#As he gets stronger he'd have to visit it less

[akela-nakamura]

Alone In A Room, for the title game

send me a made-up fic title and I’ll tell you what i would write to go with it:

Okay, okay. I see this two different ways:

First: When a ghost is first formed, it's Lair in the GZ is a single room behind a plain door. It builds itself as the ghost gains strength and younger ghosts have to spend time in their Lairs to regain ectoplasm and "rest" as it were.

Second: When a ghost is forced into it's core, it's like being locked in a room. When they're first forced in, there isn't much around but it doesn't really matter, 'cause they're too tired to be bored. As they regain their strength (and how fast this happens depends on if their core is cared for or is simply left on its own), it builds up. And a ghost can start to feel what's around it. A ghost's ectoplasm is also really malleable when they're in their core, so if they want to change how they look they can do so in their core.

I like the first one better, so this is what I'm thinking:

Danny's only been a halfa for a few weeks when he starts feeling weak. The ghosts he's fighting aren't terrible powerful in the grand scheme of things, but for a young halfa who's still trying to figure out their powers, it's a lot.

Danny also can't understand why he feels so ill, he had been getting stronger, gaining more control but it's like he's hit a wall. Tucker and Sam try to help but they're just as in the dark as Danny is about ghosts and their needs. Sam suggestion hanging out near the portal, Tucker wonders if Danny has to actually eat ectoplasm or something.

At this point, they don't even know what cores are. They're running blind and they're starting to get scared. Maybe there isn't a cure for this, maybe the energy that blasted into Danny during the accident was temporary and it's running out.

Maybe Danny's going to die fully after all. Maybe that's why all the ghosts are gunning for him, he's not supposed to exist.

One night, Danny goes to bed early. He's so tired. There's a weight in his chest and he can feel something stuttering. It's not his heart, but it feels just as important. He feels a little hollow, like he hasn't eaten despite having dinner.

He can't sleep. He's so freaking tired but he can't sleep. It's not enough, it's not what he needs. He works his way down stairs and goes to the lab and it's a little better next to the portal. But it's still not right.

He paces outside the portal for a bit, tired, frustrated, and so so confused. There's something tugging at him, something calling him and he doesn't understand. There's instincts buzzing under his skin and he doesn't know how to interpret them. There's something that has to be found but he has no idea what.

He tries to stick to logic: Fact, going into the GZ alone is dumb, especially when he's this weak. Fact, not telling anyone where he's going is dumber and Jazz will freak. Fact, he doesn't know his way around the Zone, he can't go in without backup. He could run into someone he simply can't fight right now.

As the night drags on, logic--his human logic--slowly starts to lose meaning.

In the end, he's barely able to scribble a note out to Jazz and his friends before he dives into the portal, chasing after something he doesn't understand.

He transforms just before he hits the portal and it's like all thought vanishes. School, Amity, his family, his Obsession--all pale in comparison to what he has to find here, in the Zone.

He's seen the Zone before in brief bursts, but he hasn't ventured very deep yet. He's been too nervous to explore alone and Sam and Tucker can't exactly fly.

None of that matters now, though. He doesn't register anything, his mind is firmly locked on his Lair. There's a beating in his chest that can't be his heart and he feels...driven. There is only one goal and he cannot be distracted.

(He doesn't know it, but no one could find him right now if they wanted to. He's not exactly Phantom right now, he's a baby ghost in need of their Lair.)

He navigates by instinct, feeling the ectoplasmic currants that flow through the Zone and the feel of the larger lairs and kingdoms that dot the Zone.

He finds it and it's like joy. It's like home. It's like belonging.

The door is nondescript but he knows.

It opens for him. When he enters, all the tension in him eases. The pulse in his chest slows and the cycle lengthens, like whatever lies in his chest is slowly drawing energy in. The ectoplasm feels different here, less purposeful, less formed. It's not a fight to pull it in, to use it.

He curls on the floor and finally finally sleeps.

[surielstea]

Desperate Males

1k celebration request!

Pairing: Poly!Batboys x Fem!Reader

Summary: Morrigan convinces Reader to indulge in her fantasies with the three winged Illyrians, the ones that the reader resents for the way they treat her home court, the hewn city.

Warnings: smut | minors dni | 18+ only | p in v | riding | mating press | multi-orgasm | dirty talk | foursome (f, m, m, m) | and probably a lot others

A. Note: Thank you my lovely Lex (@lexluvswriting) for helping me finish this because I was STRUGGLING but I’m happy with how it turned out in the end :)

8.1k words .. half of it’s smut, whoops.

Rita's was packed full of lusting fae and grinding figures, every single body in the pleasure hall was glistening with sweat beneath the dim lighting as they continued to rut against each other.

I was sat in the corner of the building, at a small booth I was sharing with Morrigan, gossiping about our relationship issues over a few too many glasses of wine.

Mor was one of the only people I could tolerate ever since Rhys dragged me out of the Court of Nightmares and to Velaris. I hadn't had much of a choice, the moment he found out I was his mate, he felt some form of entitlement to me, he was fortunate he wasn't ripping me away from anything special, less fortunate when he realized I held the mating bond with his two best friends as well. All three of them, sanctioned to me, a female who had no intention of ever accepting any of their bonds.

Mor was from the hewn city as well, born and raised in that wretched court. It made it easier to talk to her, she understood what I meant when I said it felt like I was living a lie, too good to be true and she knew what I meant when I tried to explain my fear of the ever-imposing threat that it'd be ripped out right from under me at any moment. No one could truly understand the way she could, and though my resentment towards the inner circle was much stronger than hers, she made an effort to relate and be there for me.

"So, how are the boys?" Mor grins suggestively before taking a sip from her drink. I groan, slumping into my seat as I think about the three very annoying males she was referring to.

"Desperate," I grumble and she chuckles into her glass.

"How so?" She smiles, leaning onto her hand propped up by her elbow. "Give me some examples," She urges.

I shake my head with an eye roll, saying, "I don't have any." She gives me an undefeated look, a raise of her brows telling me she was waiting for me to go on. "The stories are too long," I argue but she still remains unwavering.

"Good thing we've got time," She leans back in her seat, getting comfortable as if she was prepared to stay in the pleasure hall with me all night. "Start with Rhys."

Rhysand had a tendency of showing up to the house of wind unannounced, quite a lot. So much so that the male has probably been in this house more than his own. To be fair, he was the one paying for it so I suppose this was just as much his house as any of his other residences, but ever since I started living here his visits began to grow personal. I've only been residing in Velaris for a few months now but he still made it his mission to see me at least every other day. Each time he welcomed himself into the large house he'd have some sort of gift with him, tonight was no exception.

I didn't startle when I heard the front door open, and I barely even flinched when his baritone voice crooned from the direction of the couch as I entered the sitting room. He had his long legs stretched across the couch, his head tilted back against the armrest, and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Evening, darling," He drawls and I look at him with an indifferent expression.

"It's the middle of the night," I grumble, going into the kitchen and grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

"I knew you were awake," He intoned and I rolled my eyes, filling my glass up with cold water.

"I'm about to go to bed," I claim, approaching the sitting room to look at him. He angles his head to meet my gaze, a sloppy smirk on his lips.

"Can I join?" He bats his eyelashes dramatically and I debate splashing my freshly poured water into his face. I decide not to, instead silently turning on my heel and retreating down the hallway. He shuffles off the couch and follows right behind me but I pay him no mind. I push open my bedroom door, leaving it open for his entry, because even if he agitated me it'd be a lie to say I disliked his attention. I was a simple female, and making him chase me like this so successfully was amusing, if not a little cruel.

"I have a gift for you," He informs in a sing-song tune.

"When do you not?" I say, placing my water down onto my nightstand and crawling into my large bed, Rhys had insisted on the size when we went furniture shopping so it could fit his wings, I had ignored his foolish assumption that he would ever sleep in my bed, but let him buy me the most expensive mattress anyway.

He reaches into a pocket dimension and removes a flat, rectangular, velvet box, one made for holding tiaras.

"I don't want your money Rhys," I sigh, watching as he situated himself on my bed, his long legs on either side of my hips, encasing me as I practically sit in his lap. "It's not money," He puts a hand up, waving me off. "I don't want your jewels or crowns either," I huff as he places the velvet box directly in front of me.

"It's not— just open it, will you?" His eyes plead with me more than his words. I stifle a curse and pick the ornate box up. It was heavier than I had been expecting, my brows crease as I slowly tilt the lid open, revealing what was inside. It wasn't money or gems, or even a fancy tiara, but a sleek dagger.

The hilt was solid obsidian, embellished with gold detailing, so well crafted it almost felt wrong to be in my hands. Deep red rubies adorned the top of the hilt in a teardrop shape, pointing up to the blade that's been polished to an impossibly sharp edge, Illyrian steel based upon the rich color of the metal. It was utterly elegant, in such a lethally arresting way.

I take the dagger from its confining box, my touch is delicate as I admire it from all angles, the blade moves so fluidly like the steel morphed into liquid when moving through the air. "You like it?" Rhys' voice breaks me from my trance and I grip the hilt a little tighter, looking up at him with an innocent gaze.

"It's unlike anything I've seen before," I murmur, still entranced by its beauty and the way it moved. He smiled at that, proud of himself for finding a way to impress me.

"It's an heirloom," He confesses and my expression drops, looking up at him.

"I can't take this," I immediately say, attempting to shove the dagger back into his hands.

"Sure you can," He sighs. "I have no use for it, and I heard you have a collection of pretty blades," He says, leaning back on his palms and ignoring the way I was haphazardly thrusting the dagger toward him.

"No, Rhys," I declare and his ears perk at the use of his nickname, he's been only Rhysand specifically for the last few months. "I can't, you're only doing all of this because we're supposed to be mates," I say. "I'm not worthy of your gifts, you're just blinded by the effects of the bond,” I say but my explanation must’ve failed to reach his ears because his smile simply remains.

"Darling, I'm a powerful male, if I didn't want the mating bond to affect me I wouldn't let it," He says cockily and I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling at his pride. "I'm doing this, because I want to, it's that simple," He places his large hands on mine, closing my fingers around the dagger. "But, if you don't want it then—" He starts and I shake my head hurriedly. "No, no I do want it," I grip his hands tighter and his brows raise a fraction. "Perfect," His smile returns, but his hands don't let go of mine and maybe for a moment I let myself indulge in his comforting touch.

"And you're telling me the two of you didn't fuck after that?" Mor questioned, an appalled look on her face as I ended my story about the High Lord.

"He gave me a blade, it wasn't exactly getting me hot and bothered," I scoff and she smirks.

"He could've given you another blade," She murmured under her breath but it wasn't quiet enough for me to miss. "Mor!" I look at her with wide eyes but she only snickers.

"Okay, I'm not totally convinced you dislike him, but tell me about Cass," She urges and I deadpan.

"Are you going to make sex jokes again?" I raise an assuming brow.

"No promises," She croons. "Now tell me about him."

Cassian loved to strut around half-naked. His shirt was often absent when I was around. It was an obvious ploy to swoop me off my feet, to get me drooling over his more than impressive abdomen and his arms that could crush my head in. And perhaps I did drool over him in the solitude of my bedroom, but I'd never let him know that.

I was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying my dinner when I nearly choked on my bite of food as Cassian strolled in, clad in nothing but pants and glistening in sweat from training. His hair was tied up in a messy bun that sat at the back of his head, a sword half the size of me slung over his shoulder in a sheath. I swallow my food with effort, my eyes unable to avert from every expanse of skin starting below his neck.

"Hey sweetheart," He says, kicking the front door shut. I snapped my gaze to his but the smirk on his face made it evident that he caught me staring. "Did you make dinner?" He asked, propping his sword up against the side of the counter. I didn’t make dinner, he knew that, because if I had I would be retroactively accepting the mating bond, he just wanted to put the idea in my head.

"Az did," I say through bites, the shadow singer beside me, silently reading a book, successfully not paying Cassian any mind unlike me.

"Is it any good or do you miss my cooking?" He asks with an amused smile, earning him a glare from the spymaster.

"It's delicious," I say, taking another large bite. I hadn't meant to indirectly compliment Azriel but he slightly smiled at my insult on Cassian, then returning to his reading.

The other male grumbled beneath his breath like a toddler throwing a fit as he made himself a plate that seemed more like a feast fit for a starving man, walking to the table and sitting down directly in front of me.

"You're not going to change?" I ask and he raises a brow and looks down at himself.

"Do you, want me to?" He said, slightly confused.

"Well, what if I started showing up to dinner shirtless?" I cross my arms with a scowl, Cassian's eyes light with amusement and Azriel begins to choke on his own air, muffling his coughs as he stuffed his face into his arms.

"I don't think we'd mind," Cassian winked at me and I looked down at my plate, silently cursing myself for walking right into that one.

"I just think it's bad table manners, is all," I murmur, leaning onto my hand as I roll my food over with my fork, playing with it aimlessly.

"If it has that much of an effect on you, I'll go change," He begins to stand and I whip my gaze up, staring at him with creased brows, not wanting him to think I was entirely bothered by it.

"It doesn't have an effect on me," I blurt out and a smirk curves his lips.

"Then I won't change," He sits back down.

"Fine," I say.

"Fine," He agrees.

Dinner went on a regularity from there, that was until I was clearly done with my food and I hadn't retreated to my room like usual, instead, I was far too distracted analyzing all the scars on Cassian's tanned skin, the ones that had stories behind them that I'd most likely never hear, the ones I would've never seen if he hadn't come home without a shirt.

His chest was on full display, rippling in muscle, a tight abdomen that would have me lying if I said my mouth wasn't watering when I stared at it for a moment too long. And gods, his arms made my thoughts wander beyond just arousal, it was more than a craving. My hands were practically shaking in my lap and I was just grateful they were beneath the table.

My eyes snag on a particular scar cutting across his ribs and up to his sternum, it must've been a mess of blood and gore when he got it, only for it to heal over as a simple line slightly darker than his skin tone, beautiful.

"I got it in a duel," Cassian said and I whipped my head up, locking eyes with him.

"What?" I say, my back ramrod straight, visibly embarrassed by the fact that I was just caught for staring so unabashedly.

"My scar," He places a hand over it, tracing two fingers down the raised skin with a practiced, rehearsed movement like he's down it thousands of times before. "It was from an angry husband, his wife neglected to mention she was married and he took some offense towards our, familiarity." He explained. "Insisted on a duel," He shrugged, and I blinked in slight shock.

"You, lost a duel?" I said like the idea was obscene. "Aren't you considered one of the best swordsmen on the continent?" I raised a brow and he shrugged.

"Seemed like the right thing to do," He flashed a charming smile that's guaranteed to have dropped panties before. "You're ridiculous," I said, standing up and grabbing my plate, walking into the kitchen to place my dishes in the sink. The Illyrian followed after me with his own plate, reaching over me and placing it in the basin beside mine.

I whirl around, which turned out to be admittedly a mistake. His bare chest was so close to my face that it was an effort to crane my neck up, keeping eye contact and not letting myself crumble beneath his gaze. "What do you think?" He asks and my eyes regrettably flick down to the scar, and I can't help myself as I reach forward, my fingers brushing over the rough line of skin and I swear for a moment both of us stop breathing. I tentatively pull my hand away, looking up at him with a smirk.

"I think you have enough testosterone to fuel an army," I hum, patting his chest before pushing past him and removing myself from the kitchen, attempting to ignore the way my hand remembered the feel of his skin against it.

Cassian turned to Azriel as soon as I was out of earshot. "That's a good thing, right?" The male mutters with a line between his brows. Azriel's eyes flick up from his novel to look at his brother. "I don't think so, no." He shakes his head, then returns to his page while Cassian's shoulders slump in defeat and he retreats to his room to find a shirt.

"You're telling me, you had your hand on Cassian, the male pushing seven feet, skin to skin and you didn't immediately surrender?" Morrigan says, her brows creased as she grows increasingly worried about my well-being. "Are you sick or something?" She reaches over the table, pressing a hand to my forehead and I scoff, the annoyed sound turning into a laugh as I push her hand away.

"I'm not sick," I claim. "Just a female who has no interest in large, muscular, beautiful, tan males," I grumble, taking a sip from my glass, my voice trailing off as I go on about how truly magnificent they are.

"Right," She settles back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, unconvinced. "So," She smirks. "I know you've been saving the best for last," She leans forward, her grin uncontrollable as she rests her elbows on the table while she insists, "Tell me about Azriel."

My experience in Velaris so far was enjoyable— despite the three winged males, the people were kind here, the men didn't stare, the children weren't sickly, and the women held more value than the curvature of their bodies. It was nice here, like some false paradise.

A small part of me would forever hate Rhys and all the others living in his secret city for blindly living their perfect lives, while innocent people dreaded waking up every morning— because the best time they spent was unconscious, in their horrid city just below the mountain, only a short trip away. Such a drastic shift of atmosphere.

Sometimes when my guilt of being happy began to grow too unbearable I found myself in the library. The first and only place so far I've felt entirely safe. It was quiet here, enough to clear my thoughts, but not enough for unwanted ones to creep in. Priestesses bustled around the building with carts and stacks of books, keeping the tenor lively and welcoming.

So it was a shock when my safe space was suddenly and harshly ripped away from me when I saw a familiar winged Illyrian sitting in the spot I always chose. It wasn't mine by any means, but the bastard must've known this was the alcove I selected every time I came here, there was no way he just so happened to favor this spot as well with the amount of floors alone this place had.

"Move," I was particularly upset this morning due to lack of sleep from incessant nightmares. He only smirks, his eyes slow as they left the book he was so engrossed with, and dragged up to my features. Hazel pools flickering with amusement as he meets my gaze.

"Oh? Is this your spot?" He tilts his head mockingly and I grip my book harder.

I disliked Rhys for how he acts in the Hewn City, and Cassian for his overtly boisterous and arrogant behavior, but Azriel— no one quite got under my skin like Azriel. I couldn't exactly pin down why he made me so frustrated, perhaps it was because he would be the easiest to like, or maybe it was because I always thought he was the prettiest whenever they'd make their annual appearance in my home court, something about that particular fact made me hot with both rage and excitation.

