced herself shortly after.

“Come in!” you said, pulling your blanket up around your shoulders.

“Are you still talking with Chigiri?” she said, flopping down on the foot of the bed.

“Obviously not,” you said, nodding towards the blank screen of your phone. “I wouldn’t have told you you could come in if I was.”

“That’s true,” she said.

“What did you need to ask?” you said. There were never any secrets between you and May. It was impossible to lie to her when you had lived together with her for years, and conversely, she could never hide her true intentions from you.

“Nothing in particular,” she said. “Just…are you sure you’re going to be okay with this whole maid of honor thing? It seems like there’s way more to your history with Nagi than I realized. If you’re uncomfortable with it, then we can figure something else out.”

“No!” you said, too quickly for it to have been a natural reaction. “No, it’s okay. We’re okay. It was just really sudden today, that’s all. I wasn’t prepared to see him again. Please, I told this to Reo and I’ll say it to you too: don’t worry about me. Your wedding is the only thing you should be thinking about, and even that shouldn’t be a cause of anxiety. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay, but you’re my friend, and I don’t want you to be more stressed in my place or anything,” she said slowly. “If it’s a problem, you have to tell me immediately. Reo can pay someone else to be his best man, so it’s not a huge issue.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to him,” you said. “He’s been friends with Nagi for almost as long as he’s known me. I don’t want my own issues to ruin his wedding. Really, May, thank you for the concern, but there’s not a problem at all, and even if there is, I’ll handle it.”

You mimed hitting the air, and she snorted, shaking her head condescendingly.

“What, you gonna fistfight Nagi if he bothers you too much or something?” she said.

“Yeah. You don’t think I can win?” you said.

“I mean, considering he was a professional athlete until a few years ago and you’re…you,” she said. “No.”

“You should have more faith in me,” you said. “I can totally take him on. Bam! He won’t know what hit him.”

You punched your pillow for emphasis, which drew a giggle out of her. Taking the pillow from you, she fluffed it up again before handing it back so you could lay against it.

“I’ll bet on you, then, so you had better win, or else Reo won’t let me hear the end of it for a week or more,” she said. You flexed your biceps.

“You can count on me,” you said.

“On a more serious note, though, and now that Reo’s not around, will you tell me the truth about what Nagi brought up? I know you were lying earlier, but I figured you just didn’t want to make Reo feel bad. I’m sure it must be strange for him, having his two best friends dislike each other,” she said.

You had no interest in lying to her, but you also could not tell her the entire truth, so you decided to go with a version of it all.

“The past,” you said. “I don’t know if Reo’s mentioned it, but we had a very complicated relationship back then.”

“He never elaborated, though, to be fair, I don’t think he really understood it well enough in the first place. He just said that you seemed to really hate Nagi when you all went to school together, but you never told him why,” she said.

“I was embarrassed,” you said with a shrug. “It was an embarrassing reason, and not one that a person like Reo could ever understand, so I kept it to myself. Nagi never really had any friends, bar Reo of course, so no one ever thought any less of me for it.”

“Embarrassing?” she said, and then an idea dawned her, her expression morphing into one of pure horror. “If that overgrown q-tip of a man hurt you at some point, then I don’t care about Reo’s feelings. He’s out of the wedding!”

“Overgrown — what? What are you talking about?” you said.

“You said that it was an embarrassing reason that Reo could never understand,” she said. “What would be more embarrassing than you getting rejected by Nagi of all people? And I doubt Reo’s ever been rejected in his life, unfortunately, so he definitely wouldn’t comprehend that sort of feeling. If it’s the case, then just let me know and I’ll sort things out! Reo has other friends now, so he can just have one of them be his best man. Or there’s always the paid route, like I mentioned earlier.”

“It wasn’t like that,” you said. “Also, there’s no way Reo has other friends, so please don’t lie for my sake.”

“No, he does. If you don’t believe me, just wait for the wedding — you’ll meet them there. At the least, he can always get Chigiri to do it,” she said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Anyways, though, it’s fine. You missed the mark this time, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. Then what was it?” she said. You smiled ruefully and shook your head.

“You wouldn’t understand, either, you know? So it’s okay. Enough of this; he knows better than to bring it up again, and I know better than to end up alone with him again,” you said.

She really was the loyal sort. It was evident in the way she hesitated before nodding, standing up with a furrow to her brow and a pensive twist to her mouth as she headed to the door.

“Y/N,” she said. “Like I said, the instant he pulls something, you tell me, alright? Before you get in a fistfight or anything ridiculous like that, come to me.”

“Got it,” you said. “I’ll remember that. Goodnight, May.”

“Goodnight.”

You wondered when it had come to be that you felt more uncomfortable with your own fiancé than anyone else. Yet it remained that being shoved in a taxi with him on the way to your childhood home was the oddest sensation you had experienced in so long that you found yourself once again longing for the days when it had been simpler, when you and him had gotten along in an easy way.

“Did you have a nice time at May and Reo’s?” Ryosuke said.

“I did,” you said. “Reo made one of his chefs come to serve us breakfast, so it was delicious.”

“It’s a good thing he’s about to be married, or I’d be jealous,” Ryosuke said. “How can a normal guy like me compete with that?”

“Stop,” you said. “He loves May. There’s no competition, and don’t say anything like that in front of my parents.”

“What?” he said in alarm. “Are there rules to this meeting? I was just planning on winging it!”

You held back the urge to groan. He could not be blamed; like Reo and May, he didn’t know what it meant for you to see your parents again, not fully. Why would he expect anything other than a normal meal at their place? But your parents weren’t that type, and if he just waltzed in and expected them to love him based on nothing but your fondness for him, then he was mistaken.

