#Meta!reader

[itheunknown]

odi et amo - (03) i, ghostly

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam

masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

you can't tell what's louder, the thumping in your chest or the ringing in your ears.

your breath comes out shaky, the smoke curling out your nose and mouth, caressing your face.

it's hard to grasp reality. you don't know how you ended up here, nothing feels certain.

nothing feels real.

the sting on your now dried tear streaked cheek is the only feeling you grasp, a reminder.

and it's haunting.

did it hurt? fuck yes. but you're used to it.

you've been hurt your whole life.

you are nothing more than a body that hurts.

you never expected anything from that family, a family that isn't yours. but, perhaps, it was wishful thinking that if you made yourself forgettable enough, they would leave you alone. it didn't matter anymore, the fact that they were never there - you've done this before, you've been alone before. the heart could only grow brutal from feeding on fantasies.

fantasies of loving arms, fantasies of warmth and peace.

fantasies of being seen. fantasies of being wanted.

but you're never seen.

and you're never wanted.

expectations only lead to disappointment.

you're staring down at the deep drop, somehow finding yourself back at the same abandoned building years ago. the sharp sting of the wind barely felt through the thick of the hoodie engulfing your form, the hood protecting your identity. the pack of the nearly empty cigarettes you had burned through along with your lighter layed scattered besides you, mixing with the discarded butts.

"didn't take you for the rebellious type."

a sense of déjà vu, a voice, a similar scenario and the same setting - recognition washes over you - the voice of the vigilante that stopped you from jumping. and now, now you just can't seem to find the same sense of finality and courage to do it again.

you didn't even flinch, no signs of making a move to acknowledge his presence, the burning cigarette still in hand as it nears your lips once more. a sigh and footsteps were heard before he was seated next to you, plucking the half-smoked cigarette out of your trembling hands and flicking it out the building.

"that's littering", you mutter, and he let out a surprised laugh despite your deadpan tone and the depressing atmosphere.

you're grateful that the hood makes you unidentifiable, thanks to the shadow it casts upon your face, further assisted by the blanket of the night: you don’t want to be seen right now, you just need to be heard.

he looks at you, a moment of prolonged silence as his laughter dies out. you didn't even stir, defeated.

your voice was more mature, your stature taller but despite your unseen features, he can still sense how hollow you were - just like the first time he saw you.

despite everything, it was still you.

he's thankful that, at the very least, you weren't making a move to jump off this time, the memory of it still unnerves him everytime he revisits it. although admittedly, smoking is just another way to achieve what you had come here to do before.

"… do you want to talk about it? ", he hesitates.

a beat passes. he desperately wants to help you, but also wishes not to overstep.

you asked your own question, one that had lingered at the back of your mind ever since that day:

"why did you stop me?"

he's surprised.

you're waiting.

your head tilted slightly, the moon light barely illuminated the edges of your face.

"because your life has value. i couldn't watch you, just, throw it away like it meant nothing.”

"it does mean nothing, i have nothing to live for", you reply, your tone grim and finalized.

his heart aches, the burden heavy in your voice - you sounded tired. broken.

his hand finds its way on your shoulder and pats awkwardly. "i'm sure that's not true. you may think that now, but you don't have to carry this weight alone."

"but i am alone."

“that’s not true, i’m sure there are people who care about you!”

he nudges your arm lightly, a light and reassuring smile on his face. you stare at him, at how the moon perfectly encapsulates his presence, at the tender warmth and genuine care radiating from him - the personification of life. the opposite of you, who's haunted by the idea of death.

you, who’d always remain in the shadows, remained in the desolated and dark corners of everyone’s mind, ignored, forgotten. dead to them.

“you don’t even know me,” you breathe out, “nobody knows me.”

the weight of your words weigh heavy on his soul. “that may be true, but that doesn’t mean i can’t care,” he offers. “you know, kid, you actually remind me of one of my siblings. around the same age, actually.”

your curiosity peaked as you silently urged for him to continue.

“but they came around eventually, i think. the hurt doesn’t go away, but you have to reach out for help.”

“…have you talked to your family about it?”

you scoff and stood up, making your way out of the building. he hurriedly follows you, frustration tainting his carefully crafted positivity. “you can’t just push people away like this. why won’t you let anyone in?”

you’re annoyed, it’s not like you did so deliberately, had anyone ever tried to get to know you? let alone care about you? you had abandoned that wishful thinking long ago, especially after today’s events.

“what’s the use,” you snarled. “nothing ever changes.”

“nothing can change if you don’t try!”

“sure, whatever.”

you paced hurriedly to where you left your bicycle, his presence hot on your trail.

“don’t dismiss me. your life matters, damn it.” he grabs your wrist.

you exhale sharply, yanking your arm out of his grasp. he falters back a bit, sensing that he crossed a line, trying to tone down how aggressive he was coming onto you.

“just- just remember that people care about you.”

“sure, like you do?”

“yes!”

you still for a bit, looking at him skeptically. you both awkwardly stood there, the situation almost comical in a sense, especially since his eyes can't remain trained on any visible feature of your face.

“hmm, thanks. i guess.” you trailed, hopping on your bicycle.

“be safe, alright?” he watches you, unsure if he should follow you to assure your safety.

“i will.”

he watched you ride off into the night, unable to shake the feeling of helplessness. he wanted to help, but also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable and scare you off. he stood there contemplating before he dashed off to continue the rest of his patrol.

the distance between you both grows larger, moving in opposite directions, but your thoughts lingered on each other's words.

despite continuing his patrol, he couldn't shake off the feeling of responsibility: for you - the mystery person tonight, and then, his mentioned sibling. he recalls how they were when they first entered the manor, and how they quietly adapted to the new lifestyle, growing up with the habit of concealing their emotions behind the facade of indifference, thinking that he didn’t notice. but he did, he was just never confronted with the drastic measure it would lead to if everyone in that manor just let that feeling of hopelessness fester within them. in a way, he's thankful to you: you gave him a wake-up call.

that sense of urgency nagging him to check on his family as he made a mental note to visit them after his patrol, your words lingering at the back of his head.

you retreat to the bathroom of the manor, the storm in your mind temporarily tamed. the cold water trickling down your arms, the soapy smell in the air to wash away the smoke clinging on your skin. the hoodie you wore hanging in the shower after you'd hand wash it, not wanting to expose yourself in case alfred gets a whiff of it.

despite what had happened, you can't help but want his approval - the only person who actually gave you the time of day in this manor.

your expression focused, your eyebrows knitted, lips sucked in as you scrubbed your arms raw. you feel more grounded. your eyes dart to the reflection in the mirror, reminding yourself to keep it together.

keep it together.

keep it together.

keep it together.

subliminally. consciously. repeatedly

keep. it. together.

you release the death grip and push yourself off the sink, sighing harshly.

keeping it together, you made way to the kitchen, planning to get some tea.

and then, you see him.

richard grayson.

in the same vigilante suit, mask off.

your breath lodged in your throat, you stand frozen watching him wait for the coffee while seemingly deep in thought, troubled. anxious.

you can't believe it. richard grayson, the oldest sibling, the vigilante, was the person who pulled you off the ledge, was the person who actually listened to you.

you can't describe this feeling in your chest, gripping your heart like a vice.

he was here all along.

you recall the mention of the sibling, was it you? did he actually… notice your struggles? maybe he had good intentions all along, trying not to overstep, hoping you'd come to him?

you don't know why you're trying to make excuses for him, but the mere fact that he saw you was enough.

you finally let out a noise, snapping him out of his trance and his eyes snapped to you.

he looked a little caught off guard, surprised he didn't sense your presence.

you. hoodie off.

“oh. hey.”

he rubs the back of his head. maybe he felt embarrassed that this was how you found out? but it's alright, because now he’ll finally notice you-

“have you seen tim?”

“what?”

he sighs and grabs the finished coffee, settled on a tray with a dish holding an assortment of cookies.

“i’m a little worried about him. i mean, since the cat's out of the bag, you should know he does a lot of work to contribute to us keeping the city safe- actually, you wouldn't understand.”

he cuts himself off, deeming it not important enough to explain, and completely overlooks the horrified expression that now settles on your features.

your vision starts to swim, your neck feels hot - unsure if it was embarrassment or rage.

embarrassed at the fact that you were deluded enough into thinking anyone in this house would ever give a shit about you, that anyone would care about what you're going through.

angry at the fact that you are never the person who gets asked for, never the sibling whose struggles are acknowledged.

dick had left the kitchen in search for tim, deciding to check out his room first. you absent-mindedly trailed behind him like a kicked dog, not saying a heap.

you didn't register him knocking on tim's door.

you didn't register how dick affectionately asked a tired tim to spend some time together.

you didn't register them conversing while walking inside.

you didn't register tim giving you an odd look and closing the door to give them more privacy.

now, you sit in your room once more, alone, back against your bed, the torn shirt bundled in your hands. the grip on the fabric tightens, your knuckles whitens, and your shoulder starts shaking.

tears made its way down your face as you silently sobbed once more, occasionally chuckling at how pathetic your situation was.

you give up.

you can't keep it together anymore.

expectations only lead to disappointment.

despite your lethargy, you somehow made it through another school day. time started to bleed into each other, you resorted to going on auto-pilot.

so it didn't matter when onlookers would sneakily glance at you and the hand print on your cheek, resting under your red rimmed eyes and heavy eyebags that no one thought could get worse.

you had to keep moving. at the very least, you still had something that defined your worth - your intelligence.

so what if you had no family, no friends. your grades would never betray you, you'll continue your plan: study hard, get into a good university and then get the fuck away from here, from everyone.

no one will miss you.

no one would even notice.