"Well, I haven't exactly seen you sitting here before," I argue, clutching my book to my chest with furrowed brows.

"Fair point," He hums while scooting over and offering me a few more inches of space. It wasn't exactly the largest amount of seating area but he was kind enough to move, and I was far too tired to continue arguing. So I settled in beside him.

The spot I favored over all the others was nestled in a carved-out alcove, hidden from any peering eyes, located between shelves full of various hardback spines. The only viewpoint was from the balcony upstairs, or straight ahead. It felt safe, and I've yet to find any other place I liked as much as this one, so I was open to sharing as long as he kept to his book and I kept to mine, silently.

But the olive green couch wasn't big enough for the both of us and I quietly cursed his insanely large wings for taking up the entire area, one of the dark limbs spread out behind me while the other hung off the edge of the couch, the one behind my back however forced me closer to him, my side pressed against his, and my legs that I had pressed to my chest leaning onto his lap, so much so that I might as well have just been sitting in it, we must've looked ridiculous.

Nevertheless, he opened his book back up and offered me the peaceful quiet I craved. I did the same, cracking my book and finding the page I was on.

It was nice for a moment, the awkward silence morphing into something more comfortable as it grew familiar between us. I had even gotten a few chapters in before I reached a much more, graphic, chapter. The descriptions were downright erotic, and suddenly everything the male did stopped mattering because I was now entirely consumed by the book I had randomly picked off the shelves this morning.

"What are you reading?" He was so very close to my ear that I felt his breath against it, and I snapped my book shut, the sound echoing off the shelves of the quiet library.

"None of your business," I retort, whipping my head to him with stern brows, he narrows his at me suspiciously. "What about you?" I jerk my head towards his closed book like it's been neglected for more than just a few seconds. "Is it a guide on how to kill your brothers? Because I might be interested in reading that one next," I say with a smirk and he mirrors it.

"I wish, Cass practically kicked me out this morning with his atrocious singing while he made himself lunch," He grumbled and my lip quivered upward, my amusement unmanageable at the scene he put in my head, and I cursed myself because, of course, he notices.

"Oh, you think I'm funny?" He says and he was so damned close that one inch closer would result in noses brushing.

"Shh." I press my pointer finger to his soft lips. "No talking in the library." I smirk at him teasingly, removing my touch from his sensuous lips, dragging the bottom one down only for it to spring back up when I let go in an oddly satisfying way.

"We don't have to talk," He suggests, catching my hand before it can fall to my lap. My cheeks grow hot as he interlaces our fingers, palms pressing together, soft skin against scars. He notices my blush and moves that lethal inch closer, the tip of his nose ghosting against mine. "You want to kiss me so badly," He continues his taunts and I scowl, but I don't dare move away.

"Shut up," I bite back.

"Are you going to make me?" He arches a perfect brow and I grit my teeth, deciding I won't play his stupid games. I detangle our hands and turn away from him, but I can still feel his eyes on me.

"You're just as bad as your brothers," I claim, opening my book again.

"You wound me," He gasps in faux pain and I roll my eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be the quiet one?" I huff, attempting to find the page I was on.

"Just because they're loud doesn't mean I don't speak too," He states, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Whatever," I grumble, and his wing curls around me a little tighter. He stayed silent for a moment, just a moment of relieving peace, but it was over as soon as it began and I was grateful for the second, but the opposite of gratitude came over me when he spoke again.

"This is filthy, love," He runs his finger down the edge of my book and I close the novel again, this time quietly so it doesn't reverberate throughout the library again.

"I'm not shaming you," His voice is deep and seductive as he speaks, so very close to my ear I swear with every word I could feel it vibrate down my spine. "Just wanted to let you know I'm open to recreating it," He suggested and I sighed, deciding I'd had enough of his banter, and stood up, clutching my book to my chest as I looked back to him.

"You're relentless," I say and he shrugs with a coy smile.

"No goodbye kiss?" He hums and I only shake my head and storm out of the alcove, leaving the library more frustrated than I was when I arrived.

"And?" Mor gestures her hands, demanding more.

"That was it," I shrug.

"You didn't go back and make out with him?" She creased her brows like I was insane.

"No, because I don't need a male to enjoy my life," I say. "You are one to understand that," I suggest with my brows raising and she simply rolls her eyes with dissatisfaction.

"Yeah, but— that doesn't mean you should strip yourself the pleasure of having all three of them," She wiggles her brows and my cheeks grow hot. "Or you could just pick one and miss out with the rest," She adds, before taking a sip from her glass, the liquid inside nearly gone.

I thought it might've been impossible to just pick one. They all had their own personalities and unique qualities, and what if I somehow chose wrong? What if my decision came between the three of them? Then again why can't I just have all three of them? They're all so kind to me, and they're funny, and so very gorgeous, and— "Oh gods, I'm in love," I gasp quietly, my hand cupping over my mouth at the devastating recognition.

Morrigan only nods with a wide grin, like she's been waiting for me to realize since we sat down in this booth. "What do I do?" Suddenly I don't know how to think, or how to act.

"Put them out of their misery and feed those poor bastards," She proposed and I groaned with defiance.

“I’ve been working so hard to ignore their pathetic acts for the last five months, I can’t just give in now.” I practically melt onto the table, my head falling into my arms dramatically.

“Hey, listen to me,” She grabs me by the face, smushing my cheeks as she emphasizes every word. “Do you want them to fuck you senseless?” She asks and I sigh, but inevitably nod with a pitying frown. “Then go." She releases my face and shoos me with her hands and I smile as I stand up. “You’re the best Morrigan,” I claim and she winks at me. “I know,” She shrugs and I blow her a kiss before winnowing to where the tether between the three men felt the strongest.

Which landed me in a cabin I'd never been in before, the sitting room warmed by the crackling fire in the hearth.

Whatever conversation the three males were having halted when I showed up. They all looked at me with analyzing eyes, raking up and down my figure, still in my party dress from Rita's, the material tight, hugging every curve and dip of my body and ending high on my thighs, showing off the entirety of my legs and an obscene amount of cleavage, which the males definitely didn't miss.

Cassian and Rhys were sat on a sofa in front of the fire, Azriel was situated in a large leather chair that he claimed like some sort of king, distanced from the fire I notice. All three of them had short crystal glasses, a matching decanter sat on the coffee table halfway filled with an amber liquid.

"Hey, sweetheart," Cassian was the first to speak. "What brings you here?" He hums and I clench my jaw. What was I doing here? Silently I whirl on my heel and walk towards the kitchen, finding a bowl of fruit situated on the counter. I grabbed an orange from the variety, taking my time to peel the rind off, the three of them staring at me curiously as I approached them again, splitting the pieces of the fruit into thirds, handing each of them a slice without a single word.

"Are oranges supposed to pair well with whiskey?" Rhys held the fruit up, staring at it confused as if the High Lord truly didn't understand what was going on. He wasn't seriously going to make me say it, was he?

"Eat," I demand but they only stare at me with blank eyes and I sigh, my shoulders sagging. "Whoever's orange is gone first I'll make out with," I say and within the blink of an eye all three of their slices of fruit were gone, but I caught Azriel swallowing first so I approach him and take the liberty of sliding over his lap.

He wastes no time before putting his hands on me and pulling me into him, his lips immediately finding mine.

I smile at the citrusy taste still ghosting his tongue as he pushes it into my mouth, tasting every inch he can find like a starved animal, craving more. My hand goes into his hair while his scarred ones slowly slip beneath my dress, gripping me tightly and pinning me down onto his hips, allowing me to feel just how hard he was beneath me.

Desperate, indeed.

"Az," I whine softly and he groans at the sound, his kisses turning sloppy as he loses himself entirely in the taste of me.

"Alright," Cassian's voice calls, familiar, large hands coming to my waist and pulling me off of Azriel's lap with ease, throwing me over a broad shoulder.

"Is this what it's going to be like mated to you three?" I say, still upside down as Cassian's hands roam the backs of my thighs, then higher. "Passed around between you three like some doll?" I say, secretly not minding the idea.

"If you don't want to be passed around," He tosses me down onto a large bed. "We can always share at once," He hums and I had an unshakable feeling that I would be split in half if I took all of them for the first time, at once.

"No, I like being passed around," I say with bright red cheeks and he smirks, guiding me up onto the bed, my head meeting the pillows.

"Then who do you want first?" He hums, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Rhys," I look to the high lord. "I want Rhys," I say and the violet-eyed male raised a brow, his smirk uncontrollable as he approached the bedside. Cassian moved off of me and Rhys took his place over me, his lips finding mine with ease.

He kisses softly at first but that only last so long before he's leaving my mouth and beginning to nip and suck on my neck, licking over it to soothe the marks. I writhe beneath him, my hands in his dark hair as I ache for more. I reach for his pants, unbuckling his belt with one hand before moving to the ties confining his hardened bulge.

"No darling, you're going to ride me," He says breathily into my neck and my hand halts on his pants. He smirked at my reaction and flipped us over so I was on top. He unzips the back of my dress with ease, helps me slip it off with gentle hands as I straddle over his hips, now completely bare for all three of them, but it was only Rhys' eyes I was focused on at the moment.

I rut my hips down over the imprint in his pants, releasing a soft sigh as the action puts friction on my clit. He smiled up at me and how needy I was for him already.

He takes his pants the rest of the way off, his boxers along with it and I can't help but smile at the sight of him, his tip pulsing and red, and the length of him was intimidating enough on its own. "You think you're ready for me?" He asks, ripping my panties off with an ease I marveled at, but before I could reply to his question he swiped his fingers through my folds and my breath hitched at the stimulation, my arousal soaking his fingers, he pulls them back for me to see and I flush in embarrassment at how wet I already was.

"Oh, darling I've barely touched you," he smirks and I look away from his eyes, attempting to get my blush under control. "There's no need to be shy," He guides my face back to look at him. "Be good and take all of me, yeah?" He arches a dark brow and I nod, placing my hands on his chest as I rise on my knees while he helps align himself with my entrance.

He looks at me pointedly and I nod, then sink myself down onto him, ever so slowly.

"That's it," He grunts out as my cunt swallows around the head of his cock. He throws his head back into the pillows as I sink deeper, reaching the halfway point and clenching around him hard.

My nails scratched down his chest as the unfamiliar stretched, his eyes gleaming with pure lust until eventually my hips pressed against his and I let out a sinful moan as he brushed up against that bundle of nerves deep inside of me, kissing it softly.

"Rhys," I sigh, my nails digging into his abdomen as my cunt twitched around him. His hands come to my hips, slowly guiding me back and forth, manually making me grind on him.

"Fuck, taking me so well," He grits between his teeth, already restraining himself.

My back involuntarily arches as he kisses up against that sensitive spot again, moans tumbling from my lips as I begin to bounce myself up and down on his cock. He smiles hazily, his hands leaving my waist in favor of cupping my breasts, rubbing his calloused thumbs over my peaked nipples. My breath hitched at the sensation, clenching around him tighter as he groped them, tweaking them between his fingers, making my release barrel closer.

"So good for me, getting yourself off on my cock," He admires and I nod, a whimper slipping from my lips as I pull myself out to his tip then let gravity slam me back down onto him, the head of his length pounding into my sacred spot, making me release a lewd moan, screaming out his name as I clamp around the width of him, a ring of white forming around the base of his cock.

"Feels so, so good darling," He says breathlessly. "Such a good girl," He murmurs and I throw my head back at the praise.

"I'm close— Rhys, I can't," I pant out, unable to catch my breath with the way he relentlessly pounded into my cunt. "Me too, fuck— keep doing that," He grunted. "Keep squeezing me so tight, just like that," He instructs and I nod, my pussy taking all of him as he twitches deep inside of me, signaling that he was close.

I go faster, my thighs burning with the movement but I ignore the pain, delighting in the pleasure he was giving me. He pounds into me relentlessly, both of us teetering along that edge, and the moment his hands find my nipples again I'm left helpless, and suddenly I rise to my climax, coming to a crescendo as I meet my peak of pleasure.

I gasp as his warm cum seeps into my cunt, spurting out of his cock with one last clench of my core and he released a thick white liquid. "Gods, such a good girl," He sighs out, his large hands groping my breasts one last time before they dip down to my waist, and help guide me off of his length, laying me back into the bed.

"Cass," I murmured, keeping my legs together in order to hold Rhys' release inside of me. "Cassian, I want you next," I pant out, still not entirely over the high that Rhys left me with but I already wanted more, and lucky for me the male was there quickly, switching with Rhys as he hovers over me, his pants already absent and his cock leaking a milky substance, the sight making my mouth water. He was noticeably wider than Rhys, and I debated whether or not he'd tear me in two.

"Flip around, wanna feel your pretty pussy from behind," He hums and I do as he says, turning onto my stomach and hiking up onto my knees. His calloused hands find my hips, helping me guide them up higher, my back forming a perfect crescent as I keep my face in the pillows and maximize my arch.

"You ready for more sweetheart?" He asks and I nod, tears welling in my eyes as his heavy cock slaps against my soaking folds, my arousal dripping onto him as Rhys' release cascaded down my thighs. He lathers himself in my liquids, his pre-cum adding to the mixture.

"Want you, Cass," I murmur. "Don't hold back," I add and I can practically feel the way he was smirking. His tip prodding against my pulsing entrance.

"Tell me if it's too much alright?" He kisses my shoulder softly, his rough voice gentle as it meets my ear. I nod, but before any more words are spoken he grips my hips tighter and thrusts inside of me.

I gasp, breath being lost on me as I fist the sheets beneath me. "Cass," I cry out, the width of him stretching against my walls, molding me to him.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," He sighs out and I gripe, writhing beneath him as he pushes deeper and deeper, forcing my legs wider so he could enter more comfortably.

My breathing is labored as his hips finally snap against my ass. He groans at the feeling of his cock entirely sheathed inside of my cunt, stretching me beyond capacity like a sleeve made just for him.

"Please, Cass," I whine and he leans over me, my back bowing against his chest, his lips coming beside my ear.

"We only just started, sweetheart," He taunted, nipping at my shoulder.

Ever so slowly he pulls out, removing himself only about halfway before slamming back into me with an outmatched force. I screamed at the switch of pace, his thrusts coming quickly, pushing me up the bed.

I reached forward, gripping the headboard to stop my body from unconsciously running away from him. He drove his hips forward harshly, his balls slapping against my folds. His hands left my hips in favor of my ass, handling me roughly as I arched beneath him, feeling his width deeper the lower into the pillows I went.

"Good girl.” He throws his head back, sweat glistening as it rolls down his chest, into the groves of his abdomen. I mewl loudly, incapable of forming words as he fucks me beyond sentences.

"Such pretty noises you're making for me," He hums, his lips ghosting against the shell of my ear. "Am I making you feel good?" He whispers and I swallow thickly, tears brimming my eyes as I nod helplessly, defenseless under him like this. He smirks at my unsolicited actions as I grip around his shaft tighter, delighting in how good it feels as he stretches me.

His hands returned to the curve of my ass, gripping the plush skin in his large hands, loving the way it left red imprints, marking me as his, as theirs.

"Pull my hair," I murmur.

"What was that, pretty girl?" He leans over me and I flush shyly, I knew he heard me the first time.

"Pull my hair," I repeat and he smiles.

"Yeah? You want that?" He wraps his hand around my locks, gripping the back of my skull before tugging on it and I moan, my release catching up to me as he manhandles me, just how I wanted. His grip tightens as I squeeze around his cock, his heavy balls continuing to clap against my neglected folds. "That's it, baby, just like that," He assures, watching as I lose myself in the heat, fire blooming over my skin as my release barrels closer and closer.

"Please," Tears slip down my cheeks. "Let me cum, I’m close," I mewl, gripping the headboard tighter, my nails denting the wood.

"Already?" He teased and I nod, pushing myself back onto his cock and he grunts, twitching inside of me and brushing against my elastic walls. "Go ahead, make a mess sweetheart," He allows and I immediately follow his order, my orgasm ripping through me for the second time tonight, his following soon after, shooting his load of cum into me, filling my every crevice and mixing with Rhysand's inside of me.

I grip at the sheets as he pumps into me one last time and I clamp down on him, milking his cock as he slowly removes himself from me and collapses down onto the bed beside me.

My legs ache as I sink back down into the mattress, my intense high slowly fading away as I flip over onto my back.

I jolt as a cold sensation runs up my thighs, skidding across my waist and meeting my breasts, shadows swirling around the peaks of my nipples, slowly tightening and beginning to tweak the hardened buds.

"Az," I sigh, shaking my head. "I can't," I murmur, far too overstimulated to even think about taking another round.

"You can." He comes between my legs, shadows forming at my thighs and prying them open, forcing them to stay even when I try to close them. I can make out the way Cassian's cum seeps out of my cunt and down my ass, the feeling making my mouth water for Azriel's cum too, wanted all of their release to mix in my womb.

"There's so many things I've wanted to do to you," He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my collarbone. "Things I've imagined doing to you," He confesses, beginning to place soft pecks up the side of my neck, to my jaw. "Which one of us do you think of when you touch yourself?" He asks, his lips ghosting over mine and my brows bunch because it'd be a lie if I said I ever thought about just one of them.

"I asked you a question," He purrs, his hands coming to my wrists, gathering them up above my head. "Be a good girl and answer it for me." The tip of his nose runs along the side of my neck before his lips make contact with the side of my throat, teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh.

"All of you," I confess, pulling slightly at my wrists as he lets go but shadows have them pinned down too.

"Yeah? Do you like to imagine all three of us ruining all your pretty, wet holes at once?" He croons, his mouth just beside my ear and I writhe, unable to even grind against my own thighs since his shadows were holding me open, leaving me desperate and vulnerable for his own pleasure.

"Az," I whine.

"Tell me," He demands. "Tell me what you think about when your fingers are stuffed in your needy cunt," He hums and my brows crease at how humiliating this all was.

"I think about all three of you, fucking all my pretty holes," I confess and he smiles proudly.

"Yeah? Does that get you off?" He hums and I nod with a whimper, murmuring a pathetic, "Mhm."

His fingers are barely there as he drags them up my figure, then back down to my hips, keeping me restrained as I clench around nothing.

"I need you inside of me, please," I beg and he manically grins, kissing along my jaw, nipping at it as I continue to pull against his shadows.