The home you had grown up in had not changed a bit in your absence. The same flowers still bloomed alongside the concrete path leading to the front door, and the bushes were still the exact emerald shade they had been on the day you had left. Foreboding crept in you as you ascended the stairs and pressed on the button for the doorbell, and you reached behind you to grab Ryosuke’s hand as footsteps approached the foyer.

“Mother,” you said when the door swung open, revealing a pair who, too, had not changed from the images of them which you held in your memories. “Father. It’s been a while.”

Your mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, and your father clenched his jaw as he regarded you and Ryosuke. For a brief moment, you thought that he would turn the two of you away, but he only glared at you for a second longer before motioning for you both to come in.

“Y/N,” your mother said. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Did you think I’d miss the wedding?” you said.

“Wedding?” your father said.

“No need to play innocent,” you said, marveling at the nooks and crannies you had once known so intimately. “You know whose wedding I speak of.”

“It should’ve been yours,” your mother said.

“If things had gone the way you wanted, it would’ve been mine,” you agreed. “But they didn’t, and it’s not. It’s Reo and May’s.”

“There’s still time,” your father said. “They aren’t married yet. You could still—”

“When will you give up?” you said, cutting him off, squeezing Ryosuke’s hand — as much for his reassurance as your own. “I flew halfway across the world to escape you and your demands, and the first thing you do upon my return is make more? It’s shameless, father.”

“Why are you back here?” your mother said, presenting a tray filled with tea and biscuits to the two of you. You wavered before allowing yourself to pick up one of the cups, dipping a biscuit in it and chewing on it. The flavor reminded you of your childhood, immediately transporting you to the days when you had not despised your life so thoroughly and extremely. “You made your feelings quite clear when you left, so what brings you back?”

“He wanted to meet you,” you said. “Ryosuke Kira. My fiancé.”

“Hello, sir, madam,” Ryosuke said, bowing his head politely. You had to give him that — he was good at acting, and in this situation, it was a helpful attribute. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“You seriously chose him over Reo Mikage?” your father said bluntly. “That’s a decision no one in their right mind would make.”

“Enough about Reo,” you hissed between your teeth before smiling tightly, your nails digging into the back of Ryosuke’s hand. “We aren’t here to go over that same argument. Aren’t you going to congratulate me? Your only daughter is getting married.”

“Does he have a house of his own?” your mother said.

“Yes,” you said.

“A job with a good income?” your father said.

“Well above average,” you said. “It’s secure, too.”

“Then it’s good enough,” your mother said, stiffly, insincerely. “He’s no corporate heir, but he’s a serviceable consolation prize. Congratulations, Y/N. You’ve done better for yourself than we expected.”

They didn’t ask if you loved him, or if he loved you in return, but why would they? It was unimportant. When it came to relationships and marriages, such fickle concepts as love could not be relied upon. It was the ideal that they had pounded into you from a young age: stability. Safety. It was easier to learn to love someone than it was to live a life without certainty. It was easier for you to pretend to be unaware of Ryosuke’s dalliances than it was for you to let go and live the rest of your life alone.

“I don’t think your parents liked me,” Ryosuke confessed upon entering the taxi you had called to take you back.

“Don’t take it personally,” you said. “They’re just upset that things didn’t go according to their carefully laid plans. It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting them to be happy, anyways. That went better than I anticipated, all things considered.”

“What plans?” Ryosuke said as the driver took off towards your hotel. Ryosuke would get down there, and you would continue on to the dress fitting appointment that Reo had somehow already managed to book before you had even woken up.

You weighed the merits of telling him, but came to the conclusion that it would only make things more difficult for you.

“Plans that never had a chance of success in the first place,” you said. “That’s the long and short of it. Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” he said. “What style of dress is May thinking of getting for the wedding party?”

“She mentioned wanting me to have a different dress than the rest of the bridesmaids, since I’m the maid of honor,” you said. “I think she wants it to be my choice.”

“How considerate of her,” Ryosuke said. “She really is such a sweet girl. And so pretty, too! She’ll make a beautiful bride.”

You thought back to what Nagi had said at dinner, your face souring as his cool, snarky tone rang in your mind. It looked like he wanted that waitress, too. And that hostess. And May. But I don’t think he’d go after her, because, y’know, Reo would be pretty mad, and he can definitely afford a better lawyer than Kira can if it comes down to it…

“Reo is lucky,” you said, though all you wanted to do was grab his face and demand he look at you. Aren’t I beautiful, too? Aren’t I sweet, too? You wanted to scream these things at him, but you feared that the answers were not ones you’d prefer, so you remained silent.

“I bet you’ll look great, too,” he said. “Make sure you pick something flattering. I want everyone to see just how amazing my fiancée is.”

“I would’ve done that regardless,” you said.

“Maybe you should FaceTime Chigiri and ask for his advice! We all know how well he can pull off a dress,” he said, snickering.

“That happened once, and you need to stop bringing it up. It wasn’t even his choice,” you said, though you could not suppress a laugh at the memory of the time that you and May had forced Chigiri into a dress so that you could sneak him into a Halloween party with you.

“As you wish,” he said. “Looks like this is my stop. Text me when you’re on the way back!”

“Okay,” you said. “Wait. Ryosuke.”

“What’s up?” he said.

“Can I, uh, send you pictures? Of my options? So you can help me choose?” you said, hating how uncertain your voice sounded, the cracking hinting at your true meaning — tell me. Tell me what I will look worthy of you in. Tell me what it is you want from me.

“Can’t you just pick on your own?” he said. “I was planning on taking a nap and then going to eat. I won’t really have time. Ask May or Reo if you’re stuck.”

It had been a foolish idea to begin with, and as the taxi you were in accelerated away from him, you cursed yourself for even trying. After all, if a simple dress would’ve been enough for your fiancé’s eyes to remain on you, then they never would’ve strayed in the first place.

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