“hey that's a bit much. what are we, chopped liver?”

the deafening ring of the bell signalling the end of school somehow went unheard, but the sound of your friends somehow pierced through the barrier of your haze, jolting you back to reality. your eyes flickered to them, trying your hardest to offer a weak smile, but somehow failing.

they offer you a sympathetic smile, their face painted with worry. that alone almost sent you into crying again. you find yourself in their embrace, soothing you while you try to hold it together, shielding you from the world.

yes, you're not entirely alone.

you still have your friends.

they would miss you.

they would notice.

so it didn't matter when the students gave you an odd look, putting some distance while you stood to the side engulfed in the arms of your friends. it didn't matter.

you had them.

you had someone.

the path back to manor somehow the sky looked clearer, the grass looked greener, and the lush bushes of wildflowers were glowing - noticing the little things that you usually disregard, walking your bicycle while chatting away with your friends.

they never pried on why you were upset. they knew you, they knew. they knew because you knew. and that was enough, a wordless understanding, unconditional. they had insisted to keep you company, maybe spend some time together in your room.

you really needed the company, but despite being too ashamed to communicate it, they knew. so now, even if you arrived home later than usual, the sky turned dark and cold, you felt warm. that's the safety and comfort that no one else has been able to provide you, and you're so grateful that you at least had them - your precious friends, your reason to stay.

so when you opened the door to the manor, still chattering and giggling with your friend, alfred had heard from the other room.

he felt somewhat relieved, the guilt over his actions had started to consume him, and so he had waited impatiently for your arrival that had been later than usual; but before he could fuss over you, the sound of your laughter had effectively calmed him down knowing you were safe and happy. he'd never heard you this happy before, and it hurts knowing that you had never been able to find joy while surrounded by the walls of this house.

he straightened his shirt, cleared his throat, and put on a kind smile while making his way out of the room to greet you in the doorway, your smile that could light up a stormy day, contrasting the gloomy room.

your friends shrunk back a bit, seemingly nervous of the tall and poised butler, feeling out of place.

you grabbed their hands and gave a reassuring squeeze, telling them it's alright.

“oh, hey alfred! i know this wasn't informed but my friends were wondering if they could stay for dinner?” you turn to him, “we won't be much trouble, i promise!”

you beam at him, waiting expectantly for alfred to welcome your friends.

while alfred could only stare in horror at the empty space next to you.

howdy skibbidis, i am not feeling very sigma :pained_heh:

lowk work has been ass and so has everything else but hey we move. i appreciate every single one of your comments and reblogs yall are so funny lol, but fr the support has been like saving my ass from burning out. grassy ass my skibbidi sigmas.

(TAGLIST) closed due to limit :sadge:

@confused-they @hoeinthehouse @strwberryglass @heartjwonie @glitchmshade @bat1212 @buddee @eyeless-kun @thereeallink @icantcryicantstopcrying @bunbunboysworld @gh0str00m @wizzerreblogs @lazy-kari202 @dotomuses @gwyneveire @gh6st24 @roseapov @kore-of-the-underworld @kingshitonly @plsfckmedxddy @unknownloner1345 @lilithquillete @v3vina @froggy-voidd @angrybuttooshorttofightyou @sami0169 @m3vlOvesu @pix-stuff @bunbunbread @agent-nobody-knows @cxcilla @horror-lover-69 @redkarmakai @mariadvorak @shirp-collector-of-fixations @batboygirlie @diejager @noclue-0 @sick2mystmch @novs9011 @kitkatkitmeow @crazycaoticsimp @majonla @hebaoffside @randomlyappearingartist @blueiones @shycreatorreview @simpingpandas @splaterparty0-0 @bk-4-trash-fire

[invincibledc]

Flash!reader & Tim

Flash!reader who speeds around Tim to mess up his hair. Tim actually loves how energetic his speedster is.

Flash!reader who makes their hands into a massage gun for Tim when they don’t have a mission and are relaxing.

Flash!reader who Tim jumps on their back whenever they need to get somewhere during a mission.

Flash!reader who Tim gets a little jealous when seeing Bart and reader spending time with each other. He wishes he could speed around with you.

Flash!reader who is just in the Wayne manor because Tim is spoiling them with unlimited food.

Tim who runs his fingers through the speedster’s hair when they are asleep.

Tim who makes devices to tell him when your body is vibrating more than what it’s use to.

Tim who makes sure you ate how much you’re supposed to eat so you don’t die.

Tim who bans you from drinking his coffee because you one time bounced against walls and fell with a crash. Which was not so “crash” of you.

[luludeluluramblings]

Singer!Reader Prologue Idea

Neglected!BatSib!Reader that has a meta gene that makes it unnecessary for them to breath.

Based on this ask.

Warnings: Choking, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

It started with a bite. Dinner alone was bitter enough as it was. But, this bite was particularly bitter.

But, it was in that single bite your entire world shifted.

You were a Wayne. Talented, but not in a way that mattered to your father or the rest of your family. So what if you could play music by ear? That doesn't solve crime. So what if you have a voice that was smooth as silk, richer than your family name, sweeter than honey, or smokier than the thickest of Gotham's smog? That doesn't stop crime from happening. That doesn't solve anyone's problems.

So what if you spent hours and hours playing music in your room and writing lyrics? There were more important things to worry about.

Being desperate to fill that silence and living only through the images you'd see of your family on their public persona pages didn't warp you. Or, maybe it did. You're honestly not sure.

You just know that one bite was the wake up call.

It was too big a bite. You of more than you could chew and tried to swallow it down because you couldn't stand eating in the silence of that big empty kitchen.

You felt it get stuck. And, you felt fear and the air leave you.

You couldn't recall what it tasted like. Or, what it even was. Was it your favorite food? Was it some of Alfred's leftovers?

All you knew was it was lodged in your throat, good and tight.

And, no one was around to get it out. No one was there to help you as you couldn't even gasp for air. It was gone.

You counted the dreaded seconds to the inevitable. How the sinking horror that no one was going to help you. Not even if you ran to the cave and pounded on the clock guarding it. Your time was running out.

The agony that you would choke on the kitchen floor made tears well up in your eyes, your nose run and your skin to blotchy.

You don't know how long you stayed like that until you realized something.

You weren't dead. And, no one came.

As those two things settled into each of your still functioning lungs, you left the plate of food on the counter and went back to your room.

You looked up how to preform the Heimlich maneuver on yourself. Dislodging that bitter bite, before deciding to still chew and swallow it down. Letting it consume you as much a you devoured it.

The deep breath you took after felt empty. Almost unnecessary. It explained a few things about yourself and your life.

Your family was like air to you. Unseen, and, apparently, not needed.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Just a little something something while I try to get back into a writing mood. I'm going to be stuck in my room for the next couple of days in technical isolation. Currently on an air mattress in the corner of my room, but tomorrow I'll at least be able to take my meds and eat normal food again.

[cringe--is--dead]

Can I request headcanon of Jason Todd/Red Hood (Under the Red Hood movie) being with fem s/o who can magically heal just about anything no matter how severe the wounds are and how deadly the diseases, but she can't heal herself; she is serene, gentle and soft spoken please?

I think Jason Todd deserves the world, so yes, I shall! Thank you for the request!

You Playing Doctor Now? Jason Todd x Meta!Reader

The door slamming open and shut had become a sound you were used to. Months ago it would have startled you, made you jump nearly out of your skin, especially given the area you found yourself living in. Now, however, the sound was almost comforting to you.

The slam of the door meant your boyfriend was home, alive, but from the sluggish sound of his footsteps, not uninjured. You paused what you were doing, carefully chopping vegetables for the stew you had been planning on making.

You set the knife down, washing your hands rather quickly, before making your way into the living room. Sure enough, Jason was sat on the couch, having taken his helmet off himself, sweaty and breathing heavily, his eyes shut.

His hair was nearly plastered to his forehead, and he didn't open his eyes to your entrance, despite hearing your footsteps grow closer. You took stock of his appearance, cuts and fresh bruises lined his cheeks, and you were sure there were other injuries beneath his armor if the thin trail of blood from your doorway was any indicator.

"You should see the other guy," Was the first sentence he offered you, lips curled in an attempt of a smirk, but his labored breathing made it appear more of a grimace.

"I'd rather not waste my time looking at dead bodies," Despite your worry, you joked back, voice soft as you knelt down in front of him.

He cracked open his eyes, sighing as he took in your sight. Your eyebrows were furrowed with worry, eyes raking over his appearance, no doubt calculating just how injured he was. He shifted, leaning towards you, prying a glove off before caressing your cheek, thumb softly brushing the cheek bone.

"I'm fine."

You rolled your eyes, rather used to hearing that line fall from his lips, "You and I both know that's a lie," You stood up, hands on your hips, "Take the armor off."

He raised an eyebrow, trying to deflect your concern, "Take me to dinner first."