"Such a needy little thing aren't you?" He taunts and I nod, agreeing with whatever he wants me to as long as he pushes himself inside of me. "Yeah? Don't worry baby, I'm going to ruin you." He said, his grip tightening on my hips as he pressed his tip to my entrance, and without another warning, pushed inside of me.

I screamed his name loudly at the intense feeling, he didn't waste time and he most definitely wasn't gentle like Rhys, or kind like Cassian, he was fucking me like an animal, and I loved every second of it.

Maybe it was because I was overstimulated but he felt so fucking long inside of me, and when his length was fully sheathed in my cunt I swore he was up against my cervix.

Shadows released my thighs for only a moment so that he could adjust my legs, pulling them up to my sides and putting me into a mating press.

"Gods, you're taking me so well," He admires, staring down at me with low-lidded eyes as I let him withdraw everything he wants from me, his cock nestled deep inside of me as I take him deeper and deeper while he fucked me into the mattress, unrelenting and so very stimulating.

"That's it, so fucking good," He throws his head back at the feeling of my puffy cunt squeezing around him torturously tight. "Gods, I'm going to fuck this wet pussy until you beg me to stop," He groans and I moan at his lewd words, and the sounds of his hips slapping against the backs of my thighs, his full balls smacking into my ass as he continued his rough pace.

He looks down at me, sweat lining my forehead and a permanent blush over my cheeks, tears running down the sides of my face as he uses me.

"You look so pretty tied up like this," He smirks, analyzing my every breath, as if needing to remember this for later.

My mouth is open, moans escaping the base of my throat with each of his thrusts, the head of his long cock kissing my cervix and I scream, my nails digging into my palms as I fight off my orgasm, feeling my encroaching climax grow closer and closer.

"Az—" I start, barely able to get his name out before I'm cut off by another moan. "I have to—" I can't even say it, tears blurring my vision as he continues to pummel into me and I deflect my third release. "You already have to cum baby?" He smirks down at me and I nod, so grateful he understood but my gratitude dwindled away with his next words. "You wanna cum? You think you've earned it?"

I nod fervently, my body aching at the position he had me stuck in. I convulse around the base thick of his cock, the back of my head buried in the pillows as I plead for my climax but he wasn't allowing it until he came too.

I force my legs open wider and he hits into me deeper, earning a grunt of pleasure from him.

"I can't Az," I plead. "I promise, I'll be a good girl just, let me cum," I say and he groans at how I sounded begging for my own release, the sounds of my moans pushing him closer to that edge.

"Alright baby, go ahead, come all over my cock," He commands and I obey without another thought, my release slamming into me hard, resulting in me shaking beneath him, my legs jolting as he slowly unpins them and lets me wrap my legs around his torso, riding out my high as he presses into my cervix and with one last harsh thrust he grunts and releases his seed into my womb, mixing it with Rhysand's and Cassian's.

My cunt is left red and swollen as he removes himself from my entrance, I close my legs as soon as he was gone, not letting any of their releases escape me, keeping it tucked inside. The mating bond affected me so much that I wanted to feel this fucked out all the time, have them fill me at every moment, drunk on their cocks.

"You did so well for us," Azriel hums, sinking into the bed beside me, my ass up against him as I flip onto my side and face Cassian, his lips finding mine, biting at my lower one while Rhys' hands fondle my oversensitive breasts. "Poor baby, she thinks we're done," Azriel hums, his cock hardening again, pressing to my ass.

"Please," I whimper but none of them stop their movements.

"It's time to take us all at once, darling," Rhys said and I gasped as I felt his hand cup my heat.

"You ready, sweetheart?" Cass asks and I can only nod helplessly.

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[theguyinthemathexamples]

Guns and... Aeons?

May Aventurine grant his luck upon everyone's Boothill pulls!!!

— C/W : spoilers?, set at the end of the 2.2 quest, boothill is boothill ft. argenti, i forgot what his lore is so take anything i say with a grain of salt, LOTS of yapping, guns and roses sneak, very self-indulgent :3

Boothill never really had much faith in Aeons, much less worshipped any. He already lost it all when he gained the information, that darned rain of fire that destroyed everything, was deployed by a zealot.

Don't get him wrong, he still knew they existed. But he internally wished that maybe, if any Aeon took pity on him on that day, maybe he could have changed the outcome of it all.

Well, that was all in the past now. He'd be a rusted out piece of metal by now if he let himself wallow in bygone events.

A low sigh didn't fail to make itself known, inadvertently catching the attention of the knight just at the other end of the room. Boothill even forgot he was there due to how quiet he was.

"A rose for your thoughts, friend?" The knight inquired, sitting at the other end of the couch. He nearly jumped at the sudden question but was just as quick to regain his composure.

"Nothin' much, just thinkin' and all," he replied, only tilting his head to look at this eccentric friend of his.

Ironic that Argenti was a man quite devoted to an Aeon, especially to a long deceased one, when Boothill was borderline detesting a good amount of them.

"This dadgum pull I've been feelin'... D'you know somethin' about it, knight?"

It was something he'd been feeling for a while now but it's been getting stronger as of late. And the voices... He'll leave those out till Argenti mentions something about it.

To put it frankly, he was worried. Quite more so if nothing else.

"Does it make you feel like wanting to visit the Astral Express, friend?" Argenti inquired shortly after,

Boothill simply nodded, curious as to how this Knight of Beauty knew of such. Sensing his curiosity, said knight certainly wouldn't mind going into the further details.

In fact, he was more than enthusiastic to do so.

"As Idrila's reason to have ascended into Aeonhood, it is only natural that I give high praises to the Aeon of Creation for such magnificence— that THEIR creations have inspired my Goddess to reach THEIR most pinnacle potential."

If this was how he talked about his Aeon and this... well, other Aeon, the two would be here till his batteries run out. And he was just about done recharging to full a few hours ago.

It wasn't till a good amount of minutes into the topic that Boothill kinda got a little impatient. No offense to Argenti, of course.

"And it wasn't till recently that their wondrous consciousness graced the unive—"

"Alright, alright, I get it, knight. Don't mean to offend ya, but can ya get straight to why I felt the pull earlier?" Boothill interjected, looking straight at his companion,

He swore that the way this man shone brightened up even more.

"My apologies if I overwhelmed you, dear friend," Argenti said, giving the cowboy an apologetic bow while he was sitting.

"Simply put, this pull you feel is but the manifestations of the Aeon of Creation! Perhaps your brilliant self captured THEIR attention when you were conversing with the Trailblazer," he continued, yapping up another storm as Boothill thought to himself.

"Seriously? This ol' hunk of metal? Catchin' an Aeon's attention? Colour me fudgin' surprised."

"Ah, this is certainly a moment worth celebrating, don't you think so, friend?" Argenti's voice spoke out, bringing his attention back to the knight.

Yet, before this interstellar cyborg cowboy could even agree or otherwise, a black envelope materialized in front of him, the edges lined with red and gold designs.

One surprise after another, huh?

The knight was quick to encourage him to open it up, taking out a letter opener from who knows where. Well now he's starting to get excited.

A golden Star Rail Pass was the first to get taken out of it, its colour shining in the midst of the room's lights. Next was a neatly folded paper that was probably penned by the Astral Express' Conductor. (Somehow; I mean, look at their itty bitty hands) It reads as follows:

—————————✧—————————

Hello, future Astral Express member, Boothill! This letter has been written by Pom-pom to formally invite you to join the Trailblaze.

By all means, this doesn't mean that you should abandon your faith for any Aeon(s) you may believe in, so long as it doesn't prohibit the other members of the Astral Express from going about their days.

As you may have guessed, yes, the golden ticket provided inside is a very formal way for Pom-pom to ask you to join us, as well as a sign that the Aeon of Creation has taken a liking to you!

To compensate for any forms of distress or trouble their consciousness has caused you, the Astral Express will be willing to offer a living space, electricity, wifi, food, water(gasoline?), as well as any other necessities and wants you may have.

Though if you truly want to seek trouble with the IPC, as the Aeon commented, please leave the Astral Express out of association for any crime you may commit in the future.

If you're ready to take on this journey with the Nameless, as well as many others, please use the ticket once the thought of doing so so much as suggests the notion.

• P.S. : Unfortunately, you don't have much time to mull it over, much less get another letter in this envelope to choose who to cover for you instead.

• The Aeon of Creation awaits your presence. •

—————————✧—————————

As Argenti finished reading the letter aloud, the expectant lilt on his face that he looks at Boothill with catches his attention the most.

"I nearly forgot to mention, dear friend, as a faithful believer of this Aeon, one can assure you that THEY don't mean any harm," he spoke, a smile gracing his lips as he continued. "The blessings THEY give to ones that they favour are quite abundant, and your captivating self truly made its impact on THEM."

"Even THEY couldn't help but praise you endlessly for your courage and demeanor!" Argenti proclaimed, almost making the cowboy in front of him want to tune him out again. ... That last part was a lie.

With a reluctant sigh, finally agreeing with the knight, the golden Star Rail Pass and the envelope in hand, Boothill stood up from his seat and went over to exit his friend's ship— to which Argenti quickly stopped him, hand outstretched for him.

"Need me to lead you there, friend?" He asks, head tilting to his left as his eyes brightened up with that usual glow.

"... Yeah, sure. Ya won't stop botherin' this ol' piece of metal to give ya updates if I said otherwise," Boothill laughed at the end of his reply, taking the knight's hand and letting him lead the way.

Maybe making a decision with a third party beside him won't be so bad.

Note : ong this took WAY TOO LONGGGGG TO MAKEEEEEEE 😭😭

My most sincere apologies to anyone whose patience ran out while waiting for this fic to come out 💔

BUT IT'S OUT NOW SO REJOICE EVERYONE ‼️‼️

Anyways, have a lovely day to all of you !! (disappears for another month)

And yes dw my interp of sahsr/sahsrau will come out maybe around late june once my recognition finally comes to pass

[zablife]

Benny x the Bookworm

A/N: Requested by @hufflepuff1619 who wanted to see Benny fall for a shy, academic type reader who works in a bookshop.

Benny Cross Masterlist

📓 You barely noticed the bell chime above the bookshop door as you turned the page of your novel, but the overpowering scent of petrol and the slow crack of leather quickly alerted you to the biker standing over you.

📓 That's the first time you met Benny Cross, his cool blue eyes piercing into you as he asked to use your phone, promising it wasn't long distance.

📓 You didn't know what to think of the handsome stranger who made your cheeks flush at the language he used when demanding someone from "the club" come get him.

📓 However, he was as gentle as a lamb with you, attempting to ease the tension in the air with a joke. “In case you’re wonderin’ that wasn’t my book club, darlin’.”

📓 The giggle you hid behind your hand made his eyes twinkle, fingers idly leafing through the book on the desk in his dazed wonderment. You barely noticed the grease stained fingerprints smudging the pages of your book until he muttered an apology, along with an offer to buy what he'd ruined.

📓 You couldn't have known then that the reason he insisted so vehemently was to keep a piece of you close to him. He tucked the paperback into his jacket and kept it there for weeks as he carefully read every word, including your cramped notes in the margins.

📓 You'd nearly forgotten the encounter when you noticed his motorcycle parked outside one stormy afternoon. Heart pounding at the sight of his rain soaked hair in the shop window, you invited him inside to dry off, wondering what he could possibly want. When he produced the tattered novel along with a myriad of questions, you couldn't contain the brightness of your smile.

📓 He tried to pay attention to every word as you spoke, but found himself distracted by the adorable way your glasses slipped down the bridge of your nose as you leaned forward to point out a favorite passage or how you clasped a hand to your chest when reciting a heartfelt line.

📓 As his visits to the shop became more frequent, you were more than happy to share your love of learning, eventually leading him to another of your haunts, the public library.

📓 There you took him by the hand, loading his sturdy arms with a stack of classics you couldn't wait for him to read next. And overcome with giddy delight you might have indulged in a few stolen kisses between the shelves.

📓 Benny readily accepted the academic challenge you presented despite the teasing from the guys when he'd choose to furrow his brow over some long dead author over a more enticing game of darts. He wanted to be able to discuss every detail with you later to see the spark of excitement in your eyes and to prove he was smarter than he looked.

📓 However, part of him was driven by his doubts. You were so educated and worldly compared to him, a high school drop out, and he worried you would tire of him in favor of someone better.

📓 But you could have cared less about his lack of formal education and often told him so. What you loved about Benny was his curiosity and tenacity. He was able to teach himself anything, proven by the way he could repair motorcycles.

📓 You soon found yourself begging to learn all about his hobby, a fact that had Benny grinning like an idiot. In fact, nothing made him prouder than the day he brought you to your first race and you held a conversation with Cal like a pro.

📓 When he caught your gaze from across the field as he revved his engine, he found your eyes shimmering back at him with pure joy, and he knew you weren't going anywhere anytime soon. In that moment he knew the feelings of mutual adoration were turning to something much stronger.

[triannel]

What if Reader tried to make Bill see his wrong doings, fail and and decide he's not worth their time so they try to leave them - but oh would you look at that - he fell in love and won't let you go (could be a yandere, idk if you write yan so doesnt have to be) have a nice day!

I've been getting frequent requests of angst fics, and lately I don't think I have written anything that ended on a sour note, so here, I will appreciate comments tbh, (just make sure to stay respectful plz.).

When you decided to leave him, it wouldn't really affect him...well at least that's what he tells himself. You were just a speed bump in his perspective, who are you to tell him what to do?

He knew what you were doing right from the start, you really thought you could change him? Well ...maybe you did. Something inside him did manage to grow fond of you, he actually did manage to catch something else than the feeling of amusement when you were around.

However, to him it doesn't really matter. He's a bad person, it was only a matter of time till you gave up, and honestly good riddance. He never needed you. You never needed him. You were never of use, your sweet, sweet aura can go elsewhere, even though he could have used you for something, but you'd never let him anyways, so goodbye...

Even as he does convince himself, deep inside he does somewhat miss you, your compassion and kindness was actually been quite...nice to have. He felt, safe when he was around you, you made him feel very comfortable on rare occasions and well, let's just say that only a very few number of people has been able to do that.

But still, 'good riddance' he says in his mind, at least the meddling feelings he might have for you will fizzle out, it was only but a distraction anyways...

Well, perhaps it does somewhat matter, but will he do anything though? To gain back your favor, convince you to comeback? Well, it depends.

He'd most likely turn away if he deems that you simply are a lost cause. He supposes, why should he go after you? You aren't essential to his plans, although he might-...

Nevertheless, he most likely won't do anything, to him you are just one less of a 'problem' to deal with.

Losing you will still most likely slightly sting him though, he would never admit it but you might have been one of the best person he'll ever get to even have a bond with.

If he does get desperate enough, like you somehow truly did make a very strong impact on him that it managed to really do get his full attention, then yes, he will not let you go. In resemblance of a flower yearning the sun, he will do what it takes to get you back.

Right after you decdied to just leave him be, he will notice your lack of visits and attention on him, and it will bother him. So turning back to you, he will try his best to shower you with affection, essentially using tactics to manipulate and attract you to return.

"HEY, SUNSHINE! YOU'RE BEING OVERDRAMATIC DON'T CHA THINK?" Bill spoke, appearing more charming than ever as he gazes up at you.

"COME ON TOOTS, ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO LEAVE ME JUST BECAUSE OF SOME SIMPLE REASON! C'MON SUNSHINE, I PROMISE I'LL CHANGE, JUST FOR YOU," he spoke, lifting your chin up with his index finger as he floated beyond your height.

Releasing a sigh, you move your head to the side to remove his hand from touching your face. You've heard this before, you knew where this is headed.

"Bill... I know you're lying." You spoke, your sweet voice leaving a bitter taste to Bill.

"Darling... I promise, I really will change..." He spoke, in a softer tone, slowly floating lower to reach your exact height as he held your face.

"Bill just stop..." You spoke softly, your eyes looking away as you stepped back. Nononono NO! You're not supposed to say that.

As you stepped back, Bill felt a sharp sting on his chest. "Sunshine..." He spoke, his hand slightly clenching as it dropped. Floating closer, his desperation grows stronger.

"This is for the best okay...I'm sorry." Taking another step back, you gave him one last gaze, and for a moment you did want to go back, to hug him and tell him you were only kidding. But forcing yourself to look away, you drag your body to move.

"YOU'LL REGRET THIS! COME ON, JOIN ME! YOU'LL GET THE BEST EXPERIENCE ANYONE WOULD EVER HAVE!" He shouted at your direction, floating fast towards you to get in your way.

"Bill...stop." Sternly, you stood your ground, your voice finally dropping to a demanding tone. "This...this is for the best okay..."

Once more exhaling a sigh, you bid him farewell and disappear.

Still staring to where you were standing, the sharp stinging on his chest now felt like a gunshot as your voice echoes in his mind.

As silence quickly settles in, he spoke your name for the first time, his heart torn in half, "(Your Name)..?"

Next

I'm not exactly the best at writing angst but I hope I still did good, take note that this happened in your dream, and Bill joined you just because. So he could not exactly overpower you when the conversation happened.

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE GWAG JICHANG (JICHANG KWAK) HEADCANONS

The way I SCREAMED like a high school girl with a crush when I first saw this man to literally sobbing my eyes out when he died is unfair...

As a yandere, he might be loving and protective, sure but what he insists upon is discipline from you. He's grown accustomed to taking care of his brothers when they were young and filled in the stern authoritarian role in their lives. You were visiting your grandparents at the countryside and you'd bump into him when he was on his rounds. Of course, the countryside is a small place after all and word travels fast that there's a newcomer around the area and he's curious to see who you are. He'll stride towards you and have a polite smile on his face while his eyes are scanning every inch of your features, trying to figure out who you really are. "Hello...may I help you?" he asked you in a kind voice as you smiled politely at him and explained that you were on your way to see your grandparents. He'd offer to take you there and while he does, he'll strike up a light conversation with you to get to know more about you, asking you about your interests and such 

After you reach your grandparents house, your grandparents are actually quite glad you met Officer Jichang since they trust him and they'll invite him inside for tea. He can barely keep his mind running amok when you changed into a cute summer dress and sputtered slightly as he watched you come down the stairs. However he pretended to clear his throat and regain his composure and continued to sip his tea with a tinge of redness on his cheeks. He'll go back home and shut his eyes to get some rest, his mind filled with thoughts about you. His curiosity of you grows stronger by the day and he's tempted to know more about you. He's the King of Seoul, just because he lives a somewhat quiet life at the countryside that doesn't mean he still doesn't control the streets of Seoul. He'll have someone send in pages and pages of information about you in literally less than an hour and he'll calmly sip some coffee as he reads information regarding you 

He thinks you're a naive sheltered little thing and you need to be protected. When he sees you sitting by a lake in the middle of the night, his heart almost leaps out of his chest from concern and worry for you. Are you always this reckless? Don't you know the dangers of being out so late in the night? Clearly he needs to keep an eye on you to safeguard you and protect you since you're obviously not capable of doing so yourself. He'll have a somewhat stern expression on his face but speak to you in a gentle tone, telling you it's time for you to go back home and it's not up for debate as he drops you off to your grandparents house. The next day when you decide to show up to the station with some cookies and baked goods for him, his expression softens and he feels something warm grow in his chest for you...in just a short while you've managed to make him enamored with you. He'll thank you for the treats, ignoring the teasing from his brothers Jihan and Jibeom nearby 

He'll start stalking you and make it seem like whenever you're out he's out too and he'll pretend to be around the same area as he strikes up a conversation with you. The thought of you interacting with some other man other than him makes him feel displeased. You're a pure innocent little thing, oblivious to your surroundings in his opinion. The other day when you were talking to someone, you failed to notice the way the other man's eyes were trailing down your chest. Jichang was observing you from a distance and gritted his teeth as he clenched his jaw as he pretended to be in the area and managed to divert your attention from the other man. After you left Jichang grabbed the man by his hair and used his signature blade move to his neck which rendered the man screaming and grunting in pain while Jichang just glared at him with a cold expression, his devoid of any mercy since he didn't deserve it 

His feelings for you will start to get worse by the day, they'll start spiraling out of control. He gets more and more possessive of you and he'll start filled your head with slight subtle lies about the people around you, saying they're not to be trusted. He's a cop, why would he lie to you? He's just trying to keep you safe. He uses slight subtle manipulation tactics to make you spend more time with him. What would lead to him kidnapping you? When he feels like you're leaving him. The other day you decided to spring on the news to him that in 2 more days you'd be going back to the city as he frowned slightly and immediately stopped drinking his coffee as he stared at you with an unreadable expression, his soul piercing gaze on you for a few seconds. He plastered a fake smile on his face and invited you over to his house for some dinner to which you agreed. He ended up lacing a small dosage of sleeping pills in your food and yes, he does feel bad for doing that but you can't leave him. You NEED him to protect you, to care for you

You'll wake up on a soft bed as he enters the room and he'll brush the hair strands from your face as he tells you that you won't be leaving anytime soon. If you cry he'll feel bad and soothe you by hugging you and pulling you close to his strong muscular body. If you start having a tantrum and screaming, he'll tell you to quit it and he's doing it for your own good. Escape? From him? Don't be silly, he has his eyes and ears EVERYWHERE, the countryside is a small place after all and not to mention Jihan and Jibeom are always around to keep an eye on you and snitch on you the moment you think of trying to do something. If you do end up managing to escape miraculously, he'll just trace your location and manage to track you down and bring you back home. He won't hurt you physically or yell at you, he's a gentleman after all, he doesn't believe in hurting the one he loves but at the same time you do need to realize you've been a brat and you need to be disciplined so he'll end up scolding you like you were a naughty kid caught doing something wrong 

RIP to those who try taking you away from them, he sees them as a challenge to your love and affection and he despises those annoying pests who try to steal you from him. He won't have any mercy towards such people, one single strike to their neck with his signature blade move would render them paralyzed for the rest of their lives. He likes it when you're doing household chores, it fuels the concept that he's playing the traditional role of a husband and he is a traditional man as well. He'll hug you from behind and cage you in his arms as he gently kisses your soft lips and holds your hand. He likes to hold your hand too, lacing his fingers with yours as his rough large calloused ones envelope your hands, especially in public so people can see you're his and they won't have the guts to take you from him. He also likes doing chivalrous gentlemanly things for you like wrapping his coat around you whenever you feel cold, massaging your hands and legs since he doesn't want you to experience pains, cook for you if you're feeling tired. His favorite thing is to just hold you and have you on his lap while there's some soft music playing in the background like jazz while the two of you sip on tea or coffee, basking in the warmth of each other's embrace 

You're supposed to sleep with him, no sleeping on the couch or ground or any of that nonsense, you're his little spouse and married couples are supposed to sleep together and it's evident he isn't going to budge from that idea. Every night he talks about his day and you talk about yours as he caresses your cheek and softly kisses your lips as you drift off to sleep, his arms holding you securely in place wrapped around your waist. He'll encourage you with whatever you like doing, if you like doing art here are all the art supplies you could ever want. If you like reading books, you'll have new books for you every month. He'll give you whatever you need, except for your freedom of course. Would definitely like to have children with you one day, his brothers can't wait to become uncles to your kids either. He'll do anything to maintain the image and idea of his perfect family vision with you and if he has to resort to getting more blood on his hands he doesn't mind...

[vanillasann]

His World, Your World

Pairing: Venti x gn!reader

Genre: Angst <3

Summary: He loves his nation and you just almost as much. For Mondstadt is his world and he'd do everything he could to protect it. Even if it costs his life. So when you have to choose between his death or his nation's, he begs you to choose his. But will you?

TW: Major character death (u), but nothing too graphic. English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if there are many grammar errors! <//3

Note: I've been dying to write something since last, last, last year/? but my lazy ass is stronger than me. This draft has been in here for a year. But oh, well, at least I write something now. I've always loved 'Which would he choose? You or the world?' trope and also inspired by a fanart I saw months ago; Venti hates you because you chose him over Mondstadt, but sadly I forgot their username-.

It's not a secret for anyone to know the fact that Mondstadt is Venti's home. It won't even be an overstatement to say that Mondstadt is his world.

For him loving it oh so much; even greater than he value his own life. For it was what his friends had always been wanted. For it was what his friends had been fight for.

He loves it dearly with all of his heart. He loves the people in it; his people, his children. He loves the freedom his nation has. And for it, he'll do anything he could to protect it. Even if the cost that he must pay is his life.

What to lose? I am but an archon that has long ago left my nation anyway. They'll be just alright without me, he thinks.

There are so many words that could describe Venti. He is a God. An Archon. An immortal being. A cheerful person that is allergic to cats. A drunkard bard. But never even in his mind that he'd ever could be described as a lover.

A lover who loves his partner passionately. A lover who cares so much about his partner's well-being. A lover who will go out of his way to comfort and cheer them whenever the world gets too mean towards them. A lover who vows to his partner that he'll protect them with everything he has.

Venti knows that he's rather friendly with all his acquaintances. Yet he never thought about even the possibility of him falling in love with someone, let alone a mere mortal being, for he is an archon.

At least that's what he thought. Until he met you.

You, who make his heart thump like crazy, feels like knocking hazardly in his chest. You, who make his day a bit more brighter just by getting a thought of your voice calling his name. You, who make him smile like a drunk man even when he hasn't chugged any bottle of Diluc's dandelion wine. And you, who make him addicted of your all.

He tried to shrug it off as his form of interest towards you. Nothing big, just a little crush that will wilt over time, he thought back then. But that little crush was and is still growing wildly every time he spends his day with you. Making a flower garden that he himself can't seem to get rid of, for he has gotten fond of these feelings.

He cherished every moment he has with you, whether it's just strolling around Windrise or visiting Diluc with Kaeya. Whether it's mundane things like joking and making a fool of himself just so he can hear a chorus of your laughter he so adore or a pretty night when he asks you to join him to stargazing in Starsnatch Cliff.

He loves you so much that he even drinks wine less just so he can spend more time with you. He loves you so much that he writes songs about you so that the world knows how amazing you are that even an archon fell head over heels for you.

He loves you and his nation just almost as much; with all of his heart, with everything that he has. That he'd sacrifice anything else if it means he could keep his nation and you safe.

So when you are faced with a big choice that had to be made, he pleads- no. He begs you to choose his doom.

While Venti is a lover who yearns nothing but to spend a lifetime with you, his love, he also is Barbatos, an archon of a nation. He couldn't imagine his life if you'd choose him over his nation, his world.

He begs and cries and sobs to you while clings like you are his lifeline.

Who you are to decline his pleas?

But while you understand his position, you couldn't help but feels like he's selfish. Oh so selfish to sacrifice himself so no one would die. Because while yes, everyone might just be alright, but- what about you?

You who had loved him so much, too much in fact, that you'd choose his life over yours, even over the world, for he was yours. You who had given him everything you had and gave in to his every whim and plea every single day without fail. You, who can't even think about your life without him and his laughter.

And Mondstadt will not last that long without him anyway, you tried to justify yourself in front of a mirror silently. Blank stare at your broken state reflection.

But the flashes of his dying heart and broken scream and tear-stained face of sorrow, because he lost his nation, make your stomach churn and tighten your chest that you can't draw even shallow breath. A realization hit you; He couldn't live without his nation, and vice versa.

That much is what you need to know to make the decision. You clean yourself as much as you can and go to make it.

Underneath the sunset glow and under the tree in windrise you two stare at each other deeply with an empty smiles, trying to pretend everything is alright.

"Are you really sure about this?"

"You promise you're gonna be happy?"

"You promise you're gonna be fine without me?"

He nods at every question you throw at him, even with a trembling smile and tears that threaten to fall, he stands his ground. He answers your questions like he knows what you'll choose after his pleas and begs. Because you'd never say no to him, for you love him too much.

He'd accepted his doom. Anything for his nation to be safe and for you to continue your life, even without him.

But then why?

Why is your form slumping against him in his embrace as if you don't have any strength to even hold it anymore?

Why are you rubbing his back softly and whispering apologies for what you've done?

Why are your breathing and your heart slowly fading away despite him holding you so tight against him?

Why is he screaming your name repeatedly with uncontrollable tears that fall while he tries to shake you awake when it should have been him who won't respond to yours?

Why is he can't do anything despite him being a God, an archon, to bring you back by his side?

Why would you trade your place in his stead as a sacrifice?

Venti doesn't understand.

Or rather, he doesn't want to. For he forgot that he knows a fact.

That while Mondstadt is his world, Venti was yours.

[coupleoffanfics]

Batfam and batsis y/n headcons

y/n's Younger Years

8-12 years old

y/n was brought to the manor for the first time when she was 8 years old. Often got lost in the place because of how big it is the first week. If she couldn't find where she was trying to get to and no one was around to help, she'd just slump against the wall. Silently cry until someone was passing by, it was usually Alfred.

Jason just became Robin when y/n rolls in. He doesn't have much of an option of her for the first few weeks. Thought she was annoying with how much she cried and how clingy she was.

She clings to anyone because she doesn't want to be left alone in general and especially not in an unfamiliar environment. Alfred became her favorite first because of his cooking and baking. Jason is the second person she clings to. The only reason Bruce is in third place is because Jason just looked less scary.

When Bruce and Jason come back from a rough mission, Alfred walks up to the both of them before handing them each a paper. "Miss y/n made this for you before going to bed."  The two pieces of paper were drawings of their hero personas. Both written at the top, "My #1 hearo!". The misspell adds to the charm of the crayon drawing.

Sometimes if y/n and Jason happen to be in the library at the same time. She asks him what a word is, what it means, and how to pronounce it. It's kinda cute, until it happens every 3 minutes. He didn't think much of it, just thought that she was just a dumb kid being a dumb kid.

Later speculates that she might be dyslexic and lets y/n reads out loud to him. Helping her sound out the words and whatnot. Surprisingly he finds himself enjoying helping her and kinda looks forward to these readings. He notices how her reading gets more fluent as time goes on and he can't help but feel proud.

Before going off on a mission or patrol, y/n always hugs Bruce. If he's going on a mission she makes sure to hug him longer and tighter. Explaining, "To give you more power to be safe." Does not understand what the hell she's saying, but still appreciates it.

"Why don't you give Jason a hug?" Bruce asks after hearing the explanation. "Because Jason is already strong and protects you. You need as much strength." Bruce kinda just sits there more confused than ever and Jason is smirking to himself. He doesn't understand what y/n said himself, but what he does know is that she said he was stronger than Bruce and that's all he needed to hear.

Whenever Dick comes around to visit, he tries to make an effort to connect with y/n. She already has Alfred, Jason, and Bruce so she doesn't really feel the need to care about him on a deeper level. He's barely there and she already has enough people that she can cling on to.

He'll show off his acrobatic skills and y/n just drily says, "That's cool." Then runs off to find Jason. He's totally not hurt by the fact that his little sister likes Jason more than him. What? No.

It's not like he wanted a poorly drawn Nightwing that had, "#1 hearo", written on it. That he'd treasure and keep forever. No, he didn't care about that. Yep, not one bit. Though sadly he's not able try to bond with y/n as much as he'd liked since he's leading the Titans.

Barbara isn't around when y/n is usually awake. Often handle cams and technical things as Oracle. Though when they do interact y/n just in awe simply by the fact that she's still working in the hero field after what Joker did. Training hard, so that she'd live up to Barbara's legacy as Batgirl.

The two aren't too close yet when y/n is young, but they're definitely closer than y/n is with Dick. y/n totally didn't have a puppy crush on Barbara for the longest time. Okay, she did for a bit.

A year in the manor, Bruce begins to train y/n more. Taking note of how she's quick on her feet, but her punches are slower than her kicks. Is worried how much she looks up to Jason because Jason is rather reckless and doesn't mind putting himself in danger. Honestly he would have liked it if she just looked up to Dick or someone else.

Batman isn't about violence as ironic as it sounds. Violence is only to be used when there is no other way to stop one from harming others. So Bruce was kinda worried that y/n might take a more brash approach by following Jason, but it turned out to be the opposite.

Almost reminded him of Dick with her passive approach. Almost because she's just a bit too passive at times. It takes three years for y/n to be able to take on the Batgirl persona. Mainly because it's taken a while for her not just to dodge, but also take action by attacking.

Taking action probably wouldn't have come sooner if it wasn't for Jason's death. Hearing the news was hard for everyone. y/n was put to bed before it happened, so she was told of what happened by Bruce the next morning. Not saying any explicit details.

Everything around her seemed so much more somber. The man that was telling her what happened while looking away from her felt surreal. It was like losing her parents again.

She became numb. She heard the words and understood them, she just couldn't believe it. Not even when she watched his casket being lowered into the ground, she couldn't believe it.

Seeing how Bruce was putting on a straight face made things harder. It was like nothing had happened. She knew when she was older that was far from the case, but at the time it made her feel like that's what she had to do as well. He spent more time being Batman, that meant she'd spend more time training.

It worries Barbara and Alfred seeing how both of them are becoming closed off. Barbara takes note of how often y/n looks at Jason's memorial. When she tries to comfort y/n, the girl is quick to avoid the conversation. She might just walk away if Barbara keeps pressing on the subject.

Less time playing or drawing. More time in the batcave and avoiding the library. Months after everything Bruce allows her to pick up the Batgirl persona.

Putting on the suit for the first time didn't feel as grand as she thought it would. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to rip it off because it felt like there was no point. It felt like all this constant training to be Batgirl was all for nothing. She came up with this fantasy that becoming a hero would free her from this numbness, that it’d make her happy just like it had Jason. Yet all it did was remind her that maybe if she tried harder to become Batgirl sooner that she could have a chance at saving him. She wished she could have hugged him before saying goodnight that night.

The only reason she didn't rip off it and burn the suit was because Bruce was waiting. There was no time to waste since Poison Ivy was on the radar tonight.

Jason's name is rarely said, but thought of more often than not. The only time y/n and Barbra openly talked about him was after dealing with the Joker and Quinn.

y/n didn't immediately leave the batcave like usual after every patrol or mission. She just stood in front of his memorial staring at the costume while Bruce left to do something that y/n didn't care about. It was just y/n and Barbara alone in the cave. "I miss him." Her voice echoed out nearly scared Barbara.

Barbara stopped what she was doing and responded with, "I do too." She waited for a moment to see if y/n would keep talking. She didn't want to push it since this is the first time y/n is even openly talking about him.

After the brief silence y/n asked, "He's in a better place, right? That means I shouldn't be sad, but I still miss him. I don't care if he's in a better place like everyone says, I want him back here with us." That's what opened the floodgates. The rest of the night was spent talking about the late Robin and helping y/n with accepting his death. Also giving her a new found eagerness towards being Batgirl and forming a strong bond with Barbara.

There was no chance of her saving Jason back then, but now she can at least save others from facing the same fate as him.

Then Tim crashes in and suddenly y/n has another brother. If Bruce thought he was good then y/n thought so too. Originally she thought that she wasn't going to be that close to Tim, but they just clicked. Tim thought y/n was so cool when she put on her suit and fought crime with Bruce. He couldn't wait to fight alongside both of them.

y/n saw Tim as a geekier and nerdier Barbra honestly. He may be smarter than Barbra, but she'll always be the best one in y/n opinion.

Tim would try to teach y/n how to hack or code since she showed interest in it, but she never got the hang of it. It usually just resulted in them goofing around. Lounging on the couch while playing video games. Tim was more into games that have sci fi themes, while y/n liked to play fantasy games, but they both loved RPGs. It's clear who was putting more thought in the game because y/n just spams attack and Tim is writing down the crit rates.

By the time Tim comes around, y/n is starting to babble in culinary. If she finishes making something, she'll wander around to find him. Makes him put down whatever he's doing to try what she made. She insists that she doesn't have a favorite when shoving food in Tim's face. "You're my lab rat. Testing if my cooking is edible before I give it to Pa, Alfred, or Barbara."

They used to have the same classes until Tim was able to skip a grade. y/n doesn't tell anyone that she's upset about it, but everyone can tell and Tim makes sure to reassure her. "It's not like we're going to never see each other again, y/n. We'll see each other in the halls and during lunch." She sighs, "I know, I know. Just let me wallow in my feelings and I'll be fine."

When there are low days for y/n that make it impossible for her to get out of bed, Tim sits in her room. Chatting about anything and not leaving her alone unless asked. It's nice that he does that, yet it still makes her feel bad for making him stay with her. It's not like she asked for company and she does need it during those moments. It made her feel like a liability.

Everyone is happy to see y/n and Tim getting along so well. y/n hasn't been as talkative or lively since Jason.

When Tim becomes Robin, y/n is put off by how much he resembles Jason. It kinda scared her. She never realized how similar they both look. It makes her wonder if that's why Bruce adopted Tim and allowed him to become Robin.

Catwoman has a soft spot for the newest Batgirl. She just watches her run around with Batman and Robin. There's just a sense of goofiness to the new Batgirl that she can't take seriously.

y/n's Teenage Years

13- 18 years old

The whole Red Hood ark left y/n with a broken arm, bruises, and wondering if this was what she wanted. It was nice to see Jason again, but it felt like she couldn't approach him. Also spending a lot of time in the batcave with Barbara and Alfred since she couldn't patrol with a broken arm. "At least he didn't break my dominant arm." y/n chuckled to herself humorously, Barbara doesn't laugh and glances at y/n. Barbara didn't find anything funny about it and she's sure y/n didn't either, she was probably still in shock.

Barbara is kinda mad at Jason, may or may not want to run over his foot with her wheelchair. Of course, she understands the betrayal and anger that he feels. She just thinks trying to take out y/n as well is a bit much, well everything that he's doing it a bit much. She just thought out of everyone y/n would be given the most mercy by Jason.

Jason may have forgiven Batman and everyone to an extent, but she just can't help herself from feeling guilty. Of course, she noticed that not only did he distance himself from the family, but her as well. He'd never be in the same room with y/n long enough for her to ask how he was doing. It made her believe that he was resentful toward her. It didn't matter if that wasn't the case, it just hurt that the person she's been missing for years doesn't want anything to do with her.

The thought of if there was even a point to any of this came up once more. Tim was joining the Titans for a bit, Jason was off on his own, Dick was in Blüdhaven or something y/n didn't care, and Bruce and Barbara were doing what they always do. It just wasn't as appealing as it once was. It almost became stale and she found herself feeling happier doing less action packed things.

Then one night y/n impulsively said that she wanted to quit to Burce. It wasn't a surprise to him as he saw her diverging from the path and let her drop the Batgirl persona. Honestly he was glad that she quit, he wished that his other kids would choose to live a normal life. That was one less child to worry about getting killed.

Of course, Barbara is the first to question y/n about her decision. A little while later Tim is the one trying to get an answer out of y/n. Jason is too ashamed to ask or even be near y/n. Dick doesn't find out until a month later after visiting the manor then starts asking if y/n was okay this and that. None of them got a concrete answer except for Barbara.

"It's something I'm not interested in anymore. I want to live a normal life, get married, and have kids. I'm not going to truly have that if I stay as Batgirl. And I'm not like any of you. I'm not good enough, I'm never good enough. Gotham never needed me anyway and they won't be losing anything because I quit."

Hearing that, Barara immediately opened her arms signaling for a hug. Feeling overwhelmed from spilling out her feelings, y/n accepted the hug. "I understand and I won't stop you. If being Batgirl doesn't make you happy, that's perfectly fine. You deserve happiness just like everyone else. The only thing I'm against is you calling yourself worthless. You were a good- no you were amazing as Batgirl and you are amazing when you aren't. Remember that."

Tears are running down the girl's [skin tone] face. Her throat was tight and she knew she couldn't talk without making a guttural sound. So she nodded her head. Barbara held y/n until she let go. Wiping the tears from her face, she turned to Barbara and said, "Please don't tell the others about this." Barbara kept this between them.

It's clear that out of the whole family that Barbara is the first and really only one y/n goes to for emotional support. y/n hates crying in front of anyone seeing it as her personal weakness. y/n is close to Tim, he doesn't know how to respond to y/n's emotions. Barbara seemed to always know what to say and y/n felt more comfortable being vulnerable around her.

The drift from the family isn't noticeable. y/n comes down to the batcave from time to time, but her time there is greatly cut in half. She starts hanging around her best friend, Norah, more often. Joins the track and fencing club seemingly not able to let go of some old habits.

When Tim leaves for the Titans the mark of when y/n and the family drift apart. There's small chat and not complete strangers. When Tim does come back he has taken on a new persona of Red Robin.

It's just a normal day, y/n is messing around in the kitchen when Tim comes up to her. There's just a strong air of anxiety around him that makes her anxious. "y/n, I need to tell you something." She puts down the cookbook and looks at him with a raised eyebrow. He takes a deep breath, "I'm bisexual." y/n's shoulders suddenly relax and she starts laughing.

He's confused and not sure what to do. She quickly explains through her laughter, "I'm sorry. I just thought you were going to say something horrible like you ran over a cat or something. I don't know." Taking a moment to calm herself she adds, "That's cool, I'm bi/pan. I also need to go to the bathroom, could you please watch the water and make sure it doesn't boil over? Please and thank you!"

She doesn't make a big deal over it because she just sees it as normal. It's nothing to celebrate about in her opinion, but she's glad Tim trusted her enough to tell her. Most of the family probably doesn't know her sexuality since she hasn't openly said it. It's just something that she doesn't feel the need to talk about.

Damian enters the picture when it's been almost a year since y/n quit. She is completely put off by how he behaves and has no idea how to handle it. He likes picking on his siblings, but when he picks on y/n it almost seems malicious. Whenever she tries to bond with him or get to know him, he just snaps at her.

Now she kinda knows how Dick felt.

Speaking of Dick, he starts coming around the manor more. Only for Damin of course and y/n can't help but feel almost a little jealous. He never took her out for bowling or anything when she was Damian's age. That jealousy then evaporates seconds later because she realizes how to stupid it is to be jealous over that. Damian needs a lot of help to be integrated into normal society.

Jabs made at her are brushed off as she believes that it's just him coping. He was in a new environment with new people, it was only natural for him to cope in some way regardless if it was healthy or not. His insults were never that bad. Often consisting of calling her worthless.

They were just jabs and nothing more. Not knowing that it was chipping away at her already fragile self confidence. Damian is part of the reason why she doesn't go to the batcave anymore or talk at the dinner table. Also always has something to say, something to nitpick. With how consistent it is, y/n goes to Bruce.

Asking if he could tell Damian to just knock it off just once. She thought that he'd talk to Damian and that things will cool down since she can't even get a word in without him saying something. It's not like he never listened to her anyway. Then Bruce tells her to bush it off. He's just a kid and he's going through a lot. Bruce doesn't even look up from his paperwork when saying this.

It was like y/n was smacked in the face. She wonders if he believes what Damian is saying. That she had no right to be living here with them or that just a freeloader. She felt like she couldn't go to Tim about this as she didn't want to emit that this kid's words were getting to her. She doesn't even want to go to Barbara about this.

Because maybe Damian is right.

y/n didn't deserve to be around heroes. All she did was waste their time when they could have been saving lives. They'd go to her fencing tournaments when they should be locking up villains. She was truly a waste of space.

Lowkey Damian wants y/n to fight him. He wants to see Batgirl in action and see what her fighting style would be like. To some extent he just wants her attention, but how he goes about it just pushes her away. He's seen her fencing a few times and is kinda impressed by her fast and fluent movements.

During her junior year at high school was when she started cutting off ties with the family. Never talking during dinner, never showing up at the dinner table. If she's not out of the manor then she's in her room. Everyone is so busy that no one notices her isolating herself. No one, but Barbara.

Barbara tries talking to y/n, but she is constantly shutting it down. Constantly running away from any conversion. Yet Barbara doesn't give up as usual. Unlike any other times y/n doesn't open up.

One day Barbara said something that made y/n let her walls down. "I'll alway make time for you." She stops walking, thinking to herself before looking over her shoulder and tells Barbara, "I have practice next monday, but after that we could go see a movie or something. If you want." The woman nods her head with a small smile.

Tim is no longer y/n's favorite. Not favorite, just no longer the one y/n hangs out with the most. Barbara is the only family member that y/n lets her walls down for. The only family member that she keeps in touch with.

When y/n gets a boyfriend. y/n makes a beeline toward Barbara for any advice. With how much she gushes over him, Barbara wants to meet him. It takes a while for the two to meet and when they do it's kinda awkward. Xander Jeremiah is every stoic and not sociable. Barbara doesn't know what to think of him, but if he does care about y/n that's all that really matters. 

Seeing the two of them interact reminds Barbara of those dumb intj and infp relationship memes she saw online.

y/n Young Adult (Present)

19 years old

y/n doesn't really tell the family much of any and would not be surprised if they didn't know she moved out after high school. As much as y/n wanted to get out of Gotham, she ended up staying because of best friend and boyfriend. Going to college and majoring in art. Barbara and y/n spend a little less time with each other, but still text almost daily.

y/n is forced to interact with her family after Jerome becomes a prominent figure in Gotham and has some odd obsession with her. After an incident at a charity event, y/n is persuaded into staying in the manor. She planned on staying for only a week or so. At least until Jerome was caught and sent to Arkham.

Damian is more mellowed out and almost makes an effort to talk to y/n, but she just tries to get away from him as soon as possible.

Tim is concerned about the aloofness y/n projects around others. Also highly suspicious of that blonde lady that comes around to talk to y/n. She's never been so secretive before and it hurts that she doesn't come to him about anything like she used to.

Jason still tries not to interact with y/n, but he lingers around the manor. He can't bring himself to forgive himself for physically hurting her all those years ago. He promised himself that he'd protect his little sister when he was Robin and broke it again by letting Gotham's newest psycho kidnap her.

Dick acts like everything is fine or is going to be fine. That he and y/n had always been somewhat close. Not taking a hint that he's overstepped a boundary that he never had the right to cross.

Bruce is Bruce. Bruceing around or something, y/n doesn't really know what he does anymore. He's the one who suggests that y/n relearn self defense and she agrees. It's been awhile since she even fought anyone, so she is a bit rusty.

Damian would have offered to teach her, but Dick and Tim are fighting over the possession. Tim wants to reconnect with y/n, back to being friends that have each other's backs. Dick is trying to help y/n. He has the most fighting exprace, so that means he should be the one to teach y/n. Jason is not going near y/n. In the end y/n had Bruce reteach her self defense. It was just like old times.

The whole time there the family is awkwardly interacting with y/n. When at the dinner table there are questions thrown at her. She answers just about any question almost curtly. The only question that she seems to avoid is about the blond lady. "She's just a friend." y/n claims, "Everyone just calls her Echo. It is a childhood name." It was clear that she was lying, everyone knew it, but no one called it out.

They always talked in private. In hushed tones and "Echo" never stayed for long. Honestly Tim thought that Echo was y/n's girlfriend after walking by her room when Echo was in there, he swears he heard y/n say I love you. When Tim told the other about this, Barbara was rolling her eyes. There was no way that y/n would cheat on Xander. Even if they broke up Barbara would have known, she assumes that y/n meant it in a platonic way. y/n has always been quite affectionate in both platonic and romantic relationships.

When Jerome is caught and sent to Arkham, y/n goes straight back to her apartment. It doesn't matter how much they try to get her to stay, Jerome is locked up and there is no reason for any intense security. If they try to counter her argument, she'll just drop the act and lay almost everything out.

"I don't want to be here, I don't belong here, and there isn't anything that is going to keep me here now that Jerome is in Arkham." Her voice wasn't loud, just tired and almost upset.

The most affected by her words is Damian ironically. Her words echo the things he said a while ago. He never gave a second thought of how it affected her. Hearing y/n say that and walk out the manor without looking back left him stunned. He didn't know what to do, what to say. That night he didn't sleep.

The family will try to keep their distance. Except for Damian and Dick. Dick will hang around the college campus and try to drag y/n off somewhere, if her best friend is with her then they'll drag her away before Dick is even able to say anything. Sadly her friend isn't always there, so there are some days she spends the afternoon at the zoo or amusement park with Dick. Damian will just show up at y/n's apartment and walk in like he owns the place. She has no idea how he got a spare key, but she is too busy trying to get him out to think about that.

Damian finds out y/n is in a big sister program and he'll screeching at her. "Why are you taking care of them? You're my big sister, not theirs! They don't have the right to call you their sister!" He's having a mental meltdown in the middle of her living room. She has no idea what the fuck it going on and doesn't know how to handle it. When she tries to calm him down, he starts throwing things and that's when she dials Dick's number.

Dick is able to calm Damian down and drives him back to the manor. Before they go Dick talks y/n. "You know how Damian is, he is very protective of those he cares about. I am just disappointed in both of you. He should haven't reacted that way, but you shouldn't be in that program in the first place. You already have Danian and I think this just made him feel like he isn't important to you." y/n has a severe case of whiplash after hearing what he just said. She can't argue back because he already left.

The rest of the family isn't going to become full blown yanderes until y/n's boyfriend is gassed by Jerome. y/n doesn't want to deal with the family's bullshit, but she goes to them for help. Revealing Jerome's twin brother, but not explicitly stating that Jeremiah is her boyfriend and begs for them to help in finding a cure. Barbara is the one in the room who is the most shocked by this information.

Spoiler they don't find a cure and when Jeremiah is pushed over the edge, that’s around the time they are too.

I'm cutting it off here. I wrote so much and I might pick this back up. I’ve just been listening to FNAF ambience music while writing this. Have yet to proofread this, so sorry for any and all mistakes.

Part 2

[luffyrose]

Dp x Dc Blurb #5 (I think)

SO SO HAD THIS THOUGHT WHILE MAKING MYSELF FOOD!

We know, well, fandom kinda goes that ghosts form when around ectoplasm as well as have a strong enough desire to make a core. And Gotham is like Amity but less ley line more murder (so not as good ecto but still just as much, have to be a stronger ghost in general to be fine there).

Martha and Thomas Wayne are very much the type of people to come back as ghosts. No vengeance, no protection. They just wanted to see how Bruce, their little Brucie, grew up. They just wanted Family.

And that's exactly what they got!

They were thrilled when Alfred filled the role of father, even if he later claimed to just be a butler. Dick appearing in their lives was one of the happiest moments, how they wished they could tell him that his parents wished him well before moving on a few years later. Jason was adorable! Though it was upsetting to watch the other two begin too fight. It was even worse to find Jason joining them, even temporarily. Tim was a blessing to the family, keeping it from fully falling apart, and oh how they wished they could help all their little boys, because they knew where they all were and how they were feeling at all times.

With each addition they were thrilled for the large family, yet sad they could never interact, never help. Jason could sense them, but he'd only gotten help with his illness recently, poor child, he was still so ill.

The two Waynes had been there for it all. Watching, wishing, and gently tucking each of the boys in, even when they were far away from home.

But something was still missing. Both could feel that frail bond reaching out for another part of their family. A young boy they discovered while following it. He was about Damian's age, and could see them! He didn't seem aware he was adopted, let alone had a family waiting for him, but he also seemed so overwhelmed. The two decided to watch him but leave their little Danny alone. At least, they would until he was in danger.

And just like with the rest of the family, danger came.

It was just a random afternoon when they'd felt the pull of panic from the half ghost child, yet they couldn't leave Gotham so quickly. Bruce and Dick had a fight for the first time in a long time and...well it wasn't pretty and left ALL of the other children worried and confused.

So with the ectoplasm they'd gotten with their growing family, and even visiting their halfa on occasions, Martha and Thomas Wayne decided to do something about it.

The mansion was haunted. For the last few days things had been going completely haywire with no reasonable explanation but ghosts, or magic, but from what they knew the two went pretty hand in hand. So they decided to call Constantine to figure out why.

None of them expected Bruce's parents. Especially when they told them they needed to go save their brother Danny...a name that one particular batkid hadn't heard in a long time.

~~~

Open ended on which one, but sibling of batkid implied.

Martha and Thomas kept getting stronger with each kid Bruce adopted/got, Steph and Barbara inculded, and could feel a semi-frayed bond with one of the kid's biological brother and it led to Danny 🤗

They didn't plan to introduce themselves since the boy seemed happy enough despite the stress, they did not really see what his homelife was like. It was only after they felt something happen through their bond (which because they have obsessions based around family they can sense their own family) that they realized something was wrong and decided a good ol fashion haunting to catch their attention so they could find a way to tell them to get their brother.

[wildweavewriting]

✫ The Pond ✫

My fic for the @ssoblrbigbang 2024, organised by @froggistain! I was partnered with the talented @natduskfall, who made this beautiful piece of art!

6k+, art by @natduskfall

 Your parents used to warn you not to go down to the pond. It made sense, even though you might not have felt so at the time. To you the water didn't seem deep at all, and one could easily keep an eye out from the house.

 But then you were very little. And perhaps a bit accident-prone. And you didn't know it yet, but father was having difficulty moving down slopes; and mother didn't like water very much, no matter how shallow.

 It was funny in hindsight, how you'd sit at the chicken coop all moon-eyed, straining to catch a glimpse of creatures in the water. A sheltered child, projecting all this yearning for the outside world onto a tiny pond.

 Your horizons did broaden over the years, of course, as they do for all. Clinging to your mothers hand you found the lake behind the pond, and then the village and its people beyond the lake.

 Over time you started to recognise those who came to visit, traced people to their nooks within a larger world. And inevitably, memories from young childhood clicked into place.

 There was the pretty girl who had come to help out on the farm each summer. Her strong build had fascinated you, as had her way with animals. She would always indulge you for the season, answer your incessant questions.

 With every late autumn you'd forget of her existence, and you hadn't even realised she wasn't coming over anymore - until you found her again, settled down with a woman at the edge of town. It answered some questions and brought up new ones you hastily shoved aside.

 There was the young man from far away. He'd come every winter, and he too had your questions to endure. He was a bit less patient perhaps, something you easily forgave. After all he and your mother had serious things to discuss.

 What you found harder to forgive was when he asked your mother to join him for his months away. Your clear discontent led to perhaps the first proper talk you ever had with your mother.

 She told you of suddenly being ripped from all she knew, of her time on a rickety ship, of desperately staying afloat. Of the home and the people she missed.

 She said that no one else in these parts would know many of the words you had taken for granted. Told you for the first time which nicknames had their roots in dialect; seemed surprised you didn't intuitively know these things, but how could you?

 You cried silently as she left, gripped all you could until she really did have to go. Her warm hand stroked your head one last time and your chest squeezed painfully; a small frame struggled with feelings too big for it to contain.

 Then there was the old lady with trembling hands. She had always been around, came over for tea far more often than anyone else. Before long she started handing over the medicine for father in plain sight, told you how to get to her shop.

 She walked the path with you a few times that summer, just for good measure, and after a while it turned into something more aptly called meandering. You had a chaperone to keep you company, she had a stronger arm to hold her up if needed.

 With her you rediscovered the pond.

 The sun had set and left you in a dim twilight, and you had to squint to make out what the apothecary was pointing at. It took you a while to see it for what it was. Its banks were overgrown, what little you could see through the yellowed reeds covered in lily pads.

 You moved on. Father would be worried if you arrived much later. Still, you spent the way back quietly musing on old times, exchanging stories of childhood and waters and longing for a wider world.

 That night in bed you decided to return there soon. The stone walls around your farm had been erratically added onto over the years so there was hardly a view to pretty up, but maybe the pond could do with some clearing.

 A few days later you informed father of your plan as you packed up your late lunch. He happily sent you on your way with his leather gloves, a worn book on plants and a stern reminder to slowly and thoroughly announce yourself as to not startle the wildlife.

 The hill was steeper than you’d thought, your boots not particularly secure on the slippery grass. You ended up carefully winding your way down, eyes on your feet and hands clutched on your basket to keep it steady. At the bottom you heaved a sigh of relief and finally assessed what work you had ahead of you.

 The day was overcast and grey, the pond still and rather dreary looking. You were pleasantly surprised to spot a path through the reeds though, opposite of the side you’d arrived at.

 You made your way over as you leafed through your thin book, basket awkwardly hooked on your arm. Right as you made it to the gap, you found some pages with illustrations that seemed to be water plants and their flowering periods. There was even a little schematic with indications of how common they were and which parts were edible.

 It didn’t seem wise to clamber over the trampled reeds with the basket swinging around, so you set it down and tightly grasped the book. You were glad to have the free hand when the litterfall shifted underfoot at your cautious first step, it gripped a fistful of reeds before you’d even fully processed what had happened.

 You made it over slowly but safely, stepped in a damp spot somewhere along the line and scratched your palm open, but your ankles remained intact and untwisted. When you crouched at the water’s edge you were pleased to find the lily pads had a wide triangular notch in them, which matched the somewhat crude drawing you were looking at.

 It was marked to be in abundance, and though this information was clearly old you figured not much would have changed, not with how these were growing. They were only just beginning to flower though, so you didn’t want to indiscriminately rip out anything that seemed unimportant. Only out with the visibly dead, then.

 You carefully pulled a larger patch towards you and got to work plucking all decomposed flowers and stems out of the thicket. Once or twice you accidentally ripped a pad loose, one even coming out of the water with soil at the bottom, but you managed to not damage any of the flowers themselves.

 Some of them already were damaged though, you couldn’t help but notice. It seemed an animal had nibbled on them, a few leaves were just bitten straight through with broad teeth. When you looked more carefully you also found that several of the larger plants were oddly tangled, their stems weaved into knots as though they’d been sloshed around in the water. You left them as they were.

 Working your way through just the part in front of you took ages and you resolved to come again on a sunnier day, maybe wade through the pond as you cleaned up the waterlilies. The water was surprisingly clear after all, your hands only really dirty from the rotten leaves themselves.

 Once you were done for the day the pile next to you had grown so big, you would have difficulty carrying it with two fatigued arms. Your poor knees creaked loudly as you straightened up and you laughed to yourself at the state your body was in.

 You were glad not to have taken your fathers’ gloves with you for this particular cleanup, they would only have been ruined. But as you slowly teetered back to your basket you thought your future self might thank you if you cleared the path a little, and your hands were still a bit scratched up from your earlier panicked grab.

 So you dumped your pile on the ground, thoroughly wiped your hands, put the gloves on, noted and admired the darkening sky for a while, and turned back to the pond.

 There was a horse in the water.

 It was a lovely white, lounging among the lily pads as though it had always lain there. There was an odd shine to its face that suggested it had just dunked its head underwater, you could even see some algae stuck in its mane. It gave off a strange sense of familiarity – this horse was undoubtedly a friend.

 Its soft blue eyes just barely peeked up above the water’s surface, facing you head-on, and though you shouldn’t be you felt unsettled. There was an unease that came with the certainty of its good intentions. It had you rooted to the spot, unsure of most everything, so you just stared at it in bewilderment.

 This horse did not belong to anyone in the area, you were sure of it.

 Then it stood up and broke your impasse. It moved slowly and heavily, bespeaking a familiar strength you were used to from lumbering draught horses. The water around it barely even rippled, just seemed to part for it in advance.

 It was headed straight for you. The first snap of fallen reeds was what finally broke you out of your stupor and you quickly stepped back. You hadn’t encountered many wild animals in your life, but mother had made sure to impress on you the importance of never crowding any one, regardless of size.

 Unfortunately the horse seemed to not have been taught this lesson. You were moving away slowly, unwilling to turn your back, and its long legs meant it was catching up to you fast. You decided to accept your fate.

 It was even larger up close. You made sure to look just to the side of it and anxiously twisted your fingers in your clothing. Aside from a slight tremble you were stock-still when you felt the first hot breath hit your face.

 Its muzzle was velvety. It was nudging you, those puffs of hot air tickling you and displacing small hairs. You absent-mindedly admired the gradient of grey on the snout and its softly tapered ears, though you still dodged eye contact in your apprehension.

 At a particularly harsh huff you chuckled lowly, out of genuine amusement and a desire to test its limits. The horse remained calm, it mostly seemed curious, and so you took a deep breath and lowered your shoulders.

 You wanted so badly to move up a hand and pet it, but your gut told you to just wait this out. So you did. You waited and let the horse investigate, watched its ears and flank and feathering that still glistened with water, and grew increasingly fond of the creature as you stood there.

 The warmth it radiated was more than welcome in the quickly chilling evening air, but it was also a reminder of the passage of time. It was late, and climbing up the hill would be no easy task in the dark. So even though you didn’t want this moment to end, you stepped away once again.

 The horse looked at you, head slanted to the side and eyes oddly intelligent, and didn’t follow this time. You felt almost compelled to step back to its side, warm and comforting, but your eyes snagged on the gloves on your hands and thoughts of a worried father brought you back to reality.

 You moved around it in an arc, giving it space to move away, but looked back when you reached its hind end and found it looking back at you, ears pricked forward in interest. Careful not to startle it and wary of its legs, you fully extended your arm and stroked its sloped croup in farewell.

 A strange and childlike delight filled your chest when it snorted and lowered its head with a little shake. It seemed to have understood the gesture for what it was as it trudged away, flicking its wavy tail.

 You gathered your stuff with a stupid grin on your face, it only fading with a pang of regret when you realised you wouldn’t have the time to clear the path. That would be first on the list next time, then.

 This had been fun. Getting your hands dirty somewhere other than the farm was invigorating in a way you hadn’t expected. And with a bit of luck your companion might show itself again.

 You came home sweaty and excited, munching on the lunch you had completely forgotten about during the day. Your father indulged your tales with a gentle smile and questions at just the right time, and your sleep was content and filled with dreams of waterlilies.

 To no one’s surprise you went again the next week, earlier in the day this time. Your previous cleanup had wiped you out completely, body tired and aching, and you’d only just managed your daily tasks. But now you were raring to go, energy levels back to normal.

 You started with the path of felled reeds, methodically ripping out any that were still rooted. Your previous pile of mush was gone, which was a shame. Your father had indicated he might find a use for detritus, and though you’d been a bit sceptical you were happy to indulge.

 When you felt a presence at your back you smiled happily, and even at the risk of looking foolish you started talking to the assumed horse. You kept your voice low and soothing, discussed nothing of importance and enthusiastically agreed whenever it made a noise.

 After a little while of patiently standing behind you it evidently decided enough was enough and levelled some more of the reeds, carefully shouldering past you as it made its way into the pond. There it splashed around a bit as you worked up a sweat.

 It was nice to have the company. The horse was lovely to look at whenever you got out of breath, its coat shimmering in the sun and the mystery of its strange eyes fun to ponder. It even seemed to understand what you were doing, moseying over and yanking on some reeds with its teeth.

 It didn’t do much, they were so slippery even you had difficulty getting a good grip, but it got a startled laugh out of you and this was apparently reason enough for it to keep trying. You took pity on it after a short while and moved on to the next task, chucking off your shoes to join it in the pond.

 As you made your way into the water you considered the nagging unease you felt whenever the horse moved away.

 You’d wanted to dip your toes from the start, it had even been the plan before your fateful meeting last week. You were in no danger, and so you continued on your chosen path.

 It was interesting though. The horse was strange, that much was obvious. It moved just that bit too silently, and you had never seen such glassy blue eyes in an animal that could still see. And there was a tugging in your soul, telling you things you already felt but slightly to the left.

 You weren’t usually this moved by gut instinct, which was the main oddity really. Surely nothing you couldn’t handle.

 All of that was forgotten in the pond. You and the horse played around, splashing and nudging and clearing up. It was remarkably effective at weeding, though it also had a penchant for eating healthy plants.

 You even dared touch it without gloves, very casually stroked its neck and shoulder when you got the chance. It was softer than you’d imagined, coat silky and strong muscles rippling under your hand. You wondered how long it had been without human contact when it leaned into you, seemingly unaware of its own size.

 It was difficult to tear yourself away from its side.

 Time got away from you very quickly after that, as you alternated between weeding, petting and generally splashing about. When the soil and your toes grew icy cold you looked up to find the sun was already down, so focused had you been on your patch of pads.

 Your companion had left some time ago, as it had done for short periods throughout the day, so it seemed you wouldn’t get to say a proper farewell. You only hoped it had simply decided to leave on its own terms, and wouldn’t come back to find you gone.

 You stood up and stretched your arms up high, taking a moment to admire the evening sky. The sickle moon had already been visible during the day, now the thin silver crescent was due to set any moment.

 As you waded out of the water you found your feet were far too dirty to put your boots on, so with barely contained glee you decided to walk back barefoot. Father was always strict about wearing footwear, but you had a good excuse.

 You softly hummed under your breath as you gathered your things and looked around one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of the horse. You were rather curious where it went off to – if it spent its nights outside, under the stars, or had a home to get back to.

 It took you a while but you thought you spotted a familiar blurred shape over by the lake, so you decided to make a slight detour. As you moved closer you found your suspicion had been right, and you felt some pride at being able to recognise it from a considerable distance.

 Your pride promptly shifted to terror when the horse walked straight into the water.

 You knew this shore – there was a steep drop down only a few meters in, part of the reason you’d been warned never to swim there. You let out a strangled shout in your bewilderment and stumbled into a panicked run, not thinking past the need to get to it.

Luckily it heard you. It stopped moving and looked back at you, eyes patient and ears relaxed – seemingly just waiting for you to join. You cursed it in your mind’s eye as you desperately splashed into the water, only hoping you were strong enough to get it to move back to shore.

When you reached it you put your hand on its croup once more, the spot you always used to steer the working horses, and tried to soothingly pat it. Your hands were shaking horribly from a combination of adrenaline and cold, but –

 Your hand was stuck.

 You stared in shock at this incomprehensible turn of events, dread violently taking hold of you. Your hand was glued to its coat, you weren’t imagining things. No matter how you tried to pull it seemed to only sink further into the suddenly adhesive hairs; had its coat always been this thick?

 The horse snorted softly and your head snapped up, eyes wide in panic, fear only increasing when it looked ahead at the dark water. It stepped forward and you stumbled along, completely mute and embarrassingly pliant.

 You sagged in relief when the horse stopped just before the drop-off, turning back and nuzzling at you. You half expected it to lift its lip and reveal razor-sharp teeth, but instead you had to tear your eyes away when you noticed the weird angle of its neck. With your heart in your throat you murmured nonsensical reassurances.

 Then it nudged your hand, and just like that you found you were released.

 All you could do was stand there, stunned, as the horse slipped down into the deep.

 You came home tired and shivering, unwilling to tell your father what had happened. He might have had his suspicions and worries, but he only made sure you ate a hot meal and slept soundly. When you checked on the animals the next morning you found them well taken care of and promptly went back to bed.

 Despite what had happened you needed to go back. You dodged more of your fathers questions and didn’t dare ask the apothecary what and if she knew, decided you were unable to gather information without causing unrest. There was no surefire way to predict consequences, but you felt strongly that discretion was in order.

 You almost missed your fathers growing apprehension, but when you next asked to go to the pond it was unmistakably there. He didn’t deny you, perhaps more aware of the rift it would have caused than you were at the time.

 So you went, sure to show your father the red twine around your wrist before you left, and whenever the horse showed you wore your gloves. It hadn’t changed its demeanour and, as luck would have it, didn’t seem particularly keen on dragging you under, so you slowly unwound again.

 You had wondered just how intelligent the presumed water spirit was, considering how purposeful the reveal of its nature had been. Over the next weeks it behaved like a normal horse however, if a bit more careful with touch, so you chalked it up to the intellect you often saw in animals.

 Summer changed to autumn and your cleanup was done, but you regularly went down to sit at the pond’s edge on your way back from town and admired the bright yellow waterlilies. The horse kept you company, always a welcome warmth at your side.

The gloves came back off. It was inevitable really, fear over what could happen had never been strong enough of a deterrent for you. You obediently took them with you still, to give your father some peace of mind.

The red twine stayed, for whose sake you weren't sure.

 When your hands started trembling it didn't come as much of a surprise, though you were far too young. It was odd not to have your mother there for what like such a fundamental change in yourself. Any version of you she pictured would be steadyhanded.

 You tried to imagine how her hands would have changed and found you couldn’t.

 Your world shrank again, slowly but surely. You couldn’t walk the same distances you once had, energy zapped in a way that was frighteningly familiar in hindsight, and you were lucky to make it to the settlement once a week. Before long father was the healthy one in the household.

 A child from a sizable family came to live with you, to aid on the farm whenever needed, and after a few months of miserable existence you begrudgingly accepted that things would only get worse from here. So you officially excused yourself from obligatory housework and tried your best not to get snippy with what in your most cynical moments felt like the spare heir.

 You fled whenever you could, anything to avoid the hushed whispers during the apothecary’s visits and the melancholy look on your father’s face. Soon the pond was the only place you could reach, the horse your main companion.

 Father asked you not to stay out too long during winter, but more often than not you’d sneak out well into the night. The moonlight would guide your slow journey down the hill, and as you walked down you’d see your friend move the now well-trodden path to the pond.

 There you’d meet, and with a content snort it would lay down next to you, and you would press yourself into its side where you stuck like glue, finally rid of your full body tremor.

 One moonless midwinter night the horse nudged you further onto its back, ever so gently, as it made to stand up.

 You moved to lay with your arms around its neck in a warm hug, desperate to ward off the cold creeping into your very being.

 And so, with full trust, you melded into one.

-

 There was a song in the air.

 It was sweet and sorrowful and heavy, and it couldn’t be, because he was in a crow’s nest and the wind should have whipped away any sound before it reached him.

 Being up there hadn’t been the punishment it was meant to be so far, seasickness yet to reach him, but now there was a sudden lurching in his gut. He swallowed down a horrid mixture of bile and cold air and clutched the railing, the splintered wood grounding in its familiarity.

 His frozen fingers fumbled for his spyglass and he hastily scanned their surroundings, but there was nothing so see – the shoreline was still dark and far and tranquil, no movement there. No other seafarers around either.

 The moon was low on the horizon, its reflection a thin strip on the wide ocean. The night was bright, easy to navigate, and he once again cursed his lot. One of the younger ones should’ve been up there.

 His head whipped around when he thought he saw something – there, a shape in the water, near the ragged rocks closer to shore. He squinted, forgoing the spyglass in favour of keeping an eye on it – if it was a spirit it could disappear any moment.

 There was a shuffling and low shouting down below, his fellow sailors undoubtedly roused by the siren song. Though he’d been at sea most of his life he’d never had an encounter himself, only heard the tall tales – he was suddenly grateful to be up here, to not be in the midst of the dogged determination to get away.

 He whistled low under his breath in hopes of a good air current, but to his horror the tune shifted and melded into the one on the wind.

 At his wits ends he sank down, unable to stop whistling and unable to do much else. His palms burned from where he’d scratched them on the futtock shrouds on his way up and it was a peculiar thing to focus on, but that’d hurt like hell if he ended up in the briny water.

 The song had turned harrowing in its grief, and when he heard a horrible shrieking underneath him he knew they were doomed.

-

 The village is the same as it has always been.

 You marvel at the way time seems to stand still here as you move down the cobblestone road. Even the shop is offering the exact same saddle pad you bought a few months ago, though the windmill seems a bit more quaint now that you see it with fresh eyes.

 The beehives are abuzz, the sun is warming your skin and you don’t think you’ve ever been so happy to be somewhere. You knock on the green door in your usual pattern, and you’re greeted with a bright smile pretty much immediately.

 “Well well, look who’s finally back!” Pamela says as she ushers you in, apron covered in flour.

 “Just in time, apparently. Apple pie?” You neatly place your shoes by the door and shuffle past her into the kitchen, where you’re welcomed by the delicious smell of cinnamon and sugar.

 “Hmm, had to make good use of my first batch. I had the craving of a lifetime yesterday. Stick around for 15 minutes and you’ll get a slice.”

 “I could do with some comfort food,” you say as you sit down with a heavy sigh, “and in the meantime I’ll get right to the important stuff, if you don’t mind.”

 “Yes, we probably should,” Pamela says, tone subtly shifting. “I was worried you’d have difficulty finding your way back, G.E.D. have been spreading out across the entire mountainside.”

 “Yeah,” you say with a wry smile.

 “Ah,” she hums, “of course. Couldn’t go through Stormgarden, huh? Jian locked the gates a few months ago to keep them out, kind of forgot that happened after you left.”

 You look at her imploringly, and though she rolls her eyes there’s a kindness to accompany the teasing edge in her voice when she continues.

 “I’ve only spoken to Ming Yue a few times, she spends most of her time over in the fields or at the old house. I just bring them supplies when needed and make sure they’re really all right. It’s a bit awkward talking through the fence, and I’m not acrobatic enough to attempt a break-in.”

 “Fair enough,” you huff. The walls are higher than they look, and some of the stones deceptively loose. “Anything exciting happen, other than that?”

“Not really. I just held the fort down as usual, while you were off doing whatever it is you do,” she says with a sly look. Pamela knows not to pry, but she never turns down a riddle or allusion either.

 “Things went surprisingly smoothly,” you concede with a tired but satisfied grin, a bit shy to be the sole messenger of a group’s effort.

 “Oh!” her eyebrows shoot up, “well that’s news worth celebrating!”

 Pamela bustles around the house for a bit, getting you a drink and an assortment of gifts she’s made you in the time you were away; candles, honey balm and your favourite hand soap, which she gathers up in a picnic hamper.

 You sit and bask in it for a moment, the safety of lounging in your friend’s cozy kitchen, and let it sink in that you really did succeed, and now you’re home. A home beset by G.E.D., yes, but that’s a problem you’ll solve another day.

 Pamela gives you a plate with the best apple pie you’ve had in months and you exercise the restraint of a lifetime by not just wolfing it down.

 “Anyway,” you say through a mouthful, “how’s good old Diogenes?”

 “Being his usual grumpy self. He disappears into the swamp daily, gets back covered in insect bites and mucus. He’s not camping out though, so if you’d like you can just crash in my guest room.”

 You consider her offer, despite your first instinct to politely decline. Hayden’s place is nice enough, but also really just one big room. There’s not a lot of privacy, which is fine when he’s away, but gets bothersome for both of you when he’s constantly in and out.

 Your mind is made up. “That might be nice actually, your place is probably the homeliest option I’ve got.”

 “I try,” Pamela laughs.

 “And succeed gloriously,” you nod sagely.

 With that you get yourself settled, putting your meagre belongings away and quickly washing off the dust from your travels. When you get back to the kitchen Pamela has gotten started on a vegetable stew to last the next few days, so you help her cut some and chat a bit more.

 Frederik’s campaign against swamp water is still going as strong as it did when you left, which is to say not very, and there’s been a bit of hubbub around a new vet that moved in, a refugee from old Hillcrest apparently. Pamela has slowly been getting to know her and thinks she’s a good candidate for CHILL, what with the obvious grudge over what happened to her home.

 Pamela’s clearly excited for you to meet her, but also tactful enough to realise you’ve got plenty on your mind.

 You excuse yourself early in the evening, only to restlessly sit in your dark and silent room. After you’ve spent entirely too long zoned out you reach for your bag and blindly grab your red string, twining it around your fingers and untwisting it again in a calming little ritual.

 On a short trip to the bathroom you catch a glimpse of the waning moon, and the sight lures you out into the cold night. You want to burn some energy – besides, no one other than Hayden tends to be out at this time, which means there’s no one to scold you for unwise decision making.

 You set a brisk pace and keep fiddling with your string, unwilling to part with it if you don’t have to. Without thinking you walk up the hill to Stormgarden and are faced with a closed gate, as expected.

 For a few minutes you just stand there pathetically, staring into the dark, then turn around and stomp back the way you came, eyes burning with something you can’t put in words just yet. You need to move.

 And you do. You wander, not caring where your feet take you, so of course you end up in the forsaken swamp without even the excuse of a wisp having lured you.

 You’re miles from town now, and there’s a noticeable shift in the air. It’s humid and stale, a heavy fog curling around the weeping willows as if trapped underneath them.

 It’s comforting though. It’s like a blanket around you, pressing in, accompanied by a wall of noise – random splashes, croaking frogs and a low buzz from flying insects. The night doesn’t feel so lonely like this.

 You heave a sigh and with sore arms dab at the sweat gathered on your face, settling against the trunk of a tree that’s leaning dangerously over the river. The entire bank is covered in reeds but there’s a bit of a gap here, and you blankly stare out into the wetland.

 It gets harder to keep your eyes open after a while – you’re honestly not sure whether you’ve nodded off or not. Your string almost slips out of you hand, so you make sure to tie it around your wrist and triple-check the knot with bleary eyes. You wonder if she still has hers.

 You dazedly jerk up when there’s a hollow snap just on the other side of the river. You just glance over, ready to dismiss it as a figment of your overtaxed brain’s imagination, but do an incredulous double take when you see a fucking horse.

 It’s got a long shaggy coat, a pure shimmering white heavy and dripping with water. You’re hit with a wave of worry when you realise it’s way too thick for this time of year, the poor thing must be overheating. No wonder it dipped into the relatively cold waters, an array of aquatic plants comically draped over its back the definitive proof.

 You’re shaken out of that specific worry when you take a closer look though; there’s a sickly green tint to either its undercoat or skin, you can’t really tell, but it looks wrong – and then it turns its head, and moonlight glints off empty blue eyes.

 You freeze, breath caught in your lungs and heart hammering in your chest. You’d counted on a mere wisp at most, this is something far worse. Your eyes meet.

 Its sclera turn inky black and it fluidly lunges back, thundering into the river without making so much as a splash – the water simply opens up to swallow it into its depths.

 “What the fuck,” you whisper, so softly the volume barely rises above the sound of your own uneven breathing. Then for good measure you whisper it once more, with feeling.

 And then, of course, your reckless spirit overtakes you and you sidle down the river bank. You blame your fried brain and the undoubtedly dangerous swamp fumes, but really you just have to know, have to touch the water in the hopes it’ll somehow ground you in reality.

 You crouch with a flinch at your loudly creaking knees, and blink in awe when you look up and find the change in angle has suddenly shifted the moon into view once more. It peeks through the clouds and bathes the water in light, so bright compared to the surroundings it has you squinting to adjust.

 You still can’t reach. So you scooch forward, hands slipping on the warm mud behind you, and try again. Your fingers lightly brush the moon’s reflected light, make it ripple. The water is cool and soft to the touch, and you put your flat palm on the surface as if to stroke it, loose end of the makeshift bracelet around your wrist dipping below the surface.

 Then the moon disappears behind a cloud and you flinch, bodily jerk back from the glassy water because there’s pale round eyes staring back at you.

 It’s just there, silently floating right where you had your hand, a dark shape with its lip pulled back over glinting needle-teeth.

 You scramble back up the riverbank, foot slipping and water rushing into you shoe, and you don’t look back once you’re on the road. You clutch the wrist with your damp red string tied around it and dig your thumb into the pulse point, match your breath to the stupid squelching of your boot.

 You stare at the moon as you march back home.

 The next morning you’re notably absent-minded, Pamela has to bump you out of the way several times as she prepares for a visitor. The vet, you think, the name went in one ear and out the other when she told you during breakfast.

 Camilla, apparently. Pamela insists on having lunch outside, so the three of you settle down on a big plaid picnic blanket underneath her apple tree. You force yourself to snap out of your dazed mood, because the spread is absolutely lovely; a lot of effort has gone into this.

 You chit-chat for a while, stick to safer subjects. Pamela masterfully redirects any questions about your whereabouts for the past months, for which you’re grateful. The main distraction is goat’s cheese, surprisingly – you spend maybe half an hour discussing grazing options for hypothetical goats.

 You only slip up once.

 “The weather’s finally reached a point where I might risk a dip in the lake later,” Camilla says, theatrically fanning herself, “I’ve never been one to swim, but at this point I’m desperate to cool off, if even just a bit.”

 You balk in a horribly obvious manner and Pamela shoots you a baffled look, but luckily picks up the slack immediately.

 “Not a good idea, we don’t swim in these waters,” she cautions, voice stern in that way only Pamela can be.

 “Why not? It looks just fine to me,” Camilla says worriedly, side eyeing you – which, yeah, fair. You’re mentally reconciling what happened last night with what you know of the area, so quite frankly you’re miles away.

 “There’s a dumping ground for G.E.D.’s toxicity just past the lake,” Pamela says, unable to resist the snide pun. “Their, ah, actual toxic waste, I’m afraid. Likely leaks into the lake as well, best not risk it.”

 “Oh,” Camilla says, “but don’t you have your animals graze nearby?”

 And just like that you’re back to animal husbandry and grass quality. As the picnic winds down you only barely manage to conceal just how badly you want to be alone for a while.

 You help clean up and affirm Pamela in her decision to induct Camilla, managing to sound convincingly enthused about her vast knowledge when it comes to both human and animal health. And you do mean it; you’re just really not in the right headspace to be social.

 You find an out by telling Pamela you’d like to visit Hayden today. She’s always glad to, in her words, let you drag him out of his shell a bit, so she send you on your way with a pot of honey to butter him up.

 To your surprise you actually encounter him – he’s on his way back home, packed like a beast of burden, and you manage to corner him on a bridge to lend some credence to your excuse.

 “Hmpf, you’re back,” he says, and it’s more of a welcome than you were counting on.

 “Since yesterday,” you answer his unasked question. It’s always best to be brief, spare him the socialization neither of you are very keen on. “How is the marsh today? Calm waters?”

He hums and eyes you shrewdly, gaze drifting down to your one muddy boot, and you’re suddenly hit with the suspicion that he knows.

“Calm, yes,” he mumbles. “But the waters here have never been safe, not even back in my day.”

 With that he shoulders past you, clearly done with the conversation, and mutters a last little “youth”, just loud enough for you to hear and fondly huff a laugh.

 You continue on your set path, not even all that surprised when you see a white shape over by the moon spring, half submerged in the water. Its feathering is idly flowing around its legs, its ears twitching restlessly.

 Water doesn’t part for you the way it does for the creature, so there’s some unceremonious sloshing when you wade in to stand beside it. You twiddle with your string, twine it around your fingers.

 The horse looks back at you, something wild and imploring in its gaze, and though everything in you screams that you really shouldn’t –

 You slowly reach out.

[scarletttries]

Dad! Roman Roy x Reader Headcanons:

Pairing: Dad! Roman Roy (Succession) x Pregnant! / Parent Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Author's Note: We're back to sweet and sad Roman Roy over here 💕 I've written a couple of headcanons and fics about the moment Roman finds out his partner is pregnant, so for everyone that requested a follow up to that, here are some Roman as a dad headcanons 😊🌸

During the Pregnancy:

- This is life changing news for any couple, but when you grew up as sheltered and neglected as sweet, broken Roman Roy, this cracks open your universe all the way to its foundations. He will be in a constant state of panic and sarcasm as he tries to rebuild his world view by your side, but he'll make sure you know that he never has any doubts about you and your future together, his fears land squarely on his shoulders and his abilities to love this new tiny human. But he used to think he'd never love someone the way he loves you, so that fills him with hope that he can surpass his own expectations again.

- He's never had to take responsibility for his actions before in any meaningful way, so don't be surprised if he's a little bit useless when it comes to making plans and getting organised. He'll need help making it to every appointment on time, but by god will he be there, holding your hand and staring at the little screen with an uneasy look in his eye, like he can't quite fathom that there's a life starting inside you.

- Kendall is so excited that his brother is becoming a father that he tries to give him all his best advice, even though most of it is borderline insane. In the end Kendall recommends some 'galaxy brain parenting podcasts' to Roman, and you come home to find them echoing through the penthouse's sound system, Roman scribbling notes like he's trying to cram for an exam at the last minute.

- Prepare to have the absolute highest end luxuries that money can buy for your nursery, a room bigger than your first apartment and that looks like something straight out a catalogue. Sometimes when you're up at night because the wriggling baby inside you won't let you sleep, you'll find Roman sat up in the corner rocking chair, just doing his best to feel at home in this new space, trying to see himself as the kind of father he wants to be.

- Every word he utters for the full nine months is soft, gentle, calm, even when he doesn't feel any of those things. It's like he's trying to make sure this new life doesn't hear the sound of anger or ridicule at any point in its existence, starting as soon as possible in his desperate efforts to be less and less like his father by the day.

- When the time comes for the delivery, Roman has to keep running in and out of the delivery room, struggling to keep still or take a full breath. Finally when it's the moment of truth, he'll be there. Clutching your hand, wailing into your shoulder in a mixture of fear and being completely incapable of seeing you in pain without it eating him alive, and in a flash you two are cradling a little life in your arms, and your time to get ready is up.

Fatherhood:

- From the moment your child is laid in Roman's arms for the first time, fighting every instinct to keep himself physically detached and just let you handle the touchy-feely stuff, he knows this is going to break him, then piece him back together stronger than ever. He knows he's never going to want to put this little one down, the sheer innocence painted across their face and wonder in their eyes as they stare up at him, it's the only way he ever wants to be looked at again. It reminds him of the first time you smiled his way and suddenly he felt like he could be forgiven all his sins.

- Roman is immensely protective, leaving it weeks until any of the family are allowed to visit, not wanting to put either of you at risk, and not wanting anything to burst the bubble of those perfect weeks at home. Yes, it's exhausting and draining and everything feels like you're doing it wrong, but it's easily the happiest Roman's ever felt in his life.

- Conner and Willa appear first thing when visitors are finally allowed, bringing a generally appropriate gift for a newborn and genuine excitement to be a part of your little one's life. Next up is Ken, who brings the latest in baby technology, claiming it will practically raise the child for you, a sentiment that leaves Roman reluctant to even let his brother hold the newborn. Finally Shiv arrives, her gift of a vintage Mercedes parked downstairs for the minute your little one is old enough to drive, a time Roman claims will never come because they're definitely staying a tiny perfect baby forever.

- His family can tell that something has shifted in Roman as he smiles and plays affectionately with little baby Roy, like a warm, loving part of him that had been beaten into a corner and stifled by his father had finally been allowed to break free again and thrive in the light. When Caroline turns up two weeks later, her gift to you a full time nanny that neither of you asked for, Roman sends her away, wanting to take on this role, using his immense privilege to be there for his child in every moment rather than letting a stranger provide help and reduce that responsibility.

- The fact that you brought this light into his world, only makes Roman look at you with even more reverence, truly the greatest gift he could ever hope for. He's not shy in telling you how amazing what you did was, how incredible you already are as a mother, how lucky he and your child are to have you in his life. While he kept himself pretty PG during your pregnancy, prepare to constantly be called a Milf, and to have him slide up behind you when the baby is sleeping, unable to keep his hands off you and asking when you think you should expand your family to include a few siblings.

- As your little one starts toddling, Roman wouldn't want to keep them as locked in an ivory tower as his childhood felt, taking walks through the local park and meeting the other local parents, trying to just be a regular person and normal father for his baby's sake. Watching how easily they can make a new friend and connect him with others feels completely unbelievable when only a few years ago he wasn't sure he'd ever even have a friend of his own, let alone a family full of love.

- When he has to go into Waystar, you best believe 'the world's smallest executive' is coming in too, toddling hand in hand with their father all across the top floor. By the time they're finished for the day, Gerri's bought them an ice cream, Franks brought a balloon and Carolina is looking up how to get a carousel installed in the lobby. And every one of them is so proud of Roman, the picture of growth and stability (or at least trying so hard to be), far from the man they used to worry about on a daily basis.

- It's challenging for any new parents, but Roman still tries to prioritise having the occasional night as just the two of you, spending some time in an adult establishment with adult beverages, even if half your conversations circle back to how incredible your child is, and how hilarious it is that Roman's taught them to call cousin Greg a monster and run away every time he walks in a room, and how you never needed to worry about taking this step together, because you make a perfect team. As long as you work together, you two can really make it through anything, and your growing family is the best thing yet.

- A couple of years later, when you start to realise the feeling inside you is familiar, you aren't even a little bit scared. You'll come running out the bathroom at the little blue tick on a plastic strip and Roman will erupt into cheers like the two of you just single handedly won the superbowl, tackling you to the ground and covering your face in tears and kisses as he realises this is exactly where, and who, he was meant to be.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.117 The other shoe

We started the night at a bar in a fancy rooftop hotel in San Myshuno. Sophia and I didn't bother dressing up because our only goal was to meet the man that had my sister all googly-eyed, and that didn't involve nice clothes. Jace Laurent was his name. He was from Tartosa and frequented the bar where we had the party. His fancy job title didn't fool me once he explained the role. He said he was a nano-simfluencer for a company called Trend Team. Apparently, he was heavily into fashion and was seeking the attention of brands on social media so he could score an endorsement deal. Basically, he was unemployed. True, I was technically unemployed too, but at least I left home and come back with money like normal working sims.

But after a while, I had to admit he wasn't as much of a schmuck as I thought he'd be. He was definitely weird, but seemed like he'd be kinda fun to hang out with once we got to know each other better.

"Would you stop grilling him??" Alessia shouted.

"I'm not grilling! I'm just trying to get to know him. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yeah, but stop with the 20 Questions!"

"How else am I supposed to get to know him, Less??"

Like, seriously! What was up with her? First she yelled at Sophia on Winterfest for trying to stay in the conversation and get to know her, and now this? I hoped ol' dude was up to handle her moods because if I couldn't win with her, no one could.

"Don't mind her," Jace said. "She's just a little pregnant."

"I'm sorry...WHAT?!"

His proud, smug face melted into discomfort and mortification.

"Oh no...she didn't tell you."

"We're in love, Luca," Alessia shouted. "I asked him to move in."

So many questions buzzed around my brain like a swarm of bees, but the frustration flowing through my veins was stronger than the urge to get answers. I was so done with this seemingly endless stream of accidental pregnancies around me! The mere thought of another person turning up pregnant ignited a fiery anger within me so intense I could almost taste it. Okay…I wouldn't actually resort to violence, but the urge to lash out, to release my pent-up frustration, was as real as all these unborn babies in my life.

"We have to go," I said, getting up from the table.

Alessia yelled after us, questioning our abrupt departure, but I didn't care. My only goal was to seek shelter in the safety of my home because the fortress I built around my emotions had finally been breached. Falling apart was imminent now. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the pressure that had been building up all week erupted from my mouth as I hollered. I never felt so out of control before. I paced, tugged on my hair, and screamed some more. Sophia stood off to the side for a moment, watching, allowing me to get it out, but then she marched up to me and embraced me tightly as if she were trying to squeeze hope back into me. We collapsed onto the couch and cried together. I probably should have waited to tell her about my hospital visit, but how much more could it hurt? We were already at the bottom.

"Sophia," I said through my tears, "I gotta tell you something."

She sat up to hear my story and wiped my face.

"I went to the doctor. That's where I was earlier... I have low fertility too. I'm so sorry!"

To my surprise, she didn't sink deeper into despair, like I thought she would. She held my hand and showed me the most incredible display of bravery I had ever seen.

"Awwwww, Luca! Are you okay? This isn't your fault. It's no one's fault. It just...is."

I knew she was right, but life really sucked at the moment, and I didn't know how to withstand against all those blows anymore. I thought I was strong enough, but now my wife had to hold me up.

"It's just not fair," I yelled. "Alessia, Yasmine...and even Dub! None of them were trying to get pregnant! Why won't it happen for us? I feel like we're being punished for something, but I don't know what it is! I just want to start a family with you. What's so bad about that?? I've done everything to stay positive and hopeful, but I can't do it anymore! I can't do it, Sophia!"

She wiped my tears and tried to soothe me, telling me it was going to be okay, just like I did for her at the beginning of all this.

"Hey...listen...we can't give up yet, babe. We've got one more trick up our sleeve! How about tomorrow I do the IVF? Forget those treatments!"

"Are you sure? That's surgery."

"It's outpatient. This is my last chance to carry my own child. I have to take it."

"Okay. But only if you want to. I'm fine with adoption if you change your mind, but...I really hope it works."

"Me too."

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Writing in tags got a ball rolling and I'm thinking more and more about full ghost/bitter babysitter Vlad

Thinking about how Jazz and Danny grew up with ghost hunters as parents and a ghost as an uncle, the types of wrenches it throws into the family's relationships with each other...

Starting with the parents' perspective,

It's easy in the beginning to dismiss the paradoxical nature of ghost hunters having a ghost live with them, The Ghostbusters had Slimer, Fentonworks has V-Man. At the start, their tiny children can see and understand the difference between their friendly uncle Vlad (who at the start, looked like a pathetic wet kitten) and a 'real' dangerous ghost.

It's less easy when you and your old friend wind up in an arms race driven and perpetuated by both rational and irrational fear.

At the start when he looked human and his grudge was apparent but it was shown when he was passive-aggressively doing chores around the house and getting the kids ready for school, it was funny, guilt-trippy, sure, but also helpful. Now that the kids are teenagers and can do their own share of the chores and get themselves ready for school that grudge needs other ways to manifest and he can't break inventions and loom ominously on their bedroom ceiling forever.

"We're not *just* ghost hunters, there's more to our studies than dissection and having Vladdie around makes those other studies easier."

With time, turns into...

"Well, how would we know if our anti ghost forcefields and other ghost proofing gadgets work or not if we didn't have a ghost to test them on?"

With more time, turns into...

"This is the Fenton Ecto-Vaporizer, it turns every ghost caught in its rays into nothing but steam! Well, every ghost except the pesky patient because it grew immune to Blood Blossoms and effect amplifying serums 🙄"

And for the most part 'the ghost haunting our home for decades is immune to our shock collar and we need to make something stronger or he'll rip our spines out of our bodies and wear our skins like coats' is said in jest,

at the end of the day,

during those nights that SHOULD be silent but their guilty consciences make the whispers at the end of the bed recounting the day they not only killed, but dumped their best friend like garbage and fled the state that much louder as the bright red eyes of the vengeful spirit become their unwelcome night light...

They have to ask themselves will he kill them before or after the kids go to college?

From the kids' perspective... where do I even start?

Okay, good news is that they had a good tradeoff with a better childhood, I mean for starters their Christmases were a lot less nasty with Uncle Vlad and I strongly suspect that Little Danny's favorite Christmas story of all time was 'A Christmas Carol' as he'd love the christmas ghosts thanks to knowing his own 'christmas ghosts'.

And both kids grow up knowing that ghosts CAN be good people, they see their uncle lose his outer humanity over the years while they grow up and come to understand that just because a ghost can *look* mean and scary doesn't mean that they *are* mean.

Danny would likely have more 'tools' in his belt other than fighting. Sure, fighting's on the table if need be, but when it comes to different ghosts and their different issues, he'd likely stop and ask himself "Is this ghost who's screaming about a dance in need of a butt-kicking, or is she in need of some help?"

but as teenagers who can see that their family situation is NOT normal...

Jazz knows that there's more to Vlad's tragic story than 'I was really sick and your parents didn't visit me in the hospital :C'. She also knows he's not telling her.

Granted, nobody's really comfortable telling the girl one raised to adulthood that their parents murdered and abandoned them without a second thought,

But the whimsy and charm of 'oh look my uncle's a ghost' is lost when 1. you're not a kid anymore. and 2. getting him to be emotionally honest and upfront with you about his past is like pulling teeth.

Does Danny go to any of the adults when the accident happens? CAN he go to any of the adults when the accident happens?

It's established how he hates the idea of his parents getting a divorce, of losing his family, and at this point in time despite their attempts to hide it in front of him and Jazz, he can pick up that Vlad is not happy with or around his parents who in turn appear more and more uncomfortable with their old friend.

He knows that his mom and dad can put up with ghosts if they absolutely need to, but how will they take knowing that HE'S a ghost?

And how will Uncle Vlad himself take it?

He can trust him to teach him everything he knows about being a ghost, but at the same time, he's grown up watching Vlad destroy any and all inventions his parents make that seem too dangerous to them, so what would he do to his parents if he knew that 'their negligence killed him'?

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

romanticide

TW: Blood, violence, angst, gun, bruises, kinda flirty Ig I'm so back babyyy

The quiet was supposed to be relaxing. But all it served was to tie knots in the hero's stomach and force the muscles in his shoulders to taut.

Maybe it was his fault he liked loud music and busy restaurants and never quite minded traffic noise. And yet his job shoved him in all the dark, silent places imaginable.

As another added bonus, any slight deviation of focus from his work would essentially lead to some sort of deadly disaster, which was why the hero's gun was immediately cocked and in his hand when he heard a twig snap too far away for it to be his own foot.

A soft laugh made its way into his ears, his jack-rabbiting pulse managing to speed up so ridiculously it seemed his arteries would burst with the pressure.

"Watch your step," the villain smirked, and he wasn't amused in the slightest.

Normally the hero had something snarky to respond with ready on his tongue, but not today. Not when even breathing felt bloody exhausting. "What do you want?" he breathed out instead, sounding defeated before the fight even started.

The villain looked mortified, as though the hero had already fired his gun at her. "What's got you in such a mood?" she questioned, poking a finger at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Are you here to fight or pretend to bond with me?"

He had to admit he was surprised with just how fast the criminal had wrestled the gun out of his hand. She was getting more efficient lately, and it unnerved her enemy.

"Pretend?" she asked incredulously, the theatrics giving the hero enough time to get his weapon back, except he only put it back on the holster on his hip.

The villain was arrogant enough to be sure the hero wouldn't ever go for a kill shot, and he despised that fact.

In another reflection of most of their fights, the villain threw a punch and the hero countered just as fast, though he noticed he'd barely managed to defend himself in time. Only for the villain to aim a kick to his shins he didn't block quickly enough. She got stronger, her silhouette more muscled than he remembered under the suit. And the realisation made his face burn in a way he could discern wasn't from the fight.

He was losing his goddamn grip, and the villain, sharp as a knife, had definitely noticed. "What's up with you? You're not quite yourself tonight, darling," she crooned, aiming a punch to the hero's jaw this time.

Except he caught her arm with such force, his grip bruising, twisting it painfully away from him, failing to disguise a small smirk playing on his lips as the villain gasped sharply. "Better?" he asked, the smirk morphing into a strangely soft smile as he watched the villain struggle before finally managing to get his hand off.

It still surprised him how well the villain took the pain, grinning radiantly at him. "Considering I'll feel much less guilty destroying the masterpiece you have for a face, sweetheart, it's a yes from me."

The hero cursed under his breath. He would much rather the villain carve his heart out than make it beat so much faster, than let a warm, pleasant and yet tantalisingly painful feeling seep across his chest and spread through the rest of him like wildfire.

The hero loved control like he loved the air he breathed, so the way the villain seemed to toy with him, the way his mind seemed to wander to places he was too scared to visit was practically driving him into madness. And yet he wasn’t even sure he completely hated the idea of letting go.

The villain, of course, never failed to notice the slight shift in the hero's demeanour, the slight uncertainty in his moves, followed by a strangely powerful vigour, as though trying to compensate for the lack of gusto earlier.

She struck her fist into the hero's nose, drawing blood and smirking at how it threw him off.

Just his bloody luck that the villain had to be wearing a bunch of stupid rings on her knuckles.

The villain swore softly, her lips curling upwards into a malicious smile. “You didn't like that much, did you, love?” 

Any trace of timidness from before had been completely obliterated as the hero swung his leg directly into the villain's with a snarl, and she fell back onto the pavement with a pained groan, the thinnest streak of crimson making its way down her forehead.

The hero hated himself for the strange pang of guilt leaving a palpable ache in his chest as the villain struggled only slightly to get off the ground, staring at him with a strange mix of frustration and awe.

“I'm guessing that's a no?” she asked, mock-innocence lining her tone, as she aimed for the hero's throat, only for him to block.

“I don't know what about me gives you the idea that being punched into oblivion is one of my favourite pastimes,” he retorted, unable to resist the urge to roll his eyes, incredibly close to landing a punch on the villain's jaw.

Only for her to catch his fist and flash him a brilliant smile that practically lit up the dark sky around him. “You've been training harder,” she said, like it was an indisputable truth, “and while I should probably be upset by this knowledge, it's making you even more gorgeous, so I'll bite.” 

The hero lost focus as his breathing grew even shallower at the way the villain looked at him, like she couldn't get enough of him, like he was priceless artwork that needed to be admired.

“What do you want?” the hero repeated again, feeling so ridiculously stupid, the blood rushing to his cheeks with a hot sting and leaving them an embarrassing shade of red.

He was so alone, and he hated it, so desperate for this kind of feeling, this kind of high that forced the air out of his lungs, that let flames lick his body and left his mind an incoherent mess, that let his tongue twist uselessly in his mouth and struggle to form any words. The set of emotions only the villain had been capable of making him feel lately.

But he was also terrified of his own addiction to the feeling, scared of its chains making their way around his neck and choking the life out of him slowly because the hero had been so usable before, so goddamn easy to sway, no matter how much he tried to argue he wasn't.

The villain laughed, sardonic and impatient, like the hero was missing some very obvious piece of information, swinging a fist at his chest that felt strangely harsher than usual. “I've never taken you for a fool, sweetness,” the villain half-snarls, sounding more desperate than angry, “why do you think I expose my damned feelings to you every time we fight? Why do you think I keep trying? Because I honestly don't know what you want at this point, Hero. I'm almost sure even you don't know what you want.” 

And the villain didn't hit him again, hesitating instead like she wasn't quite sure what to do with her hands. He's never seen her look hurt before, shame written all over her face like a sad story.

“I don't know what I want?” the hero asked, something in him finally snapping, the terror replaced with something new, something stronger, as his fingers wrapped themselves around the villain's arm, pulling her up against his chest, drawing a soft, almost shocked gasp out of her.

He'd been shoving his desires and hopes into a box and locking them up for so long, and the cruelty of the resulting pain seemed to outweigh the fear by far too much for it to be ignored.

“I want your arms around my neck, and my lips on your jaw,” he started, going through with both those things, a mix of gentle and passionate, and he tilted the villain's chin up with one hand, his thumb stroking softly across her jaw.

She's beautiful; bright green eyes with dark lashes, almost feline in nature and luscious waves of sandy hair that framed her face gorgeously and even the streak of blood could barely distract from the villain's undeniable beauty.

“I want to lose my breath when you talk to me, and I want that fire in my blood you light like a matchstick. I want to give you my heart and trust you not to break it, just like I want yours to love.” 

The villain didn't say anything, going quiet for a moment before wrapping her arms completely around the hero's torso and pulling him into a hug. “I will find whoever it is that broke your heart, and I will kill her.” 

And when the hero let out a soft laugh, he could literally feel the villain frown against him. “You deserve all the love in life, Hero.” And she held onto his shoulders to reach, pressing her lips into a soft kiss on the crown of his dark hair, and  then another to his collarbone, warm breath tickling his skin and drawing a soft laugh out of him. 

There is no love without danger, no life without risk. No matter how comfortable catering to fear may seem, it is no different from holding onto a blunt knife; slow to wound and yet still deep to scar. More often than not, you are your own jailer, your past your prison. Love may not conquer all, but it has always outweighed fear by a long shot.

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Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[befuddled-calico-whump]

more characters who are technically from T$$ (lore under the cut)

So Lis/Lisbet (more commonly known as "Lu", her codename) was one of Vic's first victims when he started working on his own. At the time, Lu was a secretary at a law firm. Unbeknownst to her, her bosses owed money to a local mob boss, and Vic was hired to "apply pressure". By pure coincidence, Lu was the unlucky target. Her torture was recorded and sent to the firm, and it was roughly three weeks before the money was coughed up and she was released.

Her captivity resulted in the loss of her right hand and most of her left leg, and a pregnancy. With Lu not being in a healthy emotional or mental place, the baby was raised by Lu's sister and her husband. Meanwhile, Lu decided she was sick of feeling like a victim and began devoting her time to training, getting physically stronger, and hunting down Victor Shepard.

While her family was very supportive for the first few years of her recovery, most of them were horrified by her desire for revenge. Despite being raised in a close-knit Catholic family and being religious herself, Lu quickly became disgusted at her family's urging to forgive Vic and move on. The only relative who didn't shy away was her cousin Adrien (also known by his codename, "Uriel")

The two were close as children, and Adrien wanted revenge for Lu as much as she did. He not only listened to Lu's violent fantasies, but encouraged them, offering ideas of his own. As a former Marine, he had training to back him up, and helped Lu on her own journey, swiftly becoming her second in command and the most trusted person in her life.

Through the years, Lu tried to maintain routine visitation with her child, but the visits always felt strained, and gradually her goal took over and she came over less and less.

Years later, Lu's son (then going by Leo) sought her out. His aunt had warned him that Lu was going down a dark path, but he was desperate to form some kind of connection with her. He knew the basics of what had happened to his mother, but at her own request, he'd always been told that his father had passed away before his birth. Lu welcomed him aboard, finding it easier to foster a connection when he could be viewed as a soldier and not her son. When he came of age, she welcomed him into her group officially, granting him the codename Gabriel.

Though Vic is her target, Lu and her angels also chase after people like him, capturing and killing them in the name of avenging those who have been lost or had their lives destroyed.

In canon, Lu briefly captures Vic, but he escapes before she can do any real damage. However, in this AU, she manages to contain him, and gets the revenge she's sought for so long.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

1/ 2I need to talk about the perfect tragedy that is Atabei. Atabei who met this little boy that wouldn't kill the piglets! Who embraced the black girl with her magic and superstitions! And then _wouldn't _realize until it was too late that boy had changed. It didn't matter if it was the privation he'd experienced, or if there was this seed of awfulness always in him, didn't even matter if some part of him was guilty about it. She loved him so much for who he was before and what they'd shared

2/3 that love—one of the strongest forces for good—blinded her into doing great evil and I'm verklempt. I have no idea if the "ghosts" Ford mentions will play a role, or even if we'll learn *why* Eliza eventually "fell" (though I hope like hell some of Sirene's descendants play a role because her eight-year-old put-down of Guilford was the best fucking line so far I adore that child to pieces) Sure, she'd done some questionable shit—though considering abusive husband of Eliza I approve--,

3/3 and it would've been so easy to make her as resentful as Guilford, but that the hamartia of her doom was wrongly bestowed kindness is visceral and raw and perfect. God, sorry that got so long my epitaph will be 'thought nothing worth penning were it not verbose'

-

First off, sorry I didn't answer this right away. I have been mentally rereading and kicking my feet and giggling.

Secondly!

NEVER feel bad about sending long asks about Bones in the Ocean. Or any asks! That story, its world, its concepts and the types of magic, the rules... it's all taken over my brain and I am almost always desperate to just ramble endlessly about the characters and histories, especially the aspects that aren't part of the main storyline but are instead the added context around the edges of it.

Gilly always had a seed of potential awful in him, but Atabei was actually a good influence on his willingness to empathize with nonhuman creatures, because SHE did. Atabei's empathy did not extend overmuch to actual human beings, though. Even less so when it came to her love Eliza's abusive husband, who stood between the two of them and happiness and kept Eliza in a life of constant fear for herself and her daughter.

Decades later, Eliza gets far enough away from Gilly and the siren to remember herself, and to remember the daughter she left behind - she assumes to die, alone and unloved - and she 'falls' over the side of the ship. It's polite language. Everyone knows, deep down, what really happened. Especially Atabei, who never fully forgot herself, and went more than a little mad as a result of the guilt and shame and fear that overwhelmed her when Eliza was gone.

Atabei's tragedy is in aiding and abetting the evil that would ruin her life, turn her love Eliza into someone else entirely, and leave her knowing what had been done but utterly unable to speak of it, to do anything at all to stem the tide of Gilly's ambition. She used her magic when commanded, to paint the marks again, to rebuild the bars of her own cage, really.

I have thoughts on that time period, those years of her watching Gilly's children with Eliza growing up. I think she probably visited the siren, on occasion. She and Areyto probably came, at some point, to a sort of bitter understanding with each other. Each of them trapped, each of them captive and caged and knowing it, each of them used as a tool in Gilly's plans.

If this story were a video game, there would be diaries or half-erased letters stained with tears throughout the house, Atabei telling the story of her own long, dreary life, the bright spots with Eliza, the darkness that was so much stronger.

Watching her childhood friend grow into a more violent man with age and power - especially with the corruption of his slowly growing power. Watching him murder his own eldest son to take his place.

Watching the cycle start anew with the next generation, knowing even her death would not end this, as she aged but Gilly didn't.

She gave a man she cared deeply for functional immortality and far too much power.

-

But - know this - Sirene is instrumental, too, to the eventual end of Gilly's grand ambitions.