#don’t mind me just rambling about my favorite characters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuwuta · 5 months

Text

AFTERGLOW. — JJK BOYS + JEALOUSY

❝tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine, even when i've lost my mind

featuring. gojo, inumaki, nanami, okkotsu

content. a character study in jealousy, no content warnings, no smut in this version, fem reader

word count. 2.8k

SATORU GOJO You’re attempting to finish getting ready for the evening and Satoru has taken his favorite activity: filing through every crevice of your room like he’d been hired as a private investigator. Even though he knows that you know that he’s nothing more than a nosy idiot, Satoru claims that it’s an important and intimate routine that he should know the ins and outs of your living space just as well as you know his—“You know exactly where I keep my boxers, and I don’t even think I’ve seen the inside of your closet—oh, hey, this is cute,” he grins, sticking out his impossibly long arm to shake a thin, lacy bodysuit on a hanger, “How come you’ve never shown me this, huh? Maybe you should wear this instead, it seems easier to take—ouch.”

He groans at the impact of your hairbrush against his shoulder, then swiftly proceeds to pout and whine about how mean you are to him when you return to ignoring him in favor of applying the final touches to your makeup. Your closet seems to be of little interest to him after that, as Satoru crosses the room to hover around you at your vanity instead. He leans in too closely, as if watching you apply bronzer was a novel sight to him. You flip your brush quickly, barely tapping at his nose and laughing at his scrunched reaction.

“Your reflexes aren’t so sharp today,” you tease. You’re prepared for a witty response, and when you glance, there’s a familiar mischief shimmering in your boyfriend’s eyes; but, then his gaze ventures slightly past you, and all signs of playfulness drain from his face. Instead of getting revenge, or annoying you further, Satoru reaches over your body and into a shallow jewelry dish to pick up the bracelet he’d spotted. It’s a dainty little thing, thin gold with a small heart in the middle glittering with shiny stones, that he threads along his fingers with scrutiny before standing up straight to dangle it in front his face for further inspection, “This is new to me.”

Perhaps you’d spoken too soon, because only Satoru would spot that one piece of jewelry amongst the others swimming the tray. His eyes flutter between the bracelet and you, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head, and the accusation he won’t say outloud—did you buy yourself heart-shaped jewelry, or is there something else going on here?

You sigh and keep your expression and voice neutral, your attention seemingly still focused on the finishing touches of your makeup, “It’s new to you because I haven’t worn it in years,” you tell him, “My ex gave it to me.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you occupy yourself with your mascara, before Satoru speaks, “That makes sense, it doesn’t look all that promising. What is it—barely gold plated?” he taunts, sweeping away his air of concern with one of mockery, standing up straight to twirl the bracelet around his index finger, “Figures your ex boy toy had no taste for the finer things in life. You’re worth more than this, my darling.”

You shake your head with light laughter, patting in the remnants of your setting spray before standing. Satoru continues on, rambling about the poor construction of your commercially produced bracelet—holds it between his index finger and thumb like it’ll poison him if he exposes it to too much of his skin, and you can’t help but smile as you reach for the lapel of his blazer to pull him down for a kiss. He has no words of objection to this, pulling you in by the waist for another and another and another, before you finally pull away, “Come, let’s go. I don’t feel like getting lectured by Utahime for your tardiness again.”

You’re too preoccupied for the rest of the evening to notice the item missing from your jewelry dish. What you do notice, two afternoons later, shortly after Satoru has left to pick up Nanami from the airport, is a blue velvet box with your name written in pretty, gold cursive along the top—and inside, a gold tennis bracelet, glittering with diamonds, with a necklace to match. You have no doubt they’re legitimate, if not for the way the sparkle, then by the text that rings through on your phone after you question Satoru:

from: satoruwu 🫧🩵 — only the best for my baby <33

TOGE INUMAKI

Toge knows that the price of coffee has gotten way out of hand, but what bothers him more is the decreasing pace of said coffee getting made and the increase of crazy, caffeine addicted people who feel the need to be loud around him while he’s waiting for his drinks. You, however, seem to take pleasure in his suffering, as you always thank him and coo, saying he looks cute despite his grumbly demeanor, “You always look like you fought a war for two cups of coffee, Toge.”

He rolls his eyes as he steps into your apartment, not minding the sound of your giggling behind him. He sets the drinks on your island, and pulls out a stool to sit on. You round the marble, reaching him just as he’s pulled down his mask for a thank you kiss to his cheek. He wants to make you suffer for longer, but when you lean against him, he can’t help but to return the hug and kiss your forehead—you’re welcome, always.

Still, he pokes at your head, waits until you dig your head out of his shoulder with curious eyes, before he points to the Keurig sitting in the corner of one the wall-mounted counters, and moves his hands to sign, “Why keep that if you spend all my money on coffee?”

“Rude. I offer to pay all the time,” you chide, poking at his collar bone and standing straight. You make your way back to the opposite side of the counter, and reach to a drawer to fetch a straw, before shrugging, “My ex left it here when we broke up. I keep it for the aesthetic—I’m not even sure if it works.”

A myriad of thoughts runs through Toge’s mind—most importantly: had your ex left other things here, and how quickly could he get rid of them?

“Besides,” you break his murderous train of thought, “None of the pods make good espresso. Couldn’t even make my hot girl latte if it worked.”

“Your ‘hot girl latte’ is iced,” Toge signs.

Under normal circumstances, a comment like that would earn him a flick to the forehead, but you can tell that behind the sarcasm, Toge is actually upset. So, in lieu of teasing him, you walk back over to him; settling yourself behind his stool to give him a back hug. You lean your cheek against his shoulder and press a small kiss there, “You’re cute.”

Toge huffs, shaking his shoulders for dramatic effect. You laugh, leaning up to give him another kiss on the cheek. “You’re cute and you have nothing to worry about. It’s an old coffee machine.”

He hums, taking another sip of his coffee before turning, barely bumping the top of your forehead, so you can see his raised eyebrow. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, “You’re cute, and you have nothing to worry about, and I love you.”

He finally smiles again, content, and grants you another kiss to your forehead. With his mood back to normal, the two of you finish your coffee and carry on with your scheduled study session as normal (normal being Toge leaving you alone for all of twenty-seven minutes, before he starts taking videos of you with various outrages Snapchat filters on).

However, the following day when you return from your classes, there’s four new items on your kitchen counter: a silver espresso machine, a reusable Starbucks cup (already filled with your usual drink), a neatly folded apron decorated with cartoon Shiba Inus, and a small card with Toge’s bubbly handwriting on it: “Don’t worry, I’ll still pay for you $6 pink drinks, but if you wanted to thank me by making coffee in just the apron, then I wouldn’t complain ;)”

KENTO NANAMI Kento is a rational man; he favors using logic to carry out decisive actions, rather than letting his emotions get the best of him. So, the rational part of him knows that it’s not a big deal that the lunch bag and bento-style tupperware you bring to work was a gift from your ex-girlfriend; but there’s a small, ugly, green part of him overrun with jealousy and another bitter-tasting feeling he can’t quite name.

Because it’s not that important. It makes sense that you keep using them—the lunch bag is nice, leather, sleek, and insulated, and the tupperware is sturdy and functional. The whole system is sustainable, practical. It was a good present, one that objectively serves a good purpose whether or not it was given by an ex or not.

Maybe that’s what he hates so much. That this person still has room in your life, even though you haven’t spoken to them since you’ve met him. Kento doesn’t like that reminder—that there are people out there who might be a good fit for you, a better one than him. Those ugly feelings aside, there’s a sour taste in his mouth when he packs your lunch now; knowing that the food he cooked for the two of you—the meal you’re both going to indulge in—sits in a container gifted to you by an ex-lover.

Irrational to the point of being unfocused, he doesn’t realize how close the glass is to the edge of the counter, and when he turns to scoop more rice, he accidentally knocks it over with his elbow. It breaks into tiny pieces on the ground, the small portion of rice and chicken spilling onto the ground. The sound draws you out of your bedroom, mascara wand in hand and robe still on to call for him, “Kento? Everything okay?”

“I… it was an accident,” he explains, setting the spoon down in favor of reaching for a napkin, dropping to his knee with a light sigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it.”

Your laughter surprises him, prompts him to look up at you with broken glass shards pooled in his palm, “You don’t have to worry so much! It happens, we have a million more.”

There’s something about the way you don’t seem to acknowledge it being special to you in any way—Kento’s not even sure if you recognize what broke—that reassures him. Because it really was an accident, but Kento doesn’t mind that he managed to break this particular plate.

When he shoos you back to getting dressed, he finishes picking up the broken glass shards. There’s a certain lightness to his actions now, petty as it may be, he’s happy. Spends extra time writing a note for you to see when you unpack your food before he retires to the bathroom to start getting ready himself.

Maybe he could do something about that lunchbox next. You don’t seem to mind.

YUUTA OKKOTSU Thursdays are Yuuta’s favorite day of the week because on Thursdays, you two meet up at your spot, which is really just a set of twin benches in the west quad, but it’s your place and Yuuta loves it. You will have reserved a study room in your favorite library, and Yuuta will buy snacks for your study session before you both head to the library in an attempt to finish up your work for the week in order to keep your Friday evenings free.

Yuuta usually gets to the bench before you, a combination of the engineering building being a little bit closer, and his legs being a lot longer. He doesn’t mind waiting for you, as it’s usually his first time seeing you in two days (your Tuesdays are too packed for anything other than a shared coffee break between lectures, and Wednesdays are his hell days), and spotting you through the crowd of dissipating students always brings a smile to his face.

You look cute today, an oversized sweater enveloping your frame that Yuuta can imagine you cozying into and nearly dozing off in your dreaded microbiology lecture. He laughs to himself at the mental image, just as you stop in front of him to ponder, “Something funny?”

Yuuta shakes his head, leaning down to kiss your forehead with a proper greeting. “Nothing,” he reassures you, reaching around to pull your backpack off of your shoulders, and slings it over one of his, “You look cute. Did you mean to buy a sweater big enough to double as a blanket?”

“The oversized look is in,” you scrunch your nose and roll your eyes, letting Yuuta take your hand in his despite his teasing, “I don’t even think I bought this, honestly. It might be Todo’s? Or Toge’s—it might even be Maki’s at this point.”

Yuuta freezes. He feels the world stop and a million different emotions surge through him at once, but the most prevalent of them all is something ugly and green. He could deal with Toge, though he doubts he’s the culprit. While you two shared a penchant for oversized clothing, Toge was more often than not the thief, rather than the lender, and he’s pretty good at keeping his collection of stolen goods under lock and key. Maki was out of the question, too, because you shared a class with Nobara earlier today, and there’s no way you’d have made it out of there wearing her girlfriend’s sweater.

So it probably was Todo’s. And Yuuta had said you looked cute. Though he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole, his moment of self-pity is waning, and overcast by something steely, something too-hot bubbling in his chest. The question of why you have it goes over his head—he’s not concerned with that, nor will he fault you for it—the matter at hand is that you’re wearing it. And, sure, Yuuta thought you looked good in it before, but he could name sixteen other things you’d look better in at this very moment.

You’ve gone on to ramble about something that happened earlier, but Yuuta’s not listening. He drops your hand first, then both of your backpacks on the bench behind him, before tapping at your wrists. You don’t seem to understand him, cocking your head to the side with a pensive expression, but Yuuta only taps at your wrists again with a simple command, “Up.”

It doesn’t seem like you understand, but you follow anyway, and Yuuta is pulling the sweater up and off of your body before you can question him. He tosses it onto the bench with little care, then removes his white jacket and places it atop your backpacks. “What are—” you don’t have time to finish before he’s pulled his own hoodie off his body, and slid it over your head.

Yuuta smooths out the fabric under his palms with a satisfied grin on his face. Much better.

“Aw, Yuuta!” you bring a hand to tug at the strings of the hood, a wicked smile replacing your dazed blinking, “I didn’t know you were so possessive.”

You tease him until he’s red up to his ears, embarrassed and borderline bashful, a complete 180 from the looming jealousy that took over him moments before as he shimmies on his jacket again and picks up your back backs. He huffs, as you tease him, circling an arm around his as you begin to walk to the student center. He doesn’t know if he agrees with your declarations of him being a possessive boyfriend, but he does know that he’s your boyfriend, and your boyfriend only.

“So, you think I look cute, still?” you question, picking up a pack of gummy worms. Yuuta lets out a breath of laughter, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “Even cuter than before.”

(Two days later, Todo can be found screaming wildly to Itadori when he comes across a familiar hoodie strewn across a random bench on campus—who considers visiting the Student Health Clinic to make sure an eardrum wasn’t ruptured—because, “Bro, what the hell? I swear I fucking lost this thing!”)