You barely rose to the bait, "Dinner will be ready sooner if you let me treat your injuries without a fight."

The two of you stared at each other for a silent moment, before he relented. He had never thought he'd meet someone whose stubbornness outweighed his, and he never would have thought that someone as sweet as you could be harder-headed than him.

"Alright, alright," He hated that he was struggling to remove his own armor, muscles sore and screaming at him.

You shook your head as he dropped his clothes onto the ground, stepping forward, tender hands pressing gently to his skin. You started on his face first, palms cupping his jaw, and he relaxed into your hold, the warmth of your hands fighting the nippy cold from outside that still lingered in his bones.

You made a soft tsk, and he felt the odd sensation of the cuts on his cheek closing themselves up, not having to open his eyes to know that your gaze was unwavering, eyes glowing inhumanly, the color a brighter hue of the normal ones he fell in love with.

"The scars will fade quickly," You murmured, voice low as you moved your hands from his face, gently pressing against his shoulders, biceps, forearms, taking assessment of the damage.

He opened his eyes to watch you, a smile forming on his face as you continued muttering to yourself, cursing him for trying to hide his injuries, easily reversing the damage that had occurred to him hours before.

"Jason Todd," You scolded, pressing your hands against his ribs, eyes narrowing into a glare, "You were going to hide broken ribs from me?"

He chuckled sheepishly, "I've handled worse."

"Doesn't mean you have to now," He felt energy buzz under his skin, sucking in a quick breath as he felt his ribs fuse back together, "I'll do whatever I can to make sure of that."

He knew that, he knows that. But more often than not he feels as if he's taking advantage of you, of your abilities. He didn't know if your powers made you selfless, or if your selflessness manifested your powers. But he does know that you would run yourself ragged if it meant you could help every injured or ill-ridden person you came across.

He didn't want to admit it to anyone, let alone the rest of the stupid bird family of his, but he did go out of his way now to avoid massive injuries. If he came back with just a few scratches or bruises, he could talk you out of healing him, telling you paper cuts hurt worse than the injuries he had now.

He had less luck when he came home with cracked bones or bullet holes. He knew, and you knew, he would heal faster than normal thanks to the Lazarus Pit, but your powers worked almost instantly. You'd rather heal him immediately, rather than let him set for a few hours, body healing itself.

In a matter of five minutes, all his injuries were gone, leaving nothing but dried blood and faint scaring in their places. You sat back on your heels, eyes their normal shade, smiling up at him.

"There you are," You stood, leaning to place a soft, quick kiss to his lips, pulling back to run a hand through his hair, "Good as new."

"You enjoy playin' doctor, huh?"

The blush on your cheeks had him grinning like mad, and you rolled your eyes to avoid eye contact. He caught your hand in his, resting your knuckles against his lips, "Thanks doll."

You went to move, more than likely heading back to finish tonight's meal, but a flash of white caught his eye, and he grabbed your hand, turning it palm up. You stood, eyebrow raised in confusion as he ran his fingers across your skin gently, feeling the rough bandage across your palm.

"What happened?"

Your lips formed a quick 'o', grinning almost sheepishly, "I nicked myself cutting the carrots a bit earlier," You let him fiddle with your hand, your fingers for a moment longer, shrugging, "It's fine, I dressed it."

"I wish you could heal yourself."

He had found himself saying that so many times, wishing you could use your abilities selfishly. You healed him, no questions asked. You used to babysit some of the kids in the area, kissing away scraps and bruises under the guise that kisses healed everything when they looked at you in wonder. You held injured birds, cats, and dogs in the alleyways, taking care of their illnesses brought by hunger, correcting broken wings and crooked paws like it was as simple as breathing.

But whenever you were injured, struck down by a fever, found yourself in a situation where you needed help, you were helpless to do anything for yourself.

Your powers, Jason thought, were a blessing and a curse.

You shrugged, "Even if I could, wasting my abilities on a little cut? I'm fine."

His gaze met yours, and you understood the look he was giving you. You were repeating his own sentiments to him now, but you stood by it. Even if you could heal yourself, there were others who needed your energy and powers more than you did. Why would you have been born with this power if not to help others?

That's the notion you were raised on, and while Jason wanted you to put yourself first, protect yourself over strangers in the streets, he also knew that mindset was why the two of you met.

No one else would have rushed to the side of a downed Red Hood in the streets, covered in a mixture of his blood and the blood of those he killed. Everyone else would have run off or ignored him, but you rushed to his side, not asking questions, not trying to remove his hood or armor, hands placed where ever you could put them, and before he knew it, the dizziness brought on by blood loss was gone.

The rest was history.

He stood up, "Let me redress it at least," He squeezed your hand gently, "A lifetime of healing and you don't even know how to properly apply a band-aid."

You pouted but laughed along as he dragged you behind him to the bathroom, the first aid kit he forced you to buy still laying out on the counter.

You chattered away, talking about how your day had been, the kittens you saw coming back from the store earlier, how you got rid of their flea-ridden infections, and how you went back a few hours later and set up a box with some blankets in it for them. You mentioned keeping an eye on them, and bringing them home if no one claimed them in the next few days. He listened intently, cleaning the cut and dabbing some neosporin on it, wishing he could do more for your injuries, regardless of how small there were.

He'd do whatever he was able to though, wrapping any cuts you got, icing any bruises that appeared, he'd carry you everywhere if you required him to. He'd do that for as long as you'd let him.

Sorry, I had no idea how to end it. I hope you liked it!

[fanfics4all]

Always With You

Request: Yes / No This is based off of @haileygarciasunshineprompt list that I found here!

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Cisco Remon x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 761

Warnings: Y/N struggling with her powers

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I could feel it happening again… the static under my skin, the pulsing energy in my veins threatening to burst free. My breathing hitched as I pressed my back against the cold wall of Cisco’s lab, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The lights flickered above me, reacting to the storm inside me, and I clenched my fists, trying to hold it all in. 

Not now. 

Not in front of him. 

I heard his footsteps before I saw him. Cisco. My rock, my safe place. He must have sensed something was wrong, he always did. 

“Y/N?” His voice was gentle, cautious. 

I turned my head slightly, enough to see the worry etched into his face. His brown eyes searched mine, and for a second, I wanted to pretend everything was fine. But I wasn’t fine, I was barely holding myself together. 

“It’s happening again…” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I can’t control it.” 

He was in front of me in an instant, his hands resting carefully on my arms, grounding me. 

“Breathe, mi amor.” His voice was soft but firm, a tether pulling me away from the chaos inside me. 

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” 

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head.

“No, you don’t get it. It’s getting worse. Every time I use my powers, I lose more control.” My fingers twitched, crackling with raw energy. 

“What if one day I hurt someone? What if I hurt you?” 

Cisco didn’t even flinch. He reached up, cupping my face in his hands, his touch warm and steady. 

“Hey, look at me.” I hesitated, but then I finally met his eyes. There was nothing but love in them. 

“I love you, please don’t forget that.” He murmured, his thumbs brushing against my cheek. 

“We’re in this together, okay? You’re not alone in this.” 

A tear slipped down my face, and he caught it with his thumb. “But what if-” 

“No, ‘what ifs’.” He cut in gently. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll train, we’ll test, we’ll science the hell out of this until we find a way to help you. But no matter what happens, Y/N, you won’t love me.” 

I let out a shaky breath as he pulled me into his arms, holding me like he could shield me from my own fears. I let myself believe him. Maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought. Cisco pulled back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes, his hands still resting on my arms. 

“Listen, I’ve been thinking.” He started carefully. “Caitlin and I can run some tests, figure out what’s going on with your powers. We can track what triggers them, what makes them unstable, and maybe even find a way to help you control them.” 

I swallowed hard. Tests. That word alone sent a wave of anxiety crashing through me. The idea of being hooked up to machines, analyzed, and prodded… it made my stomach twist. Cisco must have noticed the hesitation on my face because he squeezed my hand gently. 

“Hey, it’s just me and Caitlin. No big scary science lab, no shady experiments. Just us trying to help you, okay?” 

I wanted to believe that. I did, but the fear still lingered. What if they found something worse? What if there was no fixing this?” 

“I don’t know, baby…” I said softly, chewing my lip. “What if it doesn’t help? What if it just proves I’m dangerous?” 

His eyes darkened, and he shook his head. “No. You are not dangerous, Y/N. You’re powerful. And yeah, power can be unpredictable, but it doesn’t make you a threat. It makes you you. And I’m not about to let you give up on yourself.” I looked away, my fingers curling into my palms. A flicker of energy danced at my fingertips, and I quickly shoved my hands into my jacket pockets before I lost control again. 

After a long pause, I sighed. “Okay… Let’s do it.” 

Cisco’s expression softened with relief. “Yeah?” 

I nodded, still nervous but trusting him. “Yeah.” 

He grinned. “Awesome. Caitlin’s gonna be thrilled! Well, science-thrilled, which means mildly excited but also extremely professional.” 

Despite my nerves, I let out a small laugh. Cisco always has a way of making things feel less terrifying. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear before pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. 

“You’ve got this, mi amor, and I’ve got you.” 

I took a deep breath, trying to believe that. Maybe this was the first step toward finally understanding what was happening to me. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie@tashy-bear@ashwarren32@hollie-blogs-blog1@lover-of-books-and-tea@nerdygaloresposts@teenwolfbitches28@kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies@ravenmoore14@ravenempress101@cillianchamp@rowanthomasknapp@rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @liz-owl

[redhead-batgal]

I hope you do oh miss believer part 3 sometime soon! It’s ok if you’re not feeling that story anymore tho <3

Type: Fic

Part One: Here, Part Two: Here

Pairing: Fem! Vigilante! And Meta! Reader x Damian Wayne/ Robin

Content: Violence, language, flash backs, depressive thoughts, angst, and aged up Damian/reader to 16/17 yrs old

Word Count: 2,573

(P.S: Soooo I can try to write a reaction of the bat fam to the end of part one, or I can write the next part of this one next time. Let me know what y'all want in the comments please! also get ready for some fun angsty angsty times)

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

There are many things in this world that seem unnatural. Paradoxes or impossibilities. People tend to fear the unnatural, to ostracize it and even harm it. Regardless of whether or not said impossible and unnatural thing is living- regardless of if it's human.

To humanity, unnatural things were to be feared and destroyed. They were threats, in a way, to the "peaceful" society that had been created through blood shed and inequality. A society that has classes and impoverished people, that kept growing and growing; saw things they deemed unnatural, not worthy of life. Why is that? Why does such a society fear so greatly the unnatural, the unknown and impossible?

It seemed to you that they feared the unnatural because of the power mystery gave it. Because what they do not know, they cannot control. And if they can't control something, it cannot be a part of society. Which unfortunately meant you were left on your own; fighting to survive against an environment that deemed you a danger. Even more unfortunately, for society at least, you had bad habit of becoming everything everyone feared you'd be.

An unnatural danger, set on destroy the society that cast it out.

How very, very natural, right?

You could still remember the very first time someone deemed you unnatural- unworthy of comfort in this shitty shitty world.

You must have been no older then six, out scrounging on the streets for pity coin you could use to help your parents out. A rattied hat made from old newspaper by your side as you made your misty and small illusions appear. Desperate for anyone to take an interest. Unsurprisingly, the person who did was anything but kind and far from merciful.

The small boy had shouted at you, laughed, sneered and beaten you to a bloodied pulp. Stealing all of the meager change you had managed to earn as he called you a witch over his shoulder bolting away.

While this was your first actual encounter with such people, you were not surprised. Your mother had warned you of such people.

"Vicious monsters," She had said beginning to explain why you had to be careful in the world, "they like to prey upon those they deem weaker, those who they think are unnatural and strange."

She shook her head as she continued to knit, though somewhat sloppily, "They don't like people who they can't control, they don't like that you're different."

You looked up at her with wide eyes as you tilted your head and she paused. She let out a soft sigh before setting down her knitting and pulling you into her arms.

"My sweet little miss believer, this world is going to be cruel to you simply because you exist. There's nothing your father or I can do to stop it other then pulling you in close like this and letting you know they are wrong."

She rested your head against her chest as she began to rock slightly squeezing you in her arms as she softly began to hum.

"They are wrong because you are a darling gem. A wise and wonderful girl who should not let the world push you down."

Cupping your face in her hands she smiled, tears lining her eyes, "You are my little miss believer, you know many things and have such faith. Do not allow these people to cause you to lose that faith. Faith in your father and I, faith in humanity, faith in your own skills or just merely faith in yourself."

Her words rang far too deep into the truth. Scars, both physical and emotions covered your body the older you got. But you still had your mother and father there, to nurse your spirit back to its brightness... until you didn't anymore.

The night was dark and growing colder and colder by the minute. Your father had disappeared merely a week before and you did not plan on letting him stay gone without answers.

Lurking around the usual street corners you heard the crackling of thunder and through the dense musty smell of Gotham's streets, you could smell rain. Sweet and clear, dancing in the clouds yearning to be released. Pulling your jacket in closer, you slipped down an alleyway, hoping to find answers and remain unseen. After all you had a reputation for causing trouble amongst the rouges and criminals, and tonight was the last night you needed trouble to catch you once again.

Though you had not heard of any rogues causing any chaos, you knew better then to trust the night would remain silent. It's current silence sent shivers down your spine. Silence was a deadly tool, used to confused and trick the naive into false senses of security. It was a tool you yourself had used and yet- something about tonight's silence made you on edge.

Looking around you almost sensed danger as the hairs on your arms stood on edge. Your heart racing as the silence screamed into your mind. Just as you had settled with yourself to finally venture home, a hand clamped down on your shoulder.

A shriek of sorts almost escaped you and you turned to find your fuming mother.

"Y/n! I thought I told you to be home before eleven?"

Though startled you merely blinked, allowing your mother to drag you back down the alleyway, towards the way home. Your heart hammered in your chest. Regardless of all your broken promises to come home on time, your mother had never- ever come out looking for you.

"Mom," You said, finally finding your voice, "what are you doing out here?!"

Your mother froze tilting her head a scowl of sorts on her face with dropped almost instantly. She let go of your hand and slowed to a stop, looking you over she sighed, taking a moment to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"I was worried, I heard that one of the nastier rouges was out tonight and I didn't want you to be out."

At first a wave of warmth washed over you. It, however, turned icy cold as you processed the rest of your mother's sentence.

'One of the nastier rouges'

Your heart skipped a beat and you grasped onto your mother's hand. Swallowing you met her gaze and forced a slow breath out.

"Mom, which one did you hear was out?"

It took her a moment to reply, as her brow furrowed, and she squeezed your hand.

"The Joker."

Your heart actually stopped, you struggled to breath as news reports and alley whispers raced over your mind.

"I heard that the bats pissed joker off so he's shooting for a big one this time."

"I heard that he lost Batman's attention and wants it back."

"Well, I heard that he's finally sick of his cat and mouse game and plans on taking as many civilians as possible with him when he goes."

Finally breathing again, you pulled your mother forward. Heart racing as your mind screamed to run. Your legs began to pump, your mother stumbling to keep up behind you her soft protests barely catching your ears.

"Shit- oh shit, mom we've gotta go."

You had just come up on a corner, knowing once you went down the alley just by here, you'd be two blocks from your complex. It didn't help though, your heart hammered to quickly you could hear your own heartbeat without even thinking about it.

"What? Honey," Your mom began shaking her head and causing you to stop, "it's fine we're almost home and-"

Your mouth began moving before you could stop yourself and you began pulling her again, finally rounding the corner, "No mom you don't understand this guy has been amping up his attacks recently and-"

Just as you did you came face to face with a goon in white makeup and a sinister red smile. He raised something strange, and time seemed to slow as you heard him pressing on a trigger.

"Y/N!" Your mother's shout echoed in your ears as she shoved you to the side.

You tumbled towards the ground screams ripping from you as you watched a fine mist encompass her entire face, "MOM NO!"

The mist faded as a blurry figure slammed the goon into the ground. Your mother slumped slightly as you darted to her side, her body shook, and you looked her over trying to find any damage only to hear a bone chilling sound.

"Ha-ha-ha."

You trembled as your mother raised her head, a large sinisterly familiar smile on her face.

"Mommy? Mommy, no. Please, no. NO!"

A jolt of sorts raced through you as you opened your eyes. A bright light slamming straight into them and sending spots racing across your vision.

"Aw, look," A mocking voice began, "our little Houdini's finally awake."

A piercing ache began at the base of your skull as you forced yourself to sit up. Faintly recalling your last moments, as rain poured down and you made the choice to finally let go.

Blinking you pressed a hand to your face, a sloshing of sorts following you as you found yourself immersed in a small pool of greenish water. Wincing you tried to look around the room- to understand where you were and what was going on.

Your eyes slowly adjusted, revealing that you were in a small cavern of sorts. A woman in a strange outfit stood nearby as a man in a dark clothing loomed over you. You watched as the woman motioned at someone just beyond your view muttering things you could not here.

"Hello there little one," the man began capturing your attention, "I am glad to see you're awake."

You swallowed feeling the headache fade slightly as you shifted. These people and this place did not seem familiar. You too a slow breath looking down to see your own hands and body before looking back up.

"Who are you?" You whispered, your voice cracking, throat dry and aching.

The man smiled, but something about it made you uneasy. He merely stared at you, replying, "A doctor of sorts."

You paused furrowing your brow, "So I'm not dead?"

The man- doctor- whatever he was laughed as he took a step back. Making temporary eye contact with the woman behind him. She had an odd look about her and you could have sworn you spotted a cat like mask before the man captured your attention again.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," You replied wincing again as you stepped out of the pool rising to your feet, "is that normal?"

He tilted his head, "In a sense yes."

His short responses had your mind racing, he was being so vague and something- something about all of this just seemed off.

"Uh okay. Then is fine to assume I'll get better right?"

The man nodded as the woman smiled at you. You narrowed your eyes still not entirely understanding what was going on or what had happened. You were sure that the fall would have killed you and- and you could still remember the impact.

"Wha-" You began as a wave of defenseness washed over you, "what is going on?"

"Whatever do you mean little Houdini?" The woman asked her eyes glinting.

"Who are you? Where am I? How am I still alive? And what the fuck happened?"

Your demand echoed in the cave like chamber causing the woman to smile even more. She even began to laugh and the man stepped in-between the two of you.

"Just please calm yourself, Y/N L/N. All will be explained soon."

You locked your jaw, a buzzing of sorts climbing up your chest as you began to grind your teeth. Tingles raced across your hand, a tell tale sign your body yearned to release some engery. To produce the false images and twist the illusions into exsistance.

"When?"

The man paused before the sound of footsteps approached. He went still and so did the woman behind him. A wave of fury rose up in your chest, were you such a fuck up you even fucked up dying? Was it possible that something else was going on? Regardless of your current internal turmoil you needed answers.

"Would someone please answer my fucking questions?!"

Just as your frustrated shout escaped a new woman walked into the room. She breezed past the first and stopped right in front of you. Allowing you to get a good look of her and a better grasp of the situation. She was dressed in a green and gold trimmed dress, her dark brown hair spilling around her face, dark skin and sharp bone structure that screamed Arabic descent. And her eyes, her bright- familiar green eyes stared at you with a curious gaze.

"I would be happy to, Y/N."

Something about her- whether be her eyes, her voice or face- something seemed familiar- so familiar you let your guard down.

"Where am I?"

The woman smiled, "Safe in my home."

It wasn't entirely a bad answer, but once again a vague one. And despite your concerns on where you were at you had to know one thing.

"How did I survive that fall? I just can't wrap my head around it."

The woman went still before she softly laughed moving a bit closer to you, "You didn't."

You froze as you answer caused your breath to stop, "What?"

"You didn't survive. In fact, that fall killed you, you died."

"But- wha- how? Am, am I dead?"

"Not anymore, but you were."

"I was- what do you mean I was dead? How can that be possible?"

The woman's smile deepened, and she took a step even closer, "You're not asking the right questions."

Grinding your teeth, you met her gaze and raised your chin frustration and desperation climbing up your throat, "Fine, who are you then?"

"Much better, I am Talia."

Something about that name set off warning bells in your head and your stiffened, allowing your guard to rise as you eyed the woman.

"Where am I? I want specifics."

"The league."

Your blood went cold as a realization began to dawn on you, "The league?"

"Yes, the league; assassins, shadows, what have you. You, are at one of the bases for the League."

"And- and-"

"I am Talia Al Ghul, and I brought you back to life."

You went still as everything began to click into place. The green water, the man and woman nearby, the vagueness- how you are alive, and you looked at Talia swallowing. The familiarity. This was Damian's mother, the person who you died trying to run from.

"You brought me back with the pit?" You whispered your voice trembling and cracking.

"Unbeknown to my beloved, son and the rest of his rabble, yes... so any more questions?"

You swallowed as your world began to scream and burn as it crashed down. They- they thought- no they knew you had died and- and no one would come save you this time. You were on your own you were alone.

You shook your head, refusing to let your voice tremble, "No."

"Good, because I have a lot of work for you..." Talia paused looking over her shoulder to the other woman, "what did cheshire call you? Ah, yes. Little Houdini."

Digging your nails into your palm you tried to calm your breathing as Talia tucked your hair behind your ear smiling.

"Let's get to work my Little Houdini."

Tag List:

@andromedaj2003 @thomasbeloved @instabull @zvtanna @daemonnix96 @krswrites @thefallingstarlights @masset-fotia @rrowwii @ssak-i @legendarylearner18

[mcbenson25]

You'll Come Back (Savitar X Meta!Reader)

Request from @davrosfan23: Reader is grief stricken that Savitar was killed. Then to add insult to injury killer frost got to find out his true identity so there new mission that they have set themselves is to travel the multiverse and find a new Barry Allen and ruin his life and set him on the path to create a new incarnation of savitar….they are convinced it’s for his own good and that becoming savitar is Barry’s destiny.

A/N: Hello all! I am not dead (well mentally it feels like I am)! After being on hiatus most of the year it really chalks up with eldest daughter syndrome piled up with work and Uni. I just lost any and all motivation to write and it really sucked. BUT after spending the first part of my break brain rotting on Tik Tok in my bed and staring into the oblivion with utter despair (seasonal depression) I finally came back ready and eager to come back and write.

Thank you to everyone who reached out and has continued to read and like what I've written so far. It means the world to me, someday seeing the comments come through were enough to brighten my day. So without further ado...here you all go!

-----------------------------------

You felt it happen.

Your breathing quickened as you dropped your phone that had been in your hand.

No. No.

NO.

You gasped for air as you fell to your knees, your vision going blurry from the tears already falling down your face as you clutched the side of the table you were by.

It couldn't be. He couldn't be dead. You had run every single part of the plan, every scenario, every possibility.

And yet you felt it.

He was gone.

You immediately found him sprawled on the ground. The armor shattered and discarded beside him.

“They didn’t understand you,” you whispered, their voice low and hoarse from hours of sobbing. “They didn’t deserve you. Julian didn’t deserve you. Killer Frost didn’t deserve you. But I… .”

Your fingers traced the jagged edges of the armor. It was cold, unfeeling, but it was all that was left. Savitar, the one you had idolized, was gone. Barry Allen had destroyed him, erased him like he was nothing. And worst of all, Killer Frost had learned his true identity. She had known him, spoken to him, looked into his eyes. That was supposed to be your privilege. That was supposed to be your moment.

But you had been overlooked.

Forgotten.

Your jaw clenched as the familiar bitterness clawed at your heart. Julian, the idiot, naive crime lab assistant had been his right-hand man, his voice in the chaos. And when Julian failed, Killer Frost had stepped in, taking the role you so desperately had dreamed of, had longed for. You could have protected him, shielded him from betrayal. You would have been loyal until the very end.

“I would have done anything for you,” you whisper, kneeling next to the rubble, yourvoice trembling. “Anything.”

The air around you began to shift, crackling faintly. Your breath caught as they felt a familiar presence. The area around you grew colder, darker, and the faint blue glow of the Speed Force seemed to seep into the dark night. You froze, your eyes wide as whispers began to fill your mind, faintly at first and then all at once.

You mourn for me.

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

The voice was distant, fragmented, but unmistakable. Your heart pounded as they dropped the piece of armor and scrambled to their feet. The very words made your body shake with your grief stricken anger laced with hope and disbelief.

“Savitar?” you whispered, “Is it really you?”

The Speed Force binds me... for now. But my time is over. I am gone.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking their head. “You can’t be gone. You can’t! You deserve more than this! Let me help you. Let me bring you back.”

As you spoke you could feel the ground around you shake slightly.

The whispers faltered, taking notice, curious. You… are different. You feel me, even now. Your grief, even the ground shakes around you.

You look down, taking in his words as your mouth opens in surprise realizing the ground is indeed shaking around you.

You look back up, surprise echoing your features. "But-Ho-How is this possible?"

I was betrayed by myself,” the voice admitted, tinged with regret. By Barry Allen. And yet… he was always destined to become me and my sweet and loyal subject did you think I didn't have a plan? My power now lives in you. To complete what we started.

Your eyes narrowed, still bewildered by the fact that you now possessed a level of power that had been Savitar's. “Then I’ll make it happen again. Barry Allen was meant to be Savitar. That’s his destiny. And if this Barry won’t embrace it… I’ll make him.”

I knew I could trust in you. You and I, we share the same vision. The whispers grew faint.

“No! Don't go yet!” You shouted your words laced with panic. “I won’t let it go! "You deserve to exist. You deserve to rule. Barry is nothing without you. He needs to become you. It’s for his own good.”

The connection began to falter, the blue glow fading. I know you will not fail me, not like the others.

“Savitar!” You cried, reaching out desperately. But the presence was gone, leaving only silence in its wake. You stood there, trembling, their hands still outstretched.

You took a shaky breath, your resolve hardening. You wouldn't fail him. Not like them. You had studied Barry Allen for years, learned his weaknesses, his fears. You knew what it would take to break him, to push him to the edge.

“I’ll make them pay,” you whispered, a dangerous gleam in your eyes as you felt the ground tremble around you again, this time embracing the dark feeling washing over you. “I’ll make him understand. You’ll become Savitar again, Barry. Even if I have to destroy everything you love to make it happen.”

------

Over the next few weeks, you began your campaign. You started small, sowing seeds of doubt and fear in Barry’s mind. Anonymous messages, cryptic warnings, and subtle manipulations began to take their toll. Barry’s friends noticed the change, but no one could pinpoint the source of his unease.

One night, as Barry sat alone in the Cortex, staring at a crime scene photo, the lights flickered. He tensed, looking around.

“Hello, Barry,” Your voice echoed through the room, distorted and menacing.

Barry stood, his eyes scanning the room. “Who are you? Show yourself!”

You stepped out of the shadows, your face calm but their eyes burning with intensity. “You don’t recognize me, do you? I suppose I’m not surprised. You’re always so busy saving the day, you never notice the people who truly matter.”

Barry frowned, his body tense. “What do you want?”

You smiled, though there was no warmth in it. “I want to help you, Barry. To show you your true potential. To help you become who you were always meant to be.”

“And who’s that?” Barry asked, his voice cold.

You stepped closer, their voice dropping to a whisper. “Savitar.”

Barry’s blood ran cold. “You’re insane. Savitar is gone.”

“Is he?” Reader countered, their smile widening. “Or is he still a part of you, waiting to be unleashed? You can feel it, can’t you? The anger, the pain, the darkness. You can’t escape it, Barry. It’s who you are.”

Barry shook his head, his fists clenching. “No. That’s not me. That’ll never be me.”

Your eyes gleamed with determination. “We’ll see.”

And with that, you disappeared into the shadows, leaving Barry alone with his racing thoughts. You would break Barry Allen, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but Savitar.

--------

Hope you all like this one! I have never written for Savitar and the request was a bit out of my normal zone but I'm happy for these challenges! Thank you to all of you for reading, I love you all!

If you like this consider checking out my Masterlist!

[yhksweep]

invisible ink

[descendant-of-truth]

Shipping is fun and all but I swear every single time someone makes a comment, whether as a joke or in a legitimate analysis, about there being "no other explanation" for a pair's interactions, I lose just a bit more of my sanity

Like, no, you guys don't get it. Romance is not about the Amount of devotion, it's about the COLOR. the FLAVOR of it all. a character can be just as devoted to their platonic friend as they are to their romantic partner, and they don't love either of them more, just differently.

But because the majority of people still have it stuck in their minds that romance exists on the highest tier of love, I'm stuck seeing endless takes that boil down to "these two care about each other too much for it to NOT be romantic" as if that's the core determining factor to how literally any of this works

In conclusion: stop telling me that I don't understand the story if I don't interpret the leads as romantic, I am TIRED

[jomeimei421]

I kinda cooked with this on IG so it’s coming here too

[itheunknown]

odi et amo - (02) none for me

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam

masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

alfred fears he's failed you.

you always were a quiet child, swallowing all the hurt you felt and buried it within your soul. he fears the hurt has consumed you.

he can't confidently say that he's done all he could for you, trying to manage the manor along with the other dysfunctional residents amd their nightly activities, which rendered him unable in giving you his undivided attention.

if he could to back, he would change it all in a heartbeat.

he vividly remembers the day commissioner gordon had phoned him about you, and was briefed about your background and the “accident” through the call, feeling a sense of relief that you had a somewhat normal background. when he saw you, he took that back. the chair you were on looked too big for your malnourished frame, the bandages swallowing your entire body and a couple bruises here and there. but what struck him were your eyes. they were so distant, bags heavy, with no light in them. the eyes that wordlessly show the hidden horrors you’ve been through.

you reminded him of bruce.

you were understandably skittish, settling into a completely new environment and seeing unfamiliar faces that you just had to accept were your now family. he assumed that with time you'd be able to overcome it after mourning the loss of your aunt, along with the help of everyone welcoming you with open arms and getting you accustomed to your new life as part of their family.

yet, that never happened.

he sees them dismiss you.

he’s seen you stand politely outside bruce’s office until he’s done with his tasks before requesting something (the bare necessities), all because previously, the first time (and only time) you had mistakenly interrupted his meeting in order to hand him the papers that alfred had asked you to, bruce had raised his voice at you for being a nuisance.

he’s seen the way you stare at dick when he interacts with the other members, showering them in brotherly love, yet walking past you like you were a piece of furniture, not noticing you.

he’s seen the way you had recommended jason books based on what he had read, only for him to scoff into your face and undermine your intellect, purposely limiting his interactions with you.

he’s seen the way you curiously looked through tim’s door that was left ajar, only for him to give you a scornful look and slamming it in your face, calling you annoying.

he’s seen the way you had agreed to every one of damian’s snide and hateful comments about how you were never good enough for the last name you do not hold, just because he was the only person who paid you any mind.

he's seen the way cassandra could easily read people, but never seemed to think you were worthy enough to give you the time of day, even while your eyes would try to find hers.

he's seen how easy it was for you to cry yet you never allowed yourself to do so, you'd curl your hands into tight fists until it pales and bleeds.

he’s seen the emptiness in your gaze when they’re locked on everyone during dinner, talking and engrossed in each other’s conversation, taking part of each other's lives while leaving you in the sidelines, standing at the doorway before you'd leave to your room, never joining them.

do they not see you?

a few months after you'd settled in, you had requested alfred that he would only really need to come clean your room once a week if at all, claiming that cleaning gives you a sense of control and there's a particular way it needed to be done. you rarely asked anything of him, you were self-sufficient to a fault, never allowing yourself to rely on anyone but yourself. he had offered to learn how you liked the cleaning to be done, but you remained unconvinced. so as to not overstep, he obliged.

he wished he didn’t. he sees you retreat further into yourself. he sees you spiral. he sees it all, yet was unable to stop it. he sees, but does nothing.

alfred cared. but that didn’t mean he could save you.

the weather was gloomy, the grey sky stretched on above you as you watched the soft puffs of smoke escaped from your lips floated up to join the clouds. the familiar comfort that a cigarette brings you feels like a blessing these days. smoking helps lift the weight that weighs heavy on your skull, you try to soothe it even more by pressing harshly against your eye with your other hand void of the burning cigarette. you know it's a bad habit that you should ideally kick, especially worse if you were caught by anyone, but do you actually care?

“thought i'd find you here.”

you don't even need to turn around, recognizing the voice too well.

“what is it this time?”

another voice chippers, the peaceful atmosphere you were surrounded in was interrupted. you sigh and put out the cigarette, waving your hand around to fan the smoke away from your only two friends. they both giggle and extend their arms towards you to pull you up.

“you know, with the amount you've smoked lately, alfred might find out. like, i can smell you before i see you.” they tut at you half-heartedly, watching you brush the dirt off your uniform.

it has become a routine for you, to linger behind after school ends at the more secluded areas, where you hide your bike inside the overgrown bushes (in fear of it being stolen yet again) and smoke away your troubles before making your way back. it's not a habit you started recently, you first smoked when you were working that shitty job to keep you and your aunt afloat, and having mental breakdowns behind the restaurant during break on every shift started to become too much of a nuisance, which was when a coworker had offered you theirs; but you can tell your friends could see that you've been turning to it more often.

with the chatter following behind, you start walking your bicycle towards the main gates of the school, ready to take your usual route home. occasionally joining in their conversations, you're about to bid your friends goodbye until you catch the weird looks the other students throw at you while trying to increase their distance. your hands tighten around the handlebars, trying to remain unfazed as you stood there.

you couldn't even consider yourself a complete social reject, you had tried to remain on everyone's good side to ensure a smooth educational experience: you were helpful and nice, you had good grades and were consistently the top 5 students in your year, and taking parts in various clubs and after school activities. however, no amount of effort could erase the somewhat unsettled look your classmates throw your way and the worried look you teachers would cast at you.

for once, you hoped to not be seen.

does the disdain come from how they never saw your family show up to anything that involved you? or was it because you were a tryhard? it's not like you did it to prove yourself to your family or classmates, but it was a good distraction from the numbness that's eating you whole. you don’t understand what you’ve done. you were clearly not lacking in terms of academic achievements and extracurriculars, so it only left your social life to be judged. your social circle, which only really included your 2 friends, are the sweetest and most supporting characters you’ve known despite being constantly ignored by others, so you come to conclude that you must be the problem. the duo gave you a worried glance, patting your shoulder as you stood there. “hey, don't mind them, you can't please everyone you know.” “yeah, you can't control everything! just let it go.” your other friend chimes in, pushing the back of your bike, prompting you all to walk again.

you smiled, your friends have always been your source of comfort, it was a bond you’ve built on trust and wordless understanding, they had been so compassionate about what you’ve been through even if you rarely opened up - they might be the only people keeping you sane. they understood you more than you did yourself.

you compose yourself and hop on your bicycle, turning back to wave at them. with a sigh, you pushed off, their silhouette fades into into the distance as the wind caresses your face while you pedal. you try not dread having to go back to the manor, enjoying the few short moments you feel at peace within your daily routine, you cycle on the familiar path you've taken countless times before - it's just another day to return to the house that was not your home.

damian was rummaging through your room. mostly out of boredom from roaming the countless empty halls within the manor absent-mindedly, walking past countless doors before he noticed yours. he really didn't have any malicious intentions, despite his distaste of your existence, he was not one to seek you out to make your life harder, he was above that - at least, that's what he believes.

there's not much to see in your room, a couple band posters peeling at the edges, books scattered next to the table lamp on the carpet, bed tidy but not neatly, opened notebooks on your desk. it fills him with contempt. you are less than: no prophecy to fulfil, no legacy to uphold - but also, no trauma to drag you down, your past a clean slate. sharing the same father, but not cut from the same cloth.

unlike him, you were ridiculously normal. unlike him, you were free.

maybe he resents you more than he initially thought.

his eyes lands on a small shirt hung on the wall, it might as well be baby attire.

it was a ragged looking thing, really. the colours worn off, the edges a little frayed but not from use, but rather the quality. curiously, he steps on your bed reaching for it to investigate further.

"what are you doing."

embarrassingly, damian did not care enough to get caught being nosy in your room in the first place. so when you opened your door that was oddly left ajar to see damian standing on your bed with his shoes on after a long day of school, he feels compromised. before he stumbles off your bed, his hand manages to snag the edge of the shirt, pulling it off the walls. your eyes finally catches on to what he was reaching for and your heart rate quickens.

despite how increasingly difficult it was for you to remain calm, you try to smile, "please give that back, damian" you're so nervous your hands almost shake trying to urge him to return it. damian feels humiliated being forced to confront the person whose room he was snooping through, so he fists the article tighter in his hand and snarls at you. seeing as he is not intending to return it, you take a cautious step forward, raising both of your arms.

like a threatened dog, he pushes you harshly with his entire body weight to make way for the door. you stumble back in shock, but grab onto his shoulder before he manages to leave your room. "damian, please, that's very important to me" you plead, trying to pry his fingers off it.

in damian's mind, this was no longer about what's yours, this was his power being questioned.

"you don't even need this rag anymore" he slaps your hand away. your patience wearing thin, frustration bubbling to the surface of your composure, you start forcefully trying to snatch it back. soon, you both were fighting for it, pulling back and forth. you were obviously at a disadvantage, but in your desperation, it didn't matter. you scream at him to let go.

and damian? he's starting to get entertained, having never seen you this emotional before. this was like a game to him, it's too easy to overpower you, so he drags the fight on despite you landing a few hits on him yourself - he's mocking you. the brawl continues, until the sound of fabric ripping stills you.

in your hand was nearly half of your shirt, the other half still firmly held in damian's grasp.

colour leaves your face, you stare in horror at the torn up shirt, not being able to utter a sound.

meanwhile, the fun was over for damian, so he saw no purpose in remaining in your room as he wordlessly let go of the fabric and walked out, stepping on it on the way as if for good measure.

you grabbed him by the shirt, eyes holding back tears. "that was the only thing left from my mother."

the revelation stills him, he feels bad, and he hates that he feels anything for you besides hatred.

"so? that's not my problem. it's not my fault your peasant of a mother couldn't afford anything else to leave you with" he taunts, "in fact, she couldn't even afford to raise you, so now you're here leeching off while haunting the manor with your unnecessary presence."

"what do you know about my mom" damian's eyes widen, taken aback by the seriousness in your tone, contrasting all the times defaulted into being a pushover when with him. you're so upset, your grip on his shirt tightens as you glare through the tears streaming down your face, "i didn't even get to know my mom!"

it's no surprise that with the ruckus that you both caused, it wouldn't have gone unheard. so when alfred came to check and inquire what all the noise was about, he witnessed you yell and push damian to the floor harshly. before you could even register alfred's presence, a force had struck you - your head snapped to the side while the sting starts to burn on your cheek.

alfred had slapped you. alfred. slapped. you.

you and damian stare at him in shock, alfred himself is in disbelief. what had he done? he tries to justify his actions to you, trying to make himself believe he did the right thing.

"damian is younger than you, as the older child you must understand. this is, in no way, an acceptable display as the older sibling."

surely you understand, you always do! he just feared things would have spiraled out of control. right? you're almost catatonic, eyes wide staring at him in disbelief, not believing your ears.

"you must understand."

he stares into your eyes, almost pleading that you'd forgive him. but all that was reflected in your gaze was a look filled with horror and betrayal.

you pushed through both of them, the call of your name falling on deaf ears, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door, locking it.

alfred cared, but not enough.

heyyyyyyyyyy 👋☺️... i uh.. may or may not have used actual events that happened to me in here #projecting am i right :heh: thank you for all your lovely comments 🫶 you're all so skibbidi it really helped motivate me (not to abandon my writing)! as always interactions are very appreciated ⊹ ࣪ ˖ (TAGLIST) lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :yowaimo: @confused-they @hoeinthehouse @strwberryglass @heartjwonie @glitchmshade @bat1212 @buddee @eyeless-kun @thereeallink @icantcryicantstopcrying @bunbunboysworld @gh0str00m @wizzerreblogs @lazy-kari202 @dotomuses @gwyneveire @gh6st24 @roseapov @kore-of-the-underworld @kingshitonly @plsfckmedxddy @unknownloner1345 @moon-2232 @lilithquillete @v3vina @froggy-voidd @angrybuttooshorttofightyou @sami0169 @m3vlOvesu @pix-stuff @bunbunbread @agent-nobody-knows @cxcilla @horror-lover-69 @redkarmakai @mariadvorak @shirp-collector-of-fixations @batboygirlie @diejager @noclue-0 @sick2mystmch @novs9011 @kitkatkitmeow @crazycaoticsimp @majonla @hebaoffside

[invincibledc]

Damian: Why are you on the floor?

Tim: I'm depressed.

Tim: Also I was stabbed, can you get Flash!reader, please.

[nenoname]

It's still interesting that TBoB called more attention to Stan's control over his mindscape (And if you go with the interpretation that the lost pages are partial truths that are heavily influenced by Bill, then he's the one insisting that only someone with training should be able to have that much control over the mind.)

Meanwhile we have a memory!Stan. Someone who apparently knows too much and is rather aware for being a simple memory.

From the Wheel of Shame, we know Bill was able dig up all kinds of dirt on Stan but... that wasn't why he was there in the first place, was it?

Bill couldn't find the code immediately despite a memory of Stan opening the safe being a few hours old at most and decided to have Mabel try find it for him (The original concept of the ep had it far more hidden but this was likely cut because of time constraints)

Ford did experiments on Stan's mind which likely meant using Project Mentem and actually looking around his mindscape, and his only reaction was to comment on his jokes-- despite what little we the audience know being enough to render us sobbing wrecks

(yes I refuse to shut up about this part cos the book's intro is extremely underrated)

Stan was able to replace his memories of Ford with the swingset instead and managed to hide Ford in his Bar Mitzvah memory. And that's not even mentioning the lack of visible Portal and Stan o' War which noticeably show up in Ford's dreamscape (the broken swingset manifesting anyway pains me tho)

He subconsciously has misdirects for his secrets that are both silly and manages to disturb everyone too

And while Bill-as-Soos being bored by the vending machine memory is a joke that's basically the crew's way of going "hey remember the thing way back in the first ep that's going to show up in the next one?" and in-universe appears to be Stan slipping up, it's interesting that they had Stan input the wrong code when it's consistent literally every other time its inputted (especially when it shows up correctly in the very next episode)

It's even possible that the safe code that Bill found could have been a misdirect too but we'll never know since the safe got blown open by dynamite.

Stan was able to buy time by making his mind blank despite being genuinely terrified when Bill enters his mind (to the point that he breaks character and uses his own voice to yell), and could conjure up his living room (in colour opposed to his mind's regular greyscale) to make sure Bill didn't have enough room to flee, slamming the door in his face before the effects of the memory gun kicked in.

(EDIT: Random door analysis here)

And maybe the twins eventually told him that Bill had already been inside his mind after their W3 reunion, but all we know was that his conscious self was left in the dark for ages and wasn't really aware of Bill until Weirdmageddon.

TBoB showing McGucket's dreamscape also brings up the idea of the effects of the memory gun manifesting differently to each person. To Stan's mindscape, the memory wipe manifests as blue flames which immediately brings to mind Bill's powers but it's a far lighter shade (maybe to more closely match the memory gun and its eventual fade to white?)

The end of TBoB and the website poem also firmly reminds us about Stan's connection to fire but there's also the question if Stan himself is actually aware of it...

[xetlynn]

hii i have a little request for ekko like omg i love him so bad

so imagine winter times come around and you an ekko are in your shared room (the firelights bases ofc)

and he sees you shivering under your cover so he comes over and just cuddles all up under you

thennn a few words and giggles are shared and thingss get a little heated between yall and ykyk 🤗

I hope you wanted smut. That’s what I made.

Arcane Imagines- Ekko

Still Cold

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUTTTT

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: it’s cold, you need to be warmed up. (Established relationship)

Contains: hand job, oral m! Receiving. Afab. Whimpering, whiny sub Ekko:(

You shiver, wearing a few layers of clothes along with tons of blankets. Your nose practically freezing off since you feel claustrophobic if you put your face under the covers. You hear the door open to you and your boyfriend’s shared room. Steps coming towards you. “You cold or something?” He asks, You just scoff in response like it wasn't obvious.

He snickers, throwing the blankets off of you causing you to whine. “Oh shush, c’mere you big baby.” He climbs into bed, pulling your body on top of his.

”You’re warm.” You mumble, clinging onto him. “I’m so cold.” You complain, he puts the covers back over the both of you. 

“I know a way to make us even warmer.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you shove his face away from your neck before he got the chance to pounce on it with his lips. He got hard before he even got into the bed. “I’m too cold to think about that.” You huff, adjusting yourself on him so you were more comfortable. 

It didn’t help Ekko’s situation though. He needed you badly and you put yourself right over his crotch. He tensed up but nonetheless stayed quiet, rubbing your back to get you warmer. “My body aches from how cold it is.” You wiggle over top of him. Ekko lets out a low, almost inaudible grunt. “Stop moving so much.” He grabs your hips to keep you in place. “Sorry, sorry.” 

A few moments go by and you begin to understand why he told you to stop moving. You feel something poking against your core. Your lips lined into a smirk, deciding to mess with him. “Ekko, massage me again.” You look at him with a pout. His eyes met yours, he seemed extremely nervous. He never wanted to push anything on you, so when you said you were too cold to think about it he stopped and he tried to take the thought out of his brain. 

“Um, alright.” His hands move on your back again, you let out a soft moan, humming into his chest. The vibration only worsening his perverted thoughts. Your digits find his hips, going up and down his body in slow motions. He wanted to stop and shove you off of him. 

You were so soft, such a comforting body he just wanted to explore every part of you. Keep you warm and safe. His member twitches and you chuckle. His face flushes. 

“He sure has a lot to say.” You tease him, not looking at him as your hand goes underneath you, trailing all the way down to the place he needed you most. He lets out a gasp. 

Your smaller hand palms him through his sweatpants. “Pretty girl, please.” He whimpers, he pulls his arms up to his head, watching your focused expression. “You wanted to keep me warm, right?” A smug smile tugging upwards, “my hands are pretty cold.” You go to his ear, kissing it softly as the hand that was once palming him went to the waistline of his pants. “Gonna treat you so well.” You lay your head back down on his chest, moving your body slightly off of him so you could get a better view of your actions. 

Ekko watches as his girlfriend extracts his dick from his clothing agonizingly slow. Spitting on your hand before smearing it on his tip, mixed with his precum. “So cute.” You compliment. 

“Cute?” He huffs, your thumb rubs it over the sensitive mushroom top. “Mhm.” 

He bucks his hips up, desperate for you to touch him more. You take your hand away to shove his hips back down. “Be patient.” You sit up with the blankets over your shoulders. You spread his legs apart enough so you could sit in between them. You yank his pants off half-way, keeping them at his thighs. 

His orbs grow darker by the sight of you on your knees before him. Even though you're clothed up you are the only one to affect him this way.  

“What do you want?” You ask, your fingers dancing around his skin. “Take your shirt off. Please.” He mewls in a soft tone. “Then I’ll be cold.” Your bottom lip puckers out as you give him puppy-dog eyes. “I need to see them, they’re so beautiful.” He begs, his hand going down to his dick, using your spit to pump up and down. “If that’s what my boyfriend wants. I guess I can make some sacrifices.” You take off your sweater along with the tank top that was underneath. Flaunting your breasts. 

“Stop touching yourself.” You prod aside his wrist replacing it back with your palm once again. Stroking his cock while leaning over to pronounce your boobs out. “I was supposed to b-e warming- shit- warming you up.” He stammers, grabbing at your left tit, massaging it gently. “This is warming me up.” You giggle, laying a kiss on the cockhead. He squeezes his eyes shut as your tongue kitten licks him. 

Your hand is still kneading at the base. “I- ohmygooodd.” He groans. “Use your mouth.” He runs a hand on top of your hair, grasping at it. “Not very good manners.” You glance up at him. He holds a breath. “Please use your mouth pretty girl. Please.” He whines like a dog, rutting his hips up only to be knocked back down. “Patience, Ekko.” Your voice was soft but stern.

You’ve never acted like this before, it was new to him. He was normally in control. “Fuck, okay, okay.” He throws his arm over his eyes. You snigger, sticking your tongue out. You smack his cock on it repeatedly until popping it between your lips. Hollowing out your cheeks, sucking on his tip. 

You lower your head until your nose hits his pelvic region. His happy trail tickles you ever so slightly. You go back up then continue at a leisurely state. Frustrating him ridiculously. “[Name] please stop messing with me. I need more.” He tugs at your hair. “Mmmmhmmm?” Your noises pleasuring him. “I’m going to fuck your throat if you don’t do something.” He tells you through gritted teeth. 

The thought of him facefucking you aroused you. You felt the wetness in between your thighs even through all your clothes. You move your heel underneath your cunt. Pressing your butt down to feel the friction as you bob your head up and down on your boyfriend's thick cock. 

Now being more mindful of his needs. The slurping sounds with a mix of occasional gags. You hold onto the top of his thighs as you get faster. Ekko’s toes curling from your skills. He felt like he was about to cum at any moment. His abs tightening, flexing just for you. 

“[Name], pretty girl. I- oh fuckfuckfuck… I’m close.” Once again his pelvis went up. You weren’t expecting it causing your upper torso to contract as you gag. You lift up, his dick falling against his stomach. The saliva and pre-cum dribbling down your chin. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll be better. I promise.” He implores, his hands wandering on your chest down to your stomach. 

“Fuck my throat.” You vocalise, sounding raspy. “A-are you sure? You don’t have to do it because I mentioned it.” He double checks and you smile, pulling forward by his shirt, kissing him. Your spit and his own liquid smudges across his mouth. 

You drop him back down on the pillows. He plants his feet down on the bed, lifting himself up a tiny bit and you put your mouth back on his dick. “You ready?” He bites his lip, your eyes look up at him. Your cheeks rise, making you seem like you’re squinting to show that you’re smiling. You give him a thumbs up. Both of his hands go to your head. 

He thrusts up into your muzzle, starting off tender you wink at him then his hips begin to accelerate. You hold onto his legs for support. His hands pushing you down as far as you can take him. 

“I’m going to cum! Fu-uuuuck!” He keeps the quick pace. Your pussy spasms at his moans and whimpers he made. “I love you so much, pretty girl. So so so much.” He breathes heavily. “Gonna let me spill into your throat? Swallow it like a good, beautiful girl that you are?” He questions you and you hum out. Slightly nodding your head. “Fuck, that’s my girl.” 

His cock convulses, his tip bruising your uvula. “Ohhh, love you, love you , love…” His voice gets cut off as he cums, his mouth hanging open with no noise coming out. His seed spurting down your throat as your nose pressed against his skin. He restrains you in place until his balls are completely empty. He roughly drops down and you swallow everything before coughing to catch your breath. 

His dick lays limp and his face looks fucked out. “Hope you know I’m not done with you.” You smirk, grabbing his soft cock and he whines, attempting to push you away. “Too sensitive, pretty girl.” He complains. “Mmm I’m still cold though.” 

He tiredly rubs his face realizing how long of a night he was about to have.

[shimmerytimbers]

The fact that if you look closely, you can see both Jinx and Ekko's faces in the rose necklace Jinx/Powder had in the alternate timeline-

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere boys and their favourite positions

Yandere! Soldier likes to be intimate with you, intertwining his fingers with yours and whispering in your ear just how much he loves you. He doesn't like looking in your eyes - your tears remind him that you don't want this and yet he's helpless to stop himself. He's always on top, cosying up between your thighs and burying his face in your neck. He keeps you gagged. It's easier to block out your crying that way.

Yandere! Boyfriend likes to be as close to you as possible. He likes to take you from behind, his arm wrapped around your throat and his chest pressing you into the mattress. Skin against skin from your neck to the tips of your toes. He gets drunk on you so easily, moaning in your ear about how much he loves you, how he'll never let you leave him, how you're the best fuck he's ever had. And despite his hulking size, he whines like a puppy when you come around him. He loves you loves you loves you and he loves being inside you.

Yandere! Cowboy can never get rid of his rough side, it's been built into him after years of rough labour and bad days and bosses with tight fists and tighter purse strings. He'll always be wild with you, pulling your hair, digging his nails into your thighs, biting down on your neck. He cares for his pleasure first and foremost and it doesn't matter if he hurts you to get it. He'll take you any way he can but he loves it when you ride him. He'll put his hat on your head and call you his pretty lil' cowgirl even as he ruts his cock into you until your tits are bouncing.

Yandere! Desert Bandit has to fight his urge to fuck you raw and rotten everytime he takes you. It's a conscious effort to be gentle, to be mindful of his strength. He fails a lot at first. He has years of pent up lust to get through afterall. But someday, he'll manage to make love to you without leaving bruises. He likes to have you under him, with your legs around his waist and his clenched fists on either side of your head.

Yandere! State Trooper is a rotten, corrupt bastard and he knows it. He gets off on the power he has over you - he'll make you crawl to him on your hands and knees, spank your ass red raw and force you to thank him through your tears. He loves taking you bent over - on the furniture, on the hood of his cruiser, with your hands and tits pressed against the shower door... It's not all bad though. You haven't gotten a traffic ticket in ages.

Yandere! Incubus always comes at night. He can't let you see his face, even if you have your suspicions. He's limited by the paralysis he puts you under and usually takes you as he finds you, hands roaming and scratching wherever they can. He dreams of fucking you on the holy altar, your arms around his neck and your tits squished against his chest. He wants to pull the rosary you wear until it chokes you, your piety turned into a goddamn leash. He loves watching you at mass, kneeling under the crucifix and praying to be cleansed. He especially loves you at confession, your voice soft in the half dark and the smell of you all around him.

Yandere! Gangster is not going to fuck you anytime soon. He only has his fists and his fantasies, the poor bastard.

Yandere! Survivor likes you on your belly, your ass angled up to face him. He'll grab your hands and push them into the mattress, his mouth nipping at your shoulders, the nape of your neck, anywhere he can reach. It feels like a declaration of trust when you let him put you in such a vulnerable position. The only drawback is he can't see your face when you come but getting to grab and knead your ass cheeks is a fine consolation.

Yandere! Academic Rival is too focused on school to think about much else. If he was forced to pick, he'll say he wants you up against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist. He loves that you need to rely on him to stay balanced, that you bury your head into his neck and whine at his thrusts. Besides that, he desperately wants you on your knees but your pride ensures that never happens unless he gets down and begs first.