4K notes · View notes

daisygirlwrites · 1 year

Text

Task Force 141 + Reader (Callsign-Crash): friendship headcanons

a/n: Hello hello! Just some random headcanons that I had written down for Crash and her relationships with the members of the 141 team. Nothing romantic, just some wholesome stuff.

original gif by @collinnmckinley

also, this is really freaking long, sorry in advance. enjoy reading!

Before getting thrown out the window and getting her callsign, she was quiet and shy around the group. Opting to listen to others conversations, rarely adding to it.

Honestly intimidated with how tightly knit the team is, and given her previous team’s history, she was scared to get close.

Volunteered to be the DD whenever the group goes out to a bar. Fortunately, most of the time, Ghost is sober(enough) to help her get everyone into the car and into their rooms

Would silently comfort Soap and Gaz whenever they threw up, rubbing their backs and getting them water.

In the mornings after, she got everyone a breakfast burrito. Soap and Gaz are eternally grateful. Got a little information about her when they asked why she got them food. “Help with my hangovers during college.” Soap and Gaz gave each other a look as she walks away

After the window incident, Crash becomes a lot more open. Seeing how they treat her as if she has been with them for years, it wasn’t fair to them with how closed off she was.

Soap:

He talks to you a lot and you don’t mind. He just comes out and starts rambling on whatever he has interested him at that moment. You don’t really say anything, just sitting there awkwardly (because why would he want to talk to the newbie instead of his friends) but nodding to what he says anyways. One time though, he looks at you and says “Thanks for listening to me. It’s nice to have someone not tell me to ‘Shut the fuck up Mactavish.’”

Literally you after he tells you this:

“you’re my friend now. we’re having soft tacos later” vibes

Would send him memes and funny videos whenever you guys are on leave

His contact name on your phone is “Bubbles”

Would show you how to make bombs out of random shit. Set them off in bare fields or abandon buildings. Had a couple close calls

Will let you call him Johnny but you call him Mac instead.

“Aww, why not, lassie?”

“I’d rather not get my ass beat by your boyfriend.”

Calls you Lassie along with your callsign. When he wants to piss you off, he calls you Mini Ghost or Little Ghost

Like Ghost, you rarely take off your balaclava and tactical glasses

“The mask, take it off.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna.”

“You ugly?”

“Not as ugly as you old man.”

Has yet to seen you drunk though and he intends to get you there some day

Holds his hand when he’s throwing up

You would use him as a pillow during rides back to the base

The first person to tell him about any drama that’s happening in your life

Gives you advice about men

"Men are stupid, trust me, I am one."

Loves it when you would go on ramblings about the things you like. Anime confuses the hell out of him but he would always ask you about the plot and your favorite characters. He’d ask you about the current artist you listen to and has a list of recommendations from you so he could look them up when he gets home

After a mission gone wrong and believing that it was his fault, you seek him out, finding him sitting alone in the meeting room. You tell him

“It’s going to be okay. I trust you, John.”

He tears up and you wrap your arms around him.

Gaz:

With you two being the youngest, you bond over similar experiences

Sometimes share exactly one brain cell with each other. Sometimes you, Gaz and Soap share a brain cell

Brings out the chaotic gen z energy of each other

Your guys’ energy:

Follows each other on social media and would send each other tiktoks at ungodly hours

Kind of have a competition against each other to see who’s Price’s favorite child is

Gaz finally has someone who he can talk about anime with

Favorite shows to watch together: Cowboy Bebop, Samurai Champloo and Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Similar music taste. The whole team listens to Queen, David Bowie, Pink Floyd and a few more others. However, Gaz and Crash have the same love of rap and indie pop. Anything they find on tiktok will be added to their shared Spotify playlist.

Gaz would ask about how college was like. He thought about going but ultimately for him, the military was the better option

“Were you part of a sorority?”

“Oh hell no. Loved going to the parties though. Always had top shelf vodka.”

“Really? Thought students couldn’t afford it.”

“When it comes to alcohol, we find a way.”

Share the same sentiment of feeling like they’re not doing enough in the team. After a particularly rough mission, you two would find a corner and just sit together in silence.

Would break the silence by quoting something from vine or tiktok and all things would be okay again

Price:

He has adoption papers ready

Crash, despite your name, is polite, respectful and responsible. Would always help Price clean up after meetings and briefs

Same with Soap, you would listen quietly to Price’s war stories and even his favorite fishing trips

Saw in your file about what happened to your old team and captain. Vows to never pull the same stunt as them

Sadden to see how you’re so young and has seen and dealt with many things already. It breaks his heart that there’s more that you’ll experience.

You, Soap and Gaz would do dumb shit all the time but you knew when it was the right time to bail. Of course, they would snitch on you to Price. You’d rarely get in trouble though

Basically you two:

Would gift him cigars from the countries you’d visit during leave

Also a matching set of torch lighters. His has a special green flame while yours is pink.

You don’t smoke anymore but you would hangout with him and help him finish reports together.

Price often thinks about a life where he didn’t join the military. A life of normalcy. To go to a home filled with life.

Would have loved to have kids and technically, he still can but his job makes it almost impossible.

But with Gaz and now you, you two are his pride and joy.

Would be the “hip” dad and will always ask about the new slang and memes

“This food is-what you kids call it...uh, busting!”

You and Gaz look at each other, “It’s bussin’.”

“This food is bussin’!”

Ghost:

Did not to want to get close to you at all.

Was honestly peeved when Price told him that he was going to mentor you

“I don’t want to play babysitter, Captain.”

Surprised to see how short you were. All of the rumors and information he was told, they never mention your size

At first, he hated how you would follow him around like a lost puppy.

“Leave me alone, go bother Soap or something.”

Doesn’t miss the flash of hurt in your eyes but you turn around anyways.

Before you joined, he, Price and Laswell were all sitting in Price’s office, his phone on speaker. He was reading over your file before Price’s contact said

“She reminds me of Ghost when I worked with him seven years ago.”

He looks up from the folder, Price’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Laswell nodding.

“I think we’ll have her transferred to us,” Price replies.

Hates to admit but he’s impressed. Thought the rumors was bullshit but you proved him wrong, time and time again

You still have a lot of things to learn and even more practice to do but he believes in you

Does not go easy. He’s merciless. Has put you down countless times and reprimanded you more. You would always leave training sessions with a new bruise. The rest of the team gets concerned with his training methods.

But you still get up and you blink away the tears whenever he shouts at you

At about five months after you joined, on a mission, you spot an enemy behind him before he does and without a word, you quickly take your knife out and throw it towards the man behind him.

He opens his mouth to yell at you but he sees the enemy on the corner of his eye and watch him slump down. Your knife stuck in his bleeding neck

Gives you a nod after that. Pulling out your knife and handing it back to you

Knife throwing would be one of the training sessions you’d do. It was also a good time for some small chat

Finds out that you’re also a part of the “Dead Mom, Shitty Dad” club

It takes a year for him to SLIGHTLY open up to you

Told you about one of his favorite dishes his mom made and his favorite Queen song was ‘You’re My Best Friend’

Even told you how he likes his Earl Grey prepared

It scares him of how much you remind him of his mom and brother. You have her kindness and his determination. He will never tell you this

You, along with the team, become the very thing he cares about and will protect you to the best of his ability.

Bonus:

5K notes · View notes

astermath · 1 year

Text

“So? Whatever.”

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader

summary: The preppy girl that just about everyone admires has more in common with Dave than he expects. He doesn’t quite know how to handle this information, but it excites him nonetheless.

word count: 2K

♡ LANDING PAGE♡

notes: I haven’t written something like this in a good while, so please bear with me if I’m rusty or there are some mistakes here and there. Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, I tried to be as non descriptive as possible about her appearance. I do love writing a bit of a mean reader like this, but don’t worry, she’ll warm up to him. This fic takes place in senior year for age purposes, I’m pretty much fully ignoring the timeline of the film. Comments and/or requests are super welcome btw!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

(ps this will get a part two don’t worry xx)

To Dave, girls like you were unreachable. You could hear about them, you could listen to them talk in the hallways, sneak a glance their way… But talk to them? Any single one of their group would consider that social suicide. The only reason any of them even looked in his direction was to ask him to do their homework. So why in god’s name were you at his locker? Why were you acknowledging his existence at all?

“What’s that?” You leaned against the locker next to his, pointing at the piece of a comic book panel he’d taped to the door. It pictured Spider-man putting on his mask for the first time, something Dave looked to when he needed some motivation for the day.

He struggled to get basically any words out, still not fully registering that you’re within such close range. He could smell you… God that was really weird to think about, he felt like a creep already, but you just… Smelled really nice. Like vanilla, mixed with something sweet. He realized he hadn’t answered your question yet and was just staring in front of him like a weirdo. “O-Oh, yeah, that’s uh… That’s Spider-man. It’s this… This superhero I like.” He adjusted the strap of his backpack to keep his hands busy.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Duh, I know who Spider-man is, please.” You couldn’t help but think he was doing anything to avoid looking into your eyes, as if you’d turn him to stone if he dared to do so. Which, yes, was exactly how he felt.

“I wanted to know which comic that was from. The art style looks a lot different than the ones I’ve seen.” Now this part was pretty much making his teenage brain short circuit. He probably didn’t hear that right, there’s no way a popular girl like you read comics, right? This had to be some kind of elaborate joke, like you were trying to pull a prank on him by making him ramble about his favorite superheroes. However, he wasn’t close minded. Even if this was a prank, at least you were talking to him, right?

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… Forget he’s a pretty popular character sometimes. This one’s from a collector’s edition. One of the pages was kinda falling apart so I just… Taped my favorite panel to my locker.” Again, he tried to look anywhere else, but it felt rude not to be making eye contact with the person who’s trying to give you a chance at a conversation. His eyes met yours and he realised he hadn’t ever actually seen you up close like this. You were really pretty, he knew that, but he never noticed these particular things about you before. The way your hair framed your features so nicely, the little beauty mark that seemed to be somehow perfectly placed, or the way a dimple appeared on your right cheek when you smiled.

“Hopefully you didn’t pay too much for it, those things cost like, a fortune.” You followed, snapping him out of his haze as you twirled a piece of hair between your index and middle finger. Dave was much taller than you, so you had to look up to match his gaze, which was already hard since he kept avoiding your eyes. You never realized how much he’d matured since freshman year. He looked pretty cute… Really cute, actually.

“S-So, uhm, I really don‘t wanna be rude, but…” He closed his locker before looking at you with a rather awkward expression. “Why are you here? Why are you… talking to me?” Honestly, not an unjustified question. Dave was often the subject of bullying, and the popular girls clique made no exception to that rule. He doesn’t remember you specifically doing anything, although... He has a vague memory of you being in the car with those jocks when they threw spoiled milk at him.

“What? A girl can’t talk to her fellow classmate? This is a free country, you know.” You pretended to be a little hurt by his assumption that you were probably just here to make fun of him. In all honesty he was still a little dumbfounded by this whole ordeal, and the fact that half the people that passed you were giving you two weird looks really wasn’t helping. “You know I sit behind you in English, right?” He responds by nodding. He is painfully aware of this fact, as your friends had expressed their empathy for you when your seat was assigned behind him, though you honestly didn’t mind. And also the fact that he got a fair share of gossip from you and your best friend always whispering to each other. “Well,” you flipped a bit of hair over your shoulder. “I saw you had a copy of Birth of Venom in your backpack, and I... Wanted to ask if I could borrow it...” You looked to the side, muttering the last part. As much as you tried not to care what people thought, you did have a bit of a reputation that you were stuck to. Liking comics wasn’t for you, you were a cheerleader, you went to parties, you liked shopping. Okay, you secretly liked comics.

Dave looked at you with a puzzled expression. “I-I’m sorry, can you repeat tha--”

“Can I borrow your stupid comic or what?” You interrupted him, clearly looking a bit embarrassed.

“Oh!” His face was getting hot, this conversation was lasting way longer than he imagined it would. Usually he’d have his face shoved into his locker by now. “U-Uhm, sure! It’s a bit expensive, but... Well, just don’t damage it, please.” He took his backpack off his shoulder and was about to pull it out before you grabbed his arm.

“Not here you dumbass! Just, like... Ugh, meet me at my car after school’s over, you can hand it to me then.” You were acting like this was some kind of illegal drug deal, but this truly was something important to you. Your dad had already made it very clear that he didn’t want his little girl becoming some kind of tomboy and have her mind run rampant with superhero stories. Especially with this Kickass guy running around...

The bell rang and you silently thanked it for doing so. “Look, I gotta go. White Corvette, by the vending machines.” You walked past him, and a waft of that lovely vanilla scent hit his nose. He damn near melted into the floor when your arm brushed against his. “Later, Lizewksi.”

You leaned against the hood of your car, scrolling on your phone as you waited for the brunette to show up. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that you were just meeting him in secret like this. It’s not like you were embarrassed to be seen with him, or that you didn’t like him, it’s just that liking comics and superheroes was just about the dorkiest thing anyone could be into. Especially with Kickass running around, and, well, kicking ass, people would probably be thinking you’d be into this whole vigilante business yourself. Sure, you thought it was cool that people were doing something about all the crime, but you’d rather die than mess up your hair beating some thug’s ass.

You noticed someone approaching and noticed that Dave wasn’t alone. With a bit of a disgusted expression, you gestured to his two sidekicks. “I don’t remember inviting the entire geek entourage to come see me. This isn’t some kinda meet and greet, you know.” Todd and Marty seemed, just like Dave before, a little shocked that you were talking to them.

“S-Sorry, they just uh...” Dave began.

“We didn’t believe him.” Todd followed.

“...believe what?” You questioned, crossing your arms.

“That a chick like you was into comics.” Marty said, before Todd smacked him on the back of the head. “Dude! Don’t say it like that!”

You got a bit flustered, and looked at Dave. “You told them!? What the fuck, Lizewski?”

“I-I’m sorry!” He held up his hands. “They were asking me what we were talking about, and... I panicked.” They were more so insinuating that he was flirting with her, and he didn’t want that rumor going around, in case your jock brother caught wind of that and beat his ass for flirting with his sister.

You sighed, looking down and pinching the bridge of your nose before waving your hand out in a dismissive manner. “It’s... whatever, just leave. Before I change my mind and throw a bitch fit.” His two friends gave him a suggestive look before heading out. “Those two better not snitch or I’ll cut off their shrimps.” He nodded, just a little intimidated by the threat.

He got out his backpack and handed you the comic. “I’m still surprised I uh... I never knew you were into this stuff.” His breath hitched in his throat when your finger brushed over his as you took it from him. You flipped through it, keeping your eyes on the pages.

“Yeah, well... There’s a lot you don’t know about me, as much as I’m sure you guys love to assume.” You realized you hadn’t even told him your name, so you looked up at him and held out your hand, introducing yourself. You know, out of courtesy.

“I-I know your name, but uhm... I’m Dave.” Your hand felt so soft, your beautifully manicured fingers being a real juxtaposition to his. His hand was much bigger and rougher than yours. You wondered why his hand was so calloused anyways... He didn’t look like he did many sports.

“Wait... Your name isn’t Lizewski?” You chuckled. “Christ, my bad... I always thought that was just your first name.” Your feeling of guilt for the boy before you flared up a bit again. He was being really nice to you, offering you something personal of his that he probably spent a pretty penny on. And you didn’t even know his actual name before. No wonder some people thought you were a bit of a bitch, you thought to yourself.

“Hey, uhm... I know you got a bunch of these, and my dad would kill me if he knew I was reading them. He hates vigilantes, and he thinks reading comics will get me into the whole thing. Stupid, I know, but... He takes it surprisingly seriously.” You put the comic away carefully. “So I have a proposition for you.”

His eyebrows rose a little. A proposition, alright. No big deal. Could be literally anything though.

“Come to my house this Saturday, bring a bunch of these, and I’ll tell my dad you’re coming to tutor me for physics or something.” You tilted your head a little, your locks falling gently over your shoulders. “I’ll pay you. Money’s not a problem. It’ll be like I’m renting them from you.”

He thought for a second, but in all honesty... How was this not a total win/win situation? He got to be in a pretty girl’s room, read comics with her, talk about them and make money. What kind of idiot would say no to that? “Yeah! Sounds good to me, uh... What do you want me to...” His words trailed off as you pulled out a pen and reached for his hand, writing a string of numbers on the back of it.

“I’ll text you the address, and which series I like. I’ll let you do the picking. Oh, and Dave?”

“Y-Yeah?” He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. This is the closest you’ve ever stood to him.

Your grip on his hand tightens, and you look up at him with a death stare. “Not a word to anyone about this.” You followed with a cutesy smile. “Alrighty?” You let go of his hand and put your stuff away before pulling out your car keys.

Dave stands frozen in place, a faint blush already spread across his cheeks. He swore you were going to be the death of him. He looked down for a second and realized that what you wrote down wasn’t just some random numbers. It was your phone number. It all just suddenly felt very real to him, he’d never gotten a girl’s number before. And you were just about the last person he’d expect it from too.

You got in your car and turned on your engine. “See ya on Saturday, Lizewski! Don’t be late or I’ll kill you!” You smile, before driving off at a totally normal and acceptable speed.

He gave a nervous wave before he looked back down at his hand. There was a little heart scribbled behind the phone number. It probably meant nothing.

But boy did it make his heart flutter.

1K notes · View notes

fushironi · 8 months

Text

Will You Show Me? | Experienced!Todoroki x Virgin!fem!reader

TW: Loss of virginity, slight spanking, praise, fingering, hair pulling, biting, slight degradation (only once), pet names (snowflake, baby girl, angel, etc.), 18+ characters, MDNI, overstim, cowgirl, doggy style

Summary: You and Shoto had been together for about six months and every bit of it has been great. It wasn’t until a sleepover with the girls where you played a game of truth or dare that would take your relationship to another level.

——————————————————————————

It was like any other school night; you were hanging with the girls, laughing, joking, and having a great time. That was, until you started to play truth or dare.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” Mina asks as she hugs her pillow. You let a smile spread across your lips as sink back into your chair, your arms wrapping tighter around your boyfriend’s hoodie.

“Truth!” You smile as you take a sip of your tea.

“What’s your favorite position?” Mina smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. You raise your own as you didn’t understand her question. Favorite position for what? Sports?

“Excuse me?” You ask, wanting her to repeat the question.

“What’s your favorite position? Like for sex,” she says with a chuckle. You feel your eyes go wide and your cheeks flush red. You hadn’t told anyone that you were still a virgin, feeling as though it wasn’t anyone’s business. Guess that’s about to change.

“Ha. Funny story. Shoto and I haven’t actually, uh, we haven’t really-“

“You’re still a virgin?!” Mina exclaims, her voice louder than she intended. You nod your head in almost a shameful way, burying your face into Todoroki’s jacket. You felt embarrassment wash over you, not really wanting to be around people much longer.

“Girl! You are too pretty to still be a virgin! Shoto doesn’t know what he’s missing!” Mina giggles as she comes to give you a hug as she clearly sees the embarrassment on your face. You lean into her, your cheeks still burning.

“Thanks. I just didn’t -and don’t - want to rush things. What if he’s not ready?” You ask, looking at your pink friend. You were aware that Shoto wasn’t a virgin, something that he told you when you first got together. You didn’t mind it as it was nice to have a more experienced partner, even if it wasn’t by much.

“Is it him that isn’t ready, or you?” Mina asks as she raises her eyebrow, her eyes scanning your face. You pull your lip between your teeth as you take in her question, your own eyes casting downward.

“That’s what I thought. Just talk to him honey. It’s going to be okay,” she smiles as she gives you one last warm hug, returning to her spot in the circle. You girls continue to play the game until everyone slowly starts to fall asleep, your mind racing as you take in Mina’s words; ‘is it him that isn’t ready, or you?’ You shake your head as you try to fall asleep, making a mental note to address the matter with Shoto tomorrow.

>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>

“Hey Sho? I have a question.” Your voice was small as you entered your boyfriends room, your eyes landing everywhere besides his face. You had gone the entire day filled with anxiety about this moment, not sure how it was all going to play out. He turns away from his computer, his eyes falling on your figure.

“What is it my love?” His voice was soft, his frame opening up to you as you slowly make your way over to him. You stand beside his desk, your teeth chewing the inside of your cheek.

“The girls and I were hanging out last night and playing truth or dare and uh, they found out I - we - hadn’t had sex yet and it got me thinking,” you pause, trying not to hyperventilate. “Do you want to have sex with me? If you’re not ready it’s fine! I just know I’ve been wanting for a wh-” your rambling is cut short by the force of your boyfriends lips crashing into yours, your body instantly molding and relaxing into his. Your hands find his hair as you deepen the kiss, pulling him impossibly closer. You two break away after what feels like forever, a string of saliva the only thing connecting you both.

“I thought you would never ask,” Shoto breathes as he plants another kiss to your lips. This time, it was soft and loving. Warm. You smile against his kiss as you feel his hands around your waist, slowly guiding you to the bed. Your heart pounds in your chest as your back hits the plush mattress, Shoto’s frame now towering over your own. You let out a small squeal as his hands squeeze your hips, a soft giggle following as he tickles your side.

“What are you doing?” You ask between soft giggles, your hands gently running under his shirt. This part was nothing new; something the two of you did often but never crossed. Shoto wanted you to be the first one to bring up the idea of intercourse, not wanting to make you feel pressured.

“Making sure you’re comfortable,” he smiles as his eyes scan your body, his hand snaking under your shirt. He gently squeezed your breasts as he watches your body for a reaction. A smile plays across his lips as a small moan slips passed your lips, your body arching into his touch. Of course you are slightly nervous, but you were more than ready to give your all to your boyfriend.

“M-meanie,” you whimper as you look into his mix-matched eyes. All you saw was love and affection floating in his irises. It made you feel safe in this moment, something that Shoto made sure of often. You let your hands wander down his chest, stopping at the band of his sweats. You felt lightheaded ever so slightly as your nimble fingers gently push his pants off his hips, exposing his deep v-line. Your breath hitches as his cock slaps against his stomach, showing his excitement to you. You mouth literally waters as you stare at his cock, your brain spinning.

“Words, baby,” Shoto’s words break your trance as your eyes meet his once more. You feel your cheeks flush red as you turn your head away.

“S-sorry. It’s just so pretty,” you say shyly, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. Shoto let’s out a deep chuckle as his index finger gently turns your head, his lips finding yours once more. You moan into the kiss as his hands push your shorts down your hips, the cool air of his room waving over your cunt. You squirm slightly under his body as his fingers dance lightly over your hips and under your naval, but never fully touching you. His eyes look to meet yours, his fingers hovering over your clit.

“P-please. Need it,” you whine, your hands going to his hips. Shoto smiles as he kisses you passionately, his tongue slipping past your lips as his fingers gently press onto your clit, circling the bundle of nerves slowly. Your back arches into his touch, your moans being swallowed by his lips. Your hips buck into his hand, wanting a bit more friction than what he was giving you. Your hands move to take off your shirt, causing you to break the kiss.

“So beautiful. And all mine,” Shoto purrs as his lips trail down your your neck, sucking and biting your skin softly as his fingers slowly dip inside your walls.

“Holy shit,” you breathe as his large digits slowly work your virgin hole. You tug as his hair as his lips latch onto your nipple, his tongue swirling around your hardened bud. Your mind was going hazy at all the sensations, your body reacting in the most sinful ways.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” Shoto purrs in your ear, his teeth biting the plump of your breasts. You nod your head as you let out soft pants, his fingers dancing within your walls. The slight stretch of his two digits made your head spin, his teeth gently grazing your nipple. “Tell me what you want, baby doll. Talk to me. Want to make my princess feel good,” Shoto’s words were enough to have an unfamiliar knot in your stomach snapping, your eyes squeezing shut as your hands grip his biceps, your body jolting as a feeling of bliss washed over you.

Your chest heaves as you start to come down from your high, your eyes opening slightly to look up at Shoto. His pupils were blown wide, his lips turned up into a smirk.

“So pretty when you cum. Want to see what my cock can do, okay?” He asks in a soft voice, his cum covered fingers tapping your bottom lip. You open up as you suck on his digits, a moan leaving your lips as you taste yourself on his fingers. Your tongue swirls around his fingers, your eyes closing. “Fucking hell.” Shoto groans as he pulls his fingers away, his lips finding yours. You pull him closer as you deepen the kiss, wanting to feel him as close as possible to you. A soft moan leaves both of your lips as he runs his cock over your soaked cunt, gathering your slick before he slowly begins to push inside you, his head stretching your cunt beautifully.

“Oh shhiit,” you moan as your lips just barely break from his. Your nails dig into his biceps, a whine leaving your lips at the stretch. Shoto stops his movements, watching your body. You take a breath before nodding your head, telling him he’s okay to continue. Shoto smiles as he pushes in further, slowly bottoming out. A shared moan leaves your lips as he slowly rolls his hips, his thick, veiny cock rubbing against your tight walls. You had never felt so full before today and it was a feeling you could get used to.

“F-faster,” you breathe, not wanting Shoto to hold back. He chuckles as his lips kiss down your neck, his hips picking up speed. You let moans fall from your lips as your nails rake up his back, your legs wrapping around his waist to allow him deeper access. Shoto groans as your walls clench around him, sucking him in as he pumps in and out of you.

“Fuck baby. You’re so tight. Shit,” his groans make your cunt clench around him, loving the way he felt and sounded as his hips drove into you. Your head was fuzzy at the new feelings, but it was all amazing.

“Feel s’good Shoto. You’re s’big,” you moan as your body bounces from the pace of his thrust. The way your tits bounced as rubber against his chest was enough to have you spiraling into a world of bliss at the sensations. Your body jerked and squeezed around him as you felt warm liquid spill passed your cunt.

“So perfect,” Shoto smirks as he continues to snap his hips inside you, his hands holding your waist. Soft whines fall from your lips as your body grew sensitive, but you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more. You wanted to do all the things your girl friends talked about. You wanted to know what it felt like to be on top, to feel his tongue against your swollen pussy. All of it.

“W-wanna ride you,” you whimper, your hands feeling up and down his chest. Shoto slows his hips as he takes in your words, making sure he heard you. “P-please,” you whine, your eyes meeting his. The pleasing look in your eyes was enough to make him cum right then and there, but he wanted you to go until you were tired. You let out a squeak as he flips you both over with ease, your body now hovering over his. The new angle has his cock sinking deeper inside your walls, your hands resting on his chest as you slowly roll your hips.

“Look at you. Already knowing what you’re doing. Such a pretty girl,” Shoto purrs as his hand lands a soft snack on your ass before resting on your hip. You whimper as you start to ride him faster as you chase the feeling of euphoria once again. You roll your eyes as you start to move your hips up and down, squeezing around him as you go up on his shaft, releasing your grip as you sink back down, a moan leaving both of you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you mutter as you continue to repeat your actions at a faster pace, feeling that knot in your stomach snap once again, your body falling forward as your hips continue to roll as you ride out your high. Your chests heaves as your body goes limp, your hands on his chest. He was still hard inside you, your walls squeezing him.

“Fuck. You keep that up, and I’ll cum inside you right now,” Shoto growls as he flips you back over, but this time on your hands and knees. His hips snap against yours at a faster and harder pace than before, moans and the sounds of skin resounding in the room as he pounds you into the mattress. His hands slap your ass a few times, your whines and moans filling the room as he takes you to another world.

“Gonna cum baby. Your pussy feels too good,” Shoto moans as he grabs your hair, lifting your head as he wants to hear your moans. Your mouth falls open as your body feels like jelly and pure bliss, a fucked out expression displaying over your features. “Fucking cock drunk slut, wanting my cock until I cum,” Shoto chuckles as he pulls you against his chest, his hand around your throat.

“Y-yes baby. Want your cum so bad,” you whimper as your nails dig into his thighs, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. The familiar knot in your stomach threatens to break as your head spins, Shoto’s hand moving from your neck to your clit. A deep moan leaves your lips at the combined sensation, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“G-gonna cum baby. Nngh- where do you want it,” his words were dark yet silky, his hips never losing their rhythm as they drive into you harder and harder.

“I-inside me. Please,” you whine, your head falling against his shoulder. Your arms go to wrap around the back of his neck, your fingers pulling on his hair as your body shakes, your lips capturing his as you cum for a third time, Shoto cumming right along with you, his cock twitching inside your warm walls. His hips begin to slow as he rides out your shared bliss, the kiss shared between you slow and passionate. His hips come to a stop as his hands continue to run over your body, wanting to provide gentle touches after his assault on your core. You smile into his lips as he gently taps your tits, making you giggle.

“That was, amazing,” you breathe as your eyes meet his. A smile lays across his lips as he pecks your lips once more, his fingers rubbing circles in your hip.

“And so are you.”

#mha #fanfic #anime #shoto torodoki #mha x reader #shoto todoroki smut #shoto x reader #virgin tw #virgin reader #mha smut

319 notes · View notes

xbomboi · 10 days

Text

yapping about Briar. fellow Briar enjoyers assemble.

okay okay i don’t make it too obvious (or maybe i do, i wouldn’t know) but briar is my personal favorite character. i think about where the stories of all the characters would go and what their arcs would be a lot, but hers in particular is really important to me.

so i wanna talk about it.

first of all, she’s narcoleptic coded, right. we all know that. but her mom on the other hand reads to me, like, an alcoholic mother? and her dad is just willfully ignorant. either way, there’s a huge sense of neglect going on in that family. i mean go figure why briar would be the one doing most of the work raising her brothers. and of course she’s a party girl, because who’s gonna stop her? her parents? see yeah exactly.

so i don’t think it’s unreasonable to say she doesn’t have very strong parental figures in her life, at least not at home. but, and now you have to really hear me out about this one, i think baba yaga could take up a parental role in her life.

i know it isn’t much, but the seeds for her having at least a hint of a connection with baba yaga are there.

in the webisode “Stark Raven Mad”, baba yaga scolds briar for rambling about her party, and then as the commotion picks up she’s still exercising authority over briar in particular.

then there’s thronecoming, wherein, when briar is sulking at the dance, upon noticing the picture on the projector, she asks baba yaga for answers, who provides them.

and then skipping all the way to epic winter, after the girls become a little creeped out by her mannerisms and book it, briar is the one who makes sure to peak back in and give a parting remark.

so i think there’s potential there to be explored. her feeling neglected at home and then finding solace in another adult at school would be neat.

but the fact that it’s baba yaga is important, so just put a pin in that and we’ll circle back to it.

now, i think out of the core four, she was (at least at first) the hardest to actually pin-point what the future of her story could look like. with raven, i think it’s pretty clear her journey is just continuing to combat the prejudices of the world as she fights for change, apple is now pretty much on a path to figuring out her own future as ruler of a kingdom and what that’s going to entail, and maddie is the goofball that’s there to have fun and be supportive along the way.

then there’s briar. and, let me be clear, no, in my mind that girl is not sleeping for 100 years with where things are heading; in the main universe of the story, briar will be free of the sleeping beauty destiny.

but it’s like, if she’s not gonna sleep, what more is there to actually do with her? what direction COULD her life go in? because if she’s no longer fated to sleep 100 years of her life away, then she can’t just party like there’s no tomorrow anymore. she’d need to decide what she actually wants to do with her life.

and i think i have an idea.

i mentioned her narcoleptic coding at the start with intent to bring it up again. see, you might notice that a lot of the fairytale aspects of ever after high can be read as allegories for real-world problems. for example, hunter and ashlynn’s relationship is treated in their world the same way society may look at queer couples or biracial couples. or how raven’s mom being trapped in a mirror is their world equivalent to not paying child support.

with that kind of correlation in mind, i think treating briar’s curse as a condition could open up an interesting opportunity. i think, in their world, curses as a whole could be viewed as a separate branch of medical specialization, with briar spearheading this notion of thought.

we know briar is well-versed in chemythstry already. in the webisode “Briar’s Study Party” she makes note of the fact that she’s been studying forever-after, and she demonstrates enough knowledge in the subject to enthusiastically teach it to her friends, who all end up acing their tests on it as a result.

i think this is something she could potentially make a career out of. i think she could come to the conclusion that she wants to be able to help break curses for people everywhere, and could pursue learning to develop potions and elixirs to do so.

which could happen under baba yaga’s tutelage.

picture this: briar declares her newfound goal, to which baba yaga offers to teach briar all she knows in order to achieve what she’s set her sights on. briar—with an ounce of hesitance—accepts, and baba yaga officially takes her under her wing with the intent of mastering sorcery.

obviously, she wouldn’t lose who she is in this. she’s still gonna be an impulsive, adrenaline junkie who desperately needs a screentime limit on her mirrorphone. but in this process, she’d be rounded out by baba yaga and would in turn mature a bit from the experience. she’d get serious about life, but she wouldn’t let go of who she is at heart.

this could lead to her becoming the resourceful one in the main group. like on adventures, she’d be able to pull out a potion or whip something up (because i’m not going to let raven’s magic make her too o.p. she’s gotta have limitations) as a solution to problems. she could really have a role that proves useful and important to the story.

that’s my ideal pitch for where to take briar’s character.

107 notes · View notes

k4zushi · 3 months

Text

[ 16 ] COSTUME ROOM SHENANIGANS

status : unedited, written 01/17/24 ☆ word count : 1.3k

Y/N’S POV ⟡ COSTUME ROOM

the days leading up to the next play practice had been pretty normal which had you on edge.

life had ways of making you miserable and you were at your limit from the events that had taken place 2 weeks following today.

there were many things that made you nervous about attending play practice but the main one was a certain grey haired male who recently become the one most frequently occupying your thoughts.

even if it was just a cat reaction picture, you managed to muster up the courage to reply to cyno’s sudden confession.

however, you still felt awkward and it didn’t help that the simplest of things would make you think of him.

posters about the play while walking to your next lecture of the day? your mind drifted off to visualize him in the costume you had sketched the other day.

hearing someone mention the compsci department? you would wonder what he would look like wearing blue light glasses.

making eye contact with someone with a familiar red gaze while walking to the costume room?

wait a familiar red gaze? oh fuck no please no—

“—y/n? hi?? hello???” cyno said, slowly waving a hand in front of your face.

how you managed to disassociate for so long, you had no clue but that was an issue for later.

“y/n…?” he asked again.

cyno was now looking at you with a worried expression on his face.

he looks pretty even when he’s worried.. god definitely has favorites….

you quickly snap back into reality and focus on the man in front of you.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to ignore you or anything. i’m just really out of it today i swear,” you frantically explained while nervously fiddling with a measuring tape.

when did i pick up a measuring tape…??

cyno nodded understandingly at your reasoning and started to speak again.

“so… my measurements..?”

“oh you’re right, i’m sor—” you started to apologize again.

“you don’t have to keep apologizing.” cyno interrupted.

you immediately shut up. cyno in person is so much more intimidating than the cyno who called you cute last weekend…

his face immediately contorted into a slight grimace.

“sorry… i didn’t mean for that to come out so harsh. tone is hard”

that made you giggle in amusement. there was the same feeling you had felt when he messaged you.

“slash gen?” you said while biting back a smile from overtaking your face.

cyno’s eyes seemed to lighten up at your small joke.

he was such a dork, you almost swooned right then and there.

he let out a small chuckle and nodded. “yea..”

the nervous knot in your stomach unraveled and you finally felt at a feeling of ease overtake your senses. that was the first time that had happened in a couple weeks.

“hey cyno, are you okay with standing still for me for a couple minutes? i swear i won’t take too much time” you asked, holding up your measuring tape.

“it’s fine, take as much time as you need,” he said stepping towards you.

you tilted your head in confusion at his words and he’s quick to explain.

“i’m not really needed until the scene 5. they’re going over scene 2 right now and it’s going to take a while since it’s technically the first official practice,” he rambled.

his behavior suddenly become more and more visibly nervous. the way he was tightly wringing his fingers looked painful.

you smile at the sight; not because you enjoyed seeing him like this, but because it reassured you that you weren’t the only one who felt nervous interacting with the other.

“you don’t have to explain yourself, just focus on standing still,” you said while extending the measuring tape and wrapping it around his bicep.

you see cyno tense and stiffen in place and while it was extremely amusing to see him act so out of character, you still had a job to do.

“cyno you can relax, i don’t bite you know?”

“i apologize i don’t—“

“why are you apologizing?? i said you can relax..” you sigh, retracting from him and folding your arms.

this only seems to make him even more nervous.

he can’t even look at you properly and this makes you think about what could make him feel less awkward.

it didn’t take long until you thought of something. sure, maybe you could possibly make a complete fool out of yourself but you didn’t have any energy left to face the wrath of ms lisa.

“knock knock”

cyno looks at you confused.

“i said knock knock,” you repeated.

“who’s there…?” he finally responds back.

“boo”

“boo who?”

“don’t cry, it’s a joke”

cyno freezes at this and looked away again.

you start to contemplate if it was really worth your last sliver of dignity trying to get him to become more comfortable with you until you saw the hand that was covering his mouth, the way his body trembled, the soft giggles that escaped, and the slight flush of red creeping up his neck.

“cyno??” you shifted to get a good look at his face.

he turned his head and you made eye contact.

that was when he burst out into full blown laughter.

it was your turn to freeze now; you didn’t know how to react or what the appropriate reaction would even be.

was this really the guy who had you nearly shitting yourself from getting cornered against a wall just a week ago??

his laughter was pretty, something you couldn’t find yourself ever get tired of listening to. unfortunately, but also not so unfortunately, it was just as contagious as it was pretty.

you found yourself laughing along with him and now the two of you were leaning on each other trying desperately to regain your composure.

except the two of you kept failing because you’d make eye contact and immediately get thrown back into another fit of mutual laughter.

this cycle continued another 4 or 5 times, give or take and by the end of it, you were gasping for air.

cyno was the first to recover and had taken it upon himself to hold onto one of your arms so you wouldn’t collapse.

“THE JOKE—” you wheeze. “—WASN’T EVEN THAT FUNNY”

“it was,” cyno shook his head in disagreement, now rubbing circles on your back in an attempt to help you.

“are you sure?? it was so corny,” you said, now feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you.

before he could answer, you had pulled away from his grip on your arm and began to search the floor for the measuring tape you had managed to drop.

cyno frowned a bit but shook it off.

spotting the measuring tape, you grabbed it and approached him.

“i hope that was enough to help you relax,” you went to wrap the tape around his wrist. “i’d be kinda disappointed if it wasn’t”

cyno mumbled a small apology to which you let out a small hum in response.

you tapped one of his arms, gesturing at him to lift them so you could get his torso measurements and he complied.

you took the tape and wrapped it around his waist, tightening it till it was snug against the fabric of his oversized shirt.

cyno shifted a bit and you almost instinctively went to grab his wrist to warn him from moving; something you had picked up since your friends had a habit of running off in public.

with one holding the measuring tape in place and your other one wrapped around his wrist, you heard cyno’s breath hitch.

you pulled away from him and decided to busy yourself with “writing down his measurements” in your notebook that was already filling up with nervous scribbles.

cyno let out a nervous cough and then turned to look away.

perhaps the lack of air ventilation in the costume room was getting to both of you.

prev ︴masterlist ︴next

AUTHOR’S NOTE : y/n’s secret spam is inspired by those indian men spam accs ppl use on insta to avoid getting caught stalking ppl😭 i saw a whole comment section full of them and immediately started laughing bc i had no idea how common it was???? on another note, my recent emojis are DESTROYED… it’s tragic and i never want to see the eggplant ever again

☆ backstory on y/n’s priv and why it’s like that — they originally were using it to troll ppl from their school and then ended up using it as a priv bc no one suspected it would be them behind the acc cause it looks like a bot LMAOO

— TAGLIST : @ioveaether @otomegame-oneshots @ashyiiy @mafuyuslover @yuminako @waengyknow @sharkdays @tikitsune @jihoonotes @gallantys @keiiqq @ashhh-14 @keqingily @wisheslost @sandwicz @epiclese @yoyo-yui @fyodorisbbg @kamikokii @swivy123 @ell1e2010 @morgyyyyyyy @tokkishouse @kyon-cherri @xiaossocksniffer @vio-venus @17visage @kookiibun @calypsodustt @yuu1ji7n @ashfrommars4 @kaibloom79 @jadelynnrr @mochiboo123 @lambcandle

#{ k4zushi writings ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა }#cyno #cyno x reader #genshin cyno #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #cyno fluff

125 notes · View notes

quimichi · 6 months

Note

hello!! new anon here, (may i please be 🌱 anon?)

I was hoping to get a fic on something like "cuddling with genshin girls" idrc how old they are, just pure fluff though!!! also, may it be with Creator!y/n? If so thank you!!

[always remember that this shouldn't ever start to feel like a chore! (its meant to be enjoyable!)]

☆

🌱

❛ CUDDLING SOME GENSHIN GIRLS ༉‧₊˚

Genshin girls x Creator!Reader

Shenhe, Xinyan, Rosaria, Mona & Lynette

A/n: You didn't specifically say who you want, so I used a random character generator on this one! Maybe I'll do more of these in the future!

Shenhe - Mind be purged, world be saved

You feel her body leaning into yours, her breathing slowly slowing down. Her heart still thunders against her chest, but her mind isn't racing anymore. She is relaxed, and completely in the moment.

For the first time in a long time, she is not worrying about the future or her past. She is safe in your arms, and happy as she can be.Your hands running through her snow white hair brings a comforting sense to Shenhe. Her body relaxes even more into you, her head resting against your chest, letting out a relieved sigh.

Her breathing grows even more quiet than before, her eyes closing in content. She has not been this comfortable in a very, very long time. "Enjyoing yourself?" Shenhe lets out a soft and breathy 'yes' sound as she answers you, her head nuzzling deeper into your chest in response. "Mhm," she answers quietly. Her words are little more than a whisper, her voice muffled from where her face is pressed against you. Shenhe moves to rest her head on your shoulder, her hair gently sifting through your fingers.

She does not speak. She simply exists in this moment with you. And in this moment, his mind is quiet and content.

This is where she feels most home.

Xinyan - If there's fire in your soul, you gotta rock 'n' roll.

Your body against her is warm and tender, like a nest of blankets. She buries his head into you, wanting your comfort. Her whole body feels lighter now and she is eager to spend every moment wrapped around you.

She doesn't care to move— not so long as you remain with her. You are her home, her only desire in any moment, and he will take hold of you in her embrace no matter how long it lasts. She is safe here. She is home. You are her world.

Her words are quiet, she's rambling about her day, about how she had to fight tons and tons of cyro slimes today. You can hear the excitement in her voice, the proudness as she talks and talks and talks. You may not be able to make out every word, but you can sense her joy in telling you. She just wants you to be proud of her. She wants you to know how much her days would be nothing without you. Saying if you'd be there, all those slimes would've been gone in a mere second. So, no matter what, she tries her best.

She leans her head against yours, and nuzzles against your neck. Her fingers run through your hair in affection.

Besides music, you are her favorite topic.

Rosari - Do not fear your past, and do not be scared to come to grips with it

Rosaria can hardly remember what life was like before you. Before she’d known your touch. Your warm embrace, the comfort of your presence. When she holds you close, all the troubles of the world vanish for a single, precious moment. The memory of you lingers in the air around her like a perfume. Your breath on her neck, your fingers in her hair. Your heartbeat against her chest.

She breathes your name; a sound like a prayer, a plea. “My love.”

"Yes" you answer, eyes closed as you both hold each other. You're enjoying it just as much. "Stay with me." There is a softness in Rosarias words, a quiet plea that she doesn’t think he can survive being apart from you. She doesn't often say things like these, you're not even sure if she ever had asked you for something like this. But you aren't complaining.

"Please," she urges gently, hand rising to caress your cheek. "Don’t leave me alone."

"Never" Rosaria wraps her arms tightly around you once more. She is a woman made of stone and steel, but when confronted with your love, she becomes like a girl. A girl who has just been told that she is loved back.

"I love you." She whispers, eyes closed, face buried in the crook of your neck. "I don't know what I'd do if I did not have you at my side."

She breathes, then, "You… make me whole."

Mona - Fate is called as such, for it cannot be changed, nor can it be reversed. It can only but be accepted.

She breathes in, her body trembling in your arms. She is still in a way that you would never suspect, but her soul? Your fingers, your touch, your voice? It's as if they've been her guiding light in a galaxy of millions of stars. "Your touch," she breathes, her eyes still shut. "Yours," she whispers, almost to herself, breath soft against your shoulder as she nuzzles into your neck.

"I have so badly wished to feel it."

"You like it this much in my arms?" Mona nods, breath catching as a faint blush appears on her cheeks when you speak. Just now she realized how blod she actually was. "I am content." There's a smile that blooms on her lips when she finally opens his eyes. She is close to you now; your hands can feel the rise and fall of her breath underneath your fingers.

Mona’s body presses closer against yours, seeking comfort in the warmth of your body. The faint blush on her cheeks has only grown more intense as she stares at you, unmoving, her eyes searching your face, studying every inch of it once more with a deep reverence. As if she had never studied it in the first place.

"When I look at you," Her voice is a whisper. "What I feel… it is much more than content." And look at her now, hiding her face in your neck to stop your burning gaze upon her blushing face.

Lynette - Staying silent is beneficial for maintaining focus and gathering intelligence

She leans into you, the tension leaving her body, and her mind becomes clouded with the warmness of your embrace.

When Lynette's introverted personality acts up, she becomes distant and cold to most others. But with you, she wants to be close and intimate; she craves your presence and attention, needing the warmth of your touch. If anyone has the power to melt Lynette's seemingly icy facade, it's you. Lynette's lips tug up at the corner, and she smiles softly, her eyes fluttering closed with a pleasant flush. She can almost feel how she drifts off to sleep soon.

She takes a deep breath and looks up at you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Can we...have tea after this?" "Of course" You're softly stroking her ears, careful not to be to rough, after all her ears are sensitive. In your arms, Lynette feels safe. It's a foreign feeling to her. When she's in your company, she feels his tension slowly ease; her breath is no longer heavy, but calm and even.

With you, she doesn't have to put up a front— he doesn't need her usual 'facade'. Lynette is content to simply remain in your arms, her face buried in your chest, and her eyes closed in absolute comfort. After all she's a cat, it's no wonder she started purring in your arms

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #shenhe x reader #xinyan x reader #lynette x reader #rosaria x reader #mona x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau genshin #sagau #genshin cult au

351 notes · View notes

mxzenpai · 1 year

Text

Idia Shroud x Reader

His and Theirs

Idia knows that Ramshackle doesn’t have the ability for you to have a computer…you wouldn’t mind the set up being in his room…right?

————————————————————————

Idia bites his lip as he stares at the set up in front of him. Did he choose the wrong color for the theme? He could have sworn this was your favorite aesthetic when it comes to this sort of thing. Then again, he really only had how you decorate in your co-ops to go off of. Maybe the games didn’t have the aesthetics you actually like? He looks around his room, seeing the mess that was all over the place shoved into a corner to make room for your desk.

Would you even like this? I mean, you like to play with him, but you never expressed wanting a computer. Hades it feels like he built his stats wrong and he’s about to get one-shot by the final boss. Idia’s hair flicks as he continues to stare at the set up. No no, that monitor needs to be a little higher. He moves to adjust the swing arm of the right monitor to raise it a bit more. Once done he looks at the other two monitors. Three monitors is enough for you right? You don’t need a lot since you aren’t going to be programing or anything… maybe he should have gotten another? Or he can quickly set up a hologram to go abo-

“You’re doing it again.” Idia whirls around to spot Ortho place the cat paw pillow Idia got you onto the chair of your set up. “I’m sure they’ll love it, they love anything you do.” Ortho smiles up at Idia.

“This is like- final boss territory Ortho, I gotta make sure everything is right. It’s like doing a blind playthrough without looking at a strategy guide!” Ortho giggles at Idia’s ramble before quickly leaving the room. Idia turns back to the set up. Should he have gotten some figures? You don’t know a lot of shows though…No! This was dumb! He’s just going to get rid of all of it and you’ll never know!

“Oh wow that’s so cool!” Idia lets out a screech as he whips around to see you standing there. A surprise encounter and he has NOTHING to help him with this! Idia silently watches as you look at the set up, eyes widening upon looking at the rig inside the case. “If this is the here equivalent to the RTX 3090 color me impressed.” Idia pauses.

“You…know computers?” You turn, nodding to Idia enthusiastically.

“Yeah! I played games all the time back in my world, even built my own rig. Things are different here though so I haven’t tried it. Not like I had the money to anyways, but still. Who’s this for? Ortho?” He watches as you take a look at the pc through the glass again before shifting his eyes away.

“For you.” You’re quick to turn, eyes widening in delight.

“For me? Oh hell yeah!” You turn on the pc in quick succession before turning on the monitor. You turn back to Idia. “You gonna sit?” Idia blinks, hair burning a tad brighter before he goes to grab his chair. You roll your eyes, yanking him down into your chair before plopping yourself onto his lap. Idia’s hair turns a bright pink.

“I- wha- but I don’t- you- chair- two of-“ You cover his mouth with your hand.

“Shhhhhhhh…I have a new toy and I must play with it. As the builder of said toy you must watch…aka help me with this part in this game that I’m stuck on.” Idia wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Which game?” Idia watches as you change the wallpaper to one of your favorite characters.

“The one that you let me make a save file for a few days ago. I’m gonna have to use your account to finish the game, might start a new save on my account after I finish though.” Idia nods, his hair going back to blue except for the tips.

You give Idia a kiss on the cheek and his hair lights up again. “Nah but seriously, I appreciate the gesture. I was really missing being able to sit at a pc and play games. Playing with you using your handhelds is fine and all, but I miss the keyboard.” Idia tightens his hold around your waste.

“Almost thought I got the wrong items for the fight.” You let out a laugh.

“Oh come on, you and I both know I’m not a boss. I’m the love interest.” You give a wink before turning back to the pc to boot up the game.

Yeah…you are the love interest, and Idia wouldn’t have it any other way.

#idia shroud #idia shroud x mc #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcannons

885 notes · View notes

holographic-mars · 2 months

Note

Thoughts on Shockwave? Any version. Any headcanons? Theories?

And if ya comfortable, thoughts of wavewave? (ie. Shockwave x Soundwave)

I just like Shockwave, my favorite evil guy. Your art is very pretty and your coswave stuff got me more into the ship, and I think your art is hella pretty just wonderful 💖

Uhhhh ya thanks have a good one

Okay so if you squint hard enough and look past the BIG FUCKED UP CRACK ON THE IMAGE

(I drop my phone a lot and at some point I ended up obliterating my camera okay so just.. just ignore that)

I LOVE SHOCKWAVE. Shockwave is one of those characters who I’ve never met one who I don’t like. My favorite is TFP shockwave ofc ofc I love myself a big scary bitch and I love g1 because he’s really stupid and silly and it makes me laugh. I also really like tfa shockwave (don’t ask me about longarm for your own safety)

I love idw’s shockwave backstory, I think watching a character get their life and being stripped away and left with an unrecognizable monster is tragically appealing.

I unfortunately do not have a lot of hcs for shockwave simply because I love so many shockwaves it’s hard for my brain to focus enough to come up with headcanons (HOW STUPID IS THAT SMH)

Wavewave!! I think wavewave is very cute I love the old tired husbands. My favorite is tfp wavewave (again I just. I just really like tfp shockwave. I am weak) but ofc I don’t mind dabbling in a wavewave from any continuity (a mutual of mine has me sick for shattered glass wavewave too… oh I love they)

GOD I JUST LOVE SHOCKWAVE. Anyways yes shockwave is a wonderful evil bastard!!! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND IM SO HAPPY YOURE GETTING MORE INTERESTED IN COSWAVE BECAUSE OF MY STUPID COSWAVE ART AND RAMBLINGS❤️❤️🛸🛸🛸❤️ THANK YOUUUU

#MY CAMERAAAA MY FUCKING CAMERAAAAAAA #I’ve never posted this art bc of (you guessed it) my fucked up camera #anyways #ohh shockwave my shockwave #mars doodles #maccadam #transformers #shockwave

61 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 5 months

Text

BLOOD ALONG THE MOON

➛ 03. WICKED NIGHTS

a/n: honestly i didn't expect to take a year to ever post about this fic again. if i'm being honest i figured this would become an abandoned series. solely cause the inspo for this character completely left my head. but i couldn't let go of our reporter and their love story with this bat. so while the updates may take time, i'm ready to keep going with this. enjoy.

summary: halloween was always been your least favorite night of the year, but circumstances make it so much worse.

word count: 8.2k+

pairing: bruce wayne x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, fluff, awkward beginnings, a small bit of romance, murder, death, crime scenes, grief, gratuitous prose about the darkness of gotham.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Halloween. Your least favorite night of the year.

The city streets were crowded with people; a sight not unusual to the dark pit that Gotham transformed into. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. Even getting to work was a struggle due to the overcrowded platform of the subway and the scarcity of cabs. If you had your way you’d wish everyone would suddenly vanish—giving you a chance to find some reprieve before the onslaught of darkness that plagued this night every year. Although you were foolish enough to hold out hope. Foolish enough to believe that things would be different; that nothing wicked would befall this night.

If only you’d known.

Work was filled with people milling about, some in costumes, some not. You wore your usual black coat—a pair of boots accompanying your look. If someone were to ask you’d claim you were dressed as you were every other day of the year—as a reporter working yourself to the bone. It would be sure to get a laugh from a person or two in this office.

It always did in the end.

Only this time…you weren’t laughing.

The interview you had with Bruce Wayne yesterday continued to bounce around in your mind; the thought of how to write it, still missing. You didn’t want to sound like every other magazine that sprouted nothing but gossip. There’s a reason why you chose to work at the Gotham Gazette. So you could get into the nitty and gritty of the story—no matter how dark it got in the end. To you this was either a story people would talk about forever, or it would remain a forgotten piece that would later wind up in people’s trash cans come morning the next day.

“Day.” Henry leaned against the doorway of his office. A pencil behind his ear, his glasses propped on the end of his nose, and a cup of crappy coffee in his hand. “I need to talk to you.”

You hoped you would have at least five minutes of time to breathe before you were called into what you liked to claim was the equivalent of the principal’s office. But it seemed that Henry Goldfinch decided to pick on you this week more than anyone else.

The interview notes you’d jotted down during the night were crammed into your small black notebook—nearly burning a hole in your pocket. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d ask you about them; intent on seeing a full story by tomorrow night.

“Look Henry I did the best I could with the guy, but he barely even spoke—” You were cut off at the look on his face. “Am I in trouble?”

“I just got a call from Mr. Pennyworth.”

Shit, you were so fired.

“If he wants to retract any statements then I’ll work with what I've got, but you were the one who gave me this story and I think I can do a damn good job on it.”

“Would you let me talk?” Your jaw snapped shut, cutting off the remainder of your ramble; or what you’d like to call reasons why he shouldn’t fire you. “Don’t unpack your things.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently you caught Mr. Wayne’s eye,” he said, settling down in his seat. “That call was Mr. Pennyworth giving me notice that Bruce Wayne is heading down to The Gotham Gazette today.”

“What?” you exclaimed, nearly falling into the chair behind you. “What the fuck for?”

“He wants to take you to lunch, kid.”

You fell into the chair, staring wide eyed at Henry who regarded you with a smirk.

Bruce Wayne wanted to take you to lunch. He was coming to your work in order to…pick you up.

Any way you tried to string it together, the news still remained hard to comprehend. Still you caught on to Henry’s words from before. You’d caught Bruce Wayne’s eye and now you were going to have to deal with the consequences of that. This would be the first time in years since he’d left Wayne Tower to do something as mundane as go to lunch. Let alone with someone like you.

“What do I do?” you croaked, trying not to panic as the reporter in you attempted to take over. Was this only a social call? Or did he want to do a follow up interview?

Henry leaned forward, the damned smirk still on his face. “You go to lunch with him. Maybe he likes you.”

“Likes me,” you scoffed. “I’d no sooner learn the identity of The Batman before Bruce Wayne admitted to liking me.”

You wanted answers like any sane person would, but the idea that Bruce Wayne possibly liked you left words unavailable to you. That was the farthest thing from the truth, except coming up with some other alternative left you with nothing yet again. What the fuck were you being called to lunch for? You hoped it was just him personally asking you to rip up the notes you took from yesterday while he watched.

“They’ll be here soon. I’d get your ass moving.”

“Right.” You stood slowly, a feeling of unease spreading through you with every step towards the door. “Did—um—Mr. Pennyworth…did he sound upset?”

Henry scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit if you pissed people off Day.”

You felt the switch flip in your mind. A reminder of who you truly were on the inside coming back like lightning cracking across your body, and you stood taller in your place. You didn’t care. You never had.

“I don’t.”

“Atta girl.” He tipped his cup slightly your way, watching as you walked back out into the office—the straight set of your spine once again returning.

You didn’t come to Gotham to make friends. You came here to work, to build a career that would outlast you if you were determined enough. Pissing off Bruce Wayne had never been on your list, but you figured it was bound to happen eventually. It was either now or later in life. Thankfully everyone had their hands full worrying about The Batman and the election—so you pissing off the Prince of Gotham would go unnoticed.

Grabbing your bag, you did a quick sweep of your desk to make sure that everything was accounted for before you left. You weren’t sure how long this lunch would take, but you didn’t intend to come back later.

The elevator doors opened once again with a loud creak, thankfully revealing it to be empty. Your heart thrummed in your chest a mile a minute, the tension still in your shoulders as you walked towards what might be the end of your career. While you knew the possibility of this simply being a social call was high, you couldn’t ignore what might very well happen. The ding of your stop brought you out of your daze enough to get out and head towards the front doors.

Glancing up towards the sky you saw the gloominess still remained—a reminder of where you were, what this city was reduced to. While you may have called it pollution of the environment, others would call it weather. After all there was always a difference in opinion when the opinion came a bit too close to the actual truth.

A sleek black car sat directly outside of the doors, a man in a black coat was hunched beneath an umbrella leaning against its side. You recognized him the second he raised his head, his blue eyes practically singeing your skin. Henry really wasn’t kidding when he said Bruce Wayne himself was coming to pick you up from the Gazette. People stopped and stared at the spectacle that was this man. By all means he was considered a hermit from the rumors that spread through Gotham like poison, and yet there he was, meeting with an unknown woman—a reporter nonetheless.

“You don’t seem like the lunch date type of man,” you said, standing far enough under the awning of the building where you didn’t get wet from the rain, but still felt it splatter against your coat.

His lips twitched, eyes skimming your figure before flicking up back to your face. You wanted to ignore the flutter in your chest from that simple gesture, but your body wouldn’t let you. It seemed that whoever Bruce Wayne was…he had an affect on you—a hold that refused to be severed.

“It wasn’t my idea.”

Scoffing, you turned to glare at a man who stood only a few feet away, clearly eavesdropping in on the conversation.

“So you aren’t here to have lunch with me. You’re simply here by the orders of Mr. Pennyworth,” you retorted.

“Alfred,” he said, finally standing to his full height for the first time since you met him. He was taller than you actually anticipated. “He thought it would be a good idea.”

“He thought going on a date with a reporter was a good idea?”

He shrugged slightly, the tension in his shoulders made the movement awkward. “Would you call this a date Miss…”

“Day.”

“Day,” he repeated quietly, his lips forming around the word as if it was already familiar to him. “Interesting name.”

“Nick-name,” you replied.

He nodded slowly, his gaze so intense you found you had to keep looking away. “Your real name isn’t printed on any of your bylines.”

You smiled albeit rather ruefully as you stepped close enough to be underneath his umbrella with him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to earn my real name Mr. Wayne.”

Again you watched—entranced—as his lips twitched slightly. Almost like he wanted to smile, but forgot how exactly to do it. He’d been in pain so long, suffering the grief of losing those he loved most for nearly his entire life, and not once had he learned what the true meaning of happiness was. For some unknown reason, you wanted to be the first one to show him.

“Okay,” he murmured, turning towards the passenger seat door and opening it for you. “And it’s Bruce.”

The words were accompanied with an outstretched hand to help you into the car, his hold simultaneously gentle yet firm as you sat. Your eyes met his briefly, something flickering to life between your gaze, before the door shut entirely and you were left in silence for a few brief seconds. It gave you enough time to catch what little breath you had in your chest—the interaction far too electric for someone like you.

Get some fucking sense.

You weren’t the type of person Bruce Wayne would fall for. One day he would find someone as wealthy as him, someone who knew his life due to shared experience. You hated those fucking words with a burning passion. Shared experience with people never went over well in your line of work. For a reporter, shared experience meant you had nothing original to say. It meant that you were the same as everyone else around you and to you that was damnation itself.

“Where would you like to eat?”

The question was barely loud enough for you to hear over the traffic and rain, but his soft tone caught you in its hold until you were solely focused on him. Once again that unfamiliar spark of energy crackled in the air. You were afraid that if this continued, you’d walk out of this lunch date with a newfound crush on Gotham’s Prince. That thought alone was enough for you to tear your gaze away—settling in the seat and staring through the front window.

“You invited me, Mr. Wayne. Why don’t you pick?”

He fell silent, hands shifting from his lap to the steering wheel and back again. “I don’t know many places to eat around Gotham anymore.”

Of course Bruce Wayne of all people would eat at home day in and day out. Thus was the luxury of having a personal chef in the Wayne Tower. Although you couldn’t stop the small grin from forming at how funny you found all of this.

Going to lunch with this man. It should have been absurd—almost laughable—but there you were. About to tell him to drive into the heart of the city just to take you to your favorite diner. Reporters would murder you just to stand in your spot. To spend mere moments with him. Yet it seemed that all you had to do was exist.

Rather than dwell on the moment any longer, you told him where to take you and it seemed that he knew the city a lot better than you expected. Pulling out of the spot with ease, he swiftly swung the car around in a rather illegal u-turn before making a quick right turn. You had to hand it to him…he knew how to handle a car. Part of you wanted to call it sexy, but you killed that echo in your head before it could manifest into something else.

Feelings were dangerous in your line of work—having seen the pain several reporters went through when they fell into bed with lethal people. You wouldn’t wind up like them. All you could allow in your life was friendship, nothing more. A friendship with Bruce Wayne wouldn’t hurt you. Not when he refrained from speaking to anyone, let alone the worst of the worst that roamed Gotham.

He turned another corner, the rain getting worse the further you traveled into the city. Driving in this weather would have stopped you from going, but it didn’t seem to phase him. He took it in stride, focusing intently on the road with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting between you. It would be so easy to pick it up, to run your fingers over the lines in his palm. And for a moment you indulged. You imagined what being with him would actually feel like.

Would he treat you the same way? Or would you suddenly become special. You couldn’t picture him treating anyone in a loving manner, let alone you and that’s where the fantasy died.

“That’s it,” you said, pointing to the flickering sign out front that only read DEM as opposed to its usual bright DEMETER’S TABLE name.

“Is it closed?”

You laughed, barely a puff of air, but you knew he heard it. Opening the door you ignored the downpour that threatened to soak you down to your very soul, and patiently waited until he got out himself. The expression on his face caught you slightly off guard as you watched him get out. You would have figured it was nothing—having seen him wear a grim expression all throughout your interview with him—but this looked different.

“I know it’s not the best place, but the food is—”

“I could have opened the door for you.”

That killed the worry filling your chest in an instant. He wasn’t upset that you brought him to what looked like the shittiest diner in all of Gotham. In fact, he could care less about that. He wanted to open the door for you…like a gentleman.

You nearly laughed in his face, but the rain was starting to seep into your shoes, causing your whole body to shiver and he fared no better. It caused his hair to stick to his face, the coat doing absolutely nothing to keep him dry.

The sign from the diner cast a luminescent glow across his face, highlighting his high cheekbones. You found yourself wanting to brush your lips across them. Though it was daytime and the sun remained stuck behind the clouds somewhere, you still felt as if night encased you in its cold embrace. Yet standing there with him in the rain, keeping his stare, you felt warmth flicker in your chest. As if he had placed a piece of the sun in your heart.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” you said softly, turning away before you grew too attached to this odd man.

The bell above the door rang throughout the building, alerting her of your presence. Your friend Dem stood behind the counter, her graying black hair wrapped up in a loose bun—a pen going directly through it to hold it in place. She looked up at the sound, a broad smile pulling at her wrinkled cheeks and bringing to light the soft lines around her eyes. When you first moved to Gotham she was the person who practically took you under her wing.

“Day! You are soaked hun. You shouldn’t be out in this weather.” She walked around the counter, immediately handing you a hot steaming cup of coffee. “Especially not since you just got over pneumonia. What are you trying to do, kill your…”

She trailed off, her eyes growing wide as the bell rang again and Bruce entered behind you, looking worse than you did. You knew the shock she was feeling, having gone through it about thirty minutes ago yourself, and did your best to drag her back to the present.

“Got a free table?” you joked, knowing the diner was practically empty.

That seemed to do it. The smile—though hesitant this time around—was back as she gestured to the second booth by the door. “I’ll be right with you sweetie.”

“Thanks Dem.”

You slid into the old brown booth, feeling your clothes stick to the fake leather. “Here.” You pushed the mug of coffee his way. “It’ll help with the cold.”

“I’m okay.” He reached up to push it back, but you held it in its place.

“I’m not asking Wayne.” Smiling, you leaned back. “Besides…can’t have one of the most important people in Gotham getting sick on my watch. I’d definitely be fired for that.”

Without another word, he lifted the mug to his lips, placing them directly where yours were mere moments ago. The spark flared to life again, cracking like a familiar bolt of lightning through your body and burning you to the core. Looking away, you clasped your hands together in an effort to seal in any heat that might try to escape your body. You weren’t sure if you liked the feelings that were causing your body to go haywire. For all you knew, you could have been imagining this entire thing.

You wouldn’t put it past your mind to play tricks on you as you sat across from him.

“Why this place?” Once again, his question caught you off guard.

“What?”

He set the mug down, pushing it your way. “Why this diner?”

His blue eyes were fixed on your face, as if attempting to see past the shield you wore day in and day out. When a person suffered enough pain to last an entire lifetime, they tended to become closed off. You were that person and from what you could see…so was he. The temptation to ask him how he survived through the pain, how he managed to come out of it at the end somewhat of a person, was on the tip of your tongue.

But you figured it was better to stay silent—keep it to yourself until the right moment came up.

“It was the first place I came to when I first moved to Gotham. I used to live a block away from here.” Sipping on the coffee, you tried to busy yourself to avoid his piercing gaze. “Though, I had to move because my apartment got broken into while I was sleeping.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? No…something else.

Clearing your throat, you continued in the hopes of appeasing your now racing heart. “Anyways. Dem took me in, she took care of me and it felt nice. So I stayed.”

Before he could reply, Dem arrived with two plates in her hands. You smelled the burger before she even placed it on the table—your stomach clenching with hunger. Her specialty that you first ordered when you came here. It made your heart warm seeing her place it in front of Bruce, her smile kind and welcoming. No matter who he was, Dem always saw the good in people. Saw what they needed and willingly gave it to them without question.

She was a mother to the strangers that wandered into her diner.

“More coffee?” she asked, staring at the single mug that sat empty in the center of the table.

You noticed she didn’t ask if you’d like a second cup, her body language telling you enough. She thought this was a date. You weren’t sure if you should correct her or not.

“Please,” Bruce said, interrupting your thoughts. He handed her the mug, never asking for an extra one, but seemingly happy to share with you.

Once again your heart fluttered and this time…you let it.

“Dem’s burgers are possibly the best thing to be created.”

His lips pulled up in a small barely there grin. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should,” you replied, smiling around a bite of your fry. “As a reporter all I have is my word.”

You didn’t catch the way he looked at you, his eyes shining with something that hadn’t been there in a very long time. Instead you focused on gazing out the window at the rain. The way it transformed the city into something dangerous. Yet even through the darkness you could see it. The small hints of the light seeping through the clouds and shining down on an otherwise grim place.

Carole King played on the old speakers—a favorite of Dem’s you learned early on—and it created a soft symphony of warmth as it mixed with the rain. You wanted to stay there forever. In a place of comfort and love.

You’d even include Bruce in it too.

He bit into the burger, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the taste burst across his tongue. The sight caused your heart to lurch in your chest, warmth spreading up your neck and into your face. And you tried your best to shove it down. How ridiculous of you to find the sight hot, but there you were. Speechless, watching as he enjoyed one of your favorite meals.

Dem’s voice humming to the song snapped you out of your ogling; you looked to her to find something else to focus on. Except the small knowing smile she wore on her face and the wink she threw your way did nothing to help your situation. Rather than dwell on it, you began to eat. Content to remain silent until the both of you finished.

The singular cup of coffee was set down in between you two, dragging your gazes back to one another. You glanced at the mug, then back at him. As if that was the defining factor of whether or not this was a date. He chewed thoughtfully on a fry, his eyes still on you, while you mulled over whether or not you could magically turn the one mug into two.

It turned out to be an impossible feat, but one you found you didn’t mind.

“So tell me—” You pried your trench coat off, draping it over the back of the booth. He’d discarded his thirty minutes ago, his black button down now rolled to his elbows. “What’s Bruce Wayne been up to?”

His eyebrow quirked, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “This isn’t a second interview is it?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten enough for my article already. This is me asking.”

“Hm.” He leaned forward, hands clasped together and hair falling back into his eyes. “And who are you exactly?”

The smile you’d been fighting for an hour came through. “I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

The coffee mug had been refilled three times now, your energy coupled with the spark of attraction (you were still denying) between you brought life back into your body. While he didn’t disclose much about himself—saying bits and pieces here and there—you still found yourself engrossed in his words. You wanted to know more, to see the man behind the mask that was Bruce Wayne.

Maybe if you were lucky enough he’d show you his true self one day. For right now you were content to remain just as you were.

A reporter who shied away from any aspects of love, sitting with a man who was discovering what the meaning of joy was all over again.

“I can wait,” he murmured, his eyes no longer resembling the cloudy skies outside. You could see the lightness in them—the shining blue unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You glanced down at the mug, seeing something in it you hadn’t before. For whatever unknown reason Bruce Wayne—the man who had been reclusive his entire life—trusted you. Even though he didn’t say it outright he didn’t have to. You saw it well enough and something told you…he knew you could see it. He wanted you to see it.

Time was slowly ticking away, reminding you that you had a job to get back to, but you still remained. Sitting with your elbows pressed to the table—unconsciously trying to get as close to him as possible. Maybe if you never left the world would melt away. If you became a permanent part of this diner, the city that happily ate away at every resident would leave you be. You’d be forgotten in a place that thrived on the lost and forlorn.

“Why me?” you inquired after the beat of silence threatened to swallow you whole.

The soft lilting notes of Billie Holiday echoed in the empty diner. Dem was nowhere to be found and the only two remaining customers were you and Bruce. Still sharing that singular cup of cold coffee. It had created a ring on the table, your lipstick a slight stain on the white mug. The color smudged off from where Bruce had placed his lips. Sharing a hint of a kiss that would never be.

He leaned back in the booth, no longer stiff—the nature of a man who had hid from society for years now traded in for someone different. His body language was enough to make you stare. Transfixed on the way his shirt continued to hug his figure even though it had dried an hour ago.

“Why not you?”

You huffed. “Answering my question with another question. And here I thought I was the only reporter in the room.”

“I’ve had my fair share of interviews.”

“None that I’ve read.” You slid your plate to the side and clasped your hands together in the hopes of looking as intrigued as you felt. “Do tell Mr. Wayne.”

The tension was beginning to set in his shoulders again. A small overlay to the man that lingered beneath. As if he was bringing up a mask he constantly carried with him. He hid constantly day in and day out, but right now he didn’t sit before you the Prince of Gotham, but instead a man who was trying to relearn how to live. Whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not…Bruce Wayne was like you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

“Alfred keeps them from printing.” The admission alone was enough for you to change the subject, but he continued to talk—cracking open yet another small sliver to the impenetrable armor he wore. “People they don’t…they always look for something wrong.”

You nodded, digging your nail into your palm. “Flaws are sometimes easier to sell.”

The sad truth of being a journalist is more often than not people weren’t looking for the truth. At least not in Gotham. They wanted something to sell. A piece of the person that one would deem too vulnerable to be shown to the rest of the world. They wanted to satiate the greed that clawed its way to the front. Rarely was the truth their only reason for writing a story.

“You’re not interested in flaws.” His eyes grew softer, hand splaying on the table to trace a random shape as he watched you. Saw through the facade you wore. He dug right down to the depths of your persona and dragged it to the surface—a relenting and brutal act.

Yet you wanted it to happen all the same.

“I like the truth.” You distracted yourself with the shape of his finger, the length of it as it shifted. “It sounds better.”

For a split second you allowed your eyes to flicker up, to meet his in the dim lights of the diner, and you finally caught hold of that niggling emotion. The one that held you captive in your own right. You liked him. Despite only meeting him yesterday, you found yourself drawn in by his haunted eyes. The same ones that practically burned a hole in your skin, until he was forever a part of your form.

Bruce Wayne felt familiar to you.

Not in the way that a stranger finds a face in the crowd familiar. Not even in the way an old friend would feel seeing someone from their past once more.

He was familiar in the way two souls separated beyond time and space were familiar. You couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow you knew these eyes that traced the lines and curves of your face. Committing you to memory. You were two distant beings made up of different particles of the universe. Yet there in that diner you found one another—as if gravity had dragged your cells together all along.

Two halves of a celestial being finally forming to be one.

You almost wanted to laugh at the notion that Bruce Wayne and you had anything in common. Let alone that there was any physical attraction between you.

But there it was. The truth you’d been searching for all along.

You could almost laugh at how fucked it all was.

How horrifically beautiful.

Night was beginning to settle over the city, calling to the horrors that lingered in the shadows. Prompting them to finally emerge for the one night where fear ran rampant in the streets of Gotham. Being scared on Halloween wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but this year things felt different. You could practically taste the blood that would run through the grime filled streets come morning. The same one that you would later have to report on.

Bruce stood beside his car next to your apartment building. You had directed him here after another hour spent in Dem’s diner barely speaking yet saying more than you would have liked. For some reason he was able to unearth more about you than you had found out in the entirety of yesterday’s interview with him. If being a Wayne didn’t wind up working out for him, he’d make a killing out of being an investigative journalist.

You told him as much before you left.

“Got any plans for tonight?” you asked, already knowing the answer you’d receive.

He looked up to the slightly darkened sky, at the way that the clouds did nothing to allow even slivers of the sunset to break through. You had to hand it to the city. There was some irony in the way even nature plagued the city in darkness. As if its legacy was always meant to be this. An abyss that drowned everyone within.

A barely there quirk appeared on his lips. “I’ll be out of the city tonight.”

Convenient.

The thought crossed your mind of asking him to join you for a lonesome dinner and half a bottle of wine. But the line had been drawn in the sand long before you agreed to accompany him for lunch. An invisible border you couldn’t cross. He was a Wayne. A part of a world you could only reach through second hand stories and gruesome aftermaths.

If the lunch had been more than strangers sitting across from one another, you would have joked about your house being Capulet and his Montague. But something told you irony wasn’t his strong suit. Nor would it favor you being able to see him another time. That is…if he even wanted to see you. For all you could tell this was merely a social call placed on his shoulders by Alfred—the man you came to see as Bruce’s father figure.

“Well…”

“Would you—”

You smiled, feigning being professional for the sake of your giddiness. “You go first.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you be available in a few days?”

“Oh…” Rather than take it easy on him, you decided that the best course of action was to jab at his wall just a bit. Just to see if something would crumble even further. So with a smile you stepped closer, watching the rise and fall of his chest quicken just a bit more. “That doesn’t sound like Alfred speaking.”

A heavy breath left his lungs—washing warm across your skin. “It’s not.”

“So this is you asking?”

He nodded, probably irritated with the way you were clearly teasing him. But that’s the thing. He let you tease him. He gave in to your small ruse and let it play out until you felt like you were finished.

If you could get away with this, who knows what else you’d be able to get away with. Perhaps calling him a stupid nickname. Or even getting to know his favorite color.

Something told you it was brown.

“What’s your favorite color?”

His eyebrows rose, mouth parted slightly as if you’d thrown him for a bigger loop than anyone had before. And much to your own surprise…he answered. Honestly.

“Black.”

Ah…you were close.

“Tuesday. The rush of Halloween will be over and my paper should give me some free reign. I’ll be available then.”

Another solemn nod as if you just informed him that you were attending a funeral for a recently departed loved one. You learned to realize that his nods were simply a part of his personality. Eventually you would be able to decipher what each one meant, what they were attempting to say without using words. His voice seemed to be an afterthought—actions speaking louder than words could say.

“Tuesday it is,” he replied with a soft hesitant smile. You wanted to see it again, ask him to never frown again, but this was merely a fleeting moment in the grand expanse of things.

He stood there for a minute more as if leaving was the last thing he wanted. Then got into his car, turned the engine once, and drove down the street. And you watched him disappear into the already dark horizon. The day never existed to begin with, but the storm wouldn’t stop the chaos of the night. So you gave one last glance to the street before heading inside, ready to hole yourself in your locked apartment til sunrise the next day.

The shrill ringing of your cell phone startled you from your small nap on the couch. A throw blanket that was a mishmash of colors was thrown over your body, a half empty wine bottle on the coffee table and the book Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde face down beside it. Ever since finding it in the Wayne tower, you began to look through the old text. With the silly hope that you would find pieces of Bruce Wayne in the words.

“What?” you grumbled, rubbing a hand over your face to rouse yourself from the groggy state of sleep. Your brain was sluggish, body content to remain on the couch for many more hours, but Henry’s grim voice startled you awake.

“The Mayor’s dead.”

You sat up. “What the fuck do you mean the Mayor’s dead Henry?”

A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearing the middle of the night. The noise outside still persisted though. People always partied the worst on this night. Especially in this city.

“If this is a joke—”

“Shut up and listen will you.” Your mouth clamped shut, eyes falling to the book. “They found him in his home. And it’s gruesome. Whoever did it was a right fucked up person, but I can’t get there at this time. The streets are too packed.”

The breath caught in your throat, even as your eyes stung with exhaustion. “And I’m closer to the scene.”

“It’s a favor and it’s a big one Day.”

You sighed. “I’ll leave in ten. Who’s on the scene?”

“Gordon.”

Good. Gordon never gave you shit for being a reporter like the other detectives did. Many wanted your kind out of Gotham all together simply because of how good you were at getting your nose into places it shouldn’t be. With Gordon there at least you would have a chance to do some meaningful reporting—or at least help where you could in figuring this out.

Henry listed out a few details they told him, what was going to occur within the next few days. But all you could think about was Bruce. You’d miss your chance to see him Tuesday after all. Too stuck in the midst of a city wide crime scene that would take up more or less all of your time. Which left him on the outs. You scribbled down in your black notebook a note to call him and ask for a rain check.

At least then one good thing in your life wouldn’t disappear without a trace.

You grabbed your coat, shoved your arms in the sleeves, and locked up your apartment as the weight of the news rested heavy on your shoulders.

With the death of the Mayor came an investigation. One that would no doubt lead to more bloodshed in the streets and leave a city divided amongst itself. You had heard about shit like this happening in Gotham, but you were never around to see it yourself. Yet there you were. Right in the thick of it with no other option but to see the chaos through.

People filled the streets. Some drunk, some not. Which didn’t make getting to the scene easier. You fought through the crowds, managed to catch a train down there, and somehow came out unscathed. And above in the night sky…his sign hung like a full moon. It called out to the chaos of the night, and made a promise to those who liked the cover of darkness that they would only be safe for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, feeling the rain strike against your cheek. It stung as you crossed the street.

Police cars lined the sidewalk, sirens blaring and bright, and for a moment…there was light in Gotham. You could barely see in front of you, but at least they illuminated the pathway to the front entrance. Many of them were taping off the building, others standing around and gazing at the sky—probably asking themselves if he would show up.

“If it ain’t Miss Day!”

You felt the weight lighten as you reached the top of the building steps. “Officer Martinez. Funny seeing you here.”

“You come to talk to me tonight?”

The smile was involuntary on your lips as he let you head in with him, holding the door open for you. Martinez always had a soft spot for you when things like this befell the city. After all he was usually around when it came to Gordon and with a job like yours, you ran into cops a bit too often for your liking. But Martinez was the exception. He brought you coffee on long nights at crime scenes, cracked jokes at the worst times, and even drove you home if he was around.

“Of course,” you said with a grin, bumping his shoulder. “I’m here to write a piece about the greatest cop in the city.”

He scoffed. “Flattery will get you everywhere chica.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Another flight of steps revealed even more cops scattered around the place. You could see the flash of a camera in the distance, whispered voices filling the air as you entered. Several cops gave you nasty glances, scoffing to themselves at the fact that you were allowed to enter. A reporter. Someone beneath them. To them you were the vulture that came to pick apart the mess they were left to clean.

“All I know is what Gordon told me. And even that’s not much.”

“Where is Gordon?”

Martinez shrugged. “Went out to fetch someone. Figure another detective.”

One more step into the room and you felt it. The pressure in your chest, the pinch of pain in your side where you were still healing. As if crime in Gotham called to crime. A horrid likeness that permeated the air. When Henry said the scene was gruesome he wasn’t kidding. You were ready to bolt the second you could smell the blood—the sight nearly too much for your stomach to take.

“Fuck,” you murmured, eyes wide and body wracked with fear.

“It’s not easy to see.”

“He’s…oh fuck.”

You didn’t need words to know Martinez was concerned about you. His eyes told you enough. They lingered a bit too long, tried to see past your mask you quickly pulled up when it came to scenes such as this. If you were lucky you would make it out tonight without any nightmares.

You were rarely lucky.

Someone called his name, causing him to leave you alone in the room with a few other people. Yet all you could focus on was the Mayor. The message scrawled across his head screamed so loud you could practically hear the voice of the killer. It punched right through your chest, made you pay attention without any barriers. Without mercy.

“What the fuck?”

You turned when someone’s voice filtered through the air, disbelief clear in their tone. Perhaps they found something worse. Something that would make you want to unsee everything that happened tonight. But what came to your attention was not what you expected. Your heart dropped to your stomach, a flutter going through your body, as the sight of him filled your view once more.

For some reason he seemed bigger in the room. He towered over everyone here, eyes still striking against the dark color of his suit. For a moment you couldn’t breathe, nerves filling your body with each heavy thump of his boot against the hardwood floor. How he would react to seeing you again took over your mind. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe…he forgot about you.

Maybe to him you were just another lost soul in a sea of tragedy.

Someone he saved once and didn’t think twice about second.

He stopped midstep, gaze falling to your form, and for a split second…he stiffened entirely. Recognition flashed in his eyes before something darker took its place. You were reminded of the night he dragged you home, the night he held you as you cried about death. As you begged him to keep you alive.

You wondered if he was thinking about that too. If you stepped close enough maybe you could see it in his eyes. Fragments of a memory that still burned bright and alive in your mind—a bad movie you could never turn off. So there you sat in the theater. Forced to watch it replay.

Maybe if you asked he’d sit with you. Keep you company in the darkness.

“Daywalker.”

Gordon had a habit of using the formal version of your nickname. A call sign that seemed to jolt you from your own mind—eyes snapping from The Batman to the man standing beside him. He regarded you with a confused look. A question lingering on his tongue.

One you quickly overlapped with one of your own.

“What the hell happened Gordon?”

His eyes went soft. “Chaos.”

The pain in your side flared to life again. “And what’s he doing here?”

The thump of his boots echoed behind you as he circled the scene. No doubt taking notes about what happened, what was left behind for them to find. Gordon held up a green envelope, writing scratched into the paper as if it was left there in anger—the pen nearly breaking through. A formal address to the man who still remained behind you. A call out to The Batman himself.

Either this guy was insane…or he understood what The Bat would react to.

“So all this…was for him?”

Eyes burned into your skin when you said the words, another thump letting you know he still remained, still listening in the shadows of the room.

Gordon shrugged. “That’s what he’s here to find out.”

You nodded, stepping back to let Gordon do his job with the others as you surveyed the room yourself. Every once in a while your gaze fell back to him. How he stalked about with purpose, each step measured and calculated. He understood the tension in the room, how cops hated that he stood amongst them.

After all, he fell lower into their likeability category than you. To them you were the vulture, but he was the thief. He took their image—their reputations—and made it worse. He took their jobs right under their noses. Not because they couldn’t do it, but because with him it would come to a final end.

You caught bits and pieces of the conversations at hand, heard how the Mayor must have died, but your attention still remained with The Bat. How he stood wary with his back to the window. Every now and then you swore his gaze fell to you, but that might have been your imagination. Your mind hadn’t stopped racing since you stepped past the threshold; the crime scene doing nothing but wracking your body with fear and anxiety. Two things that were an enemy to a good reporter.

“Killer may have come through the skylight.”

You glanced up, eyes tracing the metal lines of the glass above and tried to imagine the scene playing out before you. How they’d get in, how they’d hide. In your head it matched up, but something felt off—as if the scene itself was too perfect. Too pristine for you to gather anything notable.

Gordon’s voice peaked your interest, drawing you closer. “What does a liar do when he’s dead?”

“There’s a cipher too.”

Something flickered in the back of your mind. You remembered Henry having a book of riddles on his desk. Some cheap Christmas gift someone in the office got him in the hopes of giving their boss a sense of humor. You had flipped through it once or twice while waiting for him to show up for a meeting. But you could recall the same riddle being printed with all the others—in a list of nearly three hundred, you remembered that one for its dark flair.

“Lies,” you murmured to yourself, attention forced to the outburst towards Gordon.

But it was the darker and much deeper voice behind you that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “He lies still.”

The answer to the riddle.

Yet even that didn’t tell you much. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going to give Gotham the easy way out. No, you could see the darkness lingering in the distance. The threat of something more on the way. And there wouldn’t a fucking thing anyone in this room could do about it. Except for him. His name was on the envelope, his sign in the sky and soon…Gotham would be turning to him for more than just an answer to a riddle.

“Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” the commissioner spat, turning away from the scene with enough anger to rival the killer. Grief plagued the air and while you should have stayed, asked for statements, all you wanted to do was go home.

So you bid Gordon goodnight with the promise to call him tomorrow for more than just this. Your stomach was in knots, bile filling the back of your throat, but you could barely move. His gaze still burned a hole in your back, watching as you left on semi-steady feet—the wound that lingered now a reminder that you were nearly this person. You were nearly another story in a newspaper.

Martinez came up beside you as you stepped out into the hall, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He must have grabbed it from down the street, because he held his own. The rain still pounded outside striking loudly against the window but it had become a drowned out echo. Simply background noise to a tragedy that kept you locked tight in its grasp. You could see the headline of tomorrow’s paper. The words bold and loud amidst the gray color—a color that matched the sky.

GOTHAM MOURNS.

“Want me to give you a ride home?” Martinez asked, eyes still plagued with concern. You wanted to wipe it from his face, place his carefree smile back where it belonged. Except no one would be smiling tonight.

You sucked in a cold breath, sensing the presence of The Bat as he followed Gordon out to the hallway.

“Yeah. A ride would be nice.”

Tomorrow was a new day, but the truth still remained, waiting to break free. Darkness ran through Gotham so deep it would take prying the streets up to see it, but something told you exactly that would happen. This was not the end of the blood that would turn this city red.

It was only the beginning.

#bruce wayne x f!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #the batman x f!reader #the batman x reader #the batman x you #battinson x reader #battinson x you #the batman #my writing

54 notes · View